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SHAKSPEARE, 


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f if fElT Of JOHNSON AN0 STEETfENS.. 


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e O M P L E T E 1 N O N E 


VOLUME. 


1 B. LIPPINCOTT 

1847. 


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CONTENTS 



Pape 
Some Account OF TUB LiFB, 4:^. OF Sbakspsars • • • v 

JThe Tempest •«•••••••••! 

Two Gentlemen of Verona ••••••••23 

Merry Wives of Windsor ••••••••45 

Twelfth Night, or What you Will • • • • • 73 

Measure for Measure ••••••••• 9H 

Much ado about Nothing . • • • • • • • 125 

Midsummer Nights' Dream ••••••••151 

Love's Labour Lost •••••••••• 172 

Merchant ov Venice ••••••••• 1P9 

As You Like It... ••••••«• *2^l 

All's Well that ends Well •••••••• 250 

Taming of the Shrew •••«••••• 279 

Winter's Tale ••••••«•••• 305 

Comedy of Errors ••f»m»»»»» 330 

-Macbeth •••••••••••• 354 

King John ..••••••••••377 

King Richard the Second •••••••« 402 

King Henry the Fourth.— First Part ^ • • • • 429 

Kino Henry the Fourth.— Second Part • • ■• • 459 

King Henry the Fifth . . .•.••• 491 

King Henry the Sixth. — First Part •••••• 623 

King Henry the Sixth.— Second Part • • • • .551 

King Henry the Sixth.— Third Part 584 

King Richard the Third 6IG 

King Henry the Eighth . ••••••» 653 

Troilus and Cressida ••.•••••. 684 

TiMON of Athens •.^••••»«. 713 

CoRIOLANUS ••.•••••••'•• 743 

'Julius CiSSAR ••••••••••. 779 

Antony and Cleopatra ••••••••• 894 

Cymbeline •••••••• •«• 838 

Titus Andronicus •••••••••• 873 

Pericles, Prince op Tyre •••••••• 898 

King Lear « 92:i 

Romeo and Juliet •••••••••• ^^^ 

"Hamlet, Prince of Denmark •••••••• ^^^ 

■^Othe! lo. Moor of Venice •••••••• ^^-^ 



AOCOUNT OF THE LIFE^ ^c,^ 

OF 

WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE: 



W|IITT£N BY MR. ROWE, 



^It , Stream to be a kind of respect due to the memory of excellent men, e»pccial,'y 
^fif those whom their wit and learning have made famous, to deliver some accoua* 
;.pf themselves, as well as their works, to posterity. For tbis reason, how fond do 
-«'e see some people of discovering any little personal story of the great men of 
^antiquity .'their families, the common accidents of their lives, and even their 
.Bhape, make, and features, have been the subject of critical inquiries. How 
^trifling soever this curiosity may seem to be, it is certainly very natural ; and we 
^re hardly satisiied witli an account of any remarkable person, till we have heard 
him described even to the very clothes be wears. As for what relates to men of 
-letters, the knowledge of an author may sometimes conduce to the better under 
standing his book ; and though the works of Mr. Shakspeare may seem to many 
not to want a comment, yet I fancy some little account of the man himself may 
.i*ot be thought improper to go Along with them. 

He was the son of Mr. John Shakspeare, and was born at Stratford-upon-Avon 
iu Warwickshire, in April 1564. His family, as appears by the register and public 
■writings relating to that town, were of good fi-gure and fashion there, and are 
mentioned as gentlemen. His father, who was a considerable dealer in wool, had 
*o large a family, ten children in all, that though he was his eldest son, he could 
give him no better education than his own employment. He had bred him, it ia 
true, for some time at a free-school, where, it is probable, he acquired what Latin 
the was master of : but the narrowness of his circumstances, and thewantofhis 
assistance at home, forced his father to withdraw him from thence, and unhappily 
|»revented his further proficiency in that language. It is without controversy, that 
in his works we scarce find any traces of any thing that looks like an imitation 
of the ancients. The delicacy of bis taste, and the natural bent of bis own great 
genius, (equal, if not superior, to some of the best of theirs,) wonkl certainly have 
^ed him to read and study them with so much pleasure, that some of their fine 
images would naturally have insinuated themselves into, and been mixed with, his 
,«WB writings : so that his not copying at least something from them, may be an 
argument of his never having read tUem. Whether his ignorance of the ancients 
were a disadvantage to him or no, may admit of a dispute : for though the know- 
ledge of tbem might have made him more correct, yet it is not improbable but 
-that the regularity and deference for them, which would have attended that cor- 
rectness, might have restrained some of that fire, impetuosity, and even beautiful 
extravagance, which we admire iv Shakspeare: and 1 believe we are better 
-jrieased with those thoughts, altogether new and uncommon, which his own ima- 
gination supplied him so abundantly with, than if he had given us the most beauti- 
ful passages out of the Greek and Latin poets, and that in the most agreeable man- 
gier that it was possible for a master of the English language to deliver them. 

Upon his leaving school, he seems to have given entirely into that way of livine 
which his father proposed to him ; and in order to settle in the world after ? 
family manner, he thought fit to marry while he was yet very young. His wife 
w^s the daughter of one Hathaway, said to have been a substantial yeoman in the 
fieighbourhood of Stratford. In this kind of settlement he continued for some 
time, till an extravagance that he was guilty of forced him both out of his country, 
and that way of living which he had taken up ; and though it seemed at first lo 
be a blemish upon his ^od manners, and a misfortune to him, yet it afterwards 
happily proved the occasion of exerting one of the greatest geniuses that ever 
was known in dramatic poetry. He had by a misfortune, common enough itt 
^«un^.Xellows, fallen into ill company ; and a;non£st them, some that made a k&r 

-a .« ' 



«| LIFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 

qneut prnrtice of deer stealwig, engaged him more than once In robbtng a park Uia* 
belonged to Sir Thomas Lucy, of Charlecole, near Stratford. For this he vra» 
prosecuted by that iiieotleman, as he thought, somewhat too severely ; aud in order 
to revenge that ill usage, he made a ballad upon him. And thoui^h this, probably 
Ibe fifst essay of his porlry, he lost, yet it is said to have been so very hitter, that 
it redoubled the prosecution against him, to that decree that he was obliged to 
leave his buwness and family in Warwickshire for some time, and shelter himself 
in London. 

It is at this time, and upon this accident, that he is said to have made hia first 
acqnaintiance in the playhouse. He was received into the company then in beings 
at first, in a very mean rank; but his admirable wit, and the natural turn of it to 
the stage, soon distinguished him, if not as an extraordinary actor, yet as an ex« 
cellent writer. Hi* name was printed as the custom was in those times, amongst 
those of the other players, before some old plays, but without any particular 
account of what sort of parts he used to play ; and though I have inquired, I never 
coidd meet with any further account of him this way, than that the top of his per- 
formance was the Ghost in his own Hamlet. I shoivid have been much more 
pleased, to have learned from certain authority, which was the first play he vvrote ; 
it would be withoiu doubt a pleasure to any man, curious in things of this kind, to 
»ee and know what was the first essay of a f.mcy like Shakspeare's. Perhaps w^e 
are not to look for his beginnings, like those of otiier authors, among their least 
perfect writmgs ; art had so little, and nature so large a share in what he did, that 
for aui^ht I know, the pcrformanres of his youth, as they were the most vigorou*, 
and had the most fire and strength of imagination in them, were the best. I would 
not be thought by thi» to mean, that his fancy was so loose and extravagant, as to 
be independent on the rule and government of judgment ; but that what he thought, 
was commonly so great, so justly and rightly conceived in itself, tint it wanted 
little or no correction, and was imme<iiately approved by an impartial julgment at 
the first sight. But though the order of time in which the several pitM-es were 
written be generally uncertain, yet there are passages in some few of them which 
•eein to fix their dates. So the Chorus at the end of the fourth act of Henry the 
Fifth, by a compliment very iiandaomely turned to the earl of Kssux, s^hows the 
play to have been written when that loid was general for the queen in Ii eland 
a<i(l his elogy upon qiuen Elizabtth, and her successor king James, in liie iMiter 
«nd of his Henry the Eighth, is a proof of that play's being written aftei the 
accession of tiie latter of those two princes to the crown of England. Whatever 
tlie particuUr times of his writing were, the people of his age, who began to grovr 
wonderfully fond of diversions of this kind, could not but be highly pleased to se 
a genius arise amongst them of so pleasurable, so rich a vein, and ?o plentifully 
cfipable of furnishing their favourite enterrunments. Besides the advantages of 
his wit, he was in himself a good»-natured man, of great sweetness in his m uiners, 
a«nd a most agreeable companion; so ihat it is no wonder, if, with so many good 
uu^lities, he made himself acquainted with the best conversations of those times. 
Queen Elizabeth had several of his plays acied before her, and without doubt gav« 
hitn many gracious marks of her favour : it i& that maiden princess plainly, whom 
be intends by 

— — a fair veMal, throned by the west, 

A Midsummer-Night's Dream. 

and that whole passage is a compliment very properly brought in, and very hand* 
•omely applied to her. She was so well pleased with that admirable character of 
Falstaff, in the two parts of Henry the Fourth^ that she commanded him to 
continue it for one play more, and to show him in love. This is said to be the 
occasion of his writing The Merry IVlves of Windsor, How wtl.l she wa» 
obeyed, the play itself is an admirable proof. Upon this occasion it may not be 
improper to observe, that this part of Falstatf is said tu have been written originally 
nnder iTie name of Oldcw^tle: tome of that family being then remaining, the 
queen w»9 pleased to coinman«l him to alter it; upon which he made use of Va\- 
'tatt. J he present otfence was indeed avokled ; bui 1 do not know whetiier the 
author may not have bein somewhat to hi <me in his s^ cumt choice, since >t is 
cert tin that Sir loiin FdstalF, who wis a knight of the garter, and a lieutenant- 
general, was a name (►fdisiingnisMed merit in the v/ars in Fr moe in Henry tne 
Fifth's and Henry the Sixth's liiiu-s. What _ race soever the queen conferred upon 
hnn, it wat not to her only he owed ti.e fortune which the reputaiuwi ol lii* wit 
made. He had the honour to meet with many great and unconimon inarks oC 
favour and friendship from ihe earl of Siwiih unpion, faniiuja in the niwo! ics of that 
.Ime. for his fiiendshio tc the unfortunate earl of hJssex. It wa;* to rhu noble lord 
U.41 he dedicated hik pv.ejn of />//ua and Adonis^ There i> one iiutamie •» 



LIFE OF SHAKSPEAKB. vH 

«inq:tilar In the magnificence of this patron of Shakspcare's, that if I had not been 
assured that the story was handed down by Sir VVilliim D'Avenant, who was 
probably very well acquainted with his atfairs, 1 should not have ventured to 
have inserted, that my lord Sonthanipton at onetime gave him a thousand ponndb, 
to enable him to go through with a purcljase which he heard he had a mind to. 
A bounty very great, and very rare at any time, and almost equal to that profuse 
•enerosity the present age has shown to French dancers and Italian singers. 

What particular habitude or friendships he contracted with private men, 1 have 
*»ot been able to learn, more than that every one, who had a true t'.ste of merit, 
and could distinguish men, had generally a just value and esteem for him. His 
exceeding candour and t^ood nature must certainly have inclined all the gentler 
part of the world to love him, as the power of his wii obliged tke men of the mo»t 
delicate knowledge and polite learnmg to admire him. 

His acquaintance with Ben Jonson began with a remarkable piece of humanity 
and good nature : Mr. Jonson, who was nt that time altogether unknown to the 
world, had offered one of hiu plays to the players, in order to have it acted ; and 
the persons into whose hands it was put, after having turned it carelessly and 
•Mperciliously over, were just upon returning it to him with an ill-natured answer, 
that it would be of no service to their company ; when Shakspeare luckily cast his 
eye upon it, and found something so well in it, as to engage him first to read it 
through, and afterwards to recommend Mr. Jonson and his writings to the public. 
Jonson was r|ertainly a very good scholar, an^! in that had the advantage of Shak- 
speare ; though at the same time I believe it must be allowed, thai what nature 
gave the latter was more than a balance for what books had given the former; 
and the judgment of a great man upon this oci^asion was, I think, very just and 
proper. In a conversation between Sir John Sncklins, Sir William D'Avenant, 
Endyraion Porter, Mr. Hales of Eton, and Ben Jonson, Sir John Suckling, who 
was a professed admirer of Shakspeare, had undertaken his defence against Ben 
Jcnson with some warmth; Mr. Hales, who had sat still for some time told them. 
That if Mr, Shakspeare had not read the ancients, he had likewise not stolen 
any thing from them ; and that if he ivould produce any one topic finely 
treated by any one of them, he woiUd undertake to shew something upon the 
same subject at least as well written by Shakspeare. 

The latter part of his life was spent, as all men of srood sense will wish theirs 
may be, in ease, retirement, and the conversation of his friends. He had the good 
fortune to gather an estate equal to his occasion, and, in that, to his wish ; and is 
said to have spent some years before his death at his native Stratford. His 
pleasurable wit and good-nature engaged him in the acquaintance, and entitled him 
to the friendship, of the gentlemen of the neighbourhood. Amonj^st tliern, it is a 
story almost still remembered in that country that he had a particular intimacy 
with Mr. Combe, an old gentleman noted thereabouts for his wealth and usury : it 
happened that in a pleasant conversation amoniist their common friends, Mr. 
Combe told Shakspeare in a laughing manner, that he fancied he intended to 
write bis epitaph, if he happened to out-live him ; and since he could not know 
what might be said of him when he was dead, he desired it might be done im- 
mediately ; upon wiiieh Shakspeare gave him these four verses : 

** Ten in the hundred lies here engraved; 

'TIS a hundred to ten his soul is not saved ; 

If any man ask, Who lies in this tomb? 

Oh! oh I qnoih the devil, 'tis my John-a-Combe." 
But the sharpness of the satire is said to have stung the man so severely, that he 
never forgave it. 

He died in the 5Sd year of his age, and was buried on the north side of the chan- 
cel, in the great church at Stratford, where a monument is placed in the wall. Oa 
his grave-stone underneath is, 

" Good friend, for Jrsus* sake forbear 

To dig the dust enclosed here. 

Blest be the man that spai es these stones, 

And curst be he that njoves my bones." 
He had three daughters, of which two lived to be married ; Jndith, the e^.der, to 
one Mr. Thomas Quiney, by whom she had three sons, wlio all died without 
children; and Susanna, who was his favourite, to Dr. John Hall, a physician of 
jood reputation in that country. She left one child only, a daughter, who was 
uiarried first to Thomas Nashe, Esq., and afterwards to Sir Jrthn Barnard, of 
Abinwton, but died likewise without issn?. 
J'his is what 1 could learu of any note, either relating t( himself or family ; tL« 



■rttt' LTFE OF SHAKSFEAREl 

ebaractP'* "^^ th« r^in is best seen in his writings. Bat since Ben JoBson Hai liifti^ 
a sort 01 an ess y toward it in iiis Discoveries, I will give it in his words : '^ 

'* I remember the players have often mentioned it as an honour to Shakspeare*, 
that in writing (wh?»sbever he peimed) he never blotted out a line. My answer 
bath be«n. Would had blotted a thousand! which they thought a malevolent 
ftpeech. I had not told posterity this, but for their ignorance, who ch<5Fe that crr^ 
cumstance to commend their friend by, wherein he most' faulted : and to justify 
mine own candour, for 1 loved the man, and do honour his memory, on this si<le 
idolatry, as much as any. He was, indeed^ honest, and of an open and free nature, 
had aii excellent fancy, brave notions,and gentle expressions': wherein he flowed 
witn that facility, that sometimes it was necessary he slionld be stopped: Suf- 
Jiatmnandns erat, as Augustus said of Haterius. His AVit was'in his own power : 
would the rule of it had been so too! Many times he fell into those things vvhicB 
roiild n<t esc.ipe laughter; as when he laid in the person of Caesar, one speaking- 
to him, 

** Caesar, thou dost me wrong, 

*' He replied : 

** Caesar did never wrong, bat with just cau8e» 

*' and such like, which were ridiculous. But he redeemed his vicet \iith hV 
virtues : there was ever more in him to be praised than to be pardoned." 

As for th** ▼massage which he memtions out of Shakspeare, there is somewhat 
like it in Junis CcBsar, but without the absurdity ; nor did I ever meet with it in 
any edition that I have sieen, as quoted by Mr. Jonson. 

Besides his plays in this edition, there are two or three ascribed tt) him by !Mr: 
Langbaine, which I have never seen, and know nothing of. He wiit likewis»tr 
Verius and AdoniSy and Tarquin and Lucrece, in stanzas, whrch have been 

yrinted in a late collection of poems. As to the character given of him by Ben 
onson, there is a good deal true in it: but I believe it may be as well expressed hy 
what Horace says of the fi.'-st Romans, who wrote tragedy upon the Gieek model&i 
(or indeed translated them,; m his epistle to Augustus : 

•* naturS. sublimis et acer : 

Nam spirat tragicum sati«, et feiiciter andet, 
Sed turpem putat in chartis metuitque lituram.*' 

As I have not proposed to myself to enter into a large and complete criticistil' 
upon Shakspeare's works, so 1 will only take the liberty, with all due submission to 
the judgment of others, to observe some of those things I have been pleased with 
in looking him over. 

His plays are properly to be distinguished only into comedies and tragedies. 
Those which are called histories, and even some of his comediies, are really 
tragedies, with a run or mixture of comedy amongst them. That way of traui* 
comedy was the common mistake of that age ; and is, indeed, become so agreeable 
to the English taste, that though the teverer critics among us cannot bear it, yet the 
generality of our audiences seem to be better pleased with it than with an exact 
tragedy. The Merry Wives of Windsor, The Comedy of Errors, and The 
Taming of a Shrew, are all pure comedy ; the rest, however they are called, 
have something of both kinds. It is not very easy to determine which way of 
writing he was most excellent in. There is certainly a great deal of entertain- 
ment in his comical humours ; and, though they did not then strike at all ranks 
of people, as the satire of the present age has taken the liberty to do, yet there is a 
pleasing and a well-distinguished variety in those characters which he thought 
fit to meddle with. Falstaflf is allowed by every body to be a master-piece; 
the character is always well sustained, though drawn out into the length of tlire* 
plays; and even the account of his death, giveti by his old landlady, Mrs. 
Quickly, in the first act of Henry the Fifth, though it be extremely natural, 
is yet as diverting as any part of his life. It there be any fault in the draught he 
has made of this lewd old fellow, it is that, though he has made him a thief, 
lying, cowardly, vain-glorioua, and, in short, every way vicious, yet he has given 
him so much wit as to make him almost too agreeable ; and I do not know 
whether some people have not, in remembrance of the diversion he had 
formerly affontied them, been sorry to see his friend Hal use him so scurvily,- 
when he comes to the crown in the end of The Second Part of Henry tiie 
Fourth. Amongst other extravagancies, in The Merry Wives oj Windsor he 
^as made him a deer-stealcr, that he might at the same time remember \\'w' 
Warwickshire prosecutor, under the name of Justice Shallow ; he ha* given him 
Ncry near the fame court of arms which Dngd;de, in his Anliquittei of that 



LIFE OF SHAKSPEAJCB. W 

tfonnty, describes for a family there, ahd makes the Welsh parson deseanV' 
very pleasantly upon them. That whole play is admirable; the humours are 
Various and well opposed ; the main design, which is to cure Ford of his unreason- 
able jealousy, is extremely well conducted. In Ihoelfth Night there is something 
rtngnlarly ridiculous and pleasant in the fantastical steward Malvolio. The 
parasite and the vain-gloiious in ParoUes, in All's Well t/uit Ends Well, is ai- 
good as any thing of that kind in Plautus or Terence, Petruchio, in The 
Taming of the Shrew, in s.n uncommon piece of humour. The conversation of 
Benedick and Beatrice, in 3fuch Ado About Nothing, and of Rosalind, in As 
You Like ft, have much wit and sprightliness all along. His clowns, without 
which character there was hardly any play writ in that time, are all very ente4'- 
taining ; and, 1 believe, Thersites, in Troilus and Cressida, and Apemantus,- 
in Timon, will be allo\ved to be masterpieces of ill-nature and satirical' 
_ snarling. To these I might add that incomparable char'acter of Shy lock, the Jew,' 
in The Merchant of Venice: but though we have seen that play received and' 
acted as a comedy, and the part of the Jew performed by an excellent comedian,^ 
yet I cannot but think it was designed tragically by the author. There appears io' 
k such a deadly spirit of revenge, such a savage fierceness and fellnesn, and such' 
a bloody designation of cruelty and mischief, as cannot agree either with the- 
style or characters of comedy. The play itself, take it altogether, seems to me to' 
be one of the most finished of aiiy of Shakspeare's. The tale, indeed, in that part 
relating to the caskets, and the extravagant and unusual kind of bond given by 
Antonio, is too much removed from the rules of probability ; but, ta-king the 
fact for granted, we must allow it to be very beautifully writteri." There is- 
something in the friendship of Antonio to Bassanio, very gr«at, generous, and 
tender. The whole fourth act (supposing, as 1 said, the fact to be probable) ir 
extremely fine. But there are two passages that deserve a particular notice : the' 
first is what Portia says in praise of mercy; and the other on the power of 
music. The melancholy of Jaques, in As Yov. Like It, is as singular and odd ar 
it is diverting. And if, what Horace says, 

" Difi5cile est proprie communia dicere, 

A will be a hard task for any one to go beyond him in the description of th^^ 
Several degrees and ages of man's life, though the thought be old and commotf 
iDOugh. 

** All the world's a stage. 

And all the men and women merely players ;• 

They have their exits and their entrances, 

And one man in his time plays many parts. 

His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant. 

Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms ; 

And then, the whining school-boy with his satchel,' 

And shining morning face, creeping like snail 

Unwillingly to school. And then, the lover. 

Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad 

Made to his mistress' eye-brow. Then, a soldier? 

Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard,- 

Jealous in honour, sudden and quick in quarrel,- 

Seeking the bubble reputation 

Even in the cannon's mouth. And then, the justic^y 

In fair round belly, with good capon lined, 

With eyes severe, and beard of forinal cut. 

Full of wise saws and modern instances; 

And so he plays his part. Ihe sixth age shifts 

into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon ; 

With spectacles on no^e, and pouch on side ; 

His youthful hose, well saved, a world too wide 

For his shrunk shank : and his big manly voice,' 

Turning again tow'rds childish treble, pipes 

And whistles in his sound : Last scene of all. 

That ends this strange eventful history. 

Is second childishness, and mere oblivion 

Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every thing* *^ 

ftffl images are, Indeed, every where so lively, that the thing he wonltf r^pri^* 
i^K stattds full before you, and you possess every part of it. 1 will venture PdP 



LIFE OF SHAKSPEARB. 

rjint out one more, which ia, 1 think, as strong and as uncotnmon ai any thiof 
ever saw: it » an image of Patience. Speakinj; of a maid in love, tie says, 

** She never told her love, 

But let concealment, like a worm i* th* bud, 
Feed on her damask cheek : she pined in thought. 
And sat like Patience on a monument. 
Smiling at Grief." 

What an image is here given ! and what a task would it have been for the 
greatest masters of Greece and Rome to have expressed the passions designed by 
the sketch of statuary! The style of his comedy is, in general, natural to the 
characters, and easy in itself; and the wit most commonly sprightly and 
pleasing, except in those places where he runs into doggerel rhymes, as in 
Tne (Jomedy of Errors and some other plays. As for his jingling sometimes, and 
playing upon ^ords, it was the common vice of the age he lived in : and if we 
find it in the pulpit, made use of as an ornament to the sermons of some of 
the gravest divines of those times, perhaps it may not be thought too light for the 
stage. 

But certainly the greatness of this author's genius does no where so much 
appear as where he gives his imagination an entire loose, and rajses his fancy to a 
flight above miinkiiid, and the limits of the vi<iible world. Such are his attempts 
in The TempesL, A Midsuminer Night's Dream, Macbeth, , and Hamlet. Of 
these Tae Temyesty however it comes to be placed the tirst by tbe publishers 
of his works, can never have been the first written by him: it seems to nic 
as perfect in its kind as almost any thing we have of his. One may observe that 
the unities are kept here, with an exactness uncommon to the liberties of his 
writing; thongh that was what, I suppose, he valued himself least upon,*ince 
his excellencies were all of another kind, I am very sensible that he doei, in 
this play, depart too much from that likeness to truth which ought to be ob- 
served in these sort of writings ; yet he does it so very tinely, that one i: ea&ily 
drawn in to have more faith for his sake, than reason does weH allow of. 
His magic has something in it very solemn and very poetical ; and that extravagant 
character of Caliban is mightily well sustained, shows a wonderful invention in the 
author, who could strike out such a particular wild image, and is certainly 
one of tl<e finest and most uncommon grotesques that ever was seen. The 
observiJtion, which I bare been informed three very great men concorrcti io 
making upon this part, was extremely just ; — That Shaksyeare had not only 
found out a fiew character in his Caliban, but had also devised and adapted 
a new manner of language for that character. 

It is the same magic that raises the Fairies in A Midsummer-Night's Dream, 
the Witches in Macbeth, and the Ghost in Hamlet, with thoughts and language 
BO proper to the parts they sustain, and so peculiar to the talent of this writer. But 
of the two last of these plays I shall have occasion to take notice among the trage- 
dies of Mr. Shakspeare. If one undertook to examine the greatest part of these 
by those rules which are established by Aristotle, and taken from the model of the 
Grecian stage, it would be no very hard task to find a great many faults ; but at 
Shakspeare lived under a kind nf mere light of nature, and had never been made 
acquainted with the regularity of those written precepts, so it would be hard to 
judge him by a law he knew nothing of. We are to consider him as a man that 
lived in a state of almost universal license and ignorance; there was no establifched 
judge, but every one took the liberty to write accordingto the dictates of hia own fan- 
cy. When one considers, that there is not one play before him of a reputation good 
enough to entitle it to an appearance on the psesent stage, it cannot but be a matter 
of great wonder that he should advance dramatic poetry so far as he did. The 
fable is what is generally placed the fir»t, among those that are reckoned the con- 
stituent parts of a tragic or heroic poem ; not, perhaps, as k is the most difficult or 
beatititul, but as it is the first properly to be thought of in the contrivance and 
course of the whole ; and. with the fatle, ought to be considered the fit disposition, 
order, and conduct of its several p trts As it is not in »his province of the drama 
th^t the strength ani ma?tery of Shakspeare lay, so I shall not undertake the 
Icdions and ill-nati>red trohble to point out the several fauKs he was guilty of in it. 
His tales were svld#>m invented, bnt rather taken either from the true history, or 
novels and romances: and be commonly made use of them in that order, with 
those incident?, and that wttent of time In whjch he found them in the autlmrs 
from whpure hr borrowed them. So The Uhttfr's Tale, which is taken from 
an old book, called The f),lfctuble. History of Dorastus and Nawnia, contains 
the 5pace of ixtcen or sextnieeri yeai3, and tlie scene is sometime* l^id iu Bohe 



LIFE OF SIIARSPEARE. w 

mia, and sometimes in Sicily, according to the original ordtr of the Btory, Almost 
all his historical plays comprehend a great length of time, and very different and 
distinct places : and in his Antony and Cleopatra^ the scene travels over th* 
greatest part of the Roman empire. But in recompense for his carelessness in this 
point, when he comes to another part of the drama, the manners of his charao 
tersy in acting or speaki?ig what is proper for them, and fit to be sJiewii by the 
poet, he may be generally justified, and in very many places greatly commended. 
For those plays which he has taken from the English or Roman history, let any 
snan compare them, and he will fmd the character as exact in the poet as the histo- 
rian. Up «eems indeed so far from proposing to himself any one action for a eub- 
ject, th^t tl e title very often tells you, it is The Life of King Jo^in, King Richard^ 
&c. What can be more agreeable to the idea our historians give of Henry the 
Sixth, than the picture Shakspeare has drawn of him! His manners are every 
■where exactly the same with the story ; one finds him still described with sim- 
plicity, passive sanctity, want of courage, weakness of mind, and easy submission 
to the governance of an imperious wife, or prevailing faction : though at the same 
time the poet does justice to his good qualities, and moves the pity of his audience 
for him, by shewing him pious, disinterested, a contemner of the things of this 
world, and wholly resigned to the severest dispensations of God's providence. 
There is a short scene in The Second Part of Henry the Sixth, which I cannot 
but think admirable in its kind. Cardinal Beaufort, who had murdered the Duke of 
Gloucester, is shewn, in the last agonies on his death-bed, with the good king praying 
over him. There is so much terror in one, so much tenderness and moving piety in 
the o.her, as must touch any one who is capable either of fear or pity. In his 
Henry the Eighth, that prince is drawn with that greatness of mind, and all those 
good qualities which are attributed to him in any account of his reign. If hi? 
faults are not shewn in an equal degree, and the shades in this picture do noi beat 
a just proportion to the lights, it is not that the artist wanted either colours or skill 
in the disposition of them ; but the truth, I believe, might be, that he forbore doing 
it out of regard to Queen Elizabeth, since it could have been no very great respect to 
the memory of his mi&tress, to have exposed some certain parts of her father's life 
npon the stage. He has dealt much more freely with the minister of that great 
king ; and certainly nothing was ever more justly written than the character of 
Cardinal Wolsey. He has shewn him insolent in his prosperity ; and yet, by 
a wonderful address, he makes his fall and ruin the subject of general compassion. 
The whole man, with his vices and virtues, is finely and exactly described in the 
second scene of the fourth act. The distresses, likewise, of Queen Catherine, i.* 
this play, are very movingly touched ; and though the art of the poet has screened 
King Henry from any gross imputation of injustice, yet one is inclined to wish, 
the queen had met with a fortune more worthy of her birth and virtue. Nor 
are the manners, proper to the persons represented, less justly observed in those 
characters taken from the Roman history ; and of this, the fierceness and imp.^- 
tience of Coriolanns, his courage and disdain of the common people, the virtue 
and philosophical temper of Brutus, and the irregular -greati-ess of mind in M, 
Antony, are beautiful proofs. For the two last especially, you find them exactly 
as they are described by Plutarch, from whom certainly Shakspeare copied them. 
He has indeed followed his original pretty close, and taken in several little inci- 
dents that might have been spared in a play. But, as I hinted before, his design 
seems most commonly rather to describe those great men in the several fortunes and 
accidents of their lives, than to take any single great action, and form his woik 
simply upon that. However, there are some of his pieces, where the fable is 
founded upon one action only. Such are more especially Runieo and Juliet, 
Hamlet y'^nu\ Othello. The design in Romeo and Juiitt is plainly the punishmei.t 
of their two families, for the unreasonable feuds and animosities that had been so 
long kept up between them, atid occasioned the elfusion of so much blood. In 
the management of this story, he has shewn something wonderfully tender anc' 
passionate in the love-part, and very pitiful iji the distress. Hamlet is founded on 
much the same tale with the Electra of Sophocles. In each of them a young 
prim e is engaged to revenge the death of his father, their mothers are equally 
guilty, are bo'h concerned in the murder of their husbands, and are afterwards 
married to the murderers. There is, in the first part of the Greek tragedy, soine- 
^hing very moving in the grief of Electra ; but, as Mr. Dacier has ob«ei ved, there 
is something very unnatural and shocking in the manners he has given that princess 
and Orestes in the latttr part. Orestes imbrues his hands in liie blood of his own 
mother; and that barbarous action is performed, though not immediately upontlve 
stage, yet so near, that the audience hear Clytemnestra crying out to,«^igy5lhi:8 for 
help, an<i to her 8«>n for nurcy : while Electra, her daughter and a princess, (both 
of them ch'-rraciers that ought to have appeared with more decency,) stands upt>ja 



i/IFE OF SHAKSPEARE. 

tthe stage, and encourages her brother in the parricide. What horror doci thi« ikmk 
,raisel Clytcmnestra was a wicked woman, and had deserved to die ; nay, in the 
itruth of the story, she was killed by her own son ; but to represent an action ot 
this kind on the stage is certainly an offenoe against those rules of manners, proper 
to the persons, that ought to be observed there. On the contrary, let un omy look 
a little on the conduct of Shakspeare. Hamlet is represented with the same piety 
towards his father, and resolution to reveijge his death, as Orestes ; he has the same 
al>horrence for his mother's guilt, whien, to provoke him the more, is heightened by 
incest: but it is with wonderful art and justness of judgment, that the poet re 
strains him from doing violence to his mother. To prevent any thing of that kind 
^e makes hia father's Ghost foi bid that part of his vengeance ; 

*' Bu*. hoMsoever thou pursu'st this act, 
" Taint not thy mind, nor let thy soul contrive 
*' Against thy mother aught ; leave her to heaven^ 
" And to those thorns that in her bosom lodge, 
** To prick and sting her." 

"This IP to distinguish rightly between horror and terror. The latter is a proper 
prtssion of tragedy, but the former ought always to be carefully avoided. Aii4 
'certainly no dramatic writer ever succeeded better in raiting terror in the mind# 
of an audience than Shakspeare has done. The whole tragedy of J/acAff A, but 
more especially the scene where the king is murdered, in the second act, as well 
as this play, is a noble proof of that manly spirit with which he writ; and both 
shew how powerful he was, in giving the strongest motions to our souls that they 
are capable of. I cannot leave Hamlet ^ without taking notice of the advantage 
^vvith which we have seen this master-piece of Shakspeare distinguish itself upon 
;the stage, by Mr. Betterton's fine performance of that part. A man, who, though 
ihe had no other good qualities, as he has a great many, must have made his way 
rinto the esteem of all men of letters by this only excellency. Iso man is better 
.acquainted with Shakspeare's manner of expression, and indeed he has studied 
;liim so well, and is so much a master of him, that whatever part of his he per- 
(forms, he does it as if it had been written on purpose for him, and that the authoir 
^ad exactly conceived it as he plays it. I must own a particular obligation to 
|him for the most considerable part of the passages relating to this life, which j[ 
jhave here transmitted the public ; hit veneration for the memory of Shakspeare 
^ving engaged him to make a journey into Warwickshire, oji purpose to ga>h€|^' 
tttp what rfeiAains b» 40Qld of a muu^ 'cr wlkich he had so greaf a Yeneraiion. 



TEMPEST. 



tiLOJNSO, king ftf Naples, 
. hBASTiMf, his brother. 
^RosPERO, the rightful duke of Milan, 
^ATONio, his brother, the usurping duke 

of Milan, 
f jiRDiNAND, son to the king of Naples. 
^awzALOj an honest old counsf^llor of 
Naples, 

^A^i BAN, a savage and deformed slave. 



^er^onj; rejprcgentcO* 



Tri^culo, a jester.^ 

Stkphano, a drunken butler. 

Master of a ship. Boatswain, and Maripju^^ 

MiRANDi, daughter to Prospero, 

Ariel, an airy spirit. 
Iris, "^ 

Cere5, I 
Juno, V spirits. 
Nymphs, J 
Reapers, J 



Other spirits attending on Prosper©. 
:S<;eiie> — The sea, with a ship ; afterwards an uninhabited islan^. 



ACT I. 



SGENE I. On a ship at sea, 
jA storm, with thunder and lightning, 

filter a Ship-master and a Boatswain. 

Master. Boatswain, — 

floats. Here, master: What cheer? 

Mast. Good: Speak to the mariners: fall 
^o^t yarely*, or we run ourselves aground: 
fceatir, bestir. [Exit. 

Enter Mariners, 
* Boats. Heigh, my hearts; cheerly, cheerly, 
fviy hearts; yare, yare: Take in the top-sail; 
^end to the master's whistle. Blow^ tUl thou 
jjurst thy wind, if room enough ! 

Enter Alonso, Sebastian, Antonio, 
Ferdinand, Gonzalo, and others, 

Alon. Good boatswain, have care. Where's 
^e master? Play the mep. 

Boats. I pray now, keep below. 

Ant. Wbere is the master, boatswain? 

Boats. Do you not hear him? You mar our 
i^abour! keep your cabins : you do assist the 

Gon. Nay, good, be patient. [storm. 

Boats. Whein the sea is. Hence! What care 
ilhejje roarers for the name of king? To cabin : 
^silence : trouble us not. 

Gon. Good ; yet remember whom thou hast 
aboard. 

Boats. None that! more love than myself. 
You are a counsellor ; if you can command 
/these elements to silence, and work the peace 
,of the present t, we will not hand a rope more ; 
ose your authority. If you cannot, give thanks 
you have lived so long, and make yourself 
^eady in your cabin for the mischance of the 
ihour, if it so hap.— Cheerly, good hearts.— Out 
i«f our way, I say. [Exit. 

.Gon. I have great comfort from this felJow : 
j^eipiuks, he hath no drowning mark upon 
jftyp; Uis complexion is perfect gallows. Stand 



fast, good fate, to his hanging! make the rope 
of his destiny our cable, for our own dot(i 
little advantage! If he be not born to be 
hanged, our case is miserable. [Exeunt. 

Re-enter Boatswain. 
Boats. Down with the top-mast; yare; low- 
er, lower; bring her to try with main-couise. 
[A cry withifi.] A plague upon tliis howlinj^.I 
they are louder than the weather, or our office. 

/2e-e7t^erSEBASTlAN,ANTON10,4GoNZAl40.. 

Yet again? what do ycu here? Shall we give 
o'er and drown? Have you a mind to sink ? 
Seb. A pox o' your throat! you bawling, 
blasphemous, uncharitable dog! 

Boats- Work you, then. 

Ant. Hang, cur, hang! you whoreson, in- 
solent noise-maker, we are Jess afraid to be 
drowned than thou art. 

Go7i. I'll warrant him from drowning;; 
though the ship were no stronger than a nut- 
shell, ami H& leaky as an unstanchedj wench. 

Boats. Lay her a-hold, a hold ; set her two 
courses ; otf to sea again, lay her otf. 
Enter Mariners wet. 

Mar. Ail lost ! to prayers, to prayers f a^l 
lost! [Exeunt, 

Boats. What, must our mouths be cold ? 

Gon. The king and prince at prayers ! let as 
For our case ts as theirs. [assist thein, 

Seb. I am out of patience. 

Ant. We are merely 5 cheated of our lives by 
drunkards. — [lie drowniiii^ 

This wide-chapped rascal-Would thou might^$t 
The washing of ten tides ! 

Gon He'll be hanged yet.; 

Though every drop of water swear against k, 
And gape at wid'st to glut him. 
[A confused 7ioise wiihin.] Mercy on us.'— 
We split, we split! — Farewell, my wife au^ 



* iteadil/. 



rt ,Pref»erit instant. 



I :Iiiconliueut. 



j AbsoM^I^' 



SHAKSPEARE. 



filer i 



children! — Farewell, brother! — We split, we 

aplit, we spill. — 

Ant, Let's all sink with tlie king. [Exit, 

Seh. Let's tnke leave of him. [Exit. 

Gon. Now woulfl 1 give a thousand furlongs 

tf »ea for an acre of barren ground ; long heath. 

Drown furze, any thing: The wills above be 

done! but I would fain die a dry death. [Exit, 

SCENE IL The island: before the cell of 

Prospero. 

Enter Prospero a7id Miranda. 

Mira. If by your art, my dearest father, 
you have 
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them: 
The sky, it seems, would pour dov/n slinking 
pitch, [cheek, 

But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's 
Df^hes the fire out. O, I have suffer'd 
Wiih those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel, 
\\ hohad no doubt some noble creatures in her, 
Dash'd all to pieces. O, the cry did knock 
Against my very heart! Poor souls! they 

perish'd. 
Had I been any god of power, I would 
Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er* 
It should the good ship so have swallow'd,an<I 
The freighting souls within her. 

Pro. Be collected ; 

No more amazement : tell your piteous heart. 
There's no harm done. 

Mira, O, woe the day! 

Pro. No harm. 

I have done nothing but in care of thee, 
(Of ihee, my dear one i thee, my daughter !) who 
Art ignorant of what thou art, nought knowing 
Of whence I am ; nor that I am more better 
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell. 
And thy no gieater father. 

Mira, More to know 

Did never meddle with my thoughts. 

Pro. lis time 

I Vnould inform thee further. Lend thy hand, 
And pluck my magic garment from me. — So; 
[Ldy.s down his mantle. 
Lie there, my ?rt. — Wipe thou thine eyes ; 
have comfort. [touch'd 

The direful spectacle of the wreck, which 
I'he very virtue of compassion in thee, 
1 have with such provision in mine art 
So safely order'd, that there is no soul — 
No, not so much perdition as an hair, 
Betid to any creature in the vessel 
Which thou heard'st cry, which thou saw'st 

sink. Sit down; 
For thou must now know further. 

Mira. You have often 

Begun to tell me what I am; but stopp'd 
And left me to a bootless inquisition; 
Concluding, Stai/, noL ytt. — 

Pro. The hour's now come ; 

The very minute bidt» thte t)pe thine ear; 
Obey, and be aittniive. Can'sl thou lenieinber 
A time brfori' we came unto this colU 
I do not think thou can'st; tor then thuu wast not 
But t three yeara old. 



Mira. Certainly, sir, I can. 

Pro. By what ? by any otb*;r bouse ,or peraon r 
Of any ibin^ the image tell m«, that 
Hath kepi with thy remembrance. 

Mira. 'Tis far off 

And rather like a dream than an assurance 
That my remembrance warrants: Had I not 
Four or five woiD.en (ince, that tended me? 

Pro. Thou had'st, and more, Miranda: Bu| 
how rs it, 
That this livesin thy mind ? What seest thou elM 
In the dark backward and abysm J of time? 
If thou remember'st aught,ei e thou cam'st here^ 
How thou cam'st here, thou may'st. 

Mira. But that I do nol» 

Pro. Twelve years since, 
Miranda, twelve years since, thy father was 
The duke of Milan, and a prince of power, 

Mira, Sir, are not you my faiher? 

Pro. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and 
She said— thou wast my daughter; and thy 

father 
Was duke of Milan; and his only heir 
A princess ; — no worse issued. 

Mira, O, the heavensi 

What foul play ha'd we, that we came from 
Or blessed was't we did? [thence ? 

Pro. Both, both, my girl : 

By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd 
^^ut blessedly holp hither. [thence ; 

Mira. O, my heart bleedi 

To think o* the teen § that I have furn'd you to, 

Which is from my remembrance 1 Please yon, 

further. [Antonio, — 

Pro. My brother, and thy uncle, call'd 
I pray thee, mark me, — that a brother should 
Be so perfidious! — he wbom, next thyself. 
Of all fhe world I lov'd, and to him put 
The manage of my state ; as, at th:it time. 
Through all the signiories it was the first. 
And Prosperothe prime duke ; beingso reputed 
In dignity, and, for the liberal arts. 
Without a parallel ; those being all my study, 
The governnu'nt I cast upon my brother. 
And to my state grew stranger, being trans- 

ported 
And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle — 
Dost thou attend me? 

Alira, Sir, most heedfully. 

Pro, Being once perfected how to grant suits, 
How to deuy them ; whom to advince, and 

whom 
To traskil for over-topping; new created 
The creatures that were mine ; I say, or oiiangM 

them. 
Or else new form'd them : having both the key 
Of ofticer and office, set all hearts 
To what time plcas'd his ear ; ♦Jiat now he wa« 
The ivy which had hid my princely tnmk, 
And surk'd my verdure out on't. — Thou at- 

tenil'si not: 
I pray ihee, mark me. 

Mira. O, good sir, I do. 

Pro. I thus neglecting worldly cuds, all \ 
dedicite '' 

To cJofccness, and the bettering of my mind 



• Beiorc 



t Qurt. 



J Abyss. 



^ Sot row. 



Q Cot awa>. 



Scene JJ.] 



TEMPEST. 



With that, which, but by being so retired, 

O'er-prized all popular rate, in n)y false brother 

AwakM an evil nature: and my trusi. 

Like a good parent, did beget of him 

A falsehood, in its contrary as great 

As my trust was ; which had, indeed, no limit, 

A confidence sans* bound. He being thus 

lorded, 
Not only with what my revenue yielded. 
But what my power might else exact, — like one 
"Who having, unto truth, by telling of it. 
Made sui h a sinner of his memor^ , 
To credit his own lie,— he did believe 
He was the duke ; out of the substitution^ 
And executing the outward face of royalty, 
"With all prerogative : — Henee his ambition 

Growing Dost hear"? 

Alira. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. 
Pro. To have no screen between this part 
he play'd 
And him he play'd it for, he needs will be 
Absolute Milan : Me, poor man !— my library 
Was dukedom large enoug^h ; of temporal roy- 
alties 
He thinks me now incapable: confederates 
(So dry t he was for sway) with the king of 

Naples, 
To give him annual tribute, do him homage; 
Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend 
The dukedom, yet unbow'd, (alas, poor Milan I) 
To most ignoble stooping. 
Mira. Othebeavens! 

Pro. Mark his condition, and the event; 
then tell me. 
If this might be a brother. 

Mira. I should sin 

To think but nobly of my grandmother: 
Good wombs have borne bad sons. 

Pro. Now the condition. 

This king of Naples, being an enemy 
To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit ; 
Which was, th«t he in lieut o' the premises, — 
Of homage,and 1 knownot how much tribute, — 
Should presently extirpate roe and mine 
Out of the dukedom; and confer fair Milan, 
With all thehonours,onmy brother: Whereon, 
A treacherous army levied, one mid-night 
Fated to the purpose., did Antonio open 
The gates of Milan; and, i' the dead of darkness. 
The ministers for the purpose hurried thence 
Me, and thy crying self. 

Mira. Alack, for pity I 

I, not rememb'rlng how I cried out then. 
Will cry it o'er again! it is a hiut$, 
1 lu-.t wrings mine eyes. 

Pro. Hear a little further. 

And then I'll bring thee to the present business 
Which now's upon us; without the which. 
Were most impertinent. [this story 

Mira. Wherefore did they not 

That hour destroy us? 

Pro. Well demanded, wench; 

My tale provokes that question. Dear, they 

durst not; 
(So dej-j- the l<»ve my people bore me) nor set 
A mark so bloody on the business ; but 

• U itbout. tThirsty. J (Consideration. 



With colours fairer painted their fonl ends. 
In few, they hurried us aboard a bark ; 
Bore US some leagues to sea ; where they pre- 
A rotten carcass of a boat, not ricg'd, [pared 
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast ; the very rats 
Instinctively had quit it: there they hoist ns. 
To cry to tVie sea that roar'd to us ; to sigh 
To the windR, whose pity, sighing back again. 
Did us but loving wrong. 

Mira. Alack! what trouble 

Was I then to you ! 

Pro. O ! a cherubim 

Thou wast, that did preserve me! Thon didst 
Infused with a fortitude from heaven, [smile, 
When I have deck'dy the dea with drops full 

salt ; 
Under my burden groan'd ; which rais'd in me 
An undergoing stomachU, to bear up 
Against what should ensue. 

Mira. How came we ashore 

Pro. By Providence divine. 
Some food we had, and some fresh water, that 
A noble Neapolitan, Gon/alo, 
Out of his charity, (who being then appointed 
Master of this design,) did give us ; with 
Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries. 
Which since have steaded much ; so, of hit 

gentleness. 
Knowing 1 lovecl my books, he furnish'd me. 
From my own library, with volumes that 
I prize above my dukedom. 

Mira. Would I might 

But ever see that man! 

Pro. Now I arise : — 

Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. 
Here in this island we arriv'd; and here 
Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more 

profit 
Than other prisces can, that have more time 
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful. 
Mira. Heavens thank yonfor'l! And now, 
I pray you, sir, 
(For still 'tis beating in my mind,) your reason 
For raising this sea-storm ? 

Pro. Know thus far forth.— 

By accident most strange, bountiful tbrtune, 
Now my dear lady, hath n)ine enemies 
Brought to this shore: and by my prescience 
I find n)y aenith doth depend upon 
A most auspicious star; whose influence 
If now I court not, but ouMt, n)y fortunes 
Will ever after droop. — Here cease more 

questions; 
Thon art incli.n'd to sleep ; 'tis a good dulnes?. 
And give it way; — 1 know thou can'st not 
choose. — (Miranda -v/ff^w. 

Come away, servant, come : I am ready now , 
Approach, my Ariel; come. 

Enter Ariel. 
Ari. All hail, ^reat master! grave sir, haill 
1 come 
To answer ihy best pleasure; be't to lly. 
To swim, to dive kito the fire, to ride 
On the curl*d clouds: to thy strong bidding 
Aiiel, and all his quality. [task 

'jtion. llSprinkled. f Stubborn resolalion. 



SilAKSPEARE. 



[JcH 



pj-O, Hast thou, si'Hit, 

PerformM to point • the tempest that J b^de 

Ari. To every article. v , 

f boarded the king's ship; now on the beak, 
Now in the waist, the deck, in every cabin, 

Hani'd amazement : Sometimes, I'd divide, 
And burn in many places; on the top-mast. 
The yiTdri, and bowsprit, would I flame dis- 
lificUy, [precursors 

Then meet, nnd join: Jove's lightnings, the 
O'the dreadfulthunder-clap?, more momentary 
And sight-ouUunnlng were not: The tire, and 

cracks 
Ofsulphurousroaring.themost mighty Neptune 

SeemM to besiege, and make his bold waves 
Yea, his dread tiident shake. [tremble, 

PfQ My brave spirit! 

Who was so firm, so constant, that this coilt 
VVould not infect his reason % 
• jiyi^ Not a soul 

jfiiit felt a fever of the mad, and play'd 
Some tricks of desperation : All, but mariners, 
^lunc^'d in the foaming brine, and quit the 
"vessel, [dinand, 

then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Fer- 
"VVith hair up-staring (then like reeds, not hair,) 
Was fhe first man that leap'd ; cried. Hell is 

empty, 
And all the devils are here. 

Pro, Why, that's my spirit ! 

But was not this nigh shore ? 

j^yl^ Close by, my master. 

Pro. But are they, Ariel, safe? 

j^yl^ Not a hair perish'd; 

On their sustaining garments not a blemish. 
But fresher than before: and,as thou bad'stme. 



|n troops 1 have dispers'd them 'bout the isle : 
The kin<^s son have 1 landed by himself; 
Whom f left cooling of the air with sit;hs. 
In an odd angla cf the isle, and sitting. 
His arms in this sad knot. 

Pro. Of the king's ship, 

the mariners, say, how thou hast dispos'd. 
And all the rest o' the fleet 1 . ^ ^ 

j^ri. Safely m harbour 

Is theking's ship ; in the deep nook, where once 
Thou call'dst me up at midnight to fetch dew 
From the still-vex'd Bermoothesj, there she's 
The mariners all under hatches stow'd ; [hid : 
Whom, with a charm join'd to their sutfer'd 

labour, 
I have left asleep: and for the rest o' the fleet, 
Which I dispers'd, they all have met again; 
And are upon the Mediterranean flote^. 
Bound sadly home for Naples ; 
Suppo8ini;that theysaw the king's ship wreck d, 

And hi* great person perish. ^ . , , 

Pro^ ^ Ariel, thy charge 

Exactly Is performM; but there's more work : 
What is the time o' the day ? 

j^j.%. Past the mid season. 

Pro. At least two glasses : The time 'twixt 
six and now, 
Miijt by U8 both be spent most preciously. 

Ari. b there more toiH Since thou dost 
give me pains. 



Lei me remember ihce what thou hast pro- 
Which is not yet performM me. [mirf'dV 

Pro. How nbW? moody f 

What is't thou can'st demand % 
Ari, ^y libarty.- , 

Pro. Before the time be out I no more. 
Art. 1 P''^y fhe^r 

Remember, I have done thee wortliy service'r 
•Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, servf*'* 
Without or grudge or grumblings : thou didst 
To bate me a full year. [promise' 

Pro. Host thou forget 

From what a torment I did free thee? 
Ari. ^^•' 

Pro. Thou dost ; and tliink'st I 

It much, to tread the ooze of the salt deep ; 
To run upon the sharp wind of the north ; 
To do me business in the veins o' the earthy 
When it is bak'd With frost. 
j^ri. I ^^ *'<**» 8''** 

Pro- Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast thoif 
forgot ^ [<^nvy. 

The foul witch Sycorax, who, with age antF 
Was grown into a hoop? Hast thou forgot her V 
Ari. No, sir. [speak ; tell me^^ 

JPro. Thou hast: where was she bornT 

^ri. Sir, in Argier 11. « t ^ 

Pro. O, was she so? I must. 

Once in a month, recount what thou hast been; 
Which thou forget'dt. This damn'd witchV 

Sycorax, 
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible' 
To enter human hearing, from Argier, 
Thou know'st, was banlsh'd ; for one thing sh^ 
did, , -..V 

They would not take her life : Is not tliis te«ue T 
Ari. Ay, sir. 

Pro. This blue-eyed hag was hither brought 
with child, [slave,- 

And here was left by the sailors : Thou, my 
As thou report'st thyself,wast then her servant r 
And, for thou wast a spirit too delicate 
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, 
Refusing her grand hestsf, she did confine thee^ 
By help of her more potent ministers, 
\nd in her most unmitigable rage, 
Into a cloven pine; within which rift 
Imprison'd, thou did'st painfully remain' 
A dozen years ; within which space she die(%. 
And left thee there ; where thou did'st vent 
thy groans, [island,^ 

As fast as mill-wheels strike : Then was thitf 
(Save for the son that she did litter here, 
A freckled whelp, hag-born,) not honour'd wKhf 
A human shape. 
j^ri. Yes; Caliban her son. 

Pro. Dull thing, I say so ; he, that Caliban, 
Whom now I keep in servicc.Thou bestknow'sf 
What torment I did find thee in: thy groan* 
Did make wolves howl, and penetrate ihe 

breasts 
Of ever-angry bears : it was a torment 
To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax 
Could not again undo ; it was mine art. 
When I arriv'd,and heard thee, that maae gape 
The pine, and let thee out 



< The mim.t«t article. ( Bottle, Wmult. J ner.mula,. § Wave. U Algler.. * C.mma«<1«.- 



Scene II.] 



TEMPEST. 



^}Z Tr*i, I thank thee, master. 

I'io, Jf thou mere miirmur'st, I will rend 
au oak. 
And peg ihee in his knotty entrails, till 
^ lima hast howlM away twelve wiiiters. 

¥ .f/if V . Pardon, master : 

1 will be correspondent to commaqd. 
And do my spiriting gently. 

1 ^^x?'a- u ,^o so ; and after two days 

1 wilj discharge thee. , ^ 

wi^!' t, II T ^ o "^^^^'^ aiy noble m?.ster! 
VV hdt shall I do ? say wh;it? what ^hall I do? 
J^ro, Go make thyself like to a nymph o' 
the sea; *^ 

Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible 
To every eye-ball else. Go, take this shape. 
And hither come in't: hence, with diligence. 

Awake, dear heart, awake I thou hast slept 
Awake! ■ [weii- 

^^fra. The strangeness of your story uut ' 
Keavmess m me. 

Yx^n!^' . . ^ , ^^^^« ^* ^^' Come on ; 

V\e II visit Caliban, my slave, who never 
1 lelds us kind answer. 

I f''"'';, , , 'iisaviUain,sir, 

1 do not love to look on. 

„.^''^- . But, as 'tis. 

VV c cannot miss • him : he does make our fire 
Jetch in our wood; and serves in offices 
Ihat profit us. What, hoi slave 1 Caliban! 
J hou eaitli, thon ! speak. 
('a.L [within.] There's wood enough within. 
I^ro. Come forth, I say ; there's other busi- 
ness for thee : 
Come forth, thou tortoise! when? 

Re-enter Ariel, like a water-nymph. 
Fine apparition ! My quaint Ariel. 
Hark in thine ear. 
^P' _^ My lord, it shall be done. \Ehit. 
I ro. Ihou poisonous slave, j-ot by the' devil 
L'pon thy wicked dam, come forth 1 [himself 
Enter Caliban. 
V . .wicked dew as e'er my mother 
nrusn'd 
With raven's feather from unwholesome fen 
Drop on you both ! a st)uth.west blow on ve ' 
AjkI blister you all o'er! 

Pro. For this, be sure, to-night thou shall 
have cramps, [urchins ^ 

Side-stitches that shall pen thy breath up • 
bhall,for that vast of night that they may work 
Ail exercise on Uiee: thou shalt be pinch'd * 
As thick as honey -combs, each pinch morp 

stinviing "^ 

Than bees^hat made Ihem. 

Ti.f"^ A^ . J "'"^* «** '"y dinner. 

Th » island s nune, by Sycoi ax my mother, 
Uhich thou tak'st from me. When thou 

cam St first, (would'st give me 

Thou strok'dst ine, and mad'si much ot me • 
VVater with berries in't ; and teach me how 
lo name the bigger li^ht.and how the less 
4 hat ^vxx by d^y and ni^ht: iind then 1 lov'd 

thee, 



!)• ihont. 



And ghow'd th^ all the qualities o' the isle ' 
i he freslj^.pnngs, brine pits, barren place, and 

Cursed be I 'that did 8o!-An the charms 
Of Sycorax toads, beetles, bats, light on you I 
For I am all the subjects that yo.fhave,^ 
Which first was mine own king; and here yoa 
"ty me ^ 

T^h^ll ';^';^ ':«^?^'^^ »^iies you do keep from me 
1 he rest o* the island. 

Pro. Thou most lying slave. 

Whom stripes may move, not kiadnessT I have 
us'd thee, fthee 

Filth as thou art, with human care ; and loduM 
in mine ovvn cell, till thou didst seek to violate 
The honour of n^y child. 

CuLO ho, O ho '-would it had been done • 
Ihou didst prevent me; i had peopled else 
This isle With Calibans. 
xJ^^^^ . Abhoired slave : 

Which any print of goodness will not take 
Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee 
look pains to make thee speak, taught thee 

each hour 
One thing orother : when thou didst not,sava«e 
Know thine own meaning, but would'st gabble' 

A thing njost brutish, I endow'd thy purposes 
With words that made them known : But thy 

Could not abide to be with ; therefore wast thou 
Deservedly confin'd into this rock, 
Who hhdst deserv'd more than a prison. 
Ca/.^ ou taught me language; and my pro- 
fit on'i r/^„ 

Is, I know how to cuise: the red plague i id t 
l^or learning me your language! 

■o*'u' ' ^ , Hag seed, hence! 

tetch us m fuel ; and be quick, thou wert best 
lo answer other busixiess. fc;hru!;'st ihou' 

malice ? * 

If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly 
What I command, I'll rack thee with old 

cramps ; 
Fill all thy bones with aches ; make thee roar. 
1 hat beasts shall tremble at thy din. 

r5"l* K t.. No. pray thee I-- 

1 must obey; his art is of such power, [Ayide 
It would control my dam's god, Setebos, 
And make a vassal of him. 

Pro. So, slave, hence! [iS'iifC A L. 

He-enter Ar i el invisible, playing ^ sin^ine • 

Fi^B.DlNAtiDjall0W.?lg him. 

Ariel's Song. 
Come unto these yetUnv sands. 

And then take uunds: 
ConrViied when you hav% and kiss*d, 

( ihe wild waves whist ^,J 
Foot it feat Ly htre a tut there ; 
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear 

Hark, I I ark! 
Bur. Bowgh, wowgh. idispersediy 

Ihe watcrf-dogs bark: 



t Fairies. 



t Destroy. $ Still, sllenU 



SHAKSFEARE. 



[Act /. 



Bur. Bowgh, wowgh. [disyerseUiy. 

Hark^ hark! 1 hear 
The strain of strutting chanticlere 
C , Cock-a-doodle-doo. 

Fer, Where should this music be? i' the air, 
or the earth ? 
It sounds no more: — and sore, it waits upon 
Some i;od o' the island. Sitting oo a baik, 
W» epii-g again the king my father's wreck. 
This music crept by me upon the waters; 
Allayi'ig both their fury and my passion, 
"With its sweet air : thence I have foUow'd it, 
Or it hath drawn me rather:— But 'tis gone. 
Ko, it begins again. 

Ariel sings. 

Full fathom five thy father lies. 
Of his bones are coral made; 

Those are penvls that were his eyes: 
Nothing of him that doth fade ^ 

But dolh suffer a sea-change 

Into something rich and strange. 

Sea-nymyh^ hourly ring his km II . 

Hark! now I hear them, — ding-dong bell. 
[BurdeHf ding-dong 

Fer. The ditty does remember my drowu'd 
father.— 
This is no mortal business, nor no sound [me 
That the earth owes •: — 1 hear it n»w above 

Pro. The tringt d curtains of thine eye ad- 
And say, what thou seest yond*. [vance, 

Mira. What is*t? a spirit? 

Lord, how it looks about! Believe me, sir. 
It carries a brave form : — But 'tis a spirit. 

Pro. iSo, wench; it eats and sleeps, and 
hath such senses 
Ai we have,sucii : This gallant which thou seest, 
Was in the wreck; and, but he's somelhint; 
staiu'd [call him 

With grief.that's beauty's canker, thou niighi*st 
A goodly person: he hath lost his fellows, 
And strays about to find them. 

Miru. 1 might call him 

A thing divine; for nothing natural 
I ever saw so noble. 

Pro. It goes on, \As\df. 

As my soul prompts it : — Spirit, fine spirit! I'll 

free thee 
W^ithiu two days for this. 

Fer. Most sure, the goddess 

On whom these airs attend! — Vouchsafe, my 

pi ayer 
May know ii ynn remain upon thid island; 
And that you will some good instruction uive, 
How I iiMy bear me here: jMy prime request, 
W hich I do la>t pronounce, is, you wonder! 
If vou be maid, or no? 

Altra. No wonder, sir ; 

But, certainly a maid. 

Fir My language! heaven* I— 

I am the bc?t of thtin that speak this speech. 
Were 1 but where 'tis spoken. 

F>o. How! the best? 

What wert thou,ifthekingof Naples heard lliet-/ 

Fer.Afinglething,Hsl am now,that wonders 

To hear thee sp^ak of N aples : he does hear me ; 



And, that be does, I we«p: myself am Naple*; 
Who with mine cy«8, ne'er since atebb,bchel4 
The king my father wreck'd. 

Mira. Alack, for mer^f 

Fer. Yes, faith, and all his lords ; the dni<e 
And his brave son, being twain. [of Milan, 

Pro. The duke of Milan, 

And his more braver daughter, could control t 

thee. 
If now 'twere fit to do't: — At the first sight 

[Asidk 

They have chang'd eyes: — Delicate Ariel^ s* 

I'll set thee free for this! — A word, tood six; 

I fear, you have done yourself some wrongr 

a word. [1 his 

Mira. Why speaks my father so ungently? 
Is the third man that e'er i saw; the first 
That e'er I sigh'd for : pity move my father 
To be inclined my way ! 

Fer. O, if a viVjjin, 

And your affection not gone forth, ril make yoQ 
The queen of Naples. 

Pro. .^oft, sir; one word more. — 

They are both in either's powers: but this 

swift business [Aside. 

I must uneasy make, lest too light winning 

Make the prize light. — One word morel I 

charge thee, 
That thou attend me : thon dost here usurp 
The name thou ow'st not ; and hast put thysetl 
Upon this island, as a spy, to win it 
From me, the lord on't. 

Fer. No, as I am a man. 

Mira. There's nothing ill can dwell in 8uc> 
a temple : 
If the ill spirit have so fair an house. 
Good things will strive to dwell with't. 

Pro. Follow nie.— [7'o Ferd. 

Speak not you for him ; he's a traitor. — Come. 
1*11 manacle thy ntck and feet together: 
Sea-water shalt thon drink, thy food shall be 
The fresh-brook musclt-s, wiilier'd roots, and 
Wherein the acorn cradled: b'ollow. [husks, 

Fer. No; 

I will resist such entertainment, till 
Mine enemy has more power. [He draws. 

Mira. O dear father, 

Make not too rash a trial of him, for 
He's gentle, and not fearful ;. 

Pro. What, I say. 

My foot my tutor! — Put thy sword up, traitor ; 
Who njak'st a show, but dar'st not strike, thy 
conscience [ward}; 

Is so possess'd with guilt: come from thy 
For I can here disarm thee with this stick. 
And make thy weapon drop. 

Miriu Bei^eech you, father 

Pro. Hence; hang not on my garments. 

Mira. Sir, have pity; 

I'll be his surety. 

Pro. Silence: one word more 

Shall make me chide thee, if not hale thee. 
An advocate for an impostor? hush! [What I 
Thou think'st there are no more such shape* 
as he, [wench \ 

Having seen but him and Caliban: Foolish 



Owns. 



t Confute. 



I Friehtful. 



6 (»uflrd. 



TEMPEST. 



To thi most of men this is a Caliban, 
A-i.d ihey to liim are angels. 

Mlra. My affections 

Are then most humble; I have no ambition 
To see a goodlier man. 

Pro. Come on: obey; [To Fkrd. 

Thy nerves are in their infancy again, 
And have no vigour in them. 

Fer. So they are: 

My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. 
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel. 
The wreck of all my friends, or this man's, 

threats, 
To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, 
Might 1 but through my prison once a-day 
Behold this maid ; all corners else o* the earth , 



Let liberty make use (,f ; space cuuu^a 
Have I in snch a prison, 
/'^f . It works :— Come on. 

Ihou hast done well, fine Ariel!— Follow me. 

„ , , , [To Ferd. a?f.d Mirk, 

Hark, what thou else shall do me. [To A r i k i 
^/^ira. Be of comfort;* 

My father's of a better nature, sir, 
Than he appears by speech ; this is unwonted, 
VVhirh now came from him. 

^ro. Thou Shalt be as free 

As mountain winds : but then exactly do 
All points of my command. 
iP' ^ To the syllable. 

fro, tome, follow; speak not for him. 

[Exeunt. 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. Another part of the island. 

Enter X1.0VSO, Sebastian, Antonio, Gon- 
ZALO, Adrian, Francisco, and others, 

Gon. Beseech you, sir, be merry : you have 
(So have we all) of joy ; for our escape [cause 
is much beyond our loss: Our hint of woe 
Is common; every day, some sailor's wife, 
'ihe masters of some merchant, and the mer- 
chant. 
Have just our theme of woe :but for the miracle, 
1 niean our preservation, few in niillions 
Can speak like us : then wisely, good sir, weigh 
Our sorrow with our comfort. 

Alon, Pr'ythee, peace. 

Seb. He receives comfort like cold porridge. 

Ant, The visitor will not give him o'er so. 

Seb. Look, he's winding up the watch of 
bis wit ; by and by it will strike. 

Gon, Sir, — 

Seb, One:— Tell. 

Gon. When every grief is entertain'd, that's 
Comes to the entertainer — [offer'd, 

Seb. A dollar. 

Gon. Dolor comes to him, indeed; you 
have spoken truer than you purpoj^ed. 

Seb. You have taken it wiselier than I 
meant you should. 

Gon. Therefore, my lord, — 

Ant. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his 
tongue ! 

Alon. T pr'ythee, spare. 

Gon, Well, J have done: But yet — 

Seb. He will be talking. 

Ant. Which of them, he, or Adrian, for a 
ood wager, first begins to crow? 

Seb. The old cock. 

Ant. The cockrel. 

Seb. Done : The wager % 

Ant, A laughter. 

Seb. A match. 

Adr. Though this island seem to be desert, — 

Seb. Ha, ha, ha 1 

Ant. So, you've pay'd. [sible, — 

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inacces- 

Sei), Yet. 



Adr. Yet— 

Ant. He could not miss it. 

Adr. It must needs be of subtle, tender, and 
delicate temperance *. 

Ant. Temperance was a delicate wench. 

Seb. Ay, and a subtle ; as he most learnedly 
delivered. ' 

Adr. The air breathes upon us here most 
sweetly. 

Seb. As if it had lungs, and rotten ones. 

Ant. Or, as 'twere perfumed by a fen. 

Gow.Hereiseverythingadvantageoustolife. 

Ant. True ; i^ave means to live. 

Seb. Of that there's none, or little. 

Gon. How iusht and lusty the grass \o6ktl 
how green I 

Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny. 

Seb. With an eye J of green in't. 

Ant, He misses not much. 

iVe^.No; he doth but mi.-stake the truth totar ^ 

Gon. But the raritv of it is (which is indeed 
almost beyond credit)— 

Seb. As many vouch'd rarities are. 

Gon. That our ganxients, being, as they 
were, drenched in the sea, hold, notwjth 
standing, their freshness and glosses ; being 
rather new dy'd than stain'd with salt water. 

Ant. If but one of his pockets could speak, 
would it not say, he lies I 

Seb. Ay, or very falsely pocket up his report. 

Gon. Methinks, our 'garments are now a» 
fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, 
at the marriage of the king's fair daughter 
Claribel to the king of Tunis. 

Seb. Twas a sweet marriage, and we p.fos- 
per well in our return. 

Adr. Tunis was never graced before with 
«uch a paragon to their queen. 

Gon. iSot since widow Dido's time. 

Ant. Widow? a pox o' that I How came 
that widow in? Widow Dido I 

Stb. What if he had said, widower iEneaa 
too? good lord, how you take itl 

Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make me 
study of that: she was of Carthage, aol \>i 
Tunis. 



• Temperature. 



tlUnk. 



Shade of colour* 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act jr. 



Gon. This Tuniij, 8ir, wiia Caiiuage. 

Adr. Carthago i 

Gon. 1 assure yoa, Carthage. 

A7it. His word is more thau the miraculous 

*AvJ>. He hath raisM the wall and houses too. 
Aiit. What impossible matter will he make 
easy next? .... j v 

.Seh. 1 think he will carry this island home 
In his pocket, and give it his son for an apple. 
Ant. And sowing the kernels of it in the 
Bea, bring forth more islands. 
Gon, Ay'i 

Aut. Why, in good time. 
Go7i. Sir, we were talking that our gar- 
ments seem now as fresh, as wben we were at 
Tunis at the marriage ol your daughter, who 
is now queen. 

Ant. And the rarest that e'er came there. 
:Sel>. 'Bate, I beseech you, widow Dido. 
Ant. O, widow Dido ; ay. widow Dido. 
Gon. Is not, sir, my doublet as fresh as the 
first day I wore ill 1 mean, in a sort *. 
Ant. That sort was well tishM for. 
Gon. When 1 wore it at your daughters 
maniaget . [against 

Aloii. You cram these words into mine ears, 
The stomach of my sense :*VS ould I had never 
Married my daughter there ! for,comingthence, 
My son is lost ; and, in my rate, she too, 
W^ho is so far from Italy rcmov'd, ^ 
I ne'er again shall see her. O thou mine heir 
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange fish 
Hath made hia meal on thee ! 

Fran. Sir, he may live ; 

I saw him beat the surges under him. 
And ride upon their backs ; he trod the water, 
Whose enn.ity he flung aside, and breasted 
The surge most swoln that met him : his bold 

head 
•Rove the contentious waves he kept, and oar d 
Himself with his good arms in lusty stroke 
To the shore, that o'er his wave-worn basis 

bow'd, 
As stoopini: to relieve him : I not doubt, 
lie came alive to laud. 
Alon, No, no, he's gone. 

Stb. Sir, yon may thank yourself for this 
great loss; [daughter, 

That would not bless our Europe with your 
]]ui ratlier lose lier to an African ; 
Where she, at least, is banish'd from your eye, 
Who hath cause to wet the grief on't. 

AUm. Pr'ythee, peace. 

.Seb. You were kneel'd to, and imporluu'd 

otherwise 

y,y all of US ; and the fair soul herself 

Weigli'd. between lolluiess and obedienre, at 

W hich end o' the beam she'd bow. We have 

lt>8l your son, 
I fe?.r. for ever: Milan and Naples have 
More widows in them of this business' making, 
Than we bi iug men to comlori them : ilie fault's 
^ our own. 

Alo7i. bo U the dearest of the loss. 

GttH, My lord Sebastian, 



Tlie truth you speak doth lack some gentleness. 
And time to speak it in : you rub the sore. 
When you should bring the plaster. 

Seb. Very well. 

Ant. And most chirnrgeoniy. 

Go7i. It is foul weather in us all, good «r. 
When you are cloudy. 

Seb, Foul weather? 

Ant. Very foul. 

Gow.Had I a plantation of this iole my lord — 

Ant. He'd sow it with netlle-sced. 

Seb, Or docks or mallows. 

Gon. And were the king of it. What would 1 
doi 

Seb. 'Scape being drunk, for want of wine. 

Gon. I'the commonwealth I would by con- 
traries 
Execute all things: for no kind of trafiic 
Would I admit ; no name of magistrate ; 
Letters should not be known ; no use ot service 
Of riches or of poverty ; no contracts, 
Successions; bound of land,tilth,vineyard,non&; 
No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil: 
No occupation; all men idle, all; 
And women too; but innocent and pure: 
No eovereigntv : — 

Seb. And yet he would be king on't. 

Ant, The latter end of his commonwealth 
forii«ts the beginning. [produce 

Gon. All tilings in common nature should 
Without sweat or endeavour : treason, felony. 
Sword, pike,knife,gun,or need of any enginet. 
Would 1 not have; but nntuieshould brii.g forth. 
Of it^ own kind, all foizon j, all abundance. 
To teed my innocent people. 

Seh. No marrying 'mong his subjects? 

il/z^.lNone.man; all idle ; whiles and knaves. 

Go?i. I would with such perfection govern. 
To excel the golden age. [sir, 

Seb. Save his majesty 1 

Af t. Long live Gonzalo! 

Gon. And, do you mark me, sir?— 

Alon. Prithee, no more: thou dost ta4k 
nothing to me. 

Gin. 1 do well believe your highness ; and 
did it to minister occasion to these gentlemen, 
who are of such sensible and nimble lungs, 
that they always use to laugh at nothing. 

Ant. 'Twa!* you we lausih'd at. 

Goft. Who, in this kind of merry fooling, am 
nothing to yon ; so you may continue, and 
laugh at noihiuL' still. 

A/U. What a blow was there civen ? 

Seb. An it had not fallen flat-long.. 

Gwi. You are gentlemen of brave mettle ; 
you would lift the moon out of her sphere, if 
.she \%ould continue in it five weeks wilh«Bt 
changing. 

£nter Arikl invisible, j^teyiw^f solemn 

music. 
Seb. We woH'd "O, and then go a hat-fowling. 
• Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. 

Gon. No, Twarrant you; I will not a'iv<»ri 
ture my dincreiion so wt akiy. Will you .duga 
me asleep, lor 1 am wry heavy ? 



• Degree or quality. 



♦ ThH rack. 



T plenty. 



Scene /.] 



TEMPEST* 



Ant. Go sleep, and hear us. 

[AU sleep hut Ai.on. Seb. or/frf Ant. 

Alon. What, ali sso soon asleep! I wish mine 
eyes [I find 

Would, with themselves, shut up my thoughts : 
TJtey are inclin'd to ao so. 

'*>etK Please yon, sir. 

Do not omit the heavy offer of it : 
Jt seldom visits sorrow ; when it doth. 
It is a comforter. 

Ant. Wo two, my lord. 

Will guard your person, while you lake your 
And watch your safety. [rest, 

Alon. Thank yon: Wond'rous heavy. 

[Alonso sleeps. Exit Ariel. 

Seb, What a strange drowsiness possesses 
them ! 

Ant. It is the quality o* the climate. 

Seb. Why 

Doth it not then our eye-lids sink? I find not 
Myself dispos'd to sleep. 

Ant. Nor I ; my spirits are nimble. 

They fell together all, as by consent ; 
They dropp'd, as by a thunder-stroke. What 
might, [more ;— 

Worthy Sebastian ?—0, what might?— No 
And yet, methinks, I see it in thy face. 
What thou shouid'st be: tiie occasion speaks 

thee ; and 
My stroni; imagination sees a crown 
Dropping upon tiiy head. 

Seb, Whai, art thou wafking? 

Ant, Do yon not hear me speak ? 

Seb. I do; and, surely. 

It is a sleepy language; and thou speak'st 
Out of thy sleep : What is it thon didst say? 
This is a straitge repose, to be asleep 
With eyes wide open ; standing, speaking, 
And yet .so fast a8lt;ep. [moving, 

Ant. Noble Sebastian, 

Thou lefst thy fortune sleep — die rather; 
Whiles thou art waking. [wink'sl 

Seb, Thon dost snore distinctly ; 

There's meaninp in thy snores. 

Ant. 1 am more serious than rny custom : you 
Muat be so too, if heed me ; which to do. 
Trebles thee o'er. 

Seb. Well ; I am standing water. 

Ant. I'll teach you how to flow, 

Seb. Do so : to ebb. 

Hereditary sloth instructs me. 

Ant. O, 

If you but knew how yon the purpose cherish, 
Whiles thus yon mock it! how, in stripping it, 
Ton more invtsi it! Ebbing men, indeed. 
Most often do so near the bottom run, 
By their own fear, or sloth. 

Seb. Pr'ythee, say on : 

The setting of thine eye and cheek proclaim 
A inattei- jVoin thee ; and a birth, indeed. 
Which throes thee much to yield. 

Ant. Thus, sir: 

Although this lord of weak remembrance, this 
(Wi.o *h.ill be of as little iiieniory, 
When he is eai lb'd,)hiilii here almost nersuaded i 



(For he's a spirit of persuasion only,) 
The king, his son's ^live; 'tis as impossible 
Thai he's umlrown^d, as he that sleeps here, 
Seb. I have no hope [swims. 

That he's undrown'd. 

Ant. O, out of that no hope. 

What great hope have yon I no hope,that way,i8 
Another way so high an ho|>e, that even 
Ambition cannot pierce a wink beyond, 
J3nt <^loubts discovery there. Will yon grant,, 
That Ferdinand is drown'd ? [with lue, ' 

Seb. He's gone. 

Ant. Then tell me. 

Who's the next heir of Naples ? 

Seb. Claribel. 

Ant. She that is queen of Tunis ; she that 
dwells [Naples 

Ten leagues beyond man's life; she that fr^ni 
Can have no note, unless the sun were post, 
(The man i' the moon's too slow,) till new- 
born chins 
Be rough and razorable : she, from whom 
We were all sea-swallow'd, thongh some oast 

again; 
And, by that, destin'd to perform an act. 
Whereof what's past is prologue; what to come. 
In yours and my discharge. 

Seb. What stuff is this? how say you ? 

'Tis true, my brother's daughter's que?n of 

Tunis ; 
So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions 
There is some space. 

Ant. A space whose every cubit 

Seems to cry out. How shall that Claribel 
Measure us hack to Xaples ? — Keep in Tunis, 
And let Sebastian wake! — Say, this weredealh 
That now hath seized them; why Ihey were 

no worse [Naples, 

Than now they are: There be, that can rule 
As well as he that sleeps ; lords, that can prate 
As amply, and unnecessarily, 
As this Gon/alo: 1 myself could make 
A chough • of as det^p chat. (), that you bore 
The mind that I do ! what a sleep were this ; 
For your advancement! Doyou understand me, 

Seb. Methinks 1 do. 

Ant. And how does your content 

Tender your own good fortune? 

Seb, I remember. 

You did supplant your brother Prospero. 

Ant. True: 

And, look, how well my garments sit upon me ? 
Much feater than before: My brother's servants 
Were then my fellows, now they are my nieiu 

Seb. But, for yoiir conscience — [kibe. 

Ant. Ay, sir, where lies that? if it were a 
'Twould put me lo my slipper ; but I feel not 
This deity in my bosom : twenty conscience-*, 
ThatstaiMl'twixinieand Milan,candied be they, 
And melt, ere they molest 1 Here lies your 

broiher. 
No belter than the earth he lies upon. 
If he were that which .- ow he's like ; whom I, 
Willi this obedioni sleel, ihree inches c>f it. 
Can lay lo bed for ever : whiles you, doing thus 



« A bird of the jack-daw kind. 



10 



SHAKSPEARE. 



{Act //. 



To the perpetual winV for aye» mi'^ht put 
This ttncient inorfel, this sir Prudence, who 
Should not nphraid our course. For all the rest, 
They'll tiki- Migjiestion t, as a cat laps milk; 
They'll tell the clock to any business that 
We say hefUs the hour. 

A'. 0. Thy case, dear friend, 

Bhnll be my precedent; as thou got'st Milan, 
ril come by Naples. Draw thy sword : one 
stroke [P«y*9i ; 

Shall free thee fP3m the tribute wiiich thou 
And I the king shall love thee. 

Ant. Draw together : 

And when I rear my hand, do you the like, 
To fall it on Gonzalo. 

Seb, O, but one word. 

[They converse apart. 

Music. Re-enter Ariel, invisible. 
Art. My matter through his art foresees the 
dani^cr [forth, 

That these, his friends, are in; and sends me 
(For else his project dies,) to keep them living. 
[Sings in Gonzalo's ear. 
While you here do snoring lie. 
Open-eyed conspiracy 

Hts time doth take: 
If of life you keep a carPy 
Shake off slumber, and beware . 
Awake! awake! 
Ant. Then let us both be sndden. 
Gon. Now, good angels, preserve the king! 
[VVtsy wake. 
Alon. Why, how now, ho! awake! Why 
are you drawn ? 
Wherefore this ghastly looking? 
Gi>n. What's the matter? 

Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your 
repose, (lowing, 

Even now, we heard a hollov/ burst of bel 
Like bulls, or rather lions ; did it not wake you ? 
It struck mine ear roost terribly. 

Alon. I heard nothing 

Ant. O, 'twas a din to fright a monster's ear ; 
To make an eartliquake! sure it was the roar 
Of a whoie herd of lions. 
Alon. Heard you this, GonzaloV 

O^m. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a hum- 
ming, [me: 
And that a strange one too, which did awake 
Inhak'dyou.sir, and cryM;a8mine eyes open'd, 
I saw their weapons drawn : — there was a noise, 
That's verity: 'Beet stand upon our guard; 
Or that we quit this place: let's draw oor 
weapons. [further search 
Alon. Lead off this ground; and let's make 
For my poor son. 

Gon. Heavens keep him from these beasts I 
For he is, sure, i' the island. 

Alon. Lead away. 

Art. Prosper©, my lord, shall know what I 
have done. [Aside. 

So k in^^ go safely on to aeek thy son. [Exeunt. 



SCENE H. Another part of the island. 

Enter CKLiBAti, with a burden of wood, 

A noise of fh under heard. 

Cal. All the infections that the snn sucks np 
From b'.)g>, fens, flats, on Prosper fall, and 

make him 
By inch-meal a disease ! His spirits hear me. 
And yet 1 needs must curse. But they'll nor 

pinch, [m.ire, 

Fright me with urchin shows, pitch me i' the 
Nor lead me, like a tire-brand, in the dark 
Out of my way, unless he bid theiu; but 
For every trirte are they set upon me : [nve, 
Sometime like apes, that inoe:j and chatter at 
And after bite me ; then like hedge-hogs, which 
Lie tumbling in niy bare foot way, and mount 
Their pricks at my foot-fall; sometime am I 
All wt)und with adders, who, with cloven 

tongues, 
Do hiss me into madness : — Lo! now I iol 

Enter Trinculo. 

Here comes a spirit of his ; and to torment me. 
For bringing wood in slowly: Pll fall flat; 
Perchance he will not njind me. 

Trin. Here's neither bush nor shrub, to bear 
off any weather at all, and another storm brew- 
ing; 1 hear it sing i* the wind: yond' same 
black cloud, yond' huge one, looks like a foni 
bumbard § that would shed his liquor. If it 
should thunder, as it did before. 1 know not 
where to hide iT»y head: yond* sanie cloud 
cannot choose but fall by pailfuls.. — What have 
we here? a man or a fish? Dead or alive? A 
fish : he smells like a fish ; a very ancient and 
fish-like smell ; a kind of, not of W\v newest, 
Poor-John. A strange fish! Were I in England 
now, (as once I wa?,) and had but this fish 
painted, not a holiday-fool tlu-re but would 
give a piece of silver: there would this monster 
make a man ; any strange beast there makes a 
man : when they will not give a doit to relieve 
a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a 
dead Indian. Legg'd like a man ! and hit flna 
like arn)s ! Warm, o' my troth I I i\o now let 
loose piy opinion, hold it no longer ; this is no 
fifih, but an islander, that h ith lately snttered 
by a thuHiderbolt. [Thundfr.] Alas! the storra 
is come again : my best way is to creep tmder 
his gaberdine I'; there i* no other shelter here, 
about: Misery acquaints a man with strange 
bed-fellows. I will here shroud, till the dregs 
of the storm be past. 

Enter Stephano, singing; a bottle in his 
hand. 



Ste. 



/ shall no more to sea, to sea. 
Here shall J die a-shore ; — 



This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man'i 
fuueral: Well, here'o my comfort. [Drinks. 



• Ever. t Any hint. 

% A black Jack of leather, to hold beer. 



X Make mouths. 

Q The frock of a peaiaat. 



Si^me II,] 



TEMPEST. 



n 



7'he master ft lie .swabber ft hgboatswain fUnd J , 
The gunner, and his mate, 

Lot/d Mal£,Mi'g,andMarianfandMargery, 
Mut none oj us cured for Kate: 
For she hud a tongue icith a tang, 
Wottld cry to a sailor , Go, hang : 

She lov'd not the \arour of tar nor oj pitch, 

Yet a tailor might scratch her w/itre-e'er 
she did itch: 
Then to sea, boys, and let her go hang. 

This is a scurvy tune too: But here's my 
comfort, IJJrinks. 

Cal. Do not torment me : O! 

Ste. What's tUe maittr'? Have we devils 
here? Do you put tricks upon us with savajjes, 
and men ot lnde*{ Ha! 1 have not 'scaped 
drowning, to be afeard now of your four Jegs; 
for it hath been said. As proper a m^n as ever 
went on four ie^s, cannot make him give 
ground: and it shall be said so again, wnii^t 
^tephano breathes at nostrils. 

Cut. i he spirit torments me : 1 

Ste. This is some monster of the isle, with 
four leg» ; who hath got, as I take it, an ague : 
Where the devil should he learn our language i 
I will give him some relief, if it be but for that : 
If 1 can recoverhim, and keep hiiu lame, and 
get to Naples with him,he*s a present for any 
emperor that ever trode on neat's leather. 

CuL. Do not torment me, pr'ythee ; I'll 
bring my wood home taster. 

AVe. He's in his fit now; and does not talk 
after the wisest. He shall tasie of my bottle : if 
he have never di unk wine atore, it will go near 
to remove his fit : if I can revrover faim,and keep 
him t.iiiie, I will not take too much for him : he 
«haH pay for hiih that hath him,and that soundly . 

Cut. Thou dost me yet hut little hurt; thou 
wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: Now 
i'rosper works upon thee. 

•Ste. Come onyour ways; open your mouth ; 
hereisihat which will give language toy ou,cat; 
©pen your mouth: this will shake your shaking, 
I can tell you, and that soundly : yuu cannot tell 
who's your friend : open your chaps again. 

Tiin. 1 shouid know that voice : It should 
be — But he is drowned ; and these are devils : 
Ul defend n;e! — 

Ste. tour legs, and two voices; a most de- 
licate monster i His forward voice now is to 
speak well of his friend ; his backward voice 
as to niter foul speeches, and to detract. If 
all tiie wine in my bottle will recover him, I 

will help his ague: Come, AmenI I will 

pour some in thy other mouth. 

Trin. tetephano,— 

Ste. Dotn thy other mouth call me? Mercy 1 
mercy ! This is a devil, and no monster: 1 
will leave him; I have no long spoon. 

Trin. Siephano!— if thou beesi c>tephano, 
touch me, and speak to me; for I am Inncu- 
io; — be not4feard,— thy good friend Trinculo. 

Ste. If thou beest Trin; uio, come forth ; I'd 
putii > lee by the iesser ie^s : if anv l)e Tnucu- 
iu'n ic^j., ihciC are ihey. Thou art veijTiin-i 

• ladla. 



culo, indeed: Howcam'st thou to be the siege t 
of this moon-calf? Can he vent TrincnlosT 

Trin. 1 took him to be killed with a thun- 
der-stroke:— iiut art thou not drowned, Ste 
phano? I hope now, thou art not drowned. I» 
the storm overblown i 1 hid me under the 
dead moon-calf*s gaberdine, for fear of th« 
storm: And -art ihou liviiig, Stephano? O Ste 
phaao, two Neapolitans 'scaped! 

Ste. Pr'ythee, do not turn me about; my 

stomach w not constant. [sprites. 

^hil. These be fiive things, an if they be not 

That's a brave god, and bears ceJeatiai liquor: 

I will kneel to him. 

Ste. How did'st thou 'scape? How cam'st 
thou hitlier? swear by this bottle, how thou 
cam'st hither, i escaped upon a butt of sack, 
which the sailors heaved over-board, by this 
bottle! which I made of the bark of a tree, with 
mine own hands, since I was cast a-shore. 

Cal. I'll swrar, upon that bottle, to be thy 
True subject; for the liquor is not earthly. 
Ste. Here ; swear then how thou escap'dst. 
Trin. Swam a-shore, man, like a duck ; t 
can swim like a duck, I'll be sworn. 

Ste. Here, kifes the book: Thou-gh thou canit 
swim like a duck, thou art made like a goose. 
Trin. O Stephano, hast any more of thisf 
S'te. The whole L uit, man ; my cellar is in t 
rock by the sea-side, where my wine is hid. 
How now, moon-calf? how does thine ague? 
Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven ? 
Ste. Out o'the moon, 1 do assure thee: 1 
was the n.an in the moon, when time was. 
Cal. I have seen thee in her, and I do adopc 
thee ; 
My mibtresssrhewedmethec,thydog,andbush, 
Sle. Come, swear to that; kiss the book : 1 
willfurnishitanou with new contents: swear. 
Trin. By this good light, this is a very shal- 
low monster : — t afeaid of him? — a very weak 
monster : — The man i' the moon? — a most 
poor crtduious monster: — Well drawn, Qu>i>> 
ster, in good sooth. 

Cal. rii shew thee every fertile inch o'the 
island ; 
And kiss thy foot : I pr'ythee, be my god. 

Tri>i. By this lights a most perfidious and 
dr;inken monster ; when his god's asleep, he'ii 
rob his bottle. [subjecL 

Cat. I'il kiss thy foot: I'll swear myself thy 
Ste. Come on then ; down, and swear. 
Trm. Isiiall lauj^h myself to death at thia 
puppy -headed monster: A most scurvy moo- 
ster! 1 could find in my heart to beat him, — 
Ste. Come, kiiS. 

Trin. ~bntth.it the poor monster's in drinkt 
An abominable monster! 

Cal. I'll shew ihee the best springs ; Til 
pluck thee berries ; ^ 

I'll fish for thee, and get thee wood enough. 
A plague upon the tyrant that I ^c•rvel 
I'll bear him no more slicks, but follow theo 
J hou wond'rousman. 

Tri''. A most ridiculous monster; to luaisa 
a wonder of a poor druuLard. 

^ SlooL 



12 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Art III. 



Ciil. I pr'ythee, let nic bring thee where 
crabs grow ; 
Aiid I with my long rails will dig thee pig-nuts ; 
bhew thee a jay'« nest, and instruct thee how 
To inarp*henimhl<^ marmozet; I'il bring the* 
To clostring filberds, and Bometimea I'll get 

thee 
Yonng 8ea-mell8« frbin the rock: Wilt thoo 
go with me ? 
Sle. f pr'ythee now, lead the way, without 
any more talking. — Trincnlo, the king and all 
onr company else being drowned, we will in- 
ht'rit here.— Here ; bear rcy bottle. Fellow 
Trincnlo, we'll till him by and by again. 



Cal. Furetvell,master ;J'ipreneUj\irewilL 
{SinfTs dninkentj/, 
Triw.Ahowling monster; adruiikeninonsteff. 
Cal, No nwedunu I'll makeJ'orJi*h; 
Nor fitch in firing 
At requiiiny,t 
Nor scrape trenchering, no*' ioask 
dish ; 
'Ban 'Bun, Ca — Caliban, 
Has a new mastei^- get a neiv man. 
Freedom, hey-day I hey-day, freedom t free- 
dom, hi*y-day, freedom I 
Ste, O brave monster I lead the way. 

iExeunt. 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. Before Prosperous Cell. 
Enter Ferdinand, bearing a log. 

Fer. There be some sports arc painful; but 

their labour 
Delight in them sets off: some kinds of baseness 
Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters 
Point to rich ends. This my mean task would be 
As heavy to me, as 'tis odious; but 
The mistress, which 1 serve, quiekens what's 

dead, 
And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is 
Ten times more gentle than her father's crabbed 
And he's composed of h-'.rshncss. I must remove 
iiome thousands of these lo^rs, and pilefhcm up 
I' pon a sore injunction: My sweet mistress 
Weeps when she sees me work; ai»d says, 

such baseness 
Had ne'er like executor. I forget: 
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my 
Most busy-less, when 1 do it. [labours; 

Enter Miranda ; and Prospero at a 
distance, 

Mira. AJas, now! pray you, 

^'ork not so hard : I would the lightning had 
iiirnt up tho:»e logs,that you are enjoin'd tb pile! 
'i ay,8etit down,an<l restyou: when i4ti8 burus. 
Twill weep for having wearied you : My father 
Js hard at study ; pray now, rest yoarself ; 
He's safe for these three hours. 

Fer. O most dear mistress. 

The sun will si-t, before I shall discharge 
V\ hat I must strive to do. 
Mira. If you'll sit down, 

11 bear your logs the while: Pray ,give me that; 
il carry it to the pile. 

Fer. No, precious creature : 

itadraHher crack my sinews, break my back, 
lian you should such di:ihonour undergo, 
Vhsle 1 sit lazy by. 

Mira. It would become me 

is well as it does you : and I should do it 
>V ith much more ease ; for my good will is to it. 
And yuiirs agairi^t. 

Hrn. Poor worm I thon art Infected ; 

i'li" visitation shews it. 
Alira. Yo« look wearily. 



Fer. No, noble mtstresi; 'tis fresh mornitig 
with me, 
When you are by at night. I do beseech yoo, 
(Chiefly, that I might set it in my prayers,) 
What is youi name I 

Mr (I. Miranda :— O my father, 

I have broke your hestt to s ly so! 

Fer, Admired Miranda! 

Indeed, the top of admiration ; worth 
What's dearest to the world i Vk\\\ many a lady 
I have ey'd with best regard ; and many a tmie 
Theharmony of their tongneshath into bondage 
Brought my too diligent ear. f .r several virtues 
Have I lik'd several women; never any 
With so full soul, but some defect in her 
Did quarrel with the noblest urace she owed J, 
And put it to t'hefoil : But you, O you, 
So perfect, and so peerless, are ere vted 
Of evwy creature's best. 

Mira. I do not know 

One of my sex; no woman's face remember. 
Save, from my glass,mine own ; uorhave 1 seen 
Morethat 1 may call men.than you, good friend. 
And my dear father : how features are abi oad, 
I am skill-less of; but, by my moriesty, 
(The jewel in my dower,) 1 would not wish 
Any companion in the world but you ; 
-Nor can imagination form a shape. 
Besides yourself, to like of: but 1 prattle 
Sonu-'thingtoo wiklly, aud my father's precepto 
Therein forget. 

/Vr. I am, in my condition, 

A prince, Miranda ; I do tliink, a king ; 
(1 would not so!) and would no morcendore 
This wooden slavery, than I woukl sutler 
The flesh-fly blow my month. — Hear my sou* 
The very instaivt that I saw yon did [speak ;— • 
My heart tly to your service; tlaere re.'ides. 
To make me slave to it ; and, for your sake. 
Am 1 this patient log-man. 
Mira. Do yo»i love me'/ 

Fer. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to 
this sound. 
And crown what I profess with kind eveat. 
If I speak trut;; if hollowly, invert 
What best is bode<l me, to mischief! I, 
Beyond all limit of what else J i* the world. 
Do love, priae, honour >ou. 



* Sea-gulls. 



t Co aim and. 



Own'd. 



^ Whatftocver. 



Srfitfi /.J 



TEMPEST 



AJlra, I am a fool, 

To weep at what 1 am glad of. 

Pro. Fair encounter 

Of two most rare affections i Heavens rain 
On that which breeds between them I [grace 

Fer, Wheretore weep you i 

Mira, At mine unworthiuess, thai dare uot 
offer 
What I desire to give; and much less take, 
Vv hnt I shall die to want : But this is iritiing ; 
And all the more it seeks to hide iiself, 
The bigger bulk it shews. Hence, bashtul 

cunning! 
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence I 
1 am your wife, if you will marry me ; 
It not, 1*11 die your maid : to be your fellow 
Vou may deny me; but 1*11 be your servant, 
W hether you will or no. 

Fer, My mistress, dearest. 

And I thus humble ever. 

Mir a. My husband then? 

Fer, T\y, with a heart as willing 
As bondage e'er of freedom : here*i> my hand. 

Afira. And mine, with iny heart in'i. And 
Till half an hour hence. [now farewell, 

Fer, A thousand ! thousand ! 

[Exeunt FiiR. and Mir. 

Pro. So glad of this as they, I cannot be, 

Who ar« surprised with all; but n:y rejoicing 

At nothing can be more. I'll to my book ; 

rtor yet, ere supper time, must 1 perform 

Much business appertaining. [Exit, 

SCENE II. 

Another part of the island. 

Enter Stefua fioandTRincv ho;CAhiE AH 

following tvith a bottle. 

Ste. Tell not me ; — when the Lutt \i out, 
we will drink water; not a drop before: 
therefore bear up, ahd board 'em: Servant- 
monster, dnnk to me. 

Trin. Servant-monster? the folly of this 
island! They say, there's but five upon this 
isle : we are three of them ; if the other two 
be brained like us, the state totters. 

Ste. Drink, servant-ononster, when I bid 
thee ; thy eyes are almost set in thy head. 

Trin. Where should they be set else? he 
were a brave monster indeed, if they were set 
in his tail. 

Hie. My man-monster halh drowned his 
tongue in sack : for my part, the sea cannot 
drown me : I swam, ere 1 could recover the 
Ahore, five-and-thiity leagues, off and on, 
by this light. — Thou shall be my lieutenant, 
monster, or my standard. 

7'rm. Your lieutenant, if you list ; he's no 
stand<a-d. 

AVe. We'll not run, monsieur monster. 

Trin, Nor go neither: but you'll lie, like 
dogs ; and yet say nothing neither. 

Ste. Moon calf, speak once in thy life, if 
thou becst a good moon-calf. 

i'al. How does thy honour? Lrt me lick thy 
I'll uot serve him, he is not valiant. [?hoc: 

Trin. Thou liest, most ignorant monster ; 



l: 



1 am in case to jnstle a constable : Why, thoi 
deboBhed* fish ihou, was there ever man - 
coward, that hath drunk so much sack an 
to-day? Wilt thou tell a monstrous lie, behi 
but half a fish, and half a monster? 

C<il. Lo, how he mocks me I wilt thon le 
him, my lord 1 

Trin. Lord, quoth he !— that a monste 
should be such ^ natural ! 

Cat. Lo, lo, again! bite him to death, 
pr'ythee. 

Ste Trinculo keep a good tongue in yon 
head ; if you prove a mutineer, the next tre 
— Tht poor monster's my subject, and he shal 
not suffer indignity. [pleas'* 

Cal. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be 
To hearken once agiain the suit I made thee? 

Ste. Marry will 1: kneel, and repeat it; ; 
will stand, and so shall Trinculo. 

Enter Ariel, invisible, 

Cal. As I told thee 
Before, I am subject to a tyrant ; 
A sorcerer, that by his cunning hath 
Cheated me of this island. 

Ari. ITiou liest. 

Cal. Thou lie?t, thou jesting monkey, thon , 
I would, my valiant master would destroy thee: 
I do not lie. 

Ste. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more 
in his tale, by this hand, I will supplant some 
of your teeth. 

Trin. Why, I said nothing. 

Ste. Mum then, and no more. — [To Cali- 
ban,] — Proceed. 

Cal. 1 say, by sorcery he got this isle; 
From me he koi it. If thy greatness will 
Revenge it on him— for, 1 know, thou dar'st; 
But this thing dare not. 

Ste. That's most certain. [thee. 

( al. Thou shall be lord of it, and 1*11 serve 

Ste. How now shall this be compassed? 
Canst thou bring me to 'he party? [a&leep. 

Cat. Yea, yea, my lord ; Til yield him thee 
Where thou niay'st knock a nail into his head, 

Ari. Ihou liest, thou canst not [patch! — 

Cal. What a pieri ninny's this t? Thou scurvy 
I do beseech thy greatJiess,give him blows, 
Andlakehis bottlefromhim: when that's gone, 
He shall drink nought but brine; for 1*11 not 
Where the quick freshes^ are. [shew him 

Ste. 1 rinculo, run into no further danger : 
interrupt the monster one word further, and, 
by this hand, I'il turn my mercy out of doors, 
and make a stock-fish of thee. 

Trin. \\ hy, what did 1 ? I did nothing; 
I'll go further off. 

Ste. Didst thou not say, he lied ? 

Ari, Thou liest. 

Ste. Do I so? take thon that [strikes him. 
As you like this, give me the lie another time. 

Trin. I did not give the lie: — (Jut o' your 

wits, and hearing too ^ A pox o' your 

bottle! this can sack, and drinking; do. A 
murrain on your monster, and the devil take 
your fingers ! 



• Debauch'd. t Alluding to Trinculo's vtrty-coloured dresj*. % Springs, 

C. 



14 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act III, 



Cat. Ha, ha, ha I 

Ste, Now, forward wHh your tale. Pr*ythee 
stand forther otf. 

Cal. Beat him onongh : after a little time, 
I'll beat him too. 

Stt^. Stand farther— Come, proceed 

Cal. Why, as 1 told thee, 'tis a custom with liim 
I' the aftcrnuoo to sleep: there thou may'st 

biain liim, 
Havine; first sei/M hi« books ; or with a log 
i^Htter his skull, or fiunch him with a stake. 
Or cnt his wezand ♦ with thy knife : Remember, 
First tv) possess his books; for without them 
He's but a sot, as I am, nor hath not 
One spirit to command : They all do bate him. 
As roote<lly as I : Burn but hi» books ; 
He has brave utensils, (for so he calls them,) 
Which, when he has a house, he'll deck withai. 
And that most deep^' to consider, is 
Vhe beauty of his daugtiti^r; he himself 
Tails her a non-pareil: I ne'er saw woman, 
But only Sycorax ray dam, and *he; 
But she as far surpass»cth Sycorax, 
A.S greatest does l^ast. 

Ste, Is it so brave a lass ? 

Cal. Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I 
And bring thee forth brave brood, [warrant, 

Ste. Monster, I wiil kill this man : his 
laughter and I will be king and queaja ; (save 
jur graces !) and Trinoulo and thyseff shall be 
/iceroys: — Do«t thou like the plot, Triuculo? 

Tri7i. Excellent. 

Ste. Give me thy hand ; I am sorry I beat 
hee : but, while thou lives!, keep a good 
;<»ngue in thy he id. 

Cal. Within this half hour v/ill he be asleep; 
kVilt Ihou destroy him then ? 

Ste. Xy, on mine honour. 

Art. This will I tell toy master, [pleasure; 

Cal, Thou inak'sl me merry : 1 am full of 
T.et us be jocund : Will yon troll the catch 
\oa taught me but while-ere? 

Ste. At thy request, monster, I will do rea- 
son, any reason: Come on, Trineulo, let ns 
•*ing. [Sings. 

Flout *em, and shout 'em; and skout 

'eni,and Jiout 'etn; 
Thought is free. 

Cal. That's not the f^ne. 

[Ar 1 K L jdays the tune on n tabor and pipe. 

Ste. What is this same? 

Trill. This Is the tune of our catch, played 
)y the picture of ^o-body. 

Ste. If thou beest a man, shew thjself in 
by likeness: if thou beest a devil, take't as 
'.huu list. 

I'rin. O, forgive me n»y sins I 

.y;^^. He thdi dies, pa>8 ail debts: I defy 
rhee: — Mercy upon nsl 

Cal. An iliou tteaid? 

Ste. No, iiion-ter, not I. 

Ciil. Benota,e;ird; the isle is full of noises, 
^oimd.H, and nweei airs, that give delight, and 

I'uri mil. 
:90inetimes a thi>usand twangliug instruments 



Will hum about mine earsj ^nd sometimes 

voices. 
That, if 1 then had waltTd after long sleep, , 
Will make me sleep again : and then in 
dreaming, [riches 

The clouds, methought, would open, and shew 
Heady to -h op upon me ; that, when 1 wak'd, 
I cr>'d to dreat!> again. 

'"ite. This will prove a brave kingdom to 
me, where I shall have my music for nothing. 

Cal. When Pr'ospero is destroyed. 

Ste. That shall be b'y and by : I remeuibtr 
the story. 

Trin. Jhe sound is going away : let's follt 
it, and after, do our work. 

Ste. Lead, monster; we'll follow. — 
would, I conld "^ee this taborer: he lays it on. 

lYin. Wilt come? iMi follow, Stephano. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENEIII. 

Another part of the island, 

-ffn^er AlonsOjS EBASTi AN, Anton io,GoM- 
ZALO, Adrian, Vrascisco, and others. 

Gon. By'riakiut, I can go no further, «r; 
My old bones ,^che : here's a maze trod, indeed, 
Through forth-rights, and meanders T by your 
I needs must rest me. [patieure, 

Alon. Old lord, I cannot blame thee. 

Who am myself attached with weariness. 
To the dulling of my spirits : sit down, and rest. 
Even here I will put ott my hope, and keep it 
No longer tor my flatterer: he is drown'd. 
Whom thus we stray to lind; and the sea mocks 
Our frustrate se'trchonland : Well, let himgo. 
Ant. I am right glad that he's so out of hope. 
[Aside to SiibAsxiAN. 
Do not, for one repulse, forego the purpose 
That you resoiv'd to effect. 

Seh. The next advantage 

Will we take thoroughly. 

Ant. Let it be to-oighf ; 

For, now they are oppress'd with travel, they 
Will n«it, nor cannot, use such vigilance. 
As when they are fresh. 

Seb. I say to-night : no more. 

Solemn and strange music ; and Pr(jspkro 
uhoi e^ invisible. tAiter several strange 
Sh/zj-es, hrinains' in a hdnovFt ; they 
dunce about it with gentle actions of sa- 
lutation; andy inviting the king, ^c, to 
eat, they depart. ^ 

Alon. What harmony is thisT my good 

friends, hark I 
Gon. Marvellous sweet music I 
Aloii. Give ns kind keepers, heavens! 

What were these? 
Seh. A living drolhryj: Now I will believe 
That there aie unicorns ; that In Arabi.i 
There is one tree, the phoRuix* throne ; one 
At this hoar reigning there. [phnenix 

Ant. I'll believe both; 

And what does else want credit, come to ine, 
And I'll be sworn 'tis frue: Travelkre ne'er 
Though fools at home condemn them, [did Ue, 



• Throat. 



t OurIad> 



: Show. 



Scene III.] 



TEMPEST. 



15 



Goii. If in Nnpleu 

I should report this nv w, would they believe 
If I should say I saw la^h islanders, [me? 
^or, certes*, these arc people of the islind,) 
Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, 

note, 
Their manners are more gentle-kind, than of 
Our human ejeneration you shall find 
Many, nay, almost any. 

Pro. Honest lord, 

Ifhoa hast said well ; for some of you there 

present, 
Are worse than devils. [AHde. 

Alon. 1 cannot too much muset, 

Soch shapes, such gesture, and such sound, 

expressing . 

(Although they want the ase of tongue), a kind 
Of excellent dumb discourse. 
Pro, Praise in departing. 

{Aside. 
Fran, They vanish'd strangely. 
Seb. No matter, since 

They have left their viands behind ; for we 

have stomachs. — 
Will't please you taste of what is here? 
Alon. Not I. 

Gon. Faith, sir, you need not fear : When 
we were boys, 
Who would believe that there were moun- 
taineers, 
Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had 

hanging at them 
W^alfets of flesh \ or that there were such men. 
Whose heads stood in their breasts? which 

now we hnti. 
Each putter-out on five for one, will bring us 
G*)od warrant of. 

Alon. I will stand to. and feed, 

Although my last: no matter, since 1 feel 
Ihe best is past: — Brother, my lord the duke, 
Stand too, and do as we. 

%under and lightning. Enter Ariel like 
a harpy ; clap^hiswings upon the table, 
and, with a quaint device^ the banquet 
vanishes^ 

Art. Yon are three men of ein, whom destiny 
fThat hath to instrument this lower world. 
And what is in't,) the never-surfeited sea 
Hath caused to belch up; and on this island 
Where man doth not inhabit ; you 'mongst 

men [mad; 

Being most unfit to live, I have made yon 

[Seeing Alon . S e b. 4c., draw their swords. 

And even with such likevalour,men hang and 

drown. 
Their proper selves. You fools! I, and my fel- 
Are ministers of fate; the elements [lows 

Of whom your swords are temper*d, may as 

well 
Wound the load winds, or with bcmock'd-at 
Kill the still-closing waters, aa diminish [stabs 



One dowlej that's in my plume; my fellow 

ministers 
Are like invulnerable : if yon coald hurt. 
Your swords are now too massy for year 

strengths. 
And will not be uplifted : But, remember, 
(For thai*6 my business to you,) that you three 
From Milan did supplant good Prosper© ; 
Expos'd unto the sea, which hath requit it, 
Hini,and his innocent child: for which foul deed 
The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have 
Incens*d the seas and shores,>eaallthecreature3. 
Against your peace: Thee, of thy son,Alonso, 
They have bereft; and do pronounce by me. 
Lingering perdition (worse than any death 
Can be at once,) shall step by step attend 
You and your ways ; whose wraths to guard 

you from [falls 

(Which here, in this most desolate isle, else 
t'pon your heads,) is nothing, but heart's sor- 
And a clear § life ensuing. [row. 

He vanishes in thunder: then, to soft mu- 
sic, ent rr the Shapes again,and dance with 
mops and motves and carry out the table. 

Pro yAside.] Bravely the figure of this 
harpy hast thou 
Perform'dj my Ariel ; a grace it had, devouring : 
Of my instruction hast thou nothing 'bated. 
In w hat thou hadst to say : so, with good lifie. 
And observation strange, my meaner ministers 
Their several kinds have done : my high 

charms work. 
And these mine enemies, are all knit up 
In their distractions: they now are in mypower; 
And in these fits 1 leave them, whilst 1 visit 
Y<»ung Ferdinand, (whom they suppose is 
And his and my loved darling. [drown'd,) 

{Exit VKosi'YiRO from above, 
Gon. \* the name of something holy, sir, 
wh)' stand yoo 
In this strange stare ? 

Alon. O, it is monstrous ! monstrous 

Methonght, the billows spoke, and told me of it; 
1 he winds did singit to me; and the thunder. 
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounc'd 
The name of Prosper ; it did b^ss my trespass. 
I'herefore my son i' the ooze is bedded ; and 
I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet sound td, 
And with him there lie mudded. [Exit* 

Seh. But one fiend at a time, 

Pll fight their legions o'er. 
Ant. Pll be thy second. 

[Exeunt ?»eb. and Ant. 
Gon. All three of them are desperate ; their 
great guilt, 
Like poison given to work a great time atter. 
Now 'gins to bite the spirits :— I do beseechyoa 
That are of suppler joints, follow themswiftiy, 
Anfl hin(^erthem from what this ecstacy|| 
May now provoke them to. 
Adr. Follow, 1 pray you. [Exeunt* 



♦ Certainly. t Wooder. {Down. $ Pore, blameless. )] Alienation of mind. 



SIIAKSPEARF.. 



[Act ir 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. Be/are Pn^pero't rell. 
Enter Prospkro, Ferdinand, and 

Miranda. 
Pro. If I have too austerely punish'd yea, 
>ur coiTipen«;\tion makes amends; fori 
ve given yon here a thread of mine own life, 
t'lat for whkh I live; whom once again 
^nder tc thy hand : all thy vexations 
are hat my trials of thy love, and thoo 
•\»t slrangely stood the test: here afore 

Heaven, 
citify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand, 
not smile at me, that I boast her otf, 
r thoii shall find she wi!l outstrip all praise, 
d make it halt behind her. 
•'>r. I do believe It 

ainst an oracle. [qaisition 

^ro. Then, as my pift, and thine own ac- 
>rthily purchased, take my daughter: But 
.hou dost break her virgin knot before 
sanctiinoniou5 ceremonies may 
th full and holy rite be riiinister*d, 
sweet aspersion • shall the heavens let fall 
make this contract grow ; but barren hate, 
ir-ey'd disdain, au<l discord, shall l>estrew 
I, • union of your bed with weeds so loathly, 
•t you ehall hate it both : therefore, take 
Hymen's lamps shall light you. [heed, 

Vr# As 1 hope 

quiet days, fair issue, and long life, 
:h such love as 'tis now; the murkiest den, 
e most opportune place, the strong'st sug- 

g's'ion 
r worscr Genius can, shall never melt 
le honour into lust; to take away 
I edge of that day's celebration, 
en I shall think, or Phoebus' steeds are 
light kept chain'd below. [founder'd, 

f*ro. Fairly spoke : 

: then, and talk with her, she is thine own. — 
■.at, Ariel ; my industrious servant Ariel I 

Ef tir Akiel. 
' rt.Whatwnul.i my potent nr.a«lcr?herelam. 
'^ro. Thou and thy meaner fellows your 

I «8t service 
I woithily pcnorm; and I must use yon ] 
. nich anuilier trick : g'», bring the rabble, 1 
t r whom I give ttiee power,here,to this place: 
ite them to quick iiiotioti ; for I must 
.ti»w upon ilic eyes of this voung conple 
ne vanity of mine art; it is my promise, 
.1 they expect it from me. 
\H, Presently? 

■^ro. Ay, with a twiak. 
Art. I'efore you can say. Come, and go, 
A breithe twiie; and cry, so, so; 
^h (iiic, tripping on his loe, 
U be here witli mop and mowe . 
you love me, master? no. 
^ro. l)e irly , my delicate Ariel : Do not ap- 1 
thou dost hear me call. [proach,} 



Ari. Well I ropc«»ive. [Ejit 

Pro Look,thoo be tme ; do act jfi ve daliiauc* 
Too much the rein ; the stronjiest oaths ai e sti aw 
Tothefirei'thebloiid : be more abstemious. 
Or else, good night, your vow ! 

Fer. I warrant yon, Mr; 

The white cold virgin snow upon my heart 
Abates the ardour of my liver 

Pro. Well.— 

Now come, my Ariel ; bring a corollary +, 
Rather than want a spirit ; appear,and pertly.— 
No tongue ; afl eyes ; be silent. [•Soft music. 
A Masque. Enter Iris. 

/rf J.Ceres.most bou^iteous lady,thy rich leaj 
Of wheat, rye, barley, vetches, oats, and peaie; 
Thy turfy mountains,where live nibbling sheep. 
And fiat meads thatch'd with stover, them to 
Thy banks with peonied andlilied brims, [keep; 
VVl;ich spungy April at thy best J betrims. 
To make cold nymphs chaste crowns ; and thy 

broom groves. 
Whose shadow tne dismissed bachelor loves. 
Being lass-lorn ; thy px/le-clipt vineyard ; 
And thy sea marge, steril, and rocky-hard. 
Where thoj thyself dost air : The queen o'the 

sky. 
Whose watery arch, and mesjenger, am I, 
Bids thee leave these ; and with her sovereign 

grace, 
Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, 
To come and sport: her peaeocks fly amain; 
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. 
Enter Ceres. 

Cer. Hail, many-colonr'd messenger, Xhffl 
Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; [neW 

Who, with thy saffron wing.*,npon my floweri 
Diffusest honey-drops, refreshing showers : 
And with each enrl of thy blue bow dost crown 
My bosky ^ acres, and my unshruhb'ddown. 
Rid. scarf to my proud earth; Why hath thy 

queen 
Snmmon'd mehither.tothisshort-grass'd greent 

Iris. A contract of true love to celebrate; 
And gome donation freely to estate 
On the bless'd lovers. 

Cer, Tell me, heavenly bow. 

If Venus, or her son, as thou dost know. 
Do now attend the queen! since they did plot 
The means, that dusky Disjl my daughter n<»t. 
Her and her blind boy's scandaPd coinpauy"^ 
I have forsworn. (^ 

Iris. Of her society 

Be not afraid : I met her deity 
Cutting the clouds towards Faphos ; anrl her 

son, 
Dove-drawn, with her: here thought they to 

have done 
Some wanton charm upon this man an<l maid. 
Whose voNvs ate, that no t ed-rite shall be fHticl 
Till Hymen's torch be lighted, but iu vainj 
Mars'j hot minion is retura'd aifain; 



I 



.''^priuklinp. 



t SurDlnc. 



t Command. 



Woody. 



K J'lQto. 



Scene J.\ 



TEMPEST. 



Her waspisli-headcd son has broke his arrows. 
Swears he will shoot uo more, but play with 

sparrows, 
And be a boy right out. 

Cer. Highest queen of state, 

Great Judo comes ; I know her by her gait. 
Enter Juno. 
Juno. How does my bounteous sister? Go 
with me, [be. 

To bless this twain, that they may prosperous 
And honoured in their issue. 

SONG. 
Juno. Honour^ riches, marriage-blessing, 
Lang continuance, and increosi/.g. 
Hourly Joys be still upon you! 
Juno sings her blessi/igs on you. 
Cer. Earth*s i?icrease, and Joiso7i * j/lenty ; 
Bw^ns and garners never empty ; 
FitieSf With dust' ring bunches grow- 
ing ; 
Plants y with goodly burden bowing ; 
Spring come to you, at the farthest, 
Jn tlie very end of harvest ! 
Scarcity and tvant shall shun you ; 
Ceres' blessii g so is on you. 
Fer. This is a most majestic vision, and 
Harmonious charmingly : May I be bold 
To think these spirits Y 

Pro, Spirits, which by mine art 

I have from their confines cali'd to enact 
My present faiKjies. 

Fer, Let me live here ever ; 

So rare a wonder'dt f ither, and a wife, 
Make this place Paradise. 

[Juno aiui Ceres ivhisper, and send 
Iris on empl^jymefU, 

Pr , Sweet now, silence: 

Juno and Ceres whisper seriously ; 
There's something eise to do : hush, and be 
Or else our spell is marr'd. [mute, 

Iris, Yon nymphs, cali'd Naiads, of ilu- 

wand'ring brooks, [looks, 

With your sedg'd crowns, and ever-harmless 

Leave your crisp chani>els, and on this green 

land 
Answer your summons ; Juno does command : 
Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate 
A contract of true love ; be not too late. 

EntfT certain Nymphs, 
You sun-burn'd sickleiuen, of ^vu^iiist weary, 
Come hither from the furrow, and be na-.ij ; 
Make holiday : your rye-straw liais put ui , 
And these fresh nymphs encounter every one 
In country footing. 
Enter certain Reapers, properly habited : 

they join uith the Nymphs in a grave) u. 

dance; towards the end wher»:J Piios 

PKRO stu) ts suddenly, and speaks ; aftfr 

wkich, to u strange, hollotv, and conjuse^ 

noise, they heavily vanish. 

Pro, [«.sic«.] 1 had forgot that foul conspi- 
racy 



17 



Of the beast Caliban, and his confederates, 
Against my life; the minute of their plot 
Is almost come. — [To the ■^'pints,} — Well 
done ; — avoid ; — no more. 

Fer, This is most strange: your father's ia 
some passion 
That works him strongly. 

Mira. Never, till this day. 

Saw I him touch'd with anger so distemper'd. 

Pro, You do look, my son, in a mov*d tort. 
As if yon were dismay 'd : be cheerful, sir: 
Our revels now are ended : these our actors. 
As I foretold yon, were all spiiits, and 
Are melted into air, into thin air : 
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision. 
The cloiul-capp'd towers, the i^orgeons palacer. 
The solemn temples, th.e great globe itself. 
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve; 
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded J, 
Leave nof a rack^i behind : We are such stuflf 
As dreams are made of, and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep. — Sir, I am vex'd ; 
Bear with my weakness ; my old brain is 

trv/ubled. 
Be not disturl)M with my infirmity : 
If you be pleasM, retire into my cell. 
And there repose ; a turn or two Til walk. 
To still my beating mind. 

Fer, Mira, We wish your peace. 

[E^iennt. 

Pro. Come with a thought : — I thank you :— > 
Ariel, come. 

Enter Ariel. 

Art. Thy thoughts I cleave to ; Whai*8 ihy 
pieijeure ? 

Pro. Spirit, 

We must prepare to meet with Caliban. 

Ari, Ay,my commander : when I presented 
Ceres, 
I thought to have told thee of it; but I fear*d, 
Lest I might anger tiiee. 

Pro. Say aghiu, where didst thou leave these 
varlets I [drinking ; 

Ari. I told yon, sir, they were red-hot with 
So full of valour, that they smote the air 
For breathing in their faces; beat the ground 
For kissing of their feet: yet always bending 
Towards their project: Then I beat my tabor. 
At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd 

their ears. 
Advanced their eye-lids, lifted up their noses. 
As they smelt nmsic; so I charm'd their ears, 
That,cal!-like,they my lowing follo\v'd,throiigh 
Xooth'd briers,sharp Junes, pricking goss, and 
thorns, [them 

Which enter'd their frail shins : at last 1 left 
I' the filthy mantled pool beyond your cell. 
There dancin;i )ip to the chins, that the foul 
O'erstunk their feet. [lake 

Pro. This was well done, my bird : 

Thy shape invisible retain thou still. 
The trumpery in my house, go, bring it hither. 
For stale [I to catch these thieves. 

Ari, I go, I go. [Exit* 



• Abunoance. t Able to pro< nee such wonders. X Vanished. 

i A bouy of cioude in motion; but i( u most piobabie Uiat the author wrote (ruck 



18 



8HAKSPEARE. 



I Act V. 



Pro. A devil, a born devil, on whose nature 
Nartnre • can never rtick ; on whom my pains, 
Hnin«inel> taken, all, all lost, quite lost; 
And as, with age, his body uglier grows. 
So his mind cankers: I will plague them ail, 

Re-enter Ariel loaden with glistering 
apparel, die- 
Even to roaring: — Co«ie,hang them on this li ne. 

Prospero and Ariel remain imisible. 

Enter Caliban, Stephano, and Trin- 

CULO; uU wet. 

Cal. Pray you, tread softly, that the blijid 
mole may not 
Hear a foot fall : we now ^re near his cell. 

Ste. Monster, your fairy, which, you say, 
is a harmless fairy, has done little better than 
played the Jackt with us. 

JYin. Monster, 1 do smell all horse-piss; at 
which my nose is in great indignation. 

Ste, So is mine. Do you hear, monster? 
If I should take a displeasure against you; 
look you, — 

Trin. Thou wert but a lost monster. 

Cal. Good m> lord, give me thy favour still: 
Be pntient, for the prize I'll brin<i thee to 
Shall hoodwink this mischance: therefore, 

speak softly, 
All's hush'd as midnight yet. 

lYin. Ay, but to loj?e our bottles i-nthe pool, — 

Ste. There is not only disgrace and disho- 
nour in that, monster, but an inliuitc loss. 

Trin. That's more to me than my wetting : 
yet this is your harmless fairy, monster. 

^te. I, will fetch otf my bottle, though I be 
o'er ears for my labour. 

Cal. Pr'y thee, my king, be quiet : Seest thou 

here, [enter : 

This Is the mouth of the cell: no noise, and 

Do that good mischief, which may make this 

island 
Thine own for ever, and I, thy Caliban, 
Forayel thy fooi-licker. 

Ste. Give me thy hand : I do begin to have 
blooily thontihts. 

Trin. O king Stephano! peer! O worthy 
Stephanol look, what a wardrobe here is for 
thee ! 

Cal. Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash. 

Trin. O, ho, monster; we know what be- 
longs to a frippery j;—0 king Stephanol ( 



Ste. Put olf that gown, Triucuio ; by thli 
hand, I'll have that gown. 

Trin. Thy grace shall have it. 

Cal. The dropsy drown this fool I what do 
you mean. 
To doat thus on such lug^jage? Let's along. 
And do the murder first : if he awake. 
From toe to crown he'll fill ouf skins with 
Make us strange stuff. [pinches ; 

Ste. Be you quiet, monster. — Mistress line, 
is not this my jerkin / Now is the jerkin under 
the line: now, jerkin, yon are like to lose your 
hairr, and prove a bald jerkin. 

Trin, Do, do : We steal by Line and level, 
and't like your grace. 

Ste. I thank thee for that jest : here's a gar- 
ment for't : wit shall not go unrewarded, while 
I am king of this country : Sttal by line and 
level, is an excellent pass of pate ; there's An 
other garment for't. 

TYin. Monster, come, put some lim-eH upon 
your fingers., and away with the res*. 

Cai. I will have none on't: we shall lose 
oar time, 
Aud all be tnrn'd to barnacles, or to apetJ 
With foreheads villainous low. 

Ste. Monster, liy-to your ringers; help U 
bear this away, where my hogslhead of win<» 
is, or I'll turn you out of my kingdom : go to 
carry this. 

Trin. And this. 

Ste. Ay, and this. 
A noise of hunters heard. Enter diver* 

S-pirils, in shape of hounds ^ and hunt 

them about ; Prospero and Auikl. set» 

ting them on. 

Pro. Hey, Mountain, hey I 

Art, Silier! there it goes, Silver! 

Pro, Fury, Fury. ' there. Tyrant, there 
hark, hark I 

[Cal. Ste. and Trim, are driven out- 
Go,charge mygob4iasthattliey grind theirjoint* 
With dry convulsions ; shorten up their sinews 
With aged cramps ; and more pin. h-spottud 
Than pard 5!, or cat o' mountain. ^inaUe them, 

Ari. Hark, they roar. 

Pro. Let them be hunted souudiy: At this 
Lie at my mercy all mine enernie? : [hour 

Shortly shall all my labours end, aud thou 
Shall have the air at freedom: for a liitle, 
Follow, and do me service. [Ej:€unt» 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. Be/are the cell of Prospero. 

Enter Prospkro in his magic robes, and 
Arjel. 
Pro. Now does my project gather to a head : 
My ciiarms crack not; my spirits obey; and 

time 
Goes upright with his carriage. How's the day 1 



Ariel. On the sixth hour; at which time. 
You said our work should cease. [my lord. 

Pro. I did s«y so. 

When first I rais'd the tempest. Say, my spirit, 
How fares the king and his? 

Ari. Confin'd toE«*thej 

In the same fashion as you gave in charge) 
Just as you left the'in,sir; all prisoners 



► Education. t Jack with a lantern. J Ever. 

A shop for sale of old clothes. Biidlime. 5J Leopnrd. 



Scene 7.] 



TEMPEST. 



In the lime-grove which weather-fends* your 

cell; 
They cannot budge, till you release. The king, 
His brother and yours, abide all three dis- 
tracted ; 
And the remainder mourning over them, 
Brim-full of sorrow and dismay; but chiefly 
Him you term'd, sir, Tlie good odd lord, 

Gonxalo; [drops 

•fig tears run down his beard, like winter's 
From eaves t of reeds : your charm so strongly 

works them. 
That if you now beheld them, your affections 
Would become tender. 
Pro. Dost thou think so, spirit? 

Ari. Mine would, sir, were I human. 
Pro. And mine shall. 

Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling 
Of their afflictions t and shall not myself, 
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply, 
Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou 

art? [the quick. 

Though with their high wrongs I am struck to 
Yet, with my nobler reason , 'gainst my fury 
Do I take part: the rarer action is [tent. 

In virtue tlian in vengeance : they being peai- 
The sole drift of my purpose doth extend 
Not a trown further : Go, release them, Ariel ; 
My charms 1*11 break, their senses I'll restore, 
And they shall be themselves. 
Ari. I'll fetch them, sir. [Exit. 

Pro. Ye elves of hills, brooks, stan<1ing 

lakes, and groves ; 
And yc, that on the sands with printless foot 
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fiy him, 
When he comes back ; you demi-puppet?, that 
By moon-bhine do the green-sour ringlets make, 
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you, whose 

pastime 
Is to make midnight-mushrooms; that rejoice 
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid 
(Weak masters though you be,) I have be- 

dimm'd (winds, 

The noon-tide sun, call'd forth the mutinous 
And 'twixt the green sea and the azni'd vault 
Set roaring wiar : to the dread rattling thunder 
Have I given lire, an/i lifted Jove's stout oak 
Witt) his own bolt; thestrongbas'd promontory 
Have J madeshidce ; and by thespurs plnck'd up 
The pine and cedar: graves, at my command, 
Have waked their sleepers ; oped, and let them 

forth 
By my so potent art : But this rough magic 
I here abjure: and, when I have rtqiiir'd 
Some heavenly music, (which even now I^oJ 
To work mine end upon their senses, that 
This airy charm is for, I'll break my staff, 
Bury it certain fathoms in tlse earth, 
And, deeper than did ever plummet sound, 
1*11 drown my book. [Solemn mudic. 

Re-enter Ariel: after him, Alonso, with 
a frantic gesture J attended by Gonzajlo; 
S B BAST I AN and Antoni o /n like manni r, 
attendeit by Adrian and Francisco: 
They allenterthe circle which PBOiP£Ro I 



19 



ha>d tnade, and (here stand charmed 
which FROSPERO*observing, speaks, 
A solemn air, and the best comforter 
To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains. 
Now useless, boil'd within thy skull I There 

For you are spell-6topp*d. [stand 

Holy Gonzalo, honourable man, 
Mine eyes, even sociable to the shew of thine 
Fall fellowlydrops.-The charm dissolves apace; 
And as the morning steals upon the night. 
Melting the darkness, so their rising senses 
Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that manll# 
Their clearer reason. — O, my good Gonzalo, 
My true preserver, and a loyalsir 
To him thou follow'st; I will pay ttiy gracei 
Home, both in word and deed. — Mostcruelij 
Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter , 
Thy brother was a furtherer in the aci; — 
Thou'rt pinch'd for't now, Sebastian. — Flesh 

and blood, 
You brother mine, that entertain'd ambition, 
Expell'd remorse i and nature; who, with 

Sebastian, [strong,) 

(Whose inward pinches therefore are niosi 
Would here have kill'd your king ; I do foigive 

thee, [ing 

Unnatural though thou art!— Their uiiderstand- 
Bngins to swell; and the approac' • *; le 
Will shortly till the reasonable shoi es. 
That now lie foul and muddy. Not one of them. 
That yet looks on me, or would kn^w nie:-*r 

Ariel, 
Fetch me the hat and rapier in my ceL 

[Kiif A. .Li.. 
I will disease me, and myself present, 
As I was someti«me Milan :--quicl- ly, spirit; 
Thou shalt ere long be free. 

Arisl re-enters f singing, and helps to 

attire Prospero. 
Ari. Mliere the bee sucks, ther . suck J; 
In a coivslip*s bell J lie: 
liter f I couch when owls do cry. 
Oil the bat's hack I dojly, 
Ajter summery merrUy : 
Merrily^ merrily, shall I Lire vow, 
Under the blossom that hangs on the bough. 
Pro. Why, that's my dainty Ari?l : i bhall 
ixii&o thee ; 
But yet thou sh^^lt have freedom: o, so, so. — 
To the king's ship, invisible as thi art: 
There shalt rhou find the mariners dslecp 
Under tiie hatches; the master and the boat- 
swain. 
Being awake, enforce them to this place; 
And presently, I pr'ythee. 

Ari. 1 drink the air before me, and return 

Or e'er your pnlse twire beat. [Exit ARitL, 

Gon. All torment, trouble, wonder, ar.d 

amazement 

Inhabits here : Some heavenly power guide u« 

Out of this fearful country 1 

Pro. Beh(^ld, sir kiu^^ 

The wronged duke of Milan, Prospero: 
For more assurance that a living pri^ice 



• Defends from bad weather. 



1 Thatch. 



t Pity, or tenderness of heart 



so 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



t.4r^ r. 



Docs now speak to thee, I embrace thy body ; 
And to thee, an(l thy company, I bid 
A hearty welcome. 

A Ion, Whe'r • thoii beest he, or no, 

Or a*>nie enchanted trifle to abuse me, 
As late I have been, I not know: thy pnlse 
Beats, as of tlesh and blood ; and, since I saw 

thee. 
The affliction of my mind amends, with which, 
I fear, a madness held me : this must crave 
(An if this be at all,) a most strange story. 
Thy dukedom I resign ; and do «ntreat 
Thou pardon me my wrongs : — But how should 

Prospero 
Be living, and be here! 

Pro. First, noble friend, 

Let me embrace thine age; whose honour 
Be ireasur'd or coufinM. [cannot 

Gon. Whether this be. 

Or be not, I'll not swear. 

Pro. Yon do yet taste 

Some subtleties o' the isle, that will not let yoa 
Believe things certain : — VVelcome,my friends 

all:— 
But you, my brace of lords, were I so minded, 
[Aside to Skb. ajid An i . 
I here could pluck his highness* frown upon 
And justify you traitors ; at this time [you, 
I'll ttU no tales. 

Seb. The devil speaks iu him. [Aside. 

Pro. No:— 

For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother 
Wouid even infect my mouth, I do forgive 
Tliy rankest fault; all of them ; and require 
My dukedom of thee, which, perforce, i know. 
Thou must restore. 

A Ion, If thou beest Prospero, 

Give us particulars of thy pieservatton : 
How thou hast met us here, who three hours 
since [lost, 

Were wreckM upon this shore ; where I liave 
How sharp the point of this remembrance is! 
My dear son Ferdinand. 

Pro. I am woet for't, sir. 

A Ion. Irreparable is the loss; and Patience 
Says, it is past her cure. 

Pro, I rather think. 

You have not sou£;ht her help; of whose soft 

grace. 
For the like loss, I have her sovereign aid. 
And rest myself content. 

A Ion. You the like loss? 

Pro. As great to me, as late; and, portable j 
To make the dear loss, have 1 means much 

weaker 
Than you may call to comfort you; for I 
Ha>e lost my daughter. 

Alon. A daughter? 

O heavens! that they were living both in 
Naples, [wish 

The king and queen there! tnat they were, I 
Myself were mudded in that oozy bed 
\V here my »«)n lies. W hen did you lose your 
daughter? [lords 

Pro. In tliis last tempest. I perceive, ihtse 
Ac this eucountcr do so much admire. 



That they devour their reason ; and scarce tlunk 
Their eyes do offices of truth, their words 
Are natural breath : but, ht)vvsoe'Lr you have 
Been justled from your senses,know torceruiiti, 
That I am Prospero, and that very duke 
Which was thrust forth of Milan; who most 
strangely [landed, 

Upon this shore, where you were wreckM, WrtS 
io be the lord on't. No more yet of this; 
For 'lis a chronicle of day by day, 
Not a relation for a breakfast, nor 
Befittine; tli f tir«t meeting. Welcome, sir ; 
This cell's my court: lujre have I fow attendants 
And subjects none abroad : pray you, look in. 
My dukedom since you have given me again, 
I will requite you with as good a thing; 
At least, bring forth a wonder, to content ye. 
As much as me my dukedom. 

The entrance of the cell opens^ and dis- 
covers Fkrdinam) and Miramda play 
ing at chess. 

Mira. Sweet lord, you play me false. ^ 

Fer. No, my dearest love, 

I would not for the world. 

Mira. \ 68, for a score of kingdoms you 
should wrangle. 
And I would call it fair play. 

Alon. If this prove 

A vision of the island, one dear son 
Shall I twice lose. 

SeO. A most high miracle! 

/V^-.Tho'the seas lhreaien,they are merciful : 
I have curs'd them witliout cause. 

[FtRu. kneels to Alon. 

Alon. Now all the blessings 

Of a glad father compass thee about! 
Arise, and say how thou cam*st here. 

Min/. ()! wonder! 

How many goodly creatures are there heie! 
How be uteous niankin^l is 1 O brave new 
That has such people in'i! [world, 

Pi'O. 'Tis new to tliee. 

Alon. What is this maid, with whom thou 
wast at piay ? 
Your eld'st acqu.tintance cannot be threehours: 
Is slie the goddess that h ilh ^ever'd us. 
And brought us thus togeiher? 

Ftr. Sir, she's mortal; 

But, by immortal Provi.lence, she's mine ; 
I chose her, when I could not ask my father 
For his advice; nor (hoiight I had one : she 
Is daughter to this fanioi.s duke of Milan, 
(;f whom so often i hav« heard renown. 
But never saw before; if whom I have 
Received a second lite, and second father 
This lady makes him to n.e 

Alon. I am her's; 

Hut O, how oddly will it sound, that I 
Must ask my child forgi\tness! 

Pro. There, sir, slop: 

Let us not burden our ren embrances 
With a heaviness that's gone. 

Gon. I have inly wept, 

Or should have spoken eve this. Look dowi* 

you gods. 



• Whether. 



* Sotrjr 



1 B«}ar«l»ie. 



Scene /.] 



TEMPEST 



21 



And Oil this conple drop a blessed crown ; 
For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way 
Which brought us hither! 

Alon, I say. Amen, Gonzalo ! 

Gon. Was Milan thrust from Milan, that bis 
issue 
Should become kings of Naples? O, rejoice 
Jleyond a common joy; and set it down 
\V lib gold on lasting pillars: In one voyage 
l)ii Claribel her husband find at Tunis; 
And Ferdinand, her brother, found a wife, 
Where he himself was lost ; Frospcro hit 

dukedom, 
I'l a poor isle; and all of us, ourselves, 
When no man was bis own*. 

Aion. Give me your hands : 

[7b Fkr. and Mir. 
I^t grief and sorrow still embrace his heart, 
I'hai doth not wish you joy i 

6't>7». Be'tso! Amen! 

He-enter Akizl^ with the Master and 
Boatswain amazed ly folloiving, 

look, sir, look, sir ; here are more of us I 

1 prophesied, if a gallows were on land. 
This fellow could not drown: — Now, blas- 

phejny, [shore 1 

Thai swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on 
Hast thou no mouth by land? What is the 
news 1 [found 

Boats. The best news is, that we have safely 
Our king and company : the next, our ship-, — 
W hich, but three glasses sinc6, we gave out 

split, — 
Is tight and yaret, and bravely rigg*d,as when 
We first put out to sea. 

Ari, Sir, all this service^ 

Have I done since I Avent* \{Aside 

Pro, My tricksy J spirit I^ 

Alon. These are not natural even s ; they 
strengthen, [hither? 

From strange to stranger : — Say, how came you 
Boats. IfT did think, sir, I were well awake, 
I'd strive to tell you. We were dead of sleep, 
A/id (how, we know not,) all clapp'd under 
hatches, [noises 

Where, but even now, with strange and several 
Of rbaring, shrieking, howling, gingling chains. 
And more diversi-ty of sounds, all horrible, 
We were awak'd ; straightway, at liberty: 
Where we, in all her trim, freshly beheld 
Our royal, good, and gallant ship ; our master 
Cap'ring to eye her: On a trice, so please you. 
Even in a dream, were we divided from them. 
And were brought moping hither. 
A ri. W as't well done ? "j 

Pro. Brave'y, my diligence. Thou >[Aside. 

sbalt be free. J 

Alon. This is as strange a maze as e'er men 
trbd: 
And there is in this business more than nature 
\i as ever conduct $ of: some oracle 
Must rectify our knowledge. 

Pro. Sir, my liege. 

Do not infest your mind with beatiug on 



The strangeness of this business ; at pick'd 

leisure. 
Which shall be shortly, single I'll resolve you 
(Which to you shall seem probable,) of every 
These happen'd accidents: till when, be cheer. 

ful. 
And think of each th'ng well.— Come hither, 

spirit; [Aiide, 

Set Caliban and his companions free : 
Untie the spell. '{Exit Ariel.] How fares 

my gracious sir? 
There are yet missing of your company 
Some few odd lads, that you remember not. 

Re-enter Ariel, driving in Cali ban, Ste- 
PHANo, and Tjiinculo, in their stolen 
apparel. 

Ste. Everj' man shift for all the rest, and 
let no man take care for himself; for all is but 
fortune: — Coragio, bully-monster, Coragiol 

Trin. If these be true spies which 1 wear in 
my head, here's a goodly sight. 

Col. O Setebos,these be brave spirits indeedl 
How fine my master is ! 1 am afraid 
He will chastise me. 

Seb. Ha, ha ; 

What things are these, my lord Antonio? 
Will money buy them? 

A7it. Very like ; one of them 

Is a plain fish, and,^no doubt, market Ale. 
Pro. Mark but the badges of these men, my 
lords, ^ [knave. 

Then say, if they be true : !| — This mis-shapen 
His mother was a witch ; and one so strong 
That could controul the moon, make flows and 

ebbs, 
And deal in her command, without her power; 
These three have robb'd me; and this demi- 

devil 
TFor he*s a ba.«tard one,) had plotted with them 
To take my life: two of these fellows you 
Must know, and own; this thing of darkness I 
Acknowledge mine. 

Cal. I shall be pinch'd to death. 

Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunkea 

butlorf 
Seb. He is drunk now : W^here had he wine t 
Alon. And Trinculo is reeling ripe : Whece 
should they 
Find this grand liquor that hatii gilded them ?— 
How cam'st thou in this pickle? 

Trin. I have been in such a pickle, since I 
saw you last, that, 1 fear me, will never out oi 
my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing. 
Seb. Why, how now, Stephano? 
Ste. O, touch me not ; 1 am not Stephano, 

but a cramp. 
Pro. You'd be king of the isle, sirrah ? 
Ste. I should have been a sore one then. 
Alon. This is as strange a thing as e'er I 
look'd on. [Hoinfiffg to C«»liban. 
Pro. He is as disproportion'd in his manue«i 
As in his shape:— Go, j«irrah, to my cell; 
Take with you your coiiipanions ; as you look 
To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. 



» In his senses. t Ready. j Clever, adroit. $ Conductor. 



1 Hone»t 



22 



8HAKSPEARE. 



Act r. 



Cat. Ay, that 1 will; and I'll be wibe here- 
after, 
And seek for grace: What a thrice-double ass 
Was !, iu take this drnnkaid for a god. 
And worship this dull fool 't 
Pro. Go to ; away ! 

Alun. HenGe,and bestow your luggage where 

you found it. 
Seb, Or stole it, rather. 

[Exeujit Cal. Stk. and Trin. 
Pro. Sir, 1 invite your highuess, and your 
train, 
To iny poor cell : where you shall take your 

rest 
For this one night; which (part of it,) I'll waste 
W itb such discourse as, I not doubt, shall make 
Go quick away : the story of my life, [it 



And the particular accidents, gone by, 
Since I came to this isle: And in the morn, 
I'll bring you to your ship, and so to Naples, 
Vv here I have hope to see the nuptial 
Of these our dear-beloved solemniz'd ; 
And thence retire me lo my Milan, where 
Every third thought shall be my grave. 

Alon. I long 

To hear the story of your life, which must 
Take the ear strangely. 

Pro. I'll deliver all ; 

And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales, 
Aad sail io expeditions, that shall catch 
Your royal lleet farotf. — My Ariel ; — chick, — 
That is thy charge ; then to the elements 
Be free, and faro thou well ! — [aside.] Please 
you, draw near. [ExtuiU* 



EPILOGUE. 

SPOKEN BY PROSPERO. 



Ninv my charms are all overthrown. 
And tvhat strength I havens mine aivnj 
H hich is most faint : notv,*tis true, 
J must be here conJirVd by you. 
Or sent to Naples: Let me not. 
Since I have my dukedom got. 
And pardon*d the deceiver, dwell 
In this bare island, by your spell ; 
But release mejrom my hands. 
With the help of your good hands *. 



Gentle breath of yours my sails 
Must fill, or eUe my project fails, 
M' hich was to please: Noio J ivant 
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant ; 
And my ending is despair. 
Unless J be r€liev*d by prayer ; 
Which pierces so, that it assaults 
Mercy itself, and frees all faults. 

As youjrom crimes ivould pardon*d be, 
JLct your indulgence stt me free* 



• Applause : noise was supposed to dissolve a spell. 



It is observed of The Tempest, thai its plan is regular: this the author of Thk Rkvisal 
fWnks, what I think too, an accidental eftect of the story, not intended or regarded by on. 
author. But, whatever might be Shakspeare's intention in forming or adopting the plot, ho 
has made ii Instrumental to the production of many characters, diversified with boundless 
bivention, and preserved with profound skill in nature, extensive knowledge of opinions, and 
accurate observation of life. In a single drama are here exhibited princes, courtiers, and 
aailors, all speaking in their real characters. There is the agency of airy spirits, and of an 
earthly goblin. The operations of magic, the tumults of a storm, the adventurer of a desert 
Island, the native e£fneion of untaught affeciion, the punishment of guilt, and the final hiippi- 
Bess of tLe pair for whom our passiona zjid reason are e<}aally interested. JonsaoH. 



TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 



^cr0on^ rcprc^cnteti. 



IIURE OP Mihw, father to Silvia. 

AfiTosio, father to Proteus. 
Thurio, a foolish rival to Valentine. 
Eqi-amour, agent for Silvia in her escape, 
Speku, a clownish servant to Valentine. 
Launce, servant to Proteus, 



Panthino, servant to Antonio, 
Host, where Julia lodges in Milan, 
Out -laws, 

JuLiA,aladyof Verona, beloved by Proteus, 
Silvia, the duke*s daugfUer, belored by 

Valentine. 
LucETTA, waiting woman to Julia. 



Servants, Musicians, 
Scene f — iomelimes in Verona; sometimes in Milan; and on the frontiers of Mantua, 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. An open place in Veronal, 
Enter Valentine and Proteus. 

Val. Cease to persnadc, my loving Protens ; 
Home-keeping youth have ever homely wits: 
Wer't not, affection chains thy tender days 
To the sweet glances of thy hononrM love, 
I rather would entreat thy company. 
To see the wonders of the world abroad. 
Than living dully slnggardiz'd at home, 
Wear out thy youth with shapeless idleness. 
But, since thou lov'st, love still, and thrive 

therein, 
Even as I would, when I to love begin. 

Pro. Wilt thou be gone ? Sweet Valentine, 
adieu ! 
Think on thy Proteus, when thou, hapty, Bcest 
Some rare note-worthy object in thy travel : 
Wish me partaker in thy happiness, 
When thou dost meet good hap ; and, in thy 
If ever danger do environ thee, [danger, 

Commend thy grievance to my holy prayers. 
For I will be thy bead's-man, Valentine. 

Val. And on a love-book pray for my success. 

Pro. Upon some book I love, I'll pray for 
thee. [iove, 

Val. That's on some shallow story of deep 
How young Leandcr cross'd the Hellespont. 

Pro. That's a deep story of a deeper love ; 
For he was more than over shoes in love. 

Val. 'Tis true ; for you are over boots in love. 
And yet you never swam the Hellespont. 

Pro. Over the boots f nay, give me not the 
boots *. 

Val. No, ril not, for it boota thee not. 

Pro, What? 

Val. To be 

In love, where scoro is bought with groans ; 
coy locks, [mirth. 

With heart-sore sighs ; one fading moment's 
With twenty watchful, weary, tedious nights: 
If iiaply won^ perhaps, a hapless gain; 



If lost, why then a grievous labour won ; 
However, but a folly bought with wit. 
Or else a wit by folly vanquished. 
Pro. So, by your circumstance, you call me 

fool. 
Val. So, by your circumstance, I fear, you'll 

prove. 
Pro. *Tis love you cavil at ; I am not Love. 
Val. Love is your master, for he masters 
And he that is fo yoked by a fool, [you: 

Methinks should not be chronicled for wise. 

Pro. Yet writers say. As in the sweetest bud 
The eating canker dwells, so eating love 
Inhabits in the finest wits of all. 

Val. And writers say. As the most forward 
Is eaten by the canker ere it blow, [bud 

Even so by love the young and tender wit 
Is turn'd to folly ; blasting in the bud. 
Losing his verdure even in the prime^ 
And all the fair effects of future hopes. 
But wherefore waste 1 time to counsel thee. 
That art a votary to fond desire? 
Once more adieu : my father at the road 
Expect? my coming, there to s«e me shippM 
Pro. And thitber will lbringtliee,Valenii <\ 
Val. Sweet Proteus, no ; now let us take 
our leave. 
At Milan let me hear from thee by letters. 
Of thy success in love, and what news else 
Betideth here in absence of thy friend ; 
And I likewise will visit thee with mine. 
Pro. All happiness bechance to thee in Milan I 
Val. As much to you at home! and sro fare- 
well! [£aff Valentine. 
Pro. He after honour hunts, I after love : 
He leaves his friends, to dignify them more ; 
I leave myself, my friends, and all for love. 
Thou, Julia, thou hast metamorphos'd me ; 
Made me neglect my studies, lose my time, 
Warwithgood counsel, setthe world at nought^ 
Made wit with musing weak, heart sick witii 
thought. 



• A hnmo'-ons punishment at harvest-home feasts, &C. 



2% 



SHAKSPEAflK. 



C Act /. 



Enter Speed. 

Speed, Sir Proteus, save you: Saw you my 

master? [for Mil sin. 

Pro. But now he parted hence, to embark 

'Vj?. Twenty to one then, he is shipp'd already ; 

And I have play'd the sheep in losing him. 

Pro. Indeed a sheep doth very often stray. 
An if the shepherd be awhile away. 

Speed, You conclude that my master is a 

shepherd then, and I a sheep? 
Pro. I do. 
Speed. Why then my horns are his horns, 

whether I wake or sleep. 
Pro. A silly answer, and fitting well a sheep. 
Speed. This proves me still a sheep. 
Pro, True, and thy master a shepherd. 
Sp. Nay, that I can deny by a circumstance. 
Pro. It shall go hard, but I'll prove it by 
wiothcr. 

Speed. The shepherd seeks the sheep, and 
hot the sheep the shepherd ; but I seek my 
master, and my master seeks not mc: there- 
fore, I am no sheep. 

Pro. The sheep for fodder follow the shep- 
herd, the shepherd f«»r food follows not the 
fheep ; thou for wages followed thy master, 
thy master for wages followi not thee: there- 
fore, thou art a sheep. 

•y/'.Suchanother proof will make me cry b;ia. 
Pro. But dost thou hear? gav'st thou my 
letter to Julia? 

Speed. Ay, sir: I, a lost mutton, gave your 
letter to her, a laced mutton*; and she, a 
laced mutton, gave me, a lost mutton, nothing 
for my labour. 

Pro. Here's too small a pasture for such a 
•tore of muttons. 

Speed. If the ground be overcharged, you 
were best stick her. 

Fro. Nay, in that you are astray; 'twere 
best pound you. 

Speed. Nay, sir, less than a pound shall 
Fcrve me for carrying your letter. 

Pro. You mistake ; I mean the pound, a 

pinfold. 

Speed. From a pound to a pin? fold it over 

and over, [your lover. 

' 'TIS threefold too little for carrying a letter to 

Pro. But what said she? did she nod ? 

•^SPKiiD nods. 
'Speed. I. * ' ' * 

Pro. Nod, I? why, that's noddy +. 
Speed. You mistook, sir ; I say, she did nod : 
and you ask me, if she did nod ; and I say, I. 
Pro. And that set together, is — noddy. 
Speed. Now you have taken the pains to 
»et it together, take it for your pains. 

Pro. No, no, you shall have it for bearing 
the letter. 

'Speed. Well, I perceive, I must be fain to 
bear with you. 

Hro. Why, sir, how do yon bear with me t 

Speed, Marry, sir, the letter very orderly ; 

having nothing but the word, noddy, for my 

jKiins. "^ 



Pr. Beshrew j me, but you have a quick wir. 

Speed, And yet it cannot overtake your 
slow purse. 

Pro. Corae, come, open the matter in brief: 
What sahl she? 

Speed. Open your purse, that the money, and 
the matter, niay be both at once delivered. 

Pro. Well, sir, here is for your pains: What 
said she? 

Sp. Truly, sir, I think you'll hardly win hor. 

Pro. Why? Could'stlhou perceive £o much 
from her? 

Speed. Sir, I could perceive nothing at all 
from her; no, not so much as a ducat for de- 
livering your letter: And being so hard lo me 
that brou'^ht your mind, I fear, she'll prove aj 
hard to you in telling her mind. Give her nv 
token but stones; for she's as hard as stee.. 

Pro. What, said she nothing? 

Speed. No, not so much as — take this /or 
thy pains. To testify your bounty,! thank ymi, 
yon have testern'd ^ me; in requital whereof, 
henceforth carry your letters jourself: and si>, 
sir, I'll commend you to my master. 

Pro. (Jo, go, be gone, to save your shkr 
from wreck; 
Which cannot perish, having thee aboard. 
Being destined to a drier death on shore: — 
I mtist go >«en(l some better messenger ; 
I fear, my Julia would not deign my lines. 
Receiving them from such a worthless post. 

SCILNE II. 

The same. Garden of Ju\\d*9 house. 

Enter J VLii. and Luc£tta. 

Jul. But say, Lucetta, now we are alone, 

Would'st thou then counsel me to fall in lovet 

J^2ic. Ay, madam; so you stumble not »i» 

heedfnlly, 
Jvl. Of all the fair resort of gtmtlemcn. 
That every day with parlej! encounter me. 
In thy opinion, which is worthiest love? 
Luc. Please yon, repeat their names. III 
shew my mind 
According lo my shallow simple »kil). 
Jul. U hat think'st thou of the fair Sir 
Eglamour? [tine; 

Luc. As of a knight well-spoken, ne.it .»».d 
But, were I you, he never should be mine. 
Jul What think'st thou i)f the rich Merc.iiic*? 
Z/j/c. Well of his wealth ; but of himself , no, vo, 
»/«//. Whatthink'st thou of the gentle PrtJtfnsf 
Luc. Lord, lord! to see what foily jei-xif 

in ns ! 
Jul. How now I what means this passion 

at his name? 
Li/r. Pardon, dear madam ; 'lis a passing 
That 1, unworthy body as I am, [shame^ 

Should censured thus on lovely gentlem. i». 
Jul. Why not on Proteu'^, as of alltlieresi? 

Luc. Then thus, of many good 1 think 

Jul. Your reason? [him best, 

Luc. I have no other but a woman's reaso»i 
I think him so, because I think ITim so. 



• A terra for a courtezan, 
i Cive me a »ix pence. 



t A game at cards. 
U Talk. 



I III betide. 
^ Pass 8eui»;ufte. 



n.) 



TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 



Jul. And Avoald'st Ihou have me cast my 
love on him? [away. 

Ziuc, Ay, if you thoaght your love not cast 

Jul. Why he of all the rest haih never mov'd 
me. [loves ye. 

Luc. Yet he of all the rest, I think, best 

Jul. His little speaking shews his love but 
small. [of all. 

JLuc. Fire, that is closest kept burns most 

Jul. They do not love, that do not shew 
their love. 

IjUc. O, they love least, that let nen know 

Jul. I would, I knew his mind, ^heir love. 

JjUC. Peruse this paper, madam. 

Jul, To Julia,— Say, hom whom? 

Luc. That the contents will shew. 

Jul. Say, say; who gave it thee ? 

Luc. Sir Valentine's page; and sent, I think, 

from Proteus : 

He would have given it you, but I being in the 

way, [I pray. 

JJidm your name receive it; pardon the fault, 

Jul. Now, by my modesty , a goodly broker!* 
Dare yon presuint* to harbour wanton Lines? 
To whisper and conspire against my youth? 
Now, trust me, 'tis an office of great worth. 
And you an officer fit for the place. 
There, take the paper, see it be returned ; 
Or else return no more into my sight. 

Luc. To plead for love deserves more fee 

Jul. Will you be gone? [than hate. 

Luc. That you may ruminate. [Ea:it. 

Jul. And yet, I would I had o'erlook'd the 
letter. 
It were a shame to call her back again. 
And pray her to a fault for which 1 chid her, 
What fool is she, thai knows I am a maid. 
And would not force the letter to my view? 
Since maids, in modesty, suy N'o, to that 
Which they would have the profferer construe. 
Fie, fie! how wayward is this foolish love, [4y. 
That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse. 
And pres<3ntly, all humbled, kiss the rod! 
How churlishly I cliid Lucetta hence, 
When willingly I would have hrid her here! 
How angrily 1 taught my brow to frown, 
When inward joy enforc'd my heart to smile ! 
My penance is, to call Lucetta back. 
And ask remission for my folly past :— 
What ho J Lucetta 1 

Re-enter Lucetta. 

Luc. What would your ladyship? 

Jul. Is linear dinner-time? 

Luc. I would it were ; 

That you might kill your stomach t on your 
And not upon your maid. [meat, 

Jul. What is't you took up 

So gingerly ? 

Luc. Nothing. 

Jul. Why did'st thou stoop then ? 

//7/c. To take a paper up that I let fall. 

Jul. And is that paper nothing? 

Luc. Nothing concerning roe, 

Jul. Then let itlir for those that it concern.-, 



Luc. Madam, it will not tie wheit it con 
Unless it have a false interpreter. [cerns, 

Jul. Some love of your's hath writ to yo i 
in rhyme. 

Luc. That I might sing it, madam, to a tune : 
Give me a note; your ladyship cm set. 

Jul. As little by such toys as may be possi bie 
Best sing it to the tune of Light o' loie. 

Luc. It is too heavy for so light a tune. 

Jul. Heavy? belike, ithath some burden then 

Luc. Ay, and melodious were it, would yo, 

Jul. And why not you? [sini; ii 

Luc. I cannot reach so high 

»/M^.Let'ssee your song: — Hownow,miiiion 

Luc. Keep tune there still, so you will sin^ 
it out: 
And yet, methinks, I do not like this tune. 

Jul. You do not? 

Luc. No, madam ; it is too sharp. 

Jul. You, million, are too saucy. 

Luc. Nay, now you are too flat. 
And mar the concord with too harsh a descant J 
There wnnleih but a mean § to fill your song. 

Jul. The mean is drown'd with your unruly 
base. 

Luc. Indeed, I bid the base|! for Proteus. 

Jul. This babble shall not henceforth tronbh 
Here is a coilH with protestation I — [me 
[Tears the letur. 
Go, get you gone ; and let the papers lie : 
You would be fingering them, to anger me. 

Luc. She makes it strange ; but she woulo 
be best pleas'd 
To be so anger'd with another letter. [E.tit. 

Jul. Nay, would I wereso anger'd with iht"> 
samel 

hateful hands, to tear such loving words! 
Injurious wasps ! to feed on such sweet honey, 
And kill the bees, that yielo it, with yourain^** ; 
PIl kiss each several paper for amends. 

And here is writ — kind Julia ; — unkind Julia i 
As in revenge of thy ingratitude, 

1 throw thy name against the bruising stones. 
Trampling contemptuously on thy disdain. 
Look, here is writ — love-wounded Proteus • — 
Poor wounded name! my bosom, as a bed. 
Shall lodge thee, till thy wound be thior.ghlv 

heard; 
And thus I search it with a sovereign kiss. 
But twice or thrice, was Proteus written down 
Be calm, good wind, blow not a word away. 
Till I have found each letter in the letter. 
Except miiiTe own name ; that some whiriwiiv 
Unto a ragged, fearful, hanging rock, [bea 
And throw it thence into the raging sea ! 
Lo, here in one line is his name t vv ice writ, — 
Poor forlorn Proteus, passionate Proteus 
To the sweet Julia ;— that Ml tear away ; 
And yet I will not, sith** so prettily 
He couples it to his complaining namee : 
Thus will I fold them one upon another ; 
Now kiss, embrace, contend, do what you will. 
Jie-entcr Lucltta. 
Luc. Madam, dinner's ready, and your fa 
ther stays. 



• A rjiatchnidker. 
§ The tenor In music. 



t Passion or obstinacy. t A term in n-uic. 

U A challenge. ^i Bustle, stir. •• biacc. 



26 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act I. 



Jul. Well, let us go. 

IjUC. What, shall these papers lie like tell- 
tales here ? [up. 
Jul. If you respect them, best to tate them 
Luc. Nay, I was taken up for laying them 
down : 
Yet here they shall not lie, for catching cold. 
Jul. I see, you have a month's mind to them. 
Luc. Ay, madam, you may say what sights 
you see ; 
I see things too, although you judge I wink. 
Jul, Come, come, will't please you go? 

[Neurit. 
SCENE III. 
The same. A Room in Antonio's House. 

Enter Antonio and Panthino. 
Ant. Tell me, Panthino, what sad • talk was 
that 
Wherewith my brother held you in the 
cloister? 
Pun. 'T was of his nephew Proteus, yourson. 
Ant. Why, what of him? 
Pan. He wonder'd,that your lordship 

Would suffer him to spend his youth at home ; 
While other men, of slender reputation t. 
Put forth thi-'ir sons to seek preferment out : 
Some, to the wars, to try their fortune there; 
Some, to discover islands far away ^ 
Soin«, to the studious universities. 
For any, or for all these exercises, 
He said, that Proteus, your son, was meet ; 
And did request me, to imp6rtune yon. 
To let him spend his time no more at home. 
Which v/ould be great impeachment ^ to his age. 
In having known no travel in his youth. 
Ant. Nor need'st thou much imp6rtune me 
to that 
Whereon this month I have been hammering. 
( have consider'd well his loss of time; 
And how he cannot be a perfect man. 
Not being try'd and tutor'd in the world : 
Experience is by industry achiev'd. 
And perfected by the swift course of time: 
Then, tell me, whither were I best to send him ! 
Pa7i. I think, your lordshipis not ignorant 
How his companion, youthful Valentine, 
Vtlends the emperor in his royal court. 
Afit. I know it well. 

Pan. 'Twere good, I think, your lordship 
sent him thither : 
'>^here shall he practise tilts and tournaments, 
' lear sweet discourse,converse with noblemen; 
Lnd be in eye of every exercise, 
Vorthy his youth and nobleness of birth. 
Ant. I like thy counsel; well hast thou advis'd: 
-nd, that thou may 'st perceive how well Hike 
T he execuiion of it shall make known ; [it, 
r.ven with the speediest execution 
^ will despatcii liim to the emperor's court. 
Pan. To-morrow, may it please you, Don 

Alphonso, 
i^lth other gentlemen of good esteem. 



Are journeying to salute the emperor. 
And to commend their service to his will. 
Ant. Good company ; with them shall Pro- 
teus go : [him$. 
And, in good time, — now will we break with 

Enter Proteus. 
- Pro. Sweet love! sweet lines! sweet life i 
Here is her hand, the agent of her heart ; 
Here is her oath for love, her honour's pawn : 
O, that our fathers would applaud our loves. 
To seal our happiness with their consents I 

heavenly Julia! 

Ant. How now? what letter are you reading 
there ? [or tv\o 

Pro. May-'t please your lordship, 'tis a wurd 
Of commendation sent from Valentine, 
Delivered by a frienrfl that came from him. 

Ant. Lend me the letter; let me see v hat 
news. [writes 

Pro. There is no news, my lord ; but that he 
How happily he lives, how well belov'd, 
And daily graced by the emperor; 
Wishing me with him, partner of his for une. 

Ant. And how stand you affected to hU u i.shf 

Pro. As one re4ying on your hardship's will. 
And not depending on his friendly wisi». 

Ant, My will is something sorted vsith his 
wish : 
Muse II not that I thus suddenly proceetl; 
For what I will, I will, and there an end. 

1 amresolv'd, that thou shalt spend some time 
With Valentinus in the emperor's court ; 
What maintenance he from his friends receives^ 
Like exhibition^ thou shalt have from me* 
To-morrow be in readiness to go ; 

Excuse it not, for I am peremptory. 

Pro. My lord, I cannot be so soon provided ; 
Please you, deliberate a day or two. 
Ant. Look, what thou want'st, shall be sent 
after thee : 
No more of stay ; to-morrow thou must go. — 
Come on, Panthino ; you shall be employ'd 
To hasten on his expedition. 

'[E.ieu7it Ant. ani Pan. 
Pro. Thus have I bhunn'd the fire, for fear 
of burning ; 
And drench'd me in the sea, where I am 

di own'd : 
I fear'd to shew my father Julia's letter. 
Lest he should take exceptions to my love ; 
And with the vantage of mine own excuse 
Hath he excepted most against my love. 
O, how this spring of love resembleth 

The uncertain glory of an April day; 
Which now shews all the beauty of the sun. 
And by and by a cloud takes all away ! 

Jie-enfer Panthino. 
Pan. Sir Proteus, your father calls for you ; 
He is in haste, therefore, I pray you, go. 

/Vo. Why , this it is! my heart accords thereto; 
And yet a thousand times it answers, no. 

[Eieunt, 



• serious. 

I iircak the matter to hint. 



t Little conseiuence. 
Wonder. 



t Reproach. 
% Altoivance, 



Sc<ine I.\ 



TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 



27 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. Milan. 

Aji Apartment in the Duke's Palace, 
Enter Valentine and Speed. 

Speed. Sir, yoar glove. 

Val. Not mine; my gloves are on. 

Speed. Why then this may be yonr's, for 
this is but one. [mine : — 

Vul. Ha ! let me see : ay, give it me, it's 
Sweet ornament that decks a thing divine! 
Ah Siivia! SiFvia! 

Speed, Madam Silvia! madam Silvia I 

Val. How now, sirrah? 

Speed. She is not within hearing, sir. 

Val. Why, sir, who bade you call her? 

Sp. Your worship, sir: or else I mistook. 

Val. Well, you'll still be too forward. 

Speed. And yet I was last chidden for being 
too slow. 

Vai. Go to, sir ; tell me, do you know ma- 
dam Silvia? 

Speed. She that your worship loves ? 

f al. Why, how know you that I am in love? 

Speed. Marry, by these special marks : First, 
you have learned, like sir Proteus, to wreath 
yonr arms like a male content; to relish a 
love-song, like a robin-red-breast; to walk 
alone, like one that had the pestilence; to sigh, 
like a schocl-boy that had lost hip A. B. C. ; to 
weep, like a young wench that had buried her 
graodam ; to fast, like one that takes diet* ; to 
watch, like one that fears robbing; to speak 
puling, like a beggar at Hallowmas t. You 
were wont, when you laugh'd, to crow like a 
cock ; when you walked, to walk like one of 
the lions; when you fasted, it was presently 
alter dinner ; when you looked sadly, it was 
for want of money; and now you are meta- 
morphosed with a mistress, that, when I look 
on >oa, I can hardly think you my mastei. 

Vul. Are all these things perceived in me? 

Speed. They are all perceived without ycu. 

Val. Without me ? They cannot. 

Speed. Without you? nay, that's certain, 
for, without you were so simple, none else 
would : but you are so without these follies, 
that these follies are within you, and ehine 
through you like the water in an urinal; that 
not an eye, that sees you, but is a physician to 
comment on your malady. 

yal. But, tell me, dost thou knew my lady 
Silvia? 

Spted. She, that you gaze on so, as she sits 
at supper ? 

Val. Hast thou observed that? even she I 
n.ean. 

Speed, Why, sir, I know her not. 

Vul. Dost thou know her by my gazing on 

er, and yet know'st her not. 

Speed. Is shei.ot hard favoured, sir? 

Val. iN ot 80 fair, boy, as well favoured. 

Speed. Sir, I know that well enough. 

Val, What dost thou know I 



Speed. That she is not so fair, as (of yo«) 
well favoure:l. 

Val. I mean, that her beauty is exquisite, 
but her favour infinite. 

Speed. That's because the one is painted, 
and the other out of all count. 

Val. How painted? and how out of count? 

Speed. Marry, sir, so painted, to make her 
fair, that no man counts of her beauty. 

Val. How esteemest thou me? I account 
her beauty. 

Speed, You never saw her since she was 
deformed. 

Val. How long hath she been deformed ? 

Speed. Ever since you loved her. 

Val. I have loved her ever since I saw her ; 
and still I see her beautiful. 

Speed. If you love her, you cannot see her. 

Val, Why? 

Speed, Because love is blind. O, that you 
had mine eyes ; or your own had the lights 
they were w ont to have, when you chid at sir 
Proteus for going nns^artered ! 

Val, What should I see then? 

Speed. Your own present folly, and her 
passing deformity : for he, being in love, could 
not see to garter his hose; and you, being ia 
love, cannot see to put on your hose. 

Val. Belike, boy, then you are in love; for 
last mornhig you could not see to wipe my 
shoes. 

Speed. True, sir; I was in love with my 
bed: 1 thank you, you swinged J me for, my 
love, which makes me the bolder to chide 
you for yours. 

Val. lu conclusion, I stand affected to her. 

Speed. I would you were set; so, your af. 
fectiv^n would cease. 

Val. Last niglit she enjoined me to write 
some lines to one she loves. 

Speed. And have you ? 

I al. I have 

Speed. Are they not lamely writ ? 

Val. No> boy, but as well as I can do 
them: — Peace, here she comes. 

Enter Silvia. 

Speed. O excellent motion^! () exceeding 
puppet ! now will he interpret to her. 

Val. Madam and mistress, a thousand good- 
morrows. 

Spted. O, 'give you good even! here's si 
million of manners. [Aside. 

Sil. Sir Valentine an* servant, to you two 
thousand. 

Speed. He should give her interest: and 
she gives it him. [letter, 

Vai. As you cnjoin'd me, I have writ your 
Unto the secret nameless friend of yours ; 
I Which I was much unwilling to proceed in, 
, But for my duty to your ladyship. 

Sil. I thank you, gentle servant : 'tis very 
\ clerkly || done. 



• Under a regimen, t AUhallowmas. J Whipped. $ A puppet show. H Like a scholar. 



2^ 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act If, 



VuL Now trust me, madam, it came hardly 
For, being ignorant to whom ii goes, [otf ; 
1 writ Ht random, very doubtfully. 

V//. Perchance you think too much of so 
much pains ? [write, 

Val. No, madam; so it stead yon, 1 will 
Pleitse you commajid, a thou-sand times as 
And yet, — [rnnch : 

SU. A pretty period ! Well, I guess the .^eqnel; 
And yet I will not name it:— and yet I care 

not ; — 
And yet take thi^acnin; — and yet I thank you; 
Mef.ning hencef« .n to trouble you no more. 

Speed. And yet you will; and yet another 
yet. {Aside. 

Val. What means your ladyship? do you 
not like It I 

SiL Yes, yes; the li nes are very quaintly \vrit ; 
But since unwillingly, take them again : 
Nay, take them. 

fol. Madam, they are for you. 

SiL Ay , ay ; yon writ them, sir, at my request : 
But i will none of them ; they are for you : 
1 w»>nld liave ha<l them writ more movingly. 

Val. Please you, I'll write your l:id>ship 
another. [it over: 

SiL And, when it's writ, for my sake read 
And, if ii please you, so ; if not, why, so. 

Val. If it please me, madam ! what then ? 

SiL Why, if it please yon, take it for your 
labour; 
And HO Kood-morrow, servant. [Exit Silvia. 

Speed. O jest unseen, inscrutable, invisible. 
As a nose on a man's face, or a weathercock 

on a steeple! 
My. master sues to her; and she hath taught 

her suiior. 
He being her pupil, to bect^me her tutor. 
O excellent device! was there ever heard a 
better? [write the letter? 

Ihat my master, being 'cribf, lo himself shojid 

f al. How now, sir? what are you reason- 
ing with yourself^ 

Speed. Nay T was rhyming; 'tis you that 
have the reason. 

Vol. To do what ? 

»S>. To be a spokesman from madam Silvia. 

^ -L 'io whi)m i 

Speed, lo yourself: why, she wooes you by 
• tigore. 

Viil. What figure ? 

Speed. By a letter, I should say. 

Val. Why, she hath not writ to me? 

Sf eed. What need she. when she hath made 
yon write to >oarseUt Why, do you i*ot per- 
ceive the jest i 

lal. No, believe me. 

Sp^ed. No believing you indeed, sir: But 
di<l )<)u perceive hereainest? 

I tii.:- he gave me none,cxcept an angry word. 

Speed. W hy, she hath gfven you aktter. 

Vitl. That's the letter I writ (o her friend. 

Speed. And that letter hath she delivered, 
«nd there an end*. 

/ ///. I would, it were no worse. 

Speed, I'll warrant you, tis as well ) I 

• There's the conclusion. 



Fur often you have writ to her; and she, in 
modesty f [agf/in reply. 

Or else for want of idle timet could not 
Or fearing else some messenger, that might 
her jnind discover, [unto her lover. ^ 
Herself hath taught her love himself to write 
All this I speak in print; for in print 1 found 
Why must- you, sir? 'tis dinner-time. [it. — 

Val. I have dined. 

Spied. Ay, but hearken, sir: though the ca- 
meleon Love can feed on the air, I am one that 
am nourished by my victuals, and would fain 
have meat : O, be not like your mistress ; be 
moved, be moved. [Exeunt 

SCENE IL 
Verona. A room in Julia's House. 
Enter Proteus and Julia. 
Pro. Have patience, gentle Julia. 
JuL I must, where is no remedy. 
Pro. When possibly I can, I will return. 
JuL If you turn not, you will return the 
sooner: 
Keep this remembrance for thy Julia's sake. 
[Gii'ing a ring. 
Pro. Why then we'll make exchange ; here, 

take yon this. 
JvL And seal the bargain with a holy kiss. 
Pro.Kereismyhimd for my true constancy ; 
And when that hour o'er slips me in the day. 
Wherein I si^h not, Julia, for thy sake, 
•The next ensuing hour some foul mischance 
Torment me for my love's forgetfulness ! 
My father stays my coming; answer not; 
The tide is now: nay, not the tide of tears; 
That tide will stay me longer than I should; 

[Exit JUMA. 
Julia, farewell. — What ! gone without a word ? 
Ay, so true love should do : it cannot speak ; 
For truth hath better deeds, than words, to 
grace it. 

Enter Panthino. 
Pan. Sir Proteus, you are staid for. 
Pro. Go ; 1 come, I come : — 
Alas! this parting strikes poor lovers dumb. 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE III. The same, A Street, 
Enter Launce, trading a dog. 
Lnnn. Nay, 'twill be this hour ere I have 
done weeping; all the kindt of the Launces 
have this very fault: I have received my pro- 
poJtion, liktt the prodigious son, and an) going 
with sir Proteus to the Impeiial's court. I 
think Crab my dog be the sourest-natured dog 
that lives: my mother weeping, my father 
wailing, my sister crying, our maid howling, 
ourciit wringinj( her hands, and all our house 
in a great perplexity, yet did not this cruel- 
hearted cur shed one tear : he is a stone, a very 
pcbbk'-stone, and has no more pity in him 
than a dog: a Jew would have wept to have - 
seen our parting; why, my gramlatn having 
no eyes, look you, wept herself blind at my 
parting. Nay, I'll show you the manner of it: 

t Kindred. 



Scfne /F.] 



TWO GENTI.EMEN OF VERONA. 



20 



This shoe is my father ;— no, this left shoe is 
iiiy father; — no, no, this left shoe is my mo- 
thers—flay, that cannot be so neither ;— yes, it 
is so, it is so; it hath the woiser sole; This 
shoe, with the hole in it, is my mother, and 
this my father; A vengeance on'tl there 'tis : 
now, sir, this staff" is my sister; for, look you, 
the is as white as a lily, and as small as a 
wand : this hat is Nan, our maid ; I am the 
dog :— no, the do^ is himself, and I am the 
dog, — O, the dog is me, and I am myseJf ; ay, 
BO, so. Now come I to my father; Fcther, 
your blessing ; now should not the shoe speak 
a word for weeping ; now should I kiss my 
father j well, he weeps on: — now come I to 
my mother, (O, that she could speak now!) 
like a wood* woman; — well, I kiss her; — 
why there 'tis ; here's my mother's breath up 
and down: now come I to my sister; mark 
the moan she makes : now the dog all this 
while sheds not a tear, nor speaks a word ; 
but ste how I lay the dust with my tears. 
Enter Pa nth i no. 

Pan. Lannce, away, away, aboard ; iny 
master is shipped, and thou art to post after 
with oars. What's the matter? why weepest 
thou, man? Away, ass; you will lose the tide, 
if you tarry any longer. 

J.a. Itis no matter if the ty'd were lost; forit 
Is the unkindest ty'd that ever any man ty'd. 

Pan. What's the unkindest tide? 

La. W^hy, he that's ty'd here ; Crab, my dog. 

Pan, Tut, man, I mean thou'lt lose the flood; 
and, in losing the tlood, lose thy voyage ; and, in 
losing thy voyage, lose thy master; and in losing 
thy mastei, lose thy service ; and, in losing thy 
■ervice, — Why dost thon stop my mouth? 

La. For fear thou should'st lose tLy tongac. 

Pan. Where should 1 lose my tongue ? 

Latin. In thy tale. 

Pan. In thy tail ? 

Laun. Lose the tide, acd the voyage, and 
the master, and the service? The tide! — Why, 
man. If the river were dry, I am able to fili it 
with my tears ; if the wind were down, I could 
drive the boat with ray sighs. 

Pan. Come^ come away, man; I wag sent 
lo call thee. 

Laun. Sir, call me what thou darest. 

Pfin. Wilt thou go? 

Laun. Well, I will go. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. 

Milan. An Apartment i?i the Dnlie^s Palace. 

Enter Valentine, Silvia, Thurio, 

and Sp*:ed. 
.V?7. Servant — 
Vai. Mistress? 

Speed. Master, sir Thurio frowns ou you. 
} al. Ay, boy, it's for love. 
Speed. Not of you. 
} al. Ot my mi.stre&s then. 
Speed. 'Twere good, you kno-ked him. 
Sil. Servant, you are sadt. 
Vul. Indeed, madam, I seem so. 



• C -a zy. distracted 



t Serious. 



TUii. Seem you that you are nott 

Vol. Haply J, I do. 

77iu. So do counterfeits. 

f'al. So do you. 

7\iu. What seem I, that I am not? 

Val. \\ ise. 

7'Am. What instance of the contrary ! 

Val. Tour tolly. 

7hu. And how quote $ yon my folly ? 

T'aL I quote it in your jerkin. 

Thu. My jerkin is a doublet. 

Val. Well, then, I'll double your foMy. 

Thu. How? ' 

Sil. What, angry, sir Thurio? do you 
change colour? 

Val. Give him leave, madam ; he is a kind 
of cameleon. 

Thu. That hath more mind to feed on your 
blood, than live in your air. 

Vr/l. You have said, sir. 

Thu. Ay, sir, and done too, for this time. 

Val. I know it well, sir; you always end 
ere you begin. 

Sil. A tine volley of words, gentlemen, and 
quickly shot off. 

Val. 'lis indeed , madam ; we thank the giver. 

Sil. Who is that, servant? 

Val. Yourself, sweet lady ; for you gave 
the fire : sii Thurio borrows his wit from your 
ladyship's looks, and spends what he borrows, 
kindly in your company. 

Thu. Sir, if you spend word for word with 
me, I shall make your wit bankrupt. 

Val. I know it well, sir : you have an ex- 
chequer of words, and, 1 think, no other trea- 
sure to give your followers; for it appear* 
by their bare liveries, chat they live by your 
bare words. 

Sil. No more, gentlemen, no more : here 
comes my father. 

Enter Duke. 

Duke. Now, daughter Silvia, yen are hard 
beset. 
Sir Valentine, your father's in good health : 
V\ hat say you to a letter from your friends 
Of much good news ? 

Val. My lord, 1 will be thankful 

To any happy messenger from thence. 

Duke. Know you Don Antonio, your 
countryman { 

Val Ay, my good lord, I know I he gentleman 
To be of worth, and worthy estimation, 
And not without desert so well reputed. 

Duke. Hath he not a son? 

Val. Ay, my good lord ; a son, that well de 
The honour and regard of such a father, [serves 

Duke. Vou know him well? [infancy 

Val. I knew him as myself; for from oar 
Wehaveconvers'd,and spent ourhourstogethcr: 
Aiid though niyseit have been an idle truant, 
Omittinu the sweet benefit of time. 
To clothe mine aiic with angel-like perfection ; 
Yet hath sir Pro eus, for that's Isis name, 
Made use and fair advantage of his days; 
H.s years but young, but his experience old ; 

X Perhaps. $ Observe. 

Da 



30 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Ac/. //. 



Ills head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe; 
Anil, In a word, (for far behind his worth 
CoFTie all the praises that I now bestow,* 
Ho is complete in feature, and in mind, 
\\ itii all good i;race to grace a gentleman. 

Pitke. Beshrew* n)€, sir, but, if he make 
He i> as worthyforan empress' love, [this good. 
As iiicet to be an emperor's counsellor. 
Well, sir; this gentleman is come to me, 
Willi commendation from great potentates; 
And liere he means to spend his time a-while : 
1 think, 'tis no unwelcome news tc you, 

Fal. Should I have wish'd a thing, it had 
been he. [worth ; 

Duke. Welcome him then according to his 
Silvia, I speak to you; and you, sir Thurio : — 
For Valentine, I need not 'citet him to it; 
ril send him hither to you presently. 

[EjU Duke. 

Vol. This is the gentleman, I told your 
ladyship [tress 

Had come along with me, but that his mis- 
Did hold his eyes lock'd in her crystal looks. 

ML Belike, that now she hath e«franchi»'d 
Upon some other pawn for fealty. [them 

yuL Nay, sure, I think, she holds them 
prisoners still. [being blind, 

.Vi . Nay, then he should be blind; and. 
How could he see his way to seek out you? 

yul. Why, lady, love hath twenty pair of 
eyes. [all. 

77/«. They say, that love hath not an eye at 

Vol. To see such lovers, Thurio, as yourself; 
Upon a homely object love can wink. 

Enter Proteus. 
Mil. Have done, have done ; here comes the 
gentleman. [beseech yo«, 

^ Val. Welcome, dear Proteus! — Mistress, 1 
Confirm his welcome with some special favour. 
Sil. His worth is warrant for his welcome 
hither. 
If this be he yon oft have wish'd to hear from. 
Val. Mistress, it is : sweet litdy, entertain him 
To be my fellow-servant to your ladyship. 
Sil. Too low a mistress for so high a servant. 
Pro. Not so, sweet lady ; but too mean a 
servant 
fo have a look of such a worthy mistress. 

Val. Leave off discourse of disability: — 
"»weet lady, entertain him for your servant. 

Pro. My duty will I bonst of, notluDg else. 

^ (Sil. And duty never yet did want his meed ; 

servant, you are welcome to a worthless mis' 

tress. 

Pro. I'll die on him that says so, but yourself. 

Sil. That you arc welcome? 

Pro. No ; that you are worthless. 

Enter Servant. 
Ser. Madam, my lord your father would 

speak with you. 
Sil. I'll wait upon his pleasure. [Exit Serv. 
Come, sir Thuno, 
fO with me:— Once more, new servant, wel- 
come : 

• III beiidc. 



Pll leave you to confer of home-affairs; 
When you have done,we look to hear fromyoiu 

Pro. We'll both attend upon your ladyship. 
{Exeunt Silvia, Thurio, and S^eeu. 

Val. Now, tell me, how do all from whence 
you came? [much commended. 

Pro. Your friends are well, and have them 

Val. And how do yours ? 

Pro. 1 left them all in health. 

Val. How docs your lady? and how thrive! 
your love? 

Pro. My tales of love were wont to weary 
you; 
1 know, you joy not in a love-discourse. 

VaL Ay, Proteus,but that lite is alter'd now : 
I have done penance for contemning love; 
Whose high imperious thoughts have punish'd 
With bitter fasts, with penitential e;roans, [me 
With nightly tears, and daily heart sore ^itjhs; 
For, in revenge of my contempt of love. 
Lore hath chac'd sleep from my enthralled 
eyes, [sorrow. 

And made them watchers of mine own heart's 
O, gentle Proteus, love's a mighty lord; 
And bath so humbled me, as I confess. 
There is no woe to his correction, 
Nor, to his service, no such joy on earth! 
Now, no discourse, except it be of love; 
Now can I bre?.k my fast, dine, sup, and sleep. 
Upon the very naked name of love. [c»ye : 

Pro. Enough ; I read your fortune in your 
Was this the idol that you worship so? 

Val. £ven she ; and is she not a heavenly 
saint? 

Pro. No ; but she is an earthly paragon. 

Val. Call her divine. 

Pro. 1 will not flatter her.. 

Val. O, flatter me; for love delights in 
praises. [pi^s; 

Pro. When I was sick, you gave me bitter 
And I must minister the like to you. 

VaL Then speak the truth by her; if not 
Yet let her be a principality, [divine. 

Sovereign to all the creatures on the earth. 

Pro. Except my mistress. 

Val. Sweet, except not any ; 

Except thou wilt except against niy love. 

Pro. Have I not reason to preter mine own ? 

Vai. And I will help thee to prefer her too : 
She shall be dignified with this high honour, — 
To bear my lady's train; lost the base earth 
Should from her vesture chance to steal a kits, 
And, of so great a favour growing proud, 
Disdain to root the summer-swelling tlowcr. 
And make rough winter everlastingly. 

Pro. Why, Valentine, what braggardism is 
this? [nothing 

Val. Pardon me, Proteus : all 1 can, is 
To her, wl'ose worth makes other worthies 
She is alone. [nothing; 

Pro. Then let her sflone. [mine own ; 

VaL Not for the world; why, man, she is 
And I as rich in having such a jewel. 
As twenty seas, if all their sand were pearl, 
The water nectar, and the rooks pme gold. 
Forgive nfe, that 1 do not dream on iLec, 

f Incite. 



Scene V.] 



TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 



31 



Because thou seest me dote upon my love. 
My foolish rival, that her father likes, 
Only for his possessions are so huge. 
Is gone with her alon? ; and I must after. 
For love, thou know'st, is full of jealousy. 

Pro. But she loves you? 

Val. Ay, and we are betroth'd ; 

Nay, more, our marriage hour. 
With all the cunning manner of our flight, 
Determin'd of: how I must climb her window; 
The ladder made of cords; and all the means 
Plotted ; and *greed on, for my happiness. 
Good Proteus, go with me to my chamber, 
In these affairs to aid me with thy counsel. 

Pro. Go on before ; I shall inquire you 
I must unto tlve road, to disembark [forth : 
Some necessaries that I needs must use; 
And then I'll presently attend you, 

Val. Will you make haste? 

Pro. I will.— [Exit Val. 

Even as one heat another heat expels, 
Or as one nail by strength drives out another. 
So the remembrance of my former love 
Is by a newer object quite forgotten. 
Is it mine eye, or Valentinus' praise. 
Her true perfection, or my false transgression. 
That makes me, reasonless, to reason thus ? 
She's fair; and so is Julia, that I love; — 
That I did love, for now my love is thaw'd ; 
Which, like a waxen image 'gainst a fire, 
Bears no impression of the thing it was. 
Methinks my zeal to Valentine is cold ; 
And that I love him not, as I was wont : 
O! but I love his lady too, too much; 
And that's the reason I love him so little. 
How shall I dote on her with more advice •, 
That thus without advice begin to love her? 
Tis but her picture I have yet beheld. 
And that hath dazzled my reason's light; 
But when I look on her perfections. 
There is no reason but I shall be blind. 
If I can check my erring love, I will ; 
If not, to compass her I'll use my skill. [Exit^ 

SCENE V. The same. A street. 
Enter Speed and Launce. 

Speed. Launce! by mine honesty, welcome 
to Milan. 

Ijaun. Forswear not thyself, sweet youth ; 
for I am not welcome. I reckon this always — 
that a man is never undone, till he be hanged ; 
nor never welcome to a place, till some cer- 
tain shot be paid, and the hostess say, welcome. 

Speed. Come on, you mad-cap, I'll to the 
alehouse with you presently; where, for one 
shot of five pence, thou shalt have five thou- 
sand welcomes. But, sirrah, how did thy 
master part with madam Julia? 

Laun. Marry, after they closed in earnest, 
they parted very fairly in jest. 

Speed. But shall she marry him? 

Liunn. No. 

Speed. How then ? Shall he marry her? 

JLaun. No, neither. 

Speed. What, are they broken ? 

J-.aun. No, they are both as whole as a fif.h. 

• On furtlier knowledge. 



Speed. Why, then, how stands the matter 
with them? 

Laun. Marry, thus; when it stands well 
with him, it stands well with her. 

Speed. What an ass art thou! I understand 
thee not. 

Laun. What a block art thou, that tlicu 
canst not! My staff understands me. 

Speed, What thou sayst ? 

Laun. Ay, and what I do too : look thee, 
I'll but lean, and my staflf understands me. 

Speed. It stands under thee, indeed. 

Laun. Why, stand under and understand is 
all one. 

Speed. But tell me true, will't be a match? 

Laun. Ask my dog : if he say, ay, it will; 
if he say, no, it will; if he shake his tail, and 
say notliiiig, it will. 

Speed, The conclusion is, then, that it will. 

Laun, Thou shalt never get such a secret 
from me, but by a parable. 

Speed. *Tis well that I get it so. But, 
Launce, how say'st thou, that thy master u be 
come a notable lover? 

Laun. I never knev/ him otherwise. 

Speed. Than how? 

Laun. A. notable !ubb€I, dS thou i"Eporfe4t 
him to be. 

Speed. Why, tnon whoreson ass, thou tnis 
takcst me. 

Laun. Why, fool, I meant not thee; I 
meant thy master. 

Speed. I tell thee, my master is bec< no a 
hot lover. 

Laun. Why, I tell thee, I care not tliongh 
he burn himself in love. If thou wilt go ith 
me to the ale-house, so; if not, thou aw an 
Hebrew, a Jew, and not worth the name of a 
Christian. 

Speed. Why? 

Laun. Because thou hast not so much cl 
rity in thee, as to go to the ale with a Chris- 
tian : Wilt thou go? 

Speed. At thy service. {Exeunt. 

SCENE VI. The same. An Apartment 
in the Palace. 
Enter Proteus. 
Pro. To leave my Julia, shall I be forsworn ; 
To love fair Silvia, shall I be forsworn ; 
To wrong my friend, I shall be much forsworn ; 
And even that power which gave me first n)y 
Provokes me to this threefold perjury, [oath, 
Love bade me swear, and love bids me f ors wear; 
O sweet-suggesting + love, if thou hast sinn'd. 
Teach me, thy tempted subject, to excuse it. 
At first I did adore a twinkling star. 
But now I worship a celestial sun. 
Unheedful vows may heedfully be broken; 
And he wants wit, that wants resolved will 
To learn his wit to exchange the bad for b«»tter.— 
Fie, fie, unreverend tongue! to call her bad. 
Whose sovereignty so oft thou hast preferr'd 
With twenty thousand soul-confirming oaths. 
Icannot leave to love, and yet I do ; 
But there I leave to love, where I should love 

^ Tempting. 



32 



SHAKSPEARE. 



Act If. 



Jalia I k)ie, and Valentine I loie : 
if 1 keep them, I needs muet lose myself; 
If I loie thera, thus find I by their h)ss, 
For Valeiititve, myself; for Julia, Silvia. 
1 to myself am dearer than a friend ; 
For love is s ill more prt'cio'"< in it?elf: 
And Silvia, witness heaven, that made her fair! 
Shews Julia but a swarthy Ethiope. 
I will forget that Julia is alive, 
Rememb'ring that my love to her b dead; 
And Valentine I'll hold an enemy, 
Aiming at Silvia as a sweeter friend. 
I cannot now prove coast^mt to m> self, 
Without some treachery used to Valentine: — 
This night, he ineaneth with a corded ladder 
To climb celestial Silvia's chamber-window ; 
Myself in couusel his competitor*: 
Now presently I'll give her father notice 
Of their disguising, and pretended t flight; 
Who, all enragM, will banish Valentine; 
For Thurio, he intends, shall wed his daughter: 
But, Valentine being gone, I'll quicldy cross. 
By some sly trick, blunt Thurio*s dull pro- 
ceeding, [swift 
Love, lend me wings to make my purpose 
As thou hast lent me wii to plot this drift! 

[Exit, 

SCENE VII. Vei-otia. A Room in Julia's 
House. 

Enter J V 1.1 A and Lucetta. 

JuL Counsel, Lucetta ; gentle girl, assist me ! 
And, even in kind love, I do conjure thee, — 
Who art the table wherein all my thoughts 
Are visibly chardcter'd and engravM, — 
To lesfion me ; and tell me some good mean, 
How, with my honour, I may undertake 

journey to my loving Proteus. 

Lmc. Alas! the way is wearisome and long 

Jt/l. A true-devoted pilgrim is not weaiy 
To measure kingdoms with his feeble steps; 
Much less shall she,that hath love's wings to fly; 
And when the flight is made to one so dear. 
Of such divine f>erfeclion, aa sir Proteus. 
^ Zwf. Better forbear,till Proteus make return. 

Jul. O, know'si thou not, his looks are my 
soul's food ? 
Pity the dearth that I have pined in, 
By longing for that food so long a time. 
Didst thou but know the inly touch of love. 
Thou would'st as soon go kindle fire with snow, 
A* seek to quench the fire of love with words. 

Luc. I do not seek to quench your love's hot 
But qualify the fire's extreme rage, [fire; 

Lest it should burn above the bounds of reason. 

Jul. The more thou dam'st+ it up, the more 
I* ^iurrjg; 
carrent, that with gentle murmur glides, 
« know'it, being stopp'd,impatitntly doth 
rae*; 
But, when his fair course is not hindered. 
He makes sweet musicwith the enamel'd stones. 
Giving a gentle kiss to every sedge 
He overtakfth In his pilgrimage; 
And so by many winding nooks he strays. 



With willing sport, to the wild ocean. 
Then let me go, and hinder not ray coarse: 
I'll be as patient as a gentle stream. 
And make a pastime of each weary step, 
Till the last step have brought nie to my Kwe; 
And there I'll rest, as, after much turmoil j, 
A bltssed soul doth in Elysium. 

Luc. Hut in what habit will yon go along? 

Jul. Not like a woman; fori would prevent 
The loose encounters of lascivious men ; 
Gentle Lucetta, fit me with such weeds 
As may beseem some well-reputed page. 

Luc. Why then your ladyship must cut 
your hair. 

Jul. No, girl ; I'll knit it up in silken strings. 
With twenty odd-conceited true-love knots : 
To be fantastic may become a youth 
Of greater time than I shall show to be. 

Luc. What fashion, madam, shall I make 
your breeches.' [my lord, 

Jul. Thai fits as well, as — " tell me, good 
*' What compass will you wear your far- 
thingale i" [Lucetta. 
Why, even that fashion that thou best lik'st, 

Luc. You must needs have them with a rod- 
piece, madam. 

Jul. Out, out, Lucetta! that wiB be ill- 
favour'd. [a pin, 

/vt/c. Around hose, madam, now's not worth 
Unless yoQ have a cod-piece to stick pins on. 

Jul. Lucetta, as thou lov'st me, let me have 
W^hat thou think'st meet,and is most mannerly: 
But tell me, wench, how will the world repute 
For undertaking so unstaid a journey ? [ir.e, 
I fear me, it will make n.e scandaliz'd. 

Luc. If you think so, then stay at home, and 

Jul. Nay, that I will not. [go not. 

-Luc. Then never dream on infamy, but go. 
If Proteus like your journe.y, when you come. 
No matter who's displeas'd,tvhen you are gone : 
I fear me, he will scarce be pleas'd withal. 

Jul. That is the least, Lucetta, of my fear: 
A thousand oaths, an ocean of his t*iars^ 
And instances as infinite of love. 
Warrant me welcome to my Proteus. 

Luc. All these are servants to deceitful n»en. 

Jul. Base men, that use them to so base 
effect ! 
But truer stars did govern Proteus* birth : 
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; 
His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate ; 
His tears, pure meg.«enger8 sent from his heart; 
His heart as far from fraud, as heaven from 
earth. [come to him' 

Luc. Pray heaven he prove so, when yon 

Jul. Now, as thou lov'st me, do him not that 
To bear a hard opinion of his trutiT: [wrong. 
Only deserve my love, by loving him; 
And presently go with we to my'chambei. 
To take a note of what I stanti in need oT, 
To furnish me upon my longing || journey. 
All that is mine I leave at thy dispose. 
My goods, my lands, my reputation; 
Onlv, in lieu thereof, despatch me hence : 
(.'ome, answer not, but to it presently; 
I am impatient of ray tarriance. [Kvetitttm 



• C»»»ede; lie. 



t Intended. 



t Closest. 



S Trouble. 



I Longe<l fur. 



Scene I.} 



TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 



33 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. Milan. An Ante room in the 
Duke's palace. 

Enter Duke, Thurio, owrf Proteus. 

Duke. Sir Thurio, give us leave, I pray, 
awhile; 

We have some secrets to confer abont. 

{Exit Thurio 

Now, tell me, Proteus, what's your will witli 

me? [discover. 

Pro. My graciofts lord, that which I would 
The law of friendship bids me to conceal : 
But, wlien I call to mind your gracious favours 
Done to me, undeserving as I am, 
Afy duty pricks me on to utter that [me. 

Which el!*e no worldly good should draw from 
Know, worthy prince, sir Valentiue,my friend, 
Tliis night intends to steal away your daughter ; 
Myself am one made privy to the plot. 
1 know, you have dettrmin'd to beslow her 
On Thurio, whom your gentle daughter hates ; 
And should she thus be stolen away from you. 
It would be much vexation to your age. 
Thus, for my duty's sake, I rather chose 
To cross my friend in his intended drift. 
Than, by concealing it, heap on your head 
A pack of sorrows, which would press yon 

down. 
Being unprevented, to your timeless grave. 

Duke. Proteus, I thank thee for thine honest 
care; 
Which to require, command me while I live. 
This love of theirs myself have often seen. 
Haply, when they have judged me fast asleep ; 
And oftentimes have purposM to forbid 
Sir Valentine her company, and my court : 
But, fearing lest my jealous aim* might err. 
And so, unworthily, disgrace the man, 
(A rashness that I ever yet have shunn'd,) 
I gave him gentle lo(>ks ; thereby to find 
That which thyself hast now disclos'd to me. 
And, that thou may'st perceive my fear of this, 
Knowing that tender youth is soon suggestedt, 
I nightly lodge her in an upper tower, 
The key whereof myself have ever kept; 
And thence she cannot be convey'd away. 

Pro. Know, noble lord, they have devis'd 
a mean 
How he her chamber-window will ascend. 
And with a corded ladder fetch her down ; 
For which the youthful lover now is gone. 
And this way comts he with it presenily; 
Where, if it please you, you may intercept hifti. 
liut, good my lord, do it so cunningly, 
That my discovery be not aimed + at ; 
For love of you, not hate unto my iriend. 
Hath made me publisher of this prettnce)i. 

Duke. Upon mine honour, he shall never 
know 
That I had ?.ny light from thee of this. 

Pro, Adieu,my lord ;sir Valeirfiiie i^omins. 

• Guess. t Tempted. 



Enter Valentine. 



Duke. Sir Valentine, whither away so fast T 

yal. Please it your grace there is a messeugpr 
That stays to bear my letters to my friends. 
And I ajTi going to deliver them. 

Duke. Be they of much import? 

V<A. The tenor of them doth but signify 
My health, and happy being at your court. 

Duke Nay, then, no matter ; stay with mo 
a while; 
I am to break with thee of some affairs. 
That touch me near, wherein thou m\ir,l be 

secret. 
'Tis not unknown to tlie€,th«tt I have soug'-t 
To match my friend, sir Thurio, to my daughter, 

Val. I know it well, my lord ; and, sure, the 
match . [tleman 

Were rich and honourable; besides, the ^en- 
Is full of virtue, bounty, worth, and qualities 
Beseeming such a wife as your fair daughter: 
Cannot y'our grace win her to fancy him? 

Duke. No, trust me; she is peevish, sujlen, 
fro ward. 
Proud, disobedient, stubborn, lacking duty ; 
Neither regarding that she is my child. 
Nor fearing me as if I were her father : 
And, may I say to thoe, this pride of hei-*s. 
Upon advice, hath drawn my love from her ; 
And, where I thought the remnant of mine age 
Should have been cherish'd by her child-Uke 

duty, 
I now am full resolved to take a wife, 
And turn her out to who will take her ii. : 
Then let her beauty be her wedding-dower; 
For me and my possessions she esteems not, 

Val. What would your grace have me to do 
in this? 

Duke. There is a lady, sir, in Milan here. 
Whom I affect; but she is nice and coy, 
And nought estecTns my aged eloquence: 
Now, therefore, would I have thee to m> tutor, 
(For long agone I have forgot to court: 
Besides, the fashion of the rime is chang'd ;) 
How, and which way, I may bestow myself. 
To be regarded in her sun-bright eye. 

Val Win her with gifts, if she respect not 
words ; 
Dumb jewels ofleu, in their silent kind. 
More than quick words, do move a woman's 
mind, [her, 

Duke. But she did scorn a present that 1 sei\t 

Val. A woman sometimes scorns what best 
contents her : 
Send her another; never give her o'er; 
For scorn at first makes after-love the more. 
If vshe do frown, 'lis not in hate of you, 
Blit rather to beget more love in you : 
If she do chide, Ms not to have you gone ; 
For why, the fools are mad, if leil alone. 
1 ake no repulse, whatever she doth say ; 
For, gt t you, gone, she doth not me n, tuay 



X Cuesse 



§ Desii 



34 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IIL 



Flatter ;»n(1 praise, coramend,extol their graces, 
Thongh ne'er so black, say, they have angels' 

faces. 
That man that hath a tongne, I say, is no man 
If with his tongue he cannot Win a woman. 

Duke. Bnt she I mean, is promised by her 
Unto a youihftil i^entleman of worth ; [friends 
And kept severei> from resort of men, 
That no man hath access by day to her. 

Val. Why, then, I would resort to her by 
night. [kept safe, 

Duke. Ay, but the doors be lock'd, and keys 
That no man hath recouree to her by night. 

Fal. What lets*, but one may ehttt- at her 
window? [ground; 

Duke. Her chamber is aloft, far from the 
And built so shelving, that one cannot climb it 
Without apparent hazard of his life, [cords, 

Val. Why then, a ladder, quaintly made of 
To cast up with a pair of anchoring hooks. 
Would serve to scale another hero's tower. 
So bold Leander would adventure it. 

Duke.^ow, as thou art a gentleman of blood. 
Advise me where I may h'ave such a ladder. 

f'al. When would ydu use it? pr^, sir, tell 
me that. 

Dnke.This very night ! for love is like a child, 
That longs for every thing that he can come by. 

Val. By seven o'clock I'll get you such a 
ladder, 

Duke. But, hark thee ; I will go to her alone ; 
How shall 1 best convey the ladder thither? 

Val. It will be light, my lord, that you may 
Under a cloak, that is of aAy length, [bear it 

Puke. A cloak as long as thine will serve 

Vat, Ay, my good lord. [the turn? 

Duke. Then let me see thy cloak ; 

I'll get me one of such another length. 

Val. Why, any cloak will serve the turn, 
my lord. [cloak?— 

Dwke. How shall I fashion me to wear a 
I pray thee, let me feel thy cloak upon me. — 
What letter is this same? What's here?— Tb 

Silvia ? 
And here an engine fit for my proceeding! 
I'll be 80 bold to break the seal for once, [reads. 

My thmights do harbour with my Silvia 
nightlp; 
And stives they are to me, that send thejn 
Jiying: 
Of could their master come and go as lightly. 
Himself ivould lodge, where senseless they 
are li/ing. [them ; 

My herald thoughts in thy pure bosor/i rest 
While /, their king, that thither them 
impSrtune, 
Do curse tUe grace that with such grace 
hath bless'd them. 
Because myself do want my servants' 
fortune: 
J curse myself , for they are sent by mr, 
That they should harbour where their lord 

should be. 
What's here? 
SUvia, this Tilght J will enfranchise thee : 



Tis so; and here's the ladder for the purpose. — 
Why, Phaeton, (for thou art Merops' son) 
Wilt thou aspire to guide the heavenly car. 
And with thy daring folly burn the world ? 
Wilt thou reach star s, be^'ause they shine on 

thee? 
Go, base intruder I overweening slave ! 
Bestow thy fawning smiles on equal mates; 
And think, my patience, more than thy desert, 
Is privilege for thy departure hence: 
Thank me for this, more than for all the favours, 
Which, all too much, I have bestow'd on thet. 
But if thou linger in my territories. 
Longer than swiftest expedition 
Will give thee time to leave our royal court. 
By heaven, my w rath shall far exceed the l;>ve 
I ever bore my daughter, or thyself. 
Be gone, I will not he:ir thy vain excuse, 
But, as thou lov'st thy life, make f^peed from 
hence. [Eiit DuKt. 

Val. And why not death, rather than living 
torment ? 
To dle^ is to be banish'd from myself; 
And Silvia is myself: banish'd from her. 
Is self from self; a deadly banishment! 
What light is light, if Silvia be not seen? 
What jby is joy, if Silvia be not by ? 
Unless it be to think that she is by, 
And feed upon the shadow of perfection. 
Except I be by Silvia in the nitj;ht. 
There is no muSic in the nightingale ; 
Unless I look on Silvia in the day. 
There is no day for me to look upon: 
She is my essence ; and I leave to be, 
If I be not by her fair influence 
Foster'd, illuniin'd, cherish'd, kept alive. 
I fly not death, to fly his deadly doom : 
Tarry I here, I b(it attend on death ; , 

But lly I hence, I fl> away from life. 
Enter Proteus and Launce. 

Pro, Run, boy, run, run, and seek him oo». 

Laun. So'ho ! so ho! 

Pro. What secst thou? 

Laun. Hifn we go to find : there's not a 
hair on's head, but 'tis a Valentine. 

Pro. Valentine? 

Val. No. / 

Pro. Who then? his spirit? 

Val. Neither. 

Pro. What then? 

Vul. Nothing. [strike? 

Laun. Can nothing speak? master, shall I 

Pro. Whom would*st thou strike? 

Laun. Nothing. 

Pro. Villain, forbear. [y< a, — 

Laun. Why, sir, I'll strike nothing : ' .y 

Pro. Sirrah, I say, forbear: Friend ..en- 
tine, a word. 

Val. My ears are stopp'd, and cannot hear 
good news, 
So much of bad already hath possess'd them. 

Pro. Then in dumb silence will i bury mine. 
For they ara harsh, untunable, and bad. 

Val. Is Silvia dead? 

Pro. No, Valentine. 



Hinders. 



Scene /.] 



TWO GENTLEMEN Of VERONA. 



S5 



Vol. No Valentine, indeed, for sacred Silvia ! 
■^Hath she forsworn me? 

l^ro. No, Valentine. [me!— 

Val. No Valentine, if Silvia have fcrs>vorn 
What is your news ? 

J^aun. Sir, there's a proclamation that you 
are vanish'd. [news ; 

Pro. That thou art banished, O that's the 
From hence, from Silvia, and from rae, thy 
friend. 
Val. O, I have fed upon (his woe already, 
And now excess of it will make me surfeit. 
Doth Silvia know that 1 am banished ? 

Pro. Ay, ay ; and she hath olter'd to the 
doom, 
(Which, unreversed, stands in effectual force,) 
A sea of melting pearl, which some call tears : 
Tllo^e at her father's clmrlish feet she tendered ; 
With them, upon her knees, her humble self; 
Wringinj; her hands, whose whiteness so be- 
came them. 
As if but now they waxed pale for w^oe: 
Hut neither bended knees, pure hands held up, 
Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding 

tears. 
Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire; 
But Valentine, if he be ta'en, mnst die. 
Besides, her intercession chaf'd bam so, 
VV lien she for thy repeal was suppliant, 
Th It to close prison he commanded her, 
\\ ith many bitier threats of *biding there. 
Vul. No more; unless the next word that 
thou sptak'st 
Have some malignant power upon my life: 
li so, 1 pray thee, breathe it in mine ear. 
As ending anthem Of my endless dolour.* 
Pro. Cea.se to lament for that thou canst net 

help, 
^d study help for that which thou lament'st. 

;e is the nurse and breeder of all good, 
jie if thou stay, thou canst not see thy love ; 
h '.sides, thy staying will abridge thy life. 
Hope is a lover's staft ; walk hence with that. 
And manage it against despairing thoughts. 
Thv letters may be here, though thou art hence ; 
Which, being writ to me, ?hall be deliver*d, 
Even In the milk-white bosom of thy love. 
The time now server not to expostulate: 
Come, I'll convey thfce through the city gate; 
And, ere I part with thee, confer al lar^e 
Of all that may concern thy love-atlairs : 
As thou lov'st Silvia, though not for thyself. 
Regard thy danger, and along with me. 
Val. 1 pray thee, Launce, an* if thou seest 
my boy, [north-gate. 

Bid xi^Ti make haste, and meet me at the 
Pr/. jGo, sirrah, find him out. Come, Va- 

. ♦mine. 

Val. O my dear Silvia! hapless Valentine! 

[£aewwf Valentine «^^d Proteus. 

Laun. 1 am but a fool, louk you ; and yet I 

have the wit to think, my riiaster is a kind of 

ft kxiavc: but that'.s all one, if he be but one 

kuave. He lives not now, that knows me to 

be in love: yet 1 am in love; but a team of 

• Grief. 



horse shall not pluck that from me; nor who 
'tis I love, and yet 'tis a ^voman : but that 
woman I will not tell myself; and yet 'tis a 
milk-maid: yet 'tis not a maid, for she hath 
had gossips: yet 'tis a maid, for she is her 
xnas-ter's maid, and serves for wages. She hath 
more qualities than a water-spaniel, — which is 
tisuch in a bare christian. Here is the cat-log 
[ptclling {yut a paper] of her conditions. Im- 
primis, She can fetch and carry. Why, a 
horse can do no more ; nay, a horse caniiot 
fetch, but only carry ; therefore, is she better 
than a jade Item, She can milk ; look yo 
a sweet virtue in a maid with clean hands. 

Enter Speed. 

Speed. How now, signor Lai nee 1 vshat 
news with your mastership? 

Laun. With my maslei's ship? why, it ii 
at sea. 

Speed. Well, your old vice still ; mistake 
the word: What news then in your paper? 

Daun. The blackest news that ever thou 
heard^st. 

Speed. Why, man, how black? 

Laun. Why, as black as ink. 

Speed. Let me read them. 

Laun. t ie on thee, jolt-head ; thou can'st not 
read. 

Speed. Thou liest, I can. 

Laun, 1 will try thee: Tell me this: Who 
begot thee? 

Syeed. Marry, the son of my grandfather. 

Laun. O illiterate loitererl it was the son 
of thy grandn.other: this proves, tliat thou 
canst not read, 

Speed. Come, fool, come : try me in thy 
paper. 

LaiiUs There ; and saint Nicholas t be thy 
speed ! 

Speed. Imprimis, She can milk. 

Laun. Ay, thai she can. 

Sptcd. Item, She brews good ale. 

Laun. And therefore comes the proverb,— 
Blessing of your heart, you brew good ale. 

Speed. Item, She can sew. 

Laun. That's as much a? to say, Can she so? 

Speed. Item, She can knit. 

Laun. What need a man care for a stock 
with a wench, when she can kiiit him a stock? 

Speed. Item, She ca-n wash and icour. 

Laun. A special virtue ; for then she need 
not be washed and scoured. 

Speed. Item, Sht can spin, 

Lau7i. Then day I set the world on wheels, 
when she can spin for her living. 

Speed. Item, She hath many nameless 
virtwes. 

Laun. That's as much as to say, bastard 
virtues ; that, indeed, know not their fathers, 
and therefore have no names. 

Speed. Here follow her vices. 

Laun. Close at the heels of her virtues. 

Speed. Item, She is 7iot to be kissed fast 
ing, in respect of her breath. 

St. Nicholas presided over young scholar! 



3fi 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Aci IIL 



Atj'.n. Well, thai tHuli may be mended with 
% Hrt :.kfast : lleatt ka\. 

Sliced. Item, She liafh a sweet wouth. 

I,uun. ThAt makes amends tur her soar 
brf-aih. 

>j ^ed. Item, She doth talk in her sleep. 

I. nun. li'» no matter for th«t, so she sleep 
Dot in I.er talk ^ 

Sf>eed. Item, She ts slow in words. 

Laun. O villain, that set ihi^ down among 
her vices ! To be slow in words, is a woman's 
only virtue: I pray thee out with't; and place 
it tor her chief virtue. 

Syecd. Item, She is proud. 

Laun. Out with that too; It was Eve's le- 
gacy, and cannot be ta'en from her. 

Speed. Item, Slie hath no teeth. 

Laun. I care not for that neither, because I 
love crusts. 

Speed. Item, She is curst. 

Laun. Well; the best is, she hath no teeth 
to bite. 

Speed. Item, She will often praise her 
liquor. 

Jjuun. If her liquor be good, she shall: if 
she will not, I will; for good things should be 
praised. 

Speed. Item, She is too liberal*. 

Laun. Of her tongue she cannot; for that's 
writ down she is slow of: of her purse she 
shall not; for that I'll k*:ep shut: now, of an- 
other thing she niay ; and that 1 cannct help. 
\V ell, proceed. 

Speed. Item, She hath more hair than uit, 
and more faults than hairs, and more 
wealth than faults. 

Laun. Stop there; I'll have her: she was 
mini, and not niii.e, twice or thrice in that 
last irticle : Rtdiearse that once more. 

iVvetrf.Item.'S'/ie hath more hair than wit,— 

Laun. More hair than wit,- it may be ; I'll 
prove it: The cover of the salt hides the salt, 
and therefore it Is more than the salt; the hair 
that covers the wit, is more than the wit; for 
Uie tireater hides the less. What's next? 

Speed. And more faults than hairs,- 

Laun. That's aioustrous : O that that were 
*ut ! 

Speed. And more wealth than faults, 

Laun. Why, that word makes the faults 
gracioust: Well, I'll have her: and if it be a 
U'aich, as nothing is impossible, — 

Speed. What then? 

Laun. Why, then 1 will tell thee,~that thy 
master 8ta>i for thee at the north gate. 

Speed. For me ? 

Jjiiun. For thee? ay ; who art thou? he hath 
Btr^id for a better man than thee. 

Speed. And must 1 go to him ? 

Liiun. Thou must run to him, for tliou hast 
itaid so long, that going will ecarce serve the 
turn. 

Speed. Why didat not tell me sooner? 'pox 
of your love letters! {Liit. 

Laun. Now will he be swinged for reading 

* Licentious in language. 



my letter: An unmannerly slave, that will 
thrust himself into secrets! — I'll after, to re- 
joice in the boy's correction. [£nV. 

SCENE 11. 
The same. A Room in the Duke's Palace, 

Enter Duke and Thurio; Proteus 
behind. 

Duke. Sir Thurio, fear not bat that she will 
love you, 
Now Valentine is banish'd from her sight. 

Thu. Since his exile she hath despis'd me 
most. 
Forsworn my company, and rail'd at me. 
That I am desperate of obtaining her. 

Duke. This weak impress of love is as a 
figure 
Ttench'd J in ice; which with an honr's heal 
Dissolves to water, and doth lose his form. 
A little lime will melt her frozen thoughts, 
And worthJess Valentine shall be forgot. — 
How now, sir Proteus ? Is your countryman, 
According to our proclamation, gone? 

Pro. Gone, my good lord. [ly. 

Duke. My daughter takes his going grievous- 
Pro. A little time, Kiy lord, will kill that 
Ijrief. [so. — 

Duke. So I believe ; but Thurio thinks not 
Proteus, the good conceit 1 hold of thee, 
(For thou hast shown some sign of good desert,) 
Makes me the better to confer with ihee. 

/'ro. Longer than I piove loyal to your grace. 
Let nie not live to look upon your grace. 

Duke. Thou know'st how willingly I would 
effect 
The m.iich between sirThurio and my daughter. 

Pro. 1 do, my lord. 

Duke.Xu<\ also, I think,thon art not ignorant 
How she opposes her against my will. 

Pro. She did, my lord, when Valentine was 
here. 

Duke. Ay, and perversely she persevers so. 
What might we do. to make the giil forget 
The love of Valentine, and love sir Thurio? 

Pro. The host way is to slandtr Valentine 
With falsehood, cowardice, and poor descent ; 
Three things that women highly hold in hate. 

Duke. Ay, but she'll think that it is spoke 

Pro. Ay, if his enemy deliver it : [in hate. 
Therefore it must , w ith circu m»tanc€,be spoken 
By one whom she «stermelh as his friend. 

Duke. Then you must undertoke to slander 
him. [<io : 

Pro. And that, my lord, I shall be loth to 
'Tis an ill otfice for a gentleman; 
Esptcially against his very friend. 

Duke. Where your good word cannot ad 
vantage him. 
Your slmder never can endamage him; 
Therefore the office is inditlerent, 
Being entreated to it by your friend. , 

Pro. You have prevail'd, my lord : if I can | 
do it. 
By aught that I can «peak in his (^isprais^^ 



t Graceful. 



JCut. 



Scene II.l 



TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 



,n7 



She shali not long continae love to him, 
But say, this weed her love from Valentine, 
It'follovve not that she will love sir Thurio. 

2%w. Thereibre as you unwind her love 
from him, 
Lest it should ravel, and be good to none, 
Yoo must provide to bottom it on me ; 
Which must be done, by praising me as much 
As you in worth dispraise sir Valentine. 

JJuke. Ajid, Proteus, we dare trust you in 
this kind ; 
Because we know, on Valentine's report, 
\ou are already love's firm votary. 
And cannot soon revolt and change your mind. 
Upon this warrant shall you have access, 
Where you with Silvia maj confer at large; 
For she is lumpish, heavy, melancholy. 
And. for your friend'g sake, will be glad of you ; 
Where you may temper her,by your persuasion. 
To hate young Valentine, and love my friend. 

J^7'o. As much as 1 can do, 1 will effect : — 
But you, sir Thurk), are not sharp enouyh ; 
You must lay lime ♦, to tangle her desires. 
By wailful sonnets, whose composed rhymes 
Should be full fraught with serviceable vows. 

Duke, Ay, much the force of heaven-bred 
poesy. 

Pro. Say, that upon the altar of her beauty 
You sacrifice your tears, your sighs, your heart : 



Write till your ink be dry ; and with your te.n» 
Moist it again ; and frame some feeling liue. 
That may discover such integrity : — 
ForOrpheus'luie was strung with poets'sinews. 
Whose golden touch could soften steel aiid 

stones, 
Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans 
Forsake unsounded deeps to dance on sands. 
After your dire-lamenting elegies. 
Visit by night your lady's chamber-window 
With some sweet concert: to their instruments 
Tune a deploring dump t ; the night's dead 
silence [grievance. 

Will well become such sweet complaining 
This, or else nothing, will inherit her. 

JJuke, This discipline shows thou bast been 
in love. 

Thu. And thy advice this night I'll pui in 
practice : 
Therefore, sweet Proteus, my direction-giver. 
Let us into the city presently. 
To sort i some gentlemen well skill'd in music : 
1 have a sonnet, that will serve the turn. 
To give the onset to thy good advice. 

Duke. About it, gentlemen. [supper : 

Pro. We'll wait upon your grace till after 
And afterward determine our proceedings. 

Duke, Even now about it ; I will pardon 
you. [Exeu/it, 



ACT IV. 



SCENE L A Forest, near "Muni u 

Enter certain Outlaws. 

1 Out. Fellows, stand fast ; I see a passenger. 

2 Out. If there be ten, shrink not, but down 

with 'em. 

Enter Valentine and Speed. 

3 Out. Stand, sir, and throw us that you 

have about you ; 
If not, we'll make you sit, and rifle you. 
Sj^eed. Sir, we are undone ! these are the 
villains 
That all the travellers do fear so much. 

Val. My friends,— [mies. 

1 Om^ That's not so, sir; wc are your ene- 
*lOut. Peace; we'll hear him. 

3 Out. Ay, hy my beard, will we ; 
For he's a proper j man. [to lose; 

Val. Then know, that I have little wealth 
A man I am, cross'd with adversity: 
My rifibes are these poor habiliments. 
Of which if you should here disfurnish me. 
You take the sum and substance that I have. 

2 Out. Whither travel you { 
Val. To Verona. 

1 Out. Whence came youT 
Val. From Milan. 

3 Out. Have you long sojoorn'd there? 
Val. Some sixteen months ; and fonger 

might have staid, 

• Birdlime. f Mournful elegy. 

jj Langnnges. 1i Lawful. 



If crooked fortune had not thwarted me. 

1 Out. What, were you banish'd thence 
Val. I was. 

2 Out' For what oflFence? [rehearse : 
Val. For that which now torments nie to 

I kill'd a man, whose death I much repeirt ; 
But yet I slew him manfully in fight, 
Without false vantage, or base treachery. 

1 C/w/.Why ne'er repent it,if it were done so : 
But were you banish'd for so small a fauJt? 

Vat. I was, and held me glad of such a doom. 

1 Out. Have you the tongues ||? 

Val. My youthful travel therein made me 
Or else 1 often had been miserable, [happy ; 

3 Out. By the bare scalp of Robin Hood's 
fat friar. 

This fellow were a king for our wild faction. 

1 Out. We'll have him : sirs, a word. 
Speed. Master, be one df them ; 

It is an honourable kind of thievery. 

Fa/. Peace, villain! [take tot 

2 Out. Tell us this: Have you any thing tc 
Val. Nothing, but my fortune. [tlemen, 

3 Out. Know, then, that some of us are geu- 
Such as the fury of ungovern'd youth 
Thrust from the company of awful IT men : 
Myself was from Verona banished. 
For practising to steal away a lady. 
An heir, and near allied unto the duke. 

It Out. And I from Mantua, for a gentleman, 
Whom,in my mood**, I stabb'd unto the heart. 

X Ckoose out. § WelMookiny;. 

•• Auger, resonttnoni. 



38 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IT, 



1 Out, And I, for snch like petty crimes as 

th«8e. 
But to the purposf , — (for we cite onr fanlts, 
That they may hold excus'd our lawless lives,) 
And, partly, seeing you are beautified 
With goodly shape; and by your own report 
A linguist; and a man of such perfection, 
As we do in our quality much want ; — 

2 Ovt. Indeed, because you are a banish'd 

man, 
Therefore, above the rest, we parley to you : 
Are you content to be our general ? 
To make a virtue of necessity, 
And live, as we do. in this wilderness? 

aOw^.Whatsay'st thou? wilt thou be of our 
cons6rt? 
Say, ay, and be the captain of us all : 
We'll do ihee homage, and be rulM by thee. 
Love thee a» onr commander, and our king. 
1 Out. But if thou scorn our courtesy, thon 

diest. 
% Out. Thou shalt not live to brag what we 

have oflFer'd. 
Val. 1 take your offer, and will live with yon ; 
Provided th.it you do no outrages 
On silly women, or poor passengers. 

3 Out. No, we detest such vile base practices. 
Come, go with us, we'll bring thee to our crews, 
And show thee all the treasure we have got; 
Which, with ourselves, all rest at thy dispose. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE II. Milan. Court of the Palace. 
Enter Proteus. 
Pro. Already have I been false Co Valentine, 
And now I must be as unjust to Thurio. 
Under the colour of commending him, 
I have access my own love to prefer ; , 

But Silvia is too fair, too true, too holy, 
To be corrupted with my worthless gifts. 
When I protest true loyalty tc her. 
She twits me with my falsehood to my friend ; 
When to her beauty I commend my vows. 
She bids me think, how I have been forsworn 
In breaking faith with Julia whom I lov*d : 
And, notwithstanding all her sudden quips*. 
The least whereof would quell a lover's hope. 
Yet, spaniel-like, the more she spurns my love. 
The more it grows and fawneth on her still. 
But here comes Thurio : now must we to her 

window. 
And give some evening music to her ear. 

Enter Thurio, and Musicians, 

.; Thu. How now, sir Proteus? are you crept 

before us ? [love 

Pro. Ay, gentle Thurio ; for, you know, that 

Will creep in service where it cannot go. 

Thu. Ay, but, I hope, sir, that you love net 

here. 
Pro. Sir,but Ido; or else I would be hence. 
Thu. Whom? Silvia? 
Pro. Ay, Silvia, — for your sake. 
Thu^ I thank you for your own. Now, gen- 
tlemen, 
Let's tune, and to It la«tily a while. 



Enter Host, ut a distance ; and Julia in 
boy's clothes. 

Host. Now, my young guest! mothinks 
you're allycholly ; I pray yon, why is it? 

Jul. Marry, mine host, because I cannot be 
merry. 

Host. Come, we'll have you merry : Pll 
bring you where you shall hear music, and see 
the gentleman that you ask'd for. 

Jul. But shall I hear him speak? 

Bost. Ay, that you shall. 

Jul. That will be music. \Mii3ic viavM 

Host. Hark/ hark! 

Jul, Is he among these? 

Host, Ay : but peace, let*s hear 'em. 

SONG. 

Who is Silvia? What is she, 
That all our swains commend her? 

Holy y fair, and wise is she ; 

The heavens snch grace did lend her. 

That she might admired he. 

Is she kind, as she is fair? 

For beauty lives with kindness: 
Love doth to her eyes repair ^ 

To help him of his blindness ; . 
And, being help'd, inhabits there. 

Then to Silvia let us sing. 

That Silvia is excelling; 
She ejecels each mortal thing, 

Upon the dull earth dwelling . 
To her let us garlands bring. 

Host. How now? are you sadder than yon 
were before ? 
How do you, man ? the music likes yon not. 

Jul. iou mistake; the musician likes me not. 

//^J^^. Why, my pretty youth? 

JhI, He plays false, father. 

Host. How? out of tune on the strings ? 

Jul. Not so ; but yet so false that he grieves 
my very heart-strings. 

Host. You have a quick ear. 

Jtd. Ay, I would I were deaf! it makes me 
have a slow hearL 

Host. I perceive, you delight not in music. 

Jul. Not a whit, when it jars so. 

Host. HarkjWhat fine change is in the music I 

Jul. Ay ; that change is the spite. 

Host, You would have them always play 
but one thing? 

Jul, I would always have one play but one 
thing. But, host, doth this sir Proteus, that we 
talk on, often resort unto this gentlewoman ? 

Host. I tell you what Launce,his man, told 
me, he loved iier out of all nickt. 

Jul. Where is Launce? 

Host. Gone to seek his dog ; which, to-mor- 
row, by his master's command, he must carry 
for a present to his lady. 

Jul. Peace ! stand aside ! the company parts. 

Pro. Sir Thurio, fear not you !I will so plead. 
That you shall say, my cunning drift excels. 

'Jhii. Where meet we? 

Pro. At Saint Gregory's well. 



Passionate reproachw, 



JJeyond all reckoning. 



Scene I/.] 



TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 



39 



Thu, Farewell. 

[EkeuntTHURio and Musicians. 

Silvia appears above, at her tvindmv. 

Pro. Madam, good even to your ladyship. 

Sil. I thank you for your music, geutleuien: 
Who is that, that spake ? [truth, 

Pro. One,lady,if you knew his pure heat's 
You'd quickly learn to know him by his voice. 

vVi/. 8ir Proteus, as i take it. 

Pro. S,ir Proteus, gentle lady, and your ser- 

S.l. What is your will ? [vant. 

Pro. That I may compass yours. 

Sil. You have your wish ; my will is even 
this,— 
That presently you hie you home to bed. 
Thou subtle, perjur'd, false, disloyal man ! 
Thiiik'st thou, 1 am so shallow, so conctitless, 
To be seduced by thy flattery, 
Th.it hast deceived so many with thy vows? 
Riiurn, return, and make thy love amends. 
For me, — by this pale queen of night I swear, 
I am so far from granting thy request, 
I'li.it I despise thee for thy wrongful suit; 
Aiid by and by intend to chide myself, 
liven forthig time 1 spend in talking to thee. 

Pro. I grant, sweet love, that I did love a 
B'.tt she is dead. [lady ; 

Jul. Twere false, if I should speak it ; 

For, I am sure, she is not buried. [Aside. 

Sil. Say that she be ; yet Valentine, thy 
S«rvives;to whom, thy self art witness, [friend, 
1 ara betroth'd: And art thou not asham'd 
To wrong him with thy importunacy? 

Pro. 1 likewise hear, that Valentine is dead. 

iSil. And so, suppose, am I ; for in his grave 
Assure thyself, my love is buried. 

Pro. Sweet lady, let me rake It from the 
earth. [thence ; 

Sil. Goto thy lady's g^-ave, and cull faer's 
Or, at th« least, in her's sepolchre thine. 

Jul. He heard not that. {Aside. 

Pro. Madam, if your heart be so obdurate, 
Vouchsafe me yet your picture for my love, 
Ihe picture that is hanging in your chamber; 
To that I'll speak, to that Pll sigh and weep: 
For, since the substance of your perfect self 
Is else devoted, I am but a shadow: 
And to your shadow I will make true love. 

Jul. If 'twere a substance, you would, sure, 
deceive it, 
And make it but a shadow, as I am. {Aside. 

Sil. I am very loth to be your idol, sir ; 
iJiJt since your falsehood shall become you well 
i'o worship shadows, and adore false shapes, 
6«'"d to me in the morning, and Pil eend it : 
And so good rest. 

Pro. As wretches have o'ernight. 

That wait for execution in the morn. 

{Exeunt Proteus; and Silvia from 
above. 

Jul. Host, will you go? 

J lost. By my hallidom*, I was ^ast asleep. 

^al. Pray you, where lies sir Proteus? 

Host. Marry, at my house ; Trust me, I 
ddjBff, 'tis almost day. 



J^il. Not so; but it hath been the longest iiight 
That e'er I watch'd, and the most heaviest. 

{Exeunt* 

SCENE III. The same. 

Enter Eglamour. 

Egl. This is the hour that madam Silvia 

Entreated me to call, and knew her mind ; 

There's some great matter she'd employ me 

Madam, madam 1 [in. — 

Silvia appears above, at her window, 

Sil. Who calls ? 

Egl. Your servant, and your friend; 

One that attends your ladyship's command. 

SIL Sir Eglamour^ a thousand times good 
morrow. 

Egl. As many, wortby lady, to yourself. 
According to your ladyship's imposet, 
I am thus early come, to know what service 
It is your pleasure to command me in- 

Sil. O Eglamour, thou art a gentleman, 
(Think not, I flatter, for, I swear, I do not,) 
Valiant, wise, remorseful j, well accomplish'd. 
Thou art not ignorant, what dear good will 
I bear unto the banish'd Valentine; 
Nor how my father would enforce me marry 
Vain Thurio, who my very soul abhorr'd. 
Thyself hast lov'd ; and I have heard thee say 
No grief did ever come so near thy heart. 
As when thy lady and thy true love died. 
Upon whose grave thou vow'dst pure chastity 
Sir Eglamour, I would to Valentine, 
To Mantua, where, I hear, he makes abode; 
And, for the ways are dangerous to pass, 
I do desire thy worthy company. 
Upon whose faith and honour I repose. 
Urge not my father's anger, Eglamour, 
But think upon my grief, a lady'* giief ; 
And on the justice of my flying hence. 
To keep me from a most unholy match. 
Which heaven and fortune still reward with 

plagues. 
I do desire thee, even from a heart 
As full of sorrows as the sea of sands, 
To bear me company, and go with me : 
If not, to hide what 1 have said to thee. 
That 1 may venture to depart alone. 

Egl. Madam, I pity much your grievances 
Which since 1 know they virtuously are plac'd 
I give consent to go along with you ; 
Recking^ as little what betideth me. 
As much I wish all good befortune you. 
When will yoB go ? 

Sil. This evening coming. 

JSgl. Where shall I meet you 1 

Sil. At friar Patrick's cellj 

Where 1 intend holy confession. 

Egl. I will not fail your ladyship; 
Good morrow, gentle lady. 

Sil. Good -morrow, kindsir Eglamour. 

[Exeunt* 
SCENE IV. The same. 
Enter Launce, with his dog. 

Laun. When a man's servant shall play tlie 



♦ Hol^' daiae, bies«ed lady, t Injunction, command. 



: Pitiful. $ Carins. 



40 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act ir. 



cur with him, look you, It goes hard : one that I 
brought up of a pappy ; one that I saved Prom 
drowning, when three or four of his blind bro- 
thers and sisters went Co it ! I have taught him — 
even as one would say precisely. Thus I would 
teach a dog. I was sent to deliver him, as 
a present to mistress Silvia, from my master; 
and I came no sooner into the dining*cham* 
btr, but he steps me to her trencher, and 
steals her capon's leg. O, 'tis a foul thing, 
%W)«n a cur cannot keep* himself in all cora»- 
panics! I would have, as one should My, one 
that takes upon him to be a dog indeed, to be, 
as it were, a (\o^ at all things. If 1 had not 
had more wit than he, to take a fault upon me 
that he did, 1 Chink verily he had been hanged 
for't; sure as I Five, he bad suffered for't: you 
shall judge. He thrusts me himself into the 
eoinp.iny of three or four gentlemen-like dogs, 
under the duke's tab^e: he had not been there 
(bless the mark) a pissing while; but all the 
chamber smelt him. Out with the dog. says 
one ; PFhat cur is that ? says another ; fVhip 
him out, says the third ; Hang him up, says 
the duke. I, having been acquainted with 
the smell before, knew it was Crab; and goes 
me to the feliow that whips the dogs : Friend, 
quoth 1. you mean to whip the dog? Ay, 
marry, do I, quoth he. You do him the more 
wrong, quoth I ; *twus J did the thing you 
not of. He makes me no more ado, but whips 
roe oot of the chamber. How many masters 
would do this for their servant? Nay, Pll be 
sworn, I have sat in the stocks for puddings 
be hath stoleu, otherwise he had been exe- 
cuted : I have stood on the pillory for geese 
he hath killed, otherwise he hid suffered for't: 
thouthink'st not of this now !— Nay, I remem- 
ber the trick yon served me, when 1 took my 
«eave of madam Silvia ; did not I bid thee still 
mark me, and do as 1 do? When didst thou 
»ee me heave up my leg, and make water 
ag tinst a gentlewoman's far thing de 1 didst thou 
ever see me do such a trick I 

Enter Proteus and Julia. 

Pro. Sebastian is tiiy name? I likethee well. 

And will employ thee in some service presently. 

^M/.Inwhat you please; — Iwilldo what lean. 

Pro. I hope, thou wilt. — How liow, you 

whoreson peasant ? [7'o Launch. 

Where have you been these two days loitering? 

Laun. Marry, sir, I carried mistress Silvia 

the dog you bade me. 

Pro, And what says she, to my little jewel ? 
Laun. Marry, she says, your dog was a 
cur ; and tells you, currish thanks is good 
enough for such a present. 

Pro. But she received my dog? 
I.aun. No, indeed, she did not: here have 
I brought hlni back again. 
J'ro. What, didit thoo offer her this from me ? 
Laun. Ay, sir; the other squirr«l was stolen 
from me by the hangman'* boys in the mar- 
Ket-ptace: and then i offered her miae own; 
who is a dog as big as ten of yours, and there- 
fore the gift the greater. 

* Restrain. 



Pro. Go, get thee hence, and find my (\\y^ 
Or ne'er return again into my sigtit. [again, 
Away, I say : Stay'st thou to vex me here I 
A slave, that, still an endt, turns me to shanm 
J^Elxit La UN 11 
Sebastian, I have (Entertained thee, 
Partly, that 1 have need of such a yoftth. 
That can with some discretion do my business. 
For 'tis no trusting to yoji foolish lowt ; 
But, chiefly, for thy face, and thy behavionr; 
Which (if my augury deceive me not) 
Witness good bringing up, fortune, aod truth . 
Therefore know thou, for this I entertain thee 
Go presently, and take this ring with thee. 
Deliver it to madam Silvia: 
She loved me well, deliver'd it t« nie. 

Jul. It seems, you loved her not, to leave 
She's dead, belike. [her token ; 

Pro. Not so ; I think, she iivei. 

Jul. Alas! 

Pro. Why dost thou cry, alas? 
Jul. I cannot choose but pity her. 
Pro. Wherefore should'st thou pity her I 
Jul. Because, methinks, that she loved you 
As you do love your lady Silvia : [as well 
She dreams on him, that has forgot her love ; 
You dote on her, that cares not for your love. 
'Tis pity, love should be so contrary ; 
And thinking en it makes me cry, alas I 

Pro. Well, give her that ring, and therewithal 
Thi» letter; — that's her chamber. — Tell my lady, 
I claim the promise fcr her heavenly picture. 
Your message done,hie home unto mychamber, 
Where thou shall find me sad and solitary. 

lE.iit 1^ ROTE us 
JuL How many women vtroold do such a 
message? 
Alas, poor Proteus ! thou hast enterfain'd 
A fox, to be the shepherd of thv lambs : 
Alas, poor fool I why do I pity him 
That with his very heart despiseth nift? 
Because he lovee her, he despiseth me; 
Because I love him, I must pity him. 
This ring I gave him, when he parted from me. 
To bind him to remember my good will : 
And now am I (unhappy messenger) 
To plead for that, which I would not obtain ; 
To carry that which I would have refus'd ; 
Topraisehis faith,whicfhl would havedisprais'd. 
I am my master's wue confirmed love ; 
But cannot be true servant to my master. 
Unless I prove false traitor to myfieU. 
Yetl wiil woo for him: but yet so coldly , [speed. 
As, heaven, it knows, I would not have him 

Enter SiLvi\, attended. 

Gcntlewoman,good day! Ipray you,be mym«<an 

To bring mewhere to speak with madam >ilvia. 

A'r/. What would you with her, if that 1 be she? 

Jul. If you be*he, I do entreat your patience 

To h«ar me speak the message I am sent on. 

Sil. From whom ? 

Jul. From my matter, sir Proteus, madam. 
Sil. O I — he sends you for a picture ? 
Jul. Ay, madam. 
Sil. Ursula, bring my picture there. 

[Picture brought. 

t In the gimI. 



§k:ene IV.] 



TWO GtNTLEMEN OF VERONA. 



41 



Go, give yonr master this : tell him from me, 
One Julia^ that his changing thoughts forget. 
Would better fit his chamber than this shadow. 

Jul. Madam, please you peruse this letter. — 
Pardon me, madam; 1 have unadvis'd 
Delivered you a paper that I should not; 
This is the letter to your ladyship. 

Sil. I pray thee, let me look on that again. 

Jul. It may not be; good madam, pardon me. 

Sil. There, hold. 
I will not look upon your master's lines : 
I know, they are stuft 'd with protestations, 
And full of new-found oaths ; which he will 
As easily as 1 do tear hi* paper. [break 

Jul. Madam, hesends your ladyship this ring. 

Sil. The more shame for him that he sends It 
For,I have heard hJm say a thousand times,£me; 
Hin Julia gave it him at hl« departure : 
Though his false finger hath profan'd the ring. 
Mine shall not do his Julia so much wron^. 

Jul. She thanks you. 

Sil. Wbat »ay*st thou? 

Jul. I thank you,madam,that you tender her: 
Poor gentlewoman 1 my master wrongs her 

Sil. Dost thou know her? frauth. 

Jul. Almost as well as I do know myself: 
To think upon her woes, I do protest. 
That I have wept an hundred several times. 

Sil. Belike, she thinks that Proteus haih for- 
sook her. [sorrow. 

Jul. I think sUe doth, and that*& her cause of 

Sil. Is she not passing fair? 

Jul, She hath been fairer,madam,than she is : 
When she did think my master lov'd her well. 
She, in my judgment, was as fair as you ; 
But since she did neglect her looking-glass. 
And threw her sun expelling mask away, 
Tha air hath starv'd the roses in her cheeks. 
And pinch'd the lily-tincture of her face, 
That now she is become as black as I. 

Sil. How tall was she ? 

Jul. About my stature: for, at Pentecost*, 
When all our pageants of delight were play'd. 
Our youth got me to play the woman's part. 
And I wastrimm'd in madam Julia's gown, 
Which served me as fit, by all men's judgment, 



As if the garment had been made tor me ; 
Therefore, I know she is about my height. 
And, at that time, 1 made her weep a-goud t, 
For 1 did play a lamentable part: 
Madam, 'twas Ariadne, passioning 
For llieseus" perjury, and unjust flight; 
Which I so lively acted with my tears, 
That my poor mistress, moved therewithal. 
Wept bitterly ; and, would I might be dead. 
If I in thought felt not her very sorrow ! 

Sil. She is beholden to thee, gentle youth I— 
Alas, poor lady ! desolate and left !— 
I weep myself, to think upon thy words. 
Here, youth, there is myporse ; I give thee this 
For thy sweet mistress' sake, because thou lov'st 

her. 
Farewell. [Exit Silvia. 

Jul. And she shall thank you for't, if e'er 
you know her. — 
A virtuous gentlewoman, mild, and beautiful. 
I hope my roaster's suit will be but cold. 
Since she respects my mistress' love so much. 
Alas, how love can trifle with itself I 
Here is her picture : Let me see ; I think. 
If I had such a tire j, this face of mine 
Were full as lovely as is this of hers : 
And yet ^e painter flatter'd her a little. 
Unless I tlatter with my»elf too much. 
Her hair is auburn, mine is perfect yellow: 
If that be all the difference in his love, 
I'll get me such a colour'd periwig. 
Her eyes-are grey as glas^ ; and so are mine : 
Ay, but her forehead's low, and mine's as high. 
What should it be, that he respects in her. 
But I can make respective j in myself. 
If this fond love were not a blinded god? 
Come, shadow, come, and take this shadow up, 
For 'tis thy rival. O thou senseless form. 
Thou shalt be worshipped, kiss'd, lov'd, and 
And, were there sense in his idolatry, [ndor'd j 
My substance should be statue in thy stead. 
I'll use thee kindly for thy mistress' sake. 
That us'd me so ; or else, by Jove I vow, 
I should have scratch'd out your unseeing eyes 
To make my master out of love with thee. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. The same. An Abbey. 
Enter Eglamour. 
Egl. The sun begins to gild the western sky ; 
And now, it is about the very hour 
That Silvia, at Patrick's cell, should meet me. 
She will not fail ; for lovers break not hours, 
Inless it be to come before their time ; 
So much they spur their expedition. 

Enter Silvia. 
See.where she comes : Lady, a happy evening I 
Sil. Amen, amen! go on, good Eglamour I 
Out at the postern by the abbey wall ; 
1 fear, I am attended by tome spies. 



Egl. Fear not : the forest is not three leaguet 
If we recover that, we are sur^H enough, [off; 
[Exeunt, 
SCENE II. The same. 
An Apartment in the Duke's Palace. 
Enterlnvviio, Proteus, anrf Julia. 
Thu. Sir Protens,what says Silvia to my suitt 
Pro. 0,eir,I find her milder than she was ; 
And yet she takes exceptions at your person 
Thu. What, th«t my leg is too long 1 
Pro. No ; that it is too little. 
Thu. I'll wear a boot, to n>ake it cmewh^l 
rounder. 



• Whitsuntide. t In good earnest. j Head dress 



$ Respectable. 
£ 3 



11 Safe, 



42 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r. 



Pro. BtJt love will not be spurr'd to what it 

yViw. What says she to my face? [loaths. 

Pro. She say?, it is a fair one. [black. 

Thu. Nay, then the wanton lies, my f ice is 

/-'ro.BHt pearls are fair; and the old saying is, 
Black men are pearls in beauteous ladies' eyes. 

Jul. 'Tistrue; such pearls as put out ladles' 
eyes ; 
For I had rath( rwinkthan look on ihem [Aside. 

I'liu. How likes she my discourse? 

Pro. Ill, when you talk of war. [peace ? 

Tku. But welljWhen I discourse of love, and 

Jul, But better, indeed, when you hold your 
peacfe. l^A^iUe. 

Thu. What says she to my valour? 

Pro. 0,sir, she makes no doubt of that. 

Jul. Sl>€ needs not, when she knows it 
cowardice. [.i^/dc. 

Jhu. What says she to my birth ? 

Pro. That you are well deriv'd. 

J^M^.True; from a gentleman to afool.[^^2<fe. 

Thu. Considers she my possessions? 

Pro. O, ay; and pities them. 

Thu. Wherefore? 

Jul. That such an ass should owe* them. 

{Aside. 

Pro. That they are out by lease. 

Jul. Here comes the duke. 
Enter Duk.e. 

Duke. How now, sir Proteus? how now, 
Thurio? 
Which of you saw sir Eglamour of late? 

Thu. Not I. 

Pro. Nor I. 

Duke* Saw you my daughter? 

Pro. Neither. 

Duke. Why, then she's fled unto that peasant 
And Eglamour is in her company. [Valentine ; 
*Tis true ; for friar Laurence met them both, 
As he in penance wander'd through the forest : 
Him he knew well, and guess'd tliatit wasshe ; 
But, bein'^ mask'd, he was not sure of it: 
Besides, she did intend confession [not : 

At Patrick's cell this even ; and there she was 
These likelihoodsconfirm her flight from hence. 
Therefore, 1 pray you, stand not to discourse. 
But mount you presently; and meet with nie 
Upon the rising of the mountain foot [fled : 
That leads towards Mantua, whither they are 
Despatch, sweet gentlemen, and foilow me. 

[Kxit. 

Thu. Why, thix it is to be a peevish t girl, 
That flies her fortune when it follows her: 
I'll after; more to be reveiigM on Eglamour, 
Than for the love of reckless J Silvia. [Exit. 

/'ro.And I willfollow,morefor Silvia's love. 
Than hate of Eiilamonr that goeswith her.[^'i it. 

Jul.An(\ 1 will follow more to cross that love, 
Than hate for Silvia.that is gone lor love. [Exit. 

SCENE III. 

Froritiers of Mantua. The Forest. 
Enter Silvia and Out-laws. 
Out. Come, come ; 
Be |>rttient,we must bring you to our captain. | 



*Vi/.A thousand more mischances than thisone 

Have le rn'd me how to brook this patiently. 

2 Out. Come, bring her away. [her? 

1 Out. Where is the gentleman that was with 

3()ut. Being nimble footed, he hath oat-run 

But Moyses, and Valerius, follow him. [us, 

Go thou with her to the west end of the wood. 

There is our captain : we*ll follow him that's 

The thicket is beset, he cannot 'scape. [fled ; 

1 OM^.Come,Imust bringyon to our captain's 

Fear not ; he bears an honourable mind, [cave : 

And will not use a woman lawlessly. 

Sil. O Valentine, this I endure for thee ! 

[Exeunt, 
SCENE IV. 
Another part of (he Forest. 
Enter Valentine. 
Val. How use doth breed a habit in a man! 
This shadowy desert, unfrequented woods, 
I better brook than flourishing peopled towns: 
Here can I sit alone, unseen of any. 
And, to the nightingale's complaining notes. 
Tune my distresses, and record § my woes. 
O thou that dost inhabit in my breast. 
Leave not the mansion so long tenantless; 
Lest, growing ruinous, the building fall. 
And leave no memory of what it was! 
Repair me with thy presence, Silvia ; 
Thou gentle nymphjcherish thy forlorn swain!^ 
vV hat halloing, and what stir, is this to-day? 
These are my mates, that make their wills their 
Haye some unhappy passenger in chace : [law, 
I'hey love me well; yet I have nmch to do. 
To keep them from uncivil outrages. 
Withdraw thee, Valentine ; who's this comes 
here? [steps aside. 

Enter Proteus, Silvia, and Julia. 
Pro. Madam,this service I have done for you, 
(ThoUi^h you respect not aught your servant 
To hazard lite, and rescue you from him [doth,) 
That would have forc'd your honour and your 
love. [look; 

Vouchsafe me, for my meedf], but one fair 
A smaller boon than this I cannot beg, 
And less ihan this, I am sure, you cannot give. 
Val. How like a dream is this I see and hear 1 
Love, lend me patience to forbear a while. 

[Aside. 

SiL O miserable, unhappy that I am ! 

/^ro. Unhappy ,were you, madam,ere I came; 

But, by my coming, I have made you happy. 

Sil. By thy approach thou niak'st me most 

unhappy. 
Jul. And me, when he approacheth to your 
presence. [Aside, 

SI. Had I been seized by a hungiy lion, 
I would have been a breakfast to the beast. 
Rather than have false Proteus rescue me. 
O, heaven be Judge, how I lo^e Valentine, 
Whose life's as lender to me as »iiy soul ; 
And full as much (for more there cannot be,/ 
I do detest false perjur'd Proteus: 
Therefore be gone, solicit me no more, [death, 
Pro. W hat dangerous action, stood it next to 
Would I not undergo for one calm look ? 



♦ Own. 



t Foolish. 



t Careless. 



$ Sing. 



U Reward. 



Scene IV.] 



TWO GENTLEMEN OF VERONA. 



0,*tis the curse in love, and still approvM*, 
When women cannot love where they're be- 
lov'd. [belov'd. 

Sil. When Proteus cannot lave where he's 
Read over Julia's heart, thy first best love, 
For whose dear sake thou didst then rend thy 

faith 
Into a thousand oaths ; and all fliose oaths 
Descended into perjury, to love me. [two. 
Thou hast no failh left now, unless thou hadst 
And that's far worse than none ; better have 

none ^ 

Than plural faith, which is too nfoCh by pne : 
Thou counterfeit to thy true friend i 

Pro. In love. 

Who respects friend ? 

«yii. All men but Proteus. 

Pro.Nay,ifthegentlespiritof moving words 
Can no way change you to a milder form, 
I'll woo you like a soldier, at arms' end ; 
And love you 'gainst the nature of love, force 
Sil. O heaven I [you. 

Pro. I'll force thee yield to my desire. 

V^al. Ruffian, let go that rude uncivil touch ; 
Thou friend of an ill fashion ! 

Pro. Valentine I 

Val. Thou common friend, that's without 
faith or love. 
(For such is a friend now,) treacherous man 
Thou hast beguil'd my hopes; nought but 

mine eye 
Could have persuaded me: Now I dare not say 
I have one friend alive ; thou would^st dis- 
prove me. 
Who should be trusted now, when one's right 
Is perjur'd to the bosom? Proteus, [hand 

1 am sorry, I must never trust thee more. 
But count the world a stranger for thy sake. 
The private wound is deepest : O time, most 
curst ! [worst ! 

'Mongst all foes, that a friend should be the 
Pro. My shame and guilt confounds me. — 
Forgive me, Valentine : if hearty sorrow 
Be a sufficient ransom for offence, 
I tender it here ; I do as truly suffer. 
As e'er I did commit. 

Val. Then I am paid ; 

And once again I do receive thee honest : — 
Who by repentance is not satisfied, [pleas'd ; 
Is nor of heaven, nor earth ; for these are 
By penitence the Eternal's wrath's appeas'd: — 
And, that my love may appear plain and free, 
All that was mine in Silvia, I give thei»- 
Jul. O me, unhappy I iratnts. 

Pro. Look to the boy. 
Val. Why, boy I why, wag! how now? what 
is the matter? 
Look up ; speak. 

Jul. O good sir, my master charg'd me 
To deliver a ring to madam Silvia ; 
Which, out of my neglect was never done. 
Pro. Wl ere is that ring, boy? 
Jill. Here 'tis: this is it. [Gives a ring. 
Pro. Howl let me see: 
\ITjy this is the ring I gave to Julia. 



Jul. O, cry you mercy, sir, I have mistook 
This is the ring you sent to Silvia- 

■ [Shews another rin 

Pro. But, how cam'st thou by this ring? > 
I gave this unto Julia. [my fkpan 

Jul. And Julia herself did give it me ; 
And Julia herself hath brought it hither. 

Pro. How ! Julia! 

•Tw^.Beheld her that gave aimt to all thyoaths 
And entertain'd them deeply in her heat l : 
How oft hast thou with perjury cleft the root J \ 
O Proteus, let this habit make thee blush I 
Be thou asham'd, that i have took upon me 
Such an immodest raiment; if shame live 
In a disguise of love: 
It is the lesser blot, modesty finds. 
Women to change their shapes, than men 
their minds. [heaven! were isian 

Pro. Than men their minds ? 'tis trut- : O 
But constant, he wereperfect: that one error 
Fills him with faults; makes him run thioiisih 
Inconstancy falls off, ere it begins : [all sins: 
What is in Silvia's face, but 1 may spy 
More fresh in Julia's with a constant eye ? 

Val. Come, come, a hand from either : 
Let me be blest to make this happy close ? 
Twerc pity two such friends should be long 
foes. 

Pro. Bear witness, heaven, I have my wish 

Jul. And I have mine. [for ever. 

Enter Out-laws, with Duke and Th u r i o. 

Out. A prize, a prize, a pri/.e ! 

Val. Forbear, I say; it is my lord the duke. 
Your grace is welcome to a man disgrac'd. 
Banished Valentfue.^ 

Vuke. Sir Valentine! 

77iw. Yonder is Silvia; and Silvia's mine. 

Val. Thurio give back, or else embrace thy 
death ; 
Come not within the measure § of my wrath : 
Do not name Silvia thine ; if once again, 
Milan shall not behold thee. Here she Mauds, 
Take but possession of her with a touch ; — 
I dare thee but to brenthe upon my lovr.— 

Thu. Sir Valentine, I care not for hei\ J ; 
I hold him but a fool, that will endanger 
His body for a girl that loves him not : 
I claim her not, and therefore she is thine. 

X^?^/ce.Themoredegenerateand base at i thou. 
To make such means ll for her asthou hasi>L>iie, 
And leave her on such slight conditions. — 
Now- t»w the hojiour of my ancestry, 
1 cro appiaud thy spirit, Valentine, 
And think thee worthy of an empress* Icve. 
Know then, I here forget all former griefs. 
Cancel all grudge, repeal thee home again.— 
Plead a new state in thy unrivall'd nu-nt. 
To which I thus subscribe,— sir Valentine, 
Thou art a gentleman, and well deriv'd ; tlier. 
Take thou thy Silvia, for ihon hast distt v'd 

Vat. I thank your grace ; the gift hatli m.ule 
me happy. 
I DOW beseech you, for your daughter's sake, 
To grant one boon that I ehall ask of yv>i«. 



• Feit, experienced. t Direction. 
j Length of my sword. 



X An allusion to cleaving the pin in archery. 
U Interest. 



4* 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Ai^ F 



Duke. I grant -t.f^r thine own, whatever it be. 
Vol, These banishM men, that 1 have kept 
withal. 
Are men endued with worthy qualities ; 
Forgive them what they have committed 

here. 
And let them be recall'd from their exile: 
They, are reformed, civil, full of good, 
And tit for great employment, worthy lord. 
Duke. Thou hast prevaii'd ; I pardon them, 
and thee ; 
Dispose of them, as thou know'st their de- 
serts. 
Come, let us go ; we will include • all jars 
Wiib triumphs t, mirth, and rare solemnity. 

• Conclude. 



Val. And, as we wd4k along, I daf-e be bold 
With onr discourse to make your grace to smile: 
What think you of this page, my lord ? 

Duke, I think the boy hath grace iu him; 
he blushes. 

Val. I warrant you, my lord ; more grac 
than boy. 

Duke, What mean you by that saying? 

Val. Please you. Til tell you as we pass ilong 
That yon will wonder what hath fortuned. — 
Come, Proteus; 'Us your penance, but to hear 
The story of your loves discovered : 
That done, our day of marriage shall be yours ; 
One feast, one house, one mutual happine:>s. 

{Extant, 

t Masks, revels. 



In this play there is a strange mixture of knowledge and ignorance, of care and negligence. 
The versificatioa is often excellent, the allusions are learned and just ; but the author convey* 
bis heroes by sea from one inland town to another in the same country ; he places the 
emperor at Milan, and sends his young men to attend him, but never mentions him more ; 
he makes Proteus, after an interview with Silvia, say he has only seen her picture; and, if 
we may credit the old copies, he has, by mistaking places, left his scenery inextricable. The 
reason of all this confusion seems to be, that he took his story from a novel, which he sonie- 
ciinea followed, and sometimes forsook; sometimes remembered, and sometimes forgot. 

That this play is rightly attributed to Shakspeare, I have little doubt. If it be taken from 
h.m, to whom shall it be given? This question may be asked of all the disputed playb, 
except Tirus Andronicus; and it will be found more credible, that Shakspeare mi^ht 
sometimes sink below his highest flights, than thai any other should rise up to his lowest. 

John:>ok. 



^< 



MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 



^ersJcn^ reprc^cnteti. 



Sir John Falstafp 

Fenton. 

Shallow, a country justice. 

Slender, cousin to Shallow, 

Mr. Ford, I two gentlemen dwelling at 

Mr. Page,/ Windsor. 

William Page, a boy, son to Mr, Page, 

Sib Hugh Evans, a Welsh parson. 

Dr. Caius, a French physician. 

Host of the Garter i?m. 



•■} 



followers of Falstaff, 



Bardolph,-^ 

PiSTOL, 

Nym, 

RoKiN, page to Falstaff, 
Simple, seivant to Slender, 
^\3G^Yy servant to Dr, Caius* 

Mrs. Ford. 
Mrs. Page, 
Mrs. Anne Page, her daughter, in lovt 

with Fenton. 
Mrs. Quickly, servant to Dr, Caius, 



Servants to Page, FaRo, S^c, 
Scene, — Windsor, and the parts adjacent. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. Windsor. Before V^ge's House. 

Enter Justice Shallow, Slender, and 
Sir* Hugh Evans. 

Shal. Sir Hirgh, persnade me not; I will 
knak6 a Star-chamber matttjr of it: if he were 
twenty sir John Falstatfs, he shall not abuse 
Robert Shallow, esquire. 

Slen. In the county of Gloster, justice of 
peace, and corutn. 

Shal. Ay,cousin SlenderyUid Cust-alorum.i 

Slen, Ay, and ratoiorum too ; and a gen- 
tleman born, master parson ; who writes him- 
self armigero ; in any bill, warrant, quittance, 
or obligation, armigero. 

Shal. Ay, that we do; and have done any 
time these three hundred years. 

Slen. All his successors, gone before him 
have doue'tj and all his ancestors, that come 
iftcr him, vcvuy '. they 'may give the dozen 
while luces in iheir coat. 

Shal. It is an old coat. 

Eva. The dozen white louses do become an 
old coat well ; it agrees well, passant. : it is a 
familiar beast to man, and signifies — love. 

Shal. The luce is the fresh fish ; the salt fish 
is an old coat. 

Slen. I may quarter, coz ? 

Shal. You may, by marrying. 

Fva. It is marring indeed, if he quarter it. 

Shal. Not a whit. 

Eva. Yes, py'rj lady; if he has a quarter of 
your coat, there is but three skirts for your- 
self, in my simple r/mjectures : but that is all 
one : If sir John Falstafl" have committed dis- 1 
paragements unto you, I am of the church, and j 



will be glad to do my benevolence, to make 
atonements and compromises between you. 
Shal. The Council § shall hear it; it is a riot. 
Eva. It is not meet the Council hear a riot; 
there is no fear of Got in a riot : the Council, 
look yoD, shall desire to hear the fear of Got, 
and not to hear a riot ; take your viaamenls [j 
in that. 

Shal. Halo* my life, if I were young again, 
the sword should end it. 

Eva. It is petter that friends is the sword, 
and end it: and there is also another device in 
my prain, which, peradventure, prings goot 
d scretions with it : There is Anne Page, which 
is daughter to master George Page, which is 
pretty viriiinity. 

Sle/i. Mistress Anne Page? She has brown 
hair, and speaks small IT like a woman. 

Eva. It is that fery verson for all the *orld, 
as just as you will desire; and seven hundred 
pounds of monies, and gold and silver, is her 
grandsire, npo« his death's-bed, (Got deliver 
to a joyful resm-rections !) give, when she is 
able to overtake seventeen years old : it were 
a goot motion, if we leave our pribbles and 
prabbles, and desire a marriage between mas- 
ter Abiaham and mistress Anne Page. 

Shal. Did her grandsire leave her seven 
hundred pound? 

Eva, Ay, and her father is make her a pet- 
ter penny. 

Sh^il. I know the young gentlewoman; she 
has good gifts. 

Era. Seven hundred pounds, and possibili* 
ties, is goo<i gifts. 

Shal. Well, let us see honest master Page: 
Is Falstaflf there? 



• A title formerly appropriated to ch.^plaius. t Custos R^-tulorum. 

I By our. i Court of Star chambtr. I! Advisement. 1i Sofl. 



40 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act I, 



Eva. Shall I tell you a lie? I do despise a 
liar, as I do despise one that is false ; or, as I 
despise one that is not true. The knight, sir 
John, is there ; and, I beseech you, be ruled 
by your weil-willers. I will peat the door 
[k/wcAs] for master Page. What, hoal Got 
pless your house here ! 

Enter Page. 

Page. Who's there? 

Eva. Here Is Got's plessing, and your friend, 
and justice Shallow; and here young master 
Slender; that, peradventures, shall tell you 
another tale, if matters grow to your likings. 

Page. I am glad to see your worships well: 
I thank you for my venison, master Shallow. 

Shul. Master Page, I am glad to see you ; 
Much good do it your good heart ! I wished 
your venison better; it was ill kill'd: — How 
ioth good mistress Page? — and I love you al- 
ways with my heart, la; with my heart. 

Page. Sir, I thank you. 

Shut. Sir, I thank you ; by yea and ro, I do. 
^ Page. I am glad to see you, good master 
Slender. 

Slen. How does your fallow gieyhound, sir? 
' heard say, he was outrun on Cotsale •* 

Page. It could not be judg'd, sir. 

Shn. You'll not confess, you'll not confess. 

Xhal. That he will not ;— 'tis your fault, 'tis 
your fault : — 'Tis a good dog. 

Page. A cur, sir. 

Shal. Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog; 
Can there be more said? he is good and fair. 
— Is sir John Falstatf here? 

Page. Sir, he is within; and I would I could 
do a good office between you. 

Eva.lt is spokeas a christians oughtto speak. 

S/ial. He hath wrong'd me, master Page. 

Page. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it. 

Sh(fl. If it be confess'd, it is not redress'd ; 
ts not that so, master Page? He hath wrong'd 
me; indeed, he hath; — at a word, he hath; — 
believe me; — Robert Shallow, esquire, saith, 
he is wronjj'd. 

Page. Here comes sir John. 

Enter .SVr John Falstaff, Bardolph, 
Nym, and Pistol. 

Pal. Now, master Shallow ; you'll com- 
plain of me to the king? 

Shal. Knight, yqji have beaten my men, 
killed my dter, and broke open my lodge. 

Fal. Uut not kiss'd your keeper's daughter? 

Shal. Tu», a pin I this shall be answer'd. 

El/ 1. I will answer it straight ; — I have done 
all this : — That is now answer'd. 

SJial. The Council shall know this. 

Fal. 'Twere better for you if it were known 
lo counsel : you'll be laugh'd at. 

f.'i a. Fauca verbal sir John, good worts. 

y'V//.Good worts t! good cabbage. — Slender, 
I broke your liead; What matter have you 
against me i 



Slen. Marry, sir, I have matter in my head 
against you ; and against your coney-catching J 
rascals, Bardolph, .Nym, and Pistol. Tliey 
carried me to the tavern, and made me drunk, 
and afterwards picked ni}^ pocket. 

Bar. You Banbury cheese j! 

Slen. Ay, it is no matter. 

P'lst, How now, Mephostophilusll? 

Slen. Ay, it is no matter. 

Nym. Slice, I say! pauca, pauca^; slice I 
that's my humour. 

Slen. Where's Simple, my man? — can yo« 
tell, cousin? 

Eva. Peace, I pray you ! Now let us under" 
•tand : There is three umpires in this matter 
as I understand : that is — master Vz%e,Ji(h'li- 
cet, master Page ; and there is myself ,Jifleltcet 
myself; and the three party is, lastly and linal 
ly, mine host of the Garter. 

Page. We three, to hear it, and end it be- 
tween them. 

Eva. Fery goot: I will make a prief of it 
in my note-book; and we will afterwards 'ork 
upon the cause, with as great discreetly as wo 
can. 

Fal. Pistol!— 

PL^t. He hears with ears. 

Ei^. The tevil and his tarn! what phrase is 
this. He hears with, ear? Why, it is atiec- 
tations. 

Ful. Pistol, did you pick master Slender*! 
purse? 

Slen. Ay, by these gloves, did he, (or I 
vv'ould I might never come in mine own great 
chamber again else,) of seven groats in mill- 
sixpences, and two Edward shovel-boards ♦*, 
that cost me two shilling and two pence a-piece 
of Yead Miller, by these gloves. 

Fal. Is this true. Pistol? 

Eva, No ; it is false, if it is a pick-purse. 

Pist. Ha, thou mountain-foreigner ! — Sii 
John, and master mine, 
I combat challenge of this latten bilbo ft: 
Word of denial in thy labrasl]: here ; 
Word of denial; froth and scum, thou Host. 

Slen. By these gloves, then, 'twas he. 

Nym. Be advised, sir, and pass good hu- 
mours : I will say, marry trap, with you, if 
you run the nuthook*s§§ humour on me; that 
is the very note of it. , 

Slen. By this hat, then, he in the red face 
had it: for though I cannot remember what I 
did wiien you made me drunk, yet I am not 
altog' Iher an ass. 

Fa I. What say you. Scarlet and John? 

Jiord. Why, sir, for my part, I say, the 
gentleman had drunk himself out of his five 
sentences. 

Eta. It is his five senses : fie, what the ig- 
norance is! 

Bard. And being fapHH, sir, was, as they 
say, cashier'd; and so conclusions pass'd the 
careiresHU. 



• Cotswold in Gloucestershire. t Worts was the ancient name of all the cabbage kind. 
X Sharpers. § Nothing; but paring! jj The name of an ugly spirit. II Few words. 
•• King Edward's shillings used in the game of shuttle-board. +t Blade as thin as a lath. 
Vk Lips. W If you say I am a thief. Hjl Drunk. %% The bounds of good bel;a\ ioi*' 



Scene 1.) 



MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 



47 



Slen. Ay, you spake in Latin then too; but 
'tis no matter: I'll ne*er be drunk whilst I 
live again, but in honest, civil, godly company, 
for tins trick: if I be drunk, Pll be drunk 
with those that have the fear of God, and not 
,ith drunken knaves. 

Et'a. So Got *udge me, that is a virtuous 
mind. 

Fal. You hear all these matters denied, gen- 
tlemen ; you hear it. 

Enter Mistress Anne Page, with wine; 

Mistress Ford and Mistress Page foi- 

lowing. 

Page. Nay, daughter, carry the wine in ; 
we'll drink within. [Exit Anne Page. 

Sle/t. O heaven ! this is mistress Anne Page. 

Page. How now, mistress Ford? 

Fal. Mistress Ford, by my troth, you are 

very well met: by your leave, good mistress. 

[kissing her. 

P«^e.Wife,bid these gentlemen welcome : — 
Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner; 
come, gentlemen, 1 hope we shall drink down 
all unkindness. 
[Eueut/t all but Shal. Slend. and Evans. 

Slen. I had rather than forty shillings I had 
my book of songs and sonnets here: — 

Enter Simple. 
How now, Simple! where have you been? I 
must wait on myself, must I ? You have not 
'The Book of Biddies about you, have you ? 

Sim. Book of Riddles! why, did you not 
lend it to Alice Shortcake upon Allhallowmas 
last, a fortnight afore Michaelmas*? 

Shut. Come, coz ; come, coz ; we stay for 
you. A word with you, coz : marry, this, coz ; 
ihere is, as 'twere, a tender, a kind of tender, 
made afar off by sif Hugh here ; — Do you un- 
derstand me ? 

Slen, Ay, sir, you shall find me reasonable; 
If it be so, I shall do that that is reason. 

Shal. Nay, but understand me. 

>'^len. So I do, sir. 

Eca. Give ear to his motions, master Slen- 
der : I will description the matter to you, if 
you be capacity of it. 

Slen. Nay, I will do as my cousin Shallow 
iays: I pray yoa, pardon me; hc*s a justice 
of peace in his country, simple though I stand 
here. 

Eia, But this is not the question ; the ques- 
tion is concerning your marriage. 

ShaL Ay, there's the point, sir. 

Eva. Marry, is it; the very point of it; to 
mistress Anne Page. 

Slen. Why, if it be so, I will marry her, 
Lpon any reasonable demands. 

Eva, But can you affection the 'oman ? Let 
us comitiand to know that of your mouth, or 
t f your lips ; for divers philosophers hold, that 
the lips is parcel of the mouth ; — Therefore, 
precisely, can you carry your good will to the 
maid? 

Shal. Cousin Abraham Slender, can you 
^. ve her? 

• An intended blunder. 



Slen. I hope, sir, — I will do, as it shall be- 
come one that would do reason. 

Eva. Nay, Got's lords and his ladies, you 
must speak possitable, if you can carry her 
your desires towards her. 

Shal. That you must : Will you, upon good 
dowry, marry her? 

Slen, I will do a greater thing than that, 
upon your request, cousin, in any reason. 

Snal. Nay, conceive me, conceive me, sweet 
coz; what 1 do, is to pleasure you, coz : Can 
you love the maid? 

Sleji. I will marry her, sir, at your request; 
but if there be no great love in the beginning, 
yet heaven may decrease it upon better ac- 
quaintance, when we are married, and have 
more occasion to know one another : I hope, 
upon familiarity will grow more contempt: 
but if you say, marry her, I will many her, 
that 1 am freely dissolved, and dissolutely. 

Eva. It is a fery discretion answer; save, 
the faur is in the 'ort dissolutely : the 'ort is, 
according to our meaning, resolutely ;— his 
meaning is good. 

Shal. Ay, I think my consin meant well. 

Slen, Ay, or else I would I might be hanged, 
la. 

Re-enter Anne Page. 

Shal. Here comes fair mistress Anne :— 
Would I were young, for your sake, mistress 
Anne ! 

Anne. The dinner is on the table ; my fa- 
ther desires your worships' company. 

Shal. I will wait on him, fair mistress Anne. 

Eva. Od's plessed will! I will not be ab- 
sence at the grace. 

[Exeunt Shallow and Sir H. Evans. 

Anne. Will't please your worship to come 
in, sir? 

Slen. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily; 
I am very well. 

Anne. The dinner attends you, sir. 

Slen. I am not a-hungry, I thank you, for- 
sooth : Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go, 
wait npon my cousin Shallow: {Exit Simplk. 
A justice of peace sometime may be beholden 
to his friend for a man : — I keep but three men 
and a boy yet, till my mother be dead: But 
what though ? yet I live like a poor gentleman 
born. 

Anne. I may not go in without your wor- 
ship: they will not sit, till you come. 

Slen. Pfaith, Pll eat nothing; I thank you 
as much as though I did. 

Anne. I pray you, sir, walk in. 

Slen. I had rather walk here, I thank you: 
I bruised my shin the other day with playing 
at sword and dagger with a master of fence, 
three veneys t for a dish of stewed prunes ; 
and, by my troth, I cannot abide the smtll of 
hot meat since. Why do your dogs bark so? 
be there bears i* the town? 

Anne\ 1 think there are, sir; I heard them 
talked of. 

Slen, I love the sport well; but I shall a« 
soon quarrel at it as any man in England ;— 

i Three set-to's, boots, or hitR. 



4S 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act J. 



Yon are afraid if you see the bear loose, are 
you not? 

A»ne. Ay, indeed, sir. 

Slen. That's meat and drink to me, now: I 
have seen Sackerson • loose, twenty times; 
and have taken him by the chain : but, I war- 
rant you . the women have so cried and shriek'd 
at it, that it pass'dt: — but women, indeed," 
cannot abide 'em ; they are very ill-favoured 
rough things. 

Re-enter Page. 

Page. Come, gentle master Slender, come; 
wp stay for you. 

SLeti. I'll eat nothing; I thank you, sir. 

Page, By cock and py e, you shal I not choose, 
sir : come, come. 

Slen. Nay, pray you, lead the way. 

Page. Come on, sir. 

^Slen, Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first. 

Anne, Not I, sir; pray you, keep on. 

Slen. Truly, I will not go first; truly, la: I 
will not do you that wrong. 

A tine. I pray you, sir. 

Slen, 1*11 rather be unmannerly than trou- 
blesome : you do yourself wrong, indeed, la. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE II. The same. 

Enter Sir Hugh Evans and Simple. 

Eva, Go your ways, and ask of Doctor 
Caius' house, which is the way: and there 
dwells one mistress Quickly, which is in the 
manner of his nurse, or his dry nurse, or his 
ciok, or his laundry, his washer, and his 
wiinger. 

Simp. Well, sir. 

Eva, Nay, it is petter yet :— give her this 
letter; for it is a 'oman that ahogether's ac- 
quaintance with mistress Anne Page ; and the 
letter is, to desire and require her to solicit 
y rrr master's desires to mistress Anne Page: 
1 pray you, begone; I will make an end^of 
my dinner; there's pippins and cheese to come. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE III. A Room in the Garter Inn, 

En'er Falstaff, Host, Bardolph, Nym, 
Pistol, and Robin. 

Fal. Mine host of the Garter,--r 

Host. What says my bully-rook t Speak 
n-h()l;trly and wisely. 

F.d. Truly, mine host, I must turn away 
«(»n!e of my followers. 

Host. Discard, bully Hercules; cashier: let 
thf in wag; trot, trot. 

Fitl. I sit at ten pounds a-week. 

Hiist. 'Jhou'rt an emperor, Cassar, Reiser, 
and Phoezar. I will entertain Bardolph; he 
«i;all draw, he «hall tap: said I well, bully 
Hector? ^ 

tnl. Do so, good mine host. 

//.m7. I have spoke; let him follow: Let 
me nee thee, froth and lime : 1 am at a word ; 
o'iow. ^Exit Host. 



Fid. Bardolph, follow him; a tapster is a 
good trade : An old cloak makes a new jerkin ; 
a withered serving-man, a fresh tapster: Go; 
adieu. 

Bard. It is a life that I have desired ; I will 
thrive. [Exit Baru. 

Pist. O base GongarianJ wight! wilt thou 
the spigot wield ? 

Nym. He was gotten in drink: Is not the 
humour conceited ? His mind is not heroic, 
and there's the humour of it. 

Fal. I am glad I am so acquit of this tinder- 
box ; his thefts were too open : his hlching was 
like an unskilful singer, he kept not time. 

Nym, The good humour is, to steal at a mi- 
nute's rest. 

Pist, Convey, the wise it call: Steal! fob; 
a fico§ for the phrase ! 
F(d, Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels. 
Pist. Why then let kibes ensue. 
i^«/. There is no remedy; 1 must coney- 
catch ; 1 must shift. 
Pist. Young ravens must have food. 
/'<//. Which of you know Ford of this town? 
Pist. I ken the wigh# ; he is of substance 
good. 

Fal. My honest lads, 1 will tell you what I 
am about. 
Pist. Two yards, and more. 
Fal. No quips now, Pistol ; indeed I am in 
the waist two yards about : but I am now 
about no waste; I am about thrift. Briefly, 1 
do mean to make love to Ford's wife ; I spy 
entertainment in her; she discourses,she carves, 
she gives the leer ot invitation: I can construe 
the action of her familiar style; and the hard- 
est voice of her behavix)ur, to be English'd 
rightly, is, / am sir John Falstoff's. 

Pist. He hath studied her well, and trans- 
lated her well; out of honesty into English. 

Nytn. The anchor is deep : will that humoui 
pass? 

Ffd. Now, the report goes, she has all the 
rule of her husband's purse ; she hath legions 
of angels ||. 

Pist, As many devils entertain ; and. To her, 
boy, say I. 

Nym. The humour rises ; it is good : humoor 
rae the angels. 

Ful, I have writ me here a letter to her: 
and here another to Page's wife; who evea 
now gave me good eyes too, examin'd my 
parts with most judicious eyliads : sometimes 
the beam of her view gilded my foot, some- 
times my portly belly. 
Pist, Then did the sun on dunghill shine. 
Nym. I thank thee for that humour. 
Fat, O, she did so course o'er my exteriors 
with such a greedy intention, that the appetite 
of her eye did seem to scorch me up like a 
burning glass I Here's another letter to her; 
she bears the purse too; she is a re^iion is 
Guiana, all gold and bounty. I will be cheaterli 
lo them both, and they shall be exchequers to 
me ; they shall be my East and West Indies, 



• The name of a bear exhibited at Paris-Garden in S.^uthwark. i Surpassed all expression, 
; For Hungarian. $ Fig. |j Gold coin. H Escheat our, an otlicer in the Exchequer 



Scene J 11] 



MERRY WIVES OF Wli\DSOR. 



49 



and 1 Mill trade lo them both. Go, bear thou 
this letter to mistress Page ; and thou this to 
mist less Ford : we will thrive, lads, we will 
thrive. 

Pist. Shall I sir Pandarus of Troy become, 

^nd by my side wear steel 1 then, Lucifer take 

all! 

Nym, I will run no base humour; here, take 
the humour letter ; 1 will keep the 'haviour of 
reputation. 

I'uL Hold, sirrah, [to Rob.] bear you these 

letters tightly*; 

Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. — 

Rogues, hence avaunt! vanish like hailstones, 

go; [pack! 

Trudge, plod away, o* the hoof; seek shelter, 

Falstaff will learn the humour of this age, 

French thrift, you rogues; myself, and skirted 

page. {Exeunt Falstaff and Robin. 

Piit. Let vultures gripe thy guts! for gourd 
and fulham t holds, 
And nigh and low beguile the rich and poor : 
Testerj Pll ha ve in pouch,when thou shalt lack. 
Base Phryf^ian lurk ! 

Aym. 1 have operations in my head, which 
be humours of revenge. 

Pht. Wilt thou revenge? 

Nym. By welkin, and her star! 

Pist. With wit or steel? 

Nym. With both the humours, I : 
1 will discuss the humour of this love to Page. 

Pist* And I to Ford shall eke unfold. 
How Falstaff, varlet vile. 
His dove will prove, his gold will hold. 
And his soft couch detile. 

Nym. My humour shali not cool : I will in- 
cense 5 Page to deal with poison ; I will possess 
him with yellowness il, for the revolt of mien 
is d ngerous: that is my true humour. 

Pist. Thou art the Mars of malcontents : I 
second thee; troop on. {Exeunt, 

SCENE I Y. A Room in Dr. Calus's House, 

Cn^er 3f /\y.QuiCKLY, Si MPLE,«7/<i Rug BY. 

Quick. What, John Rugby! — I pray thee, 
go to the casement, and see if you can see my 
master, master Doctor Caius, coming: if he 
ao, i'faith, and find any body in the house, 
here will be an old abusing of God's patience, 
and the king's English. 

Bug. PU go watch. [Exit Rugby. 

Quick. Go; and we'll have a posset for't 
soon at night, in faith, at the latter end of a 
sea-coal fire. An honest, willing, kind fellow, 
as ever servant shall come in house withal ; 
and, I warrant you, no tell-tale, nor no breed- 
bate IT: his worst fault is, that he is given to 
prayer; he is something peevish** that way : 
but nobody but has his fau'it; — but let that 
pass. Peter Simple, you say your name is? 

Sim. Ay, for fault of a better. 

Quick. And master Slender's your master? 

Sim. Ay, forsooth. 



Quick. Does he not wear a great round 
beard, like a glover's paring-knife Y 

Sim. No, forsooth : he hath but a little wee 
face, with a little yellow beard; a Cain-co- 
loured beard. 

Quick. A softly sprighted man, is he not? 

Sim. Ay, forsooth : but he is as tall tt a man 
of his hands, as any is between this and his 
head ; he hath fought with a warrener jj. 

Quick. How say you? — 0,1 should remem- 
ber him ; Does he not hold up his head, as it 
were? and strut in his gait? 

Sim. Yes, indeed, does he. 

Quick. Well, heaven send Anne Page no 
worse fortune? Tell master parson Evans, 1 
will do what I can for your master; Anne is 
a good girl, and I wish — 

Pe-enter Rugby. 

P'Jig. Out, alas ! here comes my master. 

Quick. We shall all be shent§5: Run in 
here, good ycung man ; go into this closet. 
[Shuts Simple in the closet.] He will nut 
stay long — What, John Rugby! John, what, 
John, I say! — Go, John, go inquire for my 
master; I doubt he be not well, that he comes 
not home : — and down, do^in, advwn-a, &c. 

[Sings. 
Enter Doctor Caius. 

Caius. Vat is yon sing ? I do not like dese 
toys : Pray you, go and vetch me in my closet 
un boitier verd ; a box, a green-a box : Do 
intend vat I speak? a green-a box. 

Quick. Ay, forsooth, PU fetch it you. I 
am glad he went not in himself; if he had 
found the young man, he would have been 
horn-mad. [Aside. 

Caius. Fe,feyfe,fe! mafvi, il fait Jbrt 
chaud. Je ni'en vuis a la Cour, — la grand 
a£nire. 

Quick. Is it this, sir? 

Caiiis. Ouy ; mette leaumon "pocket; De- 
feche, quickly : — Vere is dat knaVe Rugby? 

Quick. What, John Rugby! John! 

Pvg. Here, sir. 

Cuius. Tou are John Rugby, and you are 
Jack Rugby: Come, take-a your rapier, and 
come after my heel to de court. 

Rvg. 'Tis ready, sir, heie in the porch. 

Ca us. By my irot, I tarry too long : — Od'a 
me! Qu'ay j*uuOlii? dere is some. simples in 
my closet, dat I vill not for the varid 1 fchall 
leave behind. 

Quick. Ah me ! he'll find the young man 
there, and be mad. 

Cuius. O diable, o'iable! vat is in my clo- 
set?— Villany? larron! [Pulling Simple ouf.] 
Rugby, my rapier. 

Quick. Good master, be content. 

Caius. Verefore shall I b« content-a? 

Quick. The young man is an honefe< man. 

Coins. Vat shail de honest man do in my 
closet? dere is no honest man dat shall com« 
in my closet. 



• Cleverly. t False dice. 

jl lealonsy. 'SI Strife 

iX The kcep«r of a warren. 



i Sixpence I'll have in pocket* § Instigate. 

•• F.Kil.^l..* n Srave. 

$§ Scolded, reprimanded, 
F 



60 



SIIAKSPEAAK. 



[Act it 



Quick. I beseech ycni, be not so flegmatic ; 
hear the troth of it : He came of an errand to 
me from anrson Hu^h. 

Cuius- Veil. 

Mini. Ay, for»ooth, to dc«ire her t©— 

Quick. Peace, I pray you. 

('uius. Peace-a your tongue : — Speak-a your 
tale. 

Sim, To desire this honest gentlewoman, 
your maid, to speak a good word to mistress 
Anne Page for my master, in the way of mar- 
riage. 

Quick. This is all, indeed, la; but I'll ne'er 
put my finger in the fire, and need not. 

Ct/ius. Sir Hugh send-a you? — Rugby, 
baillex me some paper : — Tarry you a little-a 
while. [writes. 

Quick. I am glad he is so quiet : if he had 
been thoroughly moved, you should have heard 
him so loud and so melancholy ; — But not- 
withstanding, man, I'll do your master ^^hat 
good 1 can : and the very yea and the no is, 
the French doctor, my master, — I may call 
him my master, look you, for I keep his house ; 
an<l L wash, wring, brew, bake, scour, dress 
meat and drink, make the beds, and do all 
myself; — 

Sim. 'Tis a great charge, to come under one 
body's hand. 

Quick. Are you avis'd o'that? yon shall find 
it a great charge : and to be up early and 
down late ; — but notwithstanding, (to tell you 
in your ear; I would have no words of it;) 
njy master himself is in love with mistress 
Annt* Page: but notwithstanding that, — I know 
Anne's mind, — that's neither here nor there. 

Caius. You jack'nape ; give-a dis letter to 
Sir Hugh ; by gar, it is a shallenge: I vill cut 
his troat in de park; and I vill teHch a scurvy 
JHck-rt-nape priest to meddle or make : — you 
may be gone ; it is not good you tarry here : — 
by Kar, I vill cut all his two stones; by gar, 
he nhali not have a stone to trow at his dog. 
[Exit SiMPi-E. 

Quick, Alas, he tpeaks but for his friend. 

C-iius. It is no matter-a for dat : — do not 
you tell-a mc dat I shall have Anne Page for 
in>self? — by gar, 1 vill kill de Jack priest; 
an*l 1 have appointed mine host of deJarterre 
Co measure our weapon: — by gar, 1 vill my- 
Bclf have Anne Page. 

Quick. Sir, the maid loves you, and all shall 



be well : we must give l\>lka leave to prate : 
What, the good-jer • ! 

Caius. Rugby, come to the court vitme;— 
By gar, if I have not Anne Page, I shAll tura 
your head out of my door : — Follow my heel»^ 
Rugby. [Exeunt Caius and Ruobt. 

Quick. You shall have An fools-heTid of 
your own. No, I kn«vt Anne's mind for that : 
never a woman in Windsor knows more of 
Anne's mind than I do ; cor can do m'orethan 
I do with her, I thank heaven. 

Fent. [u'ithi/i.] Who's within th€rc,ho? 

Quick. Who's there, I trow? Come near 
the house, I pray you. 

Enter Fenton. 

/V«. How now, good woman; howdostthont 

Quick. The better, that it pleases your good 
worship to ask. 

Fent. What news? how does pretty mistress 
Anne? 

Quick, In truth, bir, and she is pretty, and 
honest, and gentle ; and one that is > our friend, 
I can tell you that by the way ; 1 praise hea- 
ven for it. 

Fent. Shall I do any good, thinkpst thooT 
Shall I not lose my suit? 

Quick. Troth, sir, all is in His hands abt>ve : 
but, notwithstanding, master Fenton, I'll be 
sworn on a book, she loves you: — Have not 
your worship a wart above your eye? 

Fent. Yes, marry, have I ; what of that? 

Quick. Well, thereby hangs a tale; — good 
faith, it is such another Nan : — but, I detest t, 
an honest maid as ever broke bread : — We had 
an hour's talk of thai wart ; — I shall never laugh 
but in that maid's company? — But, indeed, 
she is given too much to allicholy j and mus- 
ing : But for you — Well, go lo. 

Fe7it. Well, I shall see her to-day: Hold, 
there's money for thee ; let me have U:y voice 
in my behalt : if thou seest her before, me^ 
commend me — 

Quick. Will I? I'faith, that we will : and 1 
will lull your worship more of the wart, the 
next time we have confidence ; and of other 
wooers. 

Fent, Well, farewell ; I am in great haste 
now. f£!rfC 

Quick. Farewell to your worship.— Trul>, 
an honest gentleman ; but Ann* loves him not > 
for I know Anne's mind as well as another 
does: — Outupon't! what have I forgot ? {Exit* 



ACT II 

SCENE I. BefoT page's House. 

Enter Mistress Pack, uith a letter. 

Mrs. Page. What! havt 1 'scaped love-let- 
ters in the holiday time o my beauty, and an> 
I now a subject for them? L< i me see: [litods. 

Ask me no reason uhij 1 love you; for 
t/ujugh. love use re.asonj oi his precisian^, he 



admits him not for his counsellor: You are 
r>ot younfs;, no more am J; go to then, therms 
sympathy : you are merry y so am I; Ilaf 
ha! theri there's more sympathy: you love 
sacky and so do I ; li'ould you desire bette, 
si^mputhy ? Let it suffice thee^mistress Page, 
(at the Uasty if the love of a soldier can 
sul/icej that J love thee, I will not say^ 



• The goiijcre, wha I e pox J 

\ Melancholy. 



t She means, 1 protest. 

c Most nrobablv ShwUcpearc wrote pbyslcia" 



i^cene /.] 



MERRY AVIVES OF WINDSOR. 



51 



j>ity me, 'tis not a soldier-like phrase ; but 
I say, love me. By me, 

Thine otvn true knight 

By day or night. 

Or any kind of light. 

With all his migUt, 

For thee to fight, John Falstaff. 

What a Herod of Jewry is this!— O wicked, 
wicked world ! — one that is well nigh worn to 
pieces with age, to show himself a younsj gal- 
lant! What an unweighed behaviour hath this 
Ilemish drunkard picked (with the devil's 
name) out of my conversation, that he dares 
in this manner assay me'? Why, he hath not 
been thrice in my company! — What should I 
say to him ? — 1 was then frugal of my mirth : — 
heaven forgive me! — Why, I'll exliibit a bill 
in the parliament for the putting down of men. 
How shall I be revenged on him 1 for revenged 
I will be, as sure as his guts are made of pud- 
dings. 

Enter Mistress Ford. 

Mrs, Ford. Mistress Page ! trust me, I was 
going to yoor liouse. 

Mrs. Page. And, trust me, I was coming to 
you. You look very ill. 

Mrs. Ford. Nay, I'll ne'er believe that ; I 
have to show to the contrary. 

Mrs. Page. 'Faith, but you do, in my mind. 

Mrs. Ford. Well, I do then ; yet, I say, I 
could show you to the contrary: O, mistress 
Page, give me some counsel ! 

Mrs. Page. Whaf's the matter, worn m ? 

Mrs. Ford. O woman, if it were not for one 
trilling respect, I could come to such honour! 

Mrs. Page. Hang the trifle, woman; take 
the honour : What is it ?— dispense with trifles ; 
—what is it ? 

Mrs. Ford. If I would but go to hell for an 
eternal moment or so, I could be knighted. 

Mrs. Page. What?— thou iiest!— Sir Alice 
Ford! — These knisihts will hack ; and so thou 
bhouldst not alter the article of thy gentry. 

Mrs. Ford. We burn day-light: — here, read, 
read ;•— perceive how I migLi be knighted. — I 
shall think the worse of fat men, as long as I 
have an eye to make difference of men's lik- 
ing: And yet he would not swear; praised 
women's madesty : and gave such orderly and 
. well-behaved reproof to all uncomeliness, that 
I would have sworn his disposition would 
I have gone to the truth of his words : but they 
do no more acVhere and keep plate together, 
; than the hundredth psalrn to the tune of Green 
sleeves. What tempest, 1 trow, threw this 
whale, with sc many tuiis of oil in his belly, 
\ ashore at Windsor J How shall I be revenged 
on hirnY I think, the best way were to enter- 
taifl him with hope, till the wicked fire of lust 
have melted him in his own grease. — Did you 
ever hear Ihe like? 

Mrs. Page. Letter for letter ; but that the 
name of Page and Ford diifers! — ^To thy great 
comfort in this mystery of ill opinions, here's 
the twin brother of thy letter: but let thine 



inherit first ; for, I protest, mine never shall, 
I warrant, he hath a thousand of these letters, 
writ with blank space for different names, (sure 
more,) and these are of the second edition : He 
will print them out of doubt : for he cares not 
what he puts into the press, wheD he would 
put us tv(ro. I had rather be a giantess, and lie 
under mount Pelion. Well^ 1 will find you 
twenty lascivious turtles, ere one chaste man. 

Mrs. Ford. Why, this is the very same ; the 
very hand, the very words: What doth he 
think of us? 

Mrs. Page. Nay, I kn-ovir not : It makes me 
almost ready to wrangle with mine own ho- 
nesty. I'll entertain myself like one that I am 
not acquainted withal ; for, sure, unless he know 
some strain in me that I know not myself, he 
would never have boarded me in this fury. 

Mrs. Ford. Boarding, call you it? I'll be 
sure to keep him above deck. 

Mrs. Page. So will I ; if he come under my 
hatches, I'll never to sea again. Let's be re- 
venged on him: let's appoint him a meetiiii,'; 
give him a show of comfort in his suit; and 
lead him on with a fine-baited delay, till he hath 
pawn'd his horses to mine Host of the Garltr. 

Mrs. Ford. Nay, I will consent to act any 
villainy against him, that may not sully li.e 
chariness* of our honesty. O that my hua 
band saw this letter! it would give eteriial 
food to his jealousy. 

Mrs. Page. Why, look, where he comt s ; 
and my good man too : he's as far from jea- 
lousy, as I am from giving him cause ; and 
that, I hope, is an unmeasurable distance. 

Mrs. Ford. You are the happier woman. 

Mrs. Page. Let's consult together atjainst 
this greasy knight : Come hither. [They retire. 

Enter Ford, Pistol, Page, and Nym. 

Ford, Well, I hope it be not so. 

Pist. Hope is a curtail t dog in some atfairs : 
Sir John afl'ects thy wife. 

Ford. Why, sir, my wife is not young. 

Pist. He wooes both high and low, both 
rich and poor. 
Both young and old, one with another, Forrl ; 
He loves thy gally-mawfryj; Ford, perpend i. 

J(>rd. Love my wife? . [thou, 

Pist. With liver burning hot : Prevent, or \t,o 
Like sir Actason he, with Ring-wood at thy 
O, odious is the name ! [heels : 

Ford. What name, sir? 

Pist. The horn, I say : Farewell. 
Take heed ; have open eye; for thieves do foot 
by night: [do sing. — 

Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo-birda 
Away, sir corporal Nym. — 
Believe it, Page ; he speaks sense. 

[Exit Pistol. 

Ford. I will be patient; Twill find out this. 

Nym. And this is true, \To Pagb.j I like 
not the humour of lying. He hath wronged 
me in some humours; 1 should have borne the 
humoured letter to her: but I have a sword, 
and it shall bite upon my necessity. He l(*ve8 



♦ Caption * ^ og that misses his game. t A medley. § Considci. 



\i^ 



52 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act 11 



your "Wife ; there's the short and the lon'^. My 
name is corporal Nym ; I speak, and I avouch. 
Tis true : — my name is Nym, and Falslaff loves 
your wife. — Adieu! I love not the humour of 
bread and cheese ; and there's the humour of 
il. Adieu. [^U/f Nym. 

Page. The humour of it ^ qnoth 'a ! here's a 
fellow frio;hts humour out of his visits. 

Ford, i will seek out Faistaflf. 

Page. I never beard such a drawling, affect- 
ing rogue. 

Ford, If I do fiad it, well. 

Page. I will not believe su<;h a Cataian 
.ho' the priest o'the town commended him for 
a true man. 

Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow : Well. 

Page. How now, Meg? 

Mrs. Page. Whither go yon, George?— 
Hark you. 

Mrs. Ford. How now, sweet Frank? why 
•rt thou melancholy? 

Ford. I melancholy I I am not melancholy. 
^-Get you home, go. 

Mrs. Ford. 'Faitlj, thou hast some crotchets 
in thy head now. — Will you go, mistress Page ? 

Mrs. Page. Have with you. — You'll come 

to dinner, George ?— Look, who comes yonder: 

fche shall be our messenger to this paltry knight. 

[Aside to Mrs. Ford. 

Enter Mistress Quickly. 

Mrs. Ford. Trust me, I thought on her : 
ahs'll fit it. 

Mrs. Page. You are come to see my daughter 
Anne? 

Quick. Ay, forsooth ; And, I pray, how does 
good mistress Anne? 

Mrs. Page. Go in with as, and see ; we have 
an hour's talk with you. 

[Exeunt Mrs. Page, Mrs. Ford, and 
Mrs. Quickly. 

Pas^e. How now, master Ford ? 

Ford. You heard what this knave told me ; 
uid you not? 

Page. Yes ; and you heard what the other 
told me? 

Ford. Do you think there is truth in them? 

Page. Hang 'em, slaves I 1 do not think the 
knight would offer it : but these that accuse 
U\m'u\ his intent towards our wives, are a yoke 
€if his discarded men ; very rogues, now they 
be out of service. 

Ford. Were they his men? 

Page. Marry, were they. 

Ford. 1 like it never the beUer for that — 
Joes he lie at the Garter? 

Page. Ay, marry, does he. If he should 
liitcnc? this voyage towards my wife, I would 
turn her loose to him ; and what he gets more 
of her than sharp words, let it lie on my head. 

Fi^rd. I do not misdoubt ray wife ; but I 
would be loth to turn them together : A man 
may be too confident: I would have nothing 
Le on my head : I cannot be thus satisfied. \ 

Page. Look, where my ranting host of the I 



Garter comes: there is either liouor in hit 
pate, or money in his purse, when n« looki st 
merrily. — How now, mine host? 

Enter Host and Shallow. 

Host. How now, bully-rook? thou'rt a gen- 
tleman : Cdvalero-justice, I say. 

Shat. I follow, mine host, I follow.— Good 
even, and twenty, good master Page I Master 
Page, will you go with us ? we have spoi t in 
hand. 

Host.TtW him, cavalero-justicc ; tell him, 
bully-rook. 

Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be foueht, be- 
tween sir Hugh the Welsh priest, and Caius 
the French doctor. 

Ford. Good mine host o'the Garter, a word 
with you. 

Hast. What say'st thou, bully-rook? 

[They go aside. 

Shal. Will you [to Page] go with ns to be» 
hold it ? my merry host hath had the measur- 
ing of their weapons ; and, I think, be hath 
appointed them contrary places : for, believe 
me, I hear, the parson is no jester. Hark,. I 
will tell you what our sport shall be. 

Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, 
my guest cavalier? 

Ford. None, I protest : but I'll give you a 
pottle of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, 
and tell him my name is Brook ; only for a jest. 

Host. My hnnd, bully : thou shalt have egress 
and regress; said I well? and thy name shall 
be Brook : it is a merry knight.— Will you go 
on, hearts? 

Shal. Have with yon, mine host. 

Page. I have heard, the Frenchman hath 
good skill in his rapier. 

Shal. Tut, sir, I could have told you more : 
In these times you stand on distance, your 
passes, stoccadoes, and I know not what : 'tis 
the heart, master Page; 'tis here, 'tis here. I 
have seen the time, with my long sword, I 
would have made you four tall t fellows skip 
like r.its. 

Host. Here, boys, here, here ! shall we wag? 

Page. Have with you:— I had rather hear 
them scold than fight. 

[Exeunt Host, Shallow, and Pack. 

Ford. Though Page be a secure fool, and 
stands so firmly on his wife's frailty, yet I 
cannot put off my opinion so easily : She v/aa 
in his company at Page's house; and, v/l.at 
they made; there, I know not. Well, I will 
look further into't : and I have a disguise ta 
sound Falstaff : if I find her honest, I lose not 
my labour; if she be otherwise, 'tis labour yv«^a 
bestowed. [Exit., 

SCENE II. A Boom in the Garter Int^ 

Enter Falstaff and Pistol. 
Fal. I will not lend thee a penny. 
Pist. Why, then, the world'5 mine oyster. 
Which I with sword will open.— 
1 will retort the sum in equipage §. 



> A lying sharper. * Stout, lold. X Did. $ Pay you again in stolen good*, 



Scr-r,^ //.] 



MKRRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 



53 



Fal. Not a pcnoy. I have been content, 
sir, you should lay my countenance to pawn: 
I have grated upon my good friends for three 
reprieves for you and your coach-fellow* 
Nyni ; or else you had looked through the 
grate like a geminy of baboons. I am damned 
in hell, for swearing to gentlemen my friends, 
you were good soldiers, and tali fellows: and 
when mistress Bridget lost the handle of her 
fan, I took't, upon mine honour : thou hadst 
it not. 

Pi.j^. Didst thou not snare? hadst thou uc/i 
fifteen pence? 

FaL Reason, yoo rogue, reason : Think'st 
thou, I'll endanger my soul gratis? At a 
word, hang no more about me, lam no gibbet 
for you : — go. — A short knife and a throng t; — 
to your manor of Pickt-hatchj, go. — You'll 
not bear a letter for me, you rogue! — you 
stand upon your honour! — Why, thou nncon- 
finable baseness, it is as much ns I can do, to 
keep the terms of my honour precise. I, I, 
I myself sometimes, leaving the fear of heaven 
ow the left hand, and hiding mine honour in 
my necessity, am fain to shuffle, to hedge, and 
to lurch; and yet you, rogue, will ensconce § 
your rags, your cat-a-mountain looks, your 
red-lattice II phrases, and vour bold-beating 
oaths, under the shelter of your honour I Yoh 
will not do it, you ? 

Pist. I do relent; What would'st thou more 
of man ? 

Enter Robin. 

Rob. Sir, here's a w(»man would speak 
■with you. 

FaL Let her approach. 

Enter ivlistres^ Quickly. 

Quick. Give your worship gogd-morrow. 

Fal. Good morrow, good wife. 

Quick. Not so, an't please your worship. 

FaL Goo<l maid, then. 

Quick. I'll be sworn ; as my mother was, 
the first hour I was born. 

FaL I do believe the swearer: What with 
me? 

Quick. Shall I vouchsafe your worship a 
word or two? 

FaL Two thousand, fair woman; and I'll 
vouchsafe thee the hearing. 

Quick. There is one mistress Ford, sir; — I 
pray, come a little n(»arer this ways : — I my- 
self dwell with master doctor trains. 

FriL Well, on: Mistress Ford, you say. — 

Quick. Your worship says very true: 1 pray 
your worship, come a little nearer this wajs. 

FtfL I warrant thee, nobody hears ; — mine 
own people, mine own people. 

Quick. Are they so? Heaven bless them, 
and make them his servants! 

FaL Well : mistress Ford : — what of her? 

Quirk. Why, sir, she's a good creature. 
Lord, lord! your worship's a wanton : Well, 
heaven forgive you, and all of us, I pray I 



FaL Mistress Ford; — come, mistress Ford, — 

Quick. Marry, this is the short and the long 
of it; you have brought her into such a cana- 
ries^, as 'tis wonderful. The best courtier of 
them all, when the court lay at Windsor, 
could never have brought her to such a canary. 
Yet there hhs been knights, and lords, and 
gentlemen, with their coaches ; I warrant you, 
coach after coach, letter after letter, gift after 
gift ; smelling so sweetly, (all musk,) and so 
rushling, I warrant you, in silk and gold; and 
in Buch alligant terms ; and in such wine and 
sugar of the best, and the fairest, that wouW 
have won any woman's heart; and, I wairant 
you, they could never get an eye-wink of her. 
— I had myself twenty angels given me this 
morning: but I defy all angels, (in any such 
sort, as they say,) but in the way of honesty: — 
and, I vt'arraut you, they could never get her 
so jTiuch as sip on a cup with the proudest of 
them all: and yet there has been earls, nay, 
which is more, pensioners ; but, I warrant you, 
all is one \^ith her. 

FaL But what says she to me? be brief, 
my good she Mercury. 

Quick.. Marry, she ha^ received your letter ; 
for the which she thanks you a thousand tinjfs : 
and she gives you to notify, that her husband 
\^ill be absence from his house between ten 
and eleven. 

FaL Ten and eleven? 

Quick. Ay, forsooth; and then yon may 
come and see the picture, she says, that yon 
wot** of;— master Ford, her husband, wi^ll 
be from home. Alas! the sweet woman lead<? 
an fll life with him ; he's a very jealousy man; 
»he leads a very frampold ft life with him, 
good heart. 

FaL Ten and eleven: Woman, commend 
me to her; I will not fail her. 

Quick. Why, you say well : But I have an- 
other messenger to your worship: Mistus-; 
Page hath her hearty commendations to you 
too; — and let me tell you in yoiw ear, she's as 
fartuous a civil modest wife, and one (I tel 
jou) that will not miss your morning nor 
evening prayer, as any is in Windsor, whoe'er 
be the other; and she bade me tell your wor. 
ship, that her hiisband is seldom from ho)jie; 
but, she hopes, there will come a time. X 
never knew a woman so dote upon a man; 
surely, 1 think you have charms, la; yes, in 
truth. 

FaL Not I, I assure thee ; setting the at- 
traetion of my good parts aside, 1 have no 
other charms. 

Qvick. Blessing on your heart for'tf 

FfL But, I pray thee, tell me this: has 
Ford's wife, and Page's wife, acquainted each 
other how they love me ? 

Quick. That were a jest, indeed? — theyh.jve 
not so little grace, I hope: — that were » trick, 
indeed I But mistress Page would desire you 
to send her your little page of all loveejt; 



• Draws aiong with yon. t To cut purses in a crowd. % Pickt-hatch was in Clerkenwell. 
§ Protect. [| Ale-house. If A mistake of Mrs. Quickly's for quandarie** 

«• Know. ft Fretful, peevish. ^ By all mean*. 

F 3 



54 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Acf II. 



her husband has a marvellous infection lo the 
iiltle pas^e : and, truly, master Page is an ho 
nest man. Never n wife iu Windsor leads a 
better life than she does; do what she will, 
fay what she will, take all, pay aji, g<> to bed 
when she list, rise when she list, all is as she 
will; and, truly, she deserves it: for if there 
be a kind woman in Windsor, she is one. You 
must send her your page; no remedy. 

Fal. Why, I will. 

Quick. Nay, but do so then : and, look you, 
he may come and go between you both; and, 
in any case, have a nay-word*, that yoti may 
know one another's mind, and the boy never 
need to understand any thing ; for 'tis not i^ood 
that children shcndd know any wickedness: 
old folks, you know, have discretion, as they 
•ay, and know the world. 

Fal. F.ire thee well : commend me to them 
both: there's my pur&e ; I am yot thy debtor. 
— Boy, go along with this woman. — This news 
distracts me! {Exeunt Quickly arwrf Robin. 

Pist. This punk is one of cupid's carriers : — 

Clap on more sails ; pursue, up with your fights ; 

(Jive fire; she is mj prize, or ocean whelm 

them all! [Exit Pistol. 

Fal. Say'st thou so, old Jack? go thy ways ; 
I'll make more of thy old body than 1 have 
done. Will they yet look after thee? Wilt 
thou, after the expense of so much money, b.- 
now a gainer? Good body, I thank the<; : Let 
them say, 'tis grossly done; so it be fairly 
done, no matter. 

Enter Bardolph. 

Bard. Sir John, there's one master Brook 
below would fain speak with you, and be ac- 
quainted with you ; and hath sent your wor- 
ship a morning's draui^ht of gack. 

Fal. Brook, is his name 

Bard. Ay, sir. 

Fal. Call him in; [filri/BARDOLPH.] Such 
Brooks are welcome to me, that o'erflowsuch 
liquor. Ah! ha! mistress Ford and mistress 
Page, have I encompassed you ? go to; viaM 
Re-enter Bardolph, with Ford disguised. 

Ford. Bless you, sir. 

Fal. And you,sir: Would you speak with me ? 

Ford. I make bold, to press with so little 
preparation upon you. 

Fal. You're welcome; What's your will? 
Give us leave, drawer. [Exit Bardolph. 

Ford. Sir, I am a gentleman that have spent 
mnch ; my name is Brook. 

Fal. Good master Brook, I desire more ac- 
qaalat«nct! of you. 

Ford. Good sir John, I sue for yours: not 
to charge yon; for I must let you understand, 
I think myself in belter plight for a lender 
than you are : the which hath something em- 
bolden'd me to this unseasoned intrusion; for 
they say, if money go before, all wayb do lie 
open. 

Fal. Money is a good soldier, sir, and will on. 

Ford, Troth, and I have a bag ot money 



here troubles me : if you will help me to bear 
it, sir John, take all, or halfjfor easing me of 
the carriage. 

Fal. Sir, I know rot how I may deserve to 
be your porter. 

Ford. I will tell you, sir, if you will givt 
me the hearing. 

Fal. Speak, good master Brook ; I shall be 
glad to be your servant. 

Ford. Sir, I hear you are a scholar, — I v. il> 

be brief with yon; and you have been 

a man long known to me, though I had neve, 
r.o good means, as desire, to makp myself ac 
qnainted with you. 1 shall discover a thin^ 
to you, wherein I must very much lay opct 
mine own imperfection: but, good sir John, 
as you have one eye upon my follies, «s yoi 
hear them unfolded, turn another into the re 
gister of your own; that I may pass with a 
reproof the easier, sith j you yourself knov\', 
how easy it is to be such an otfender. 

FaJ. Very well, sir ; proceed. 

Ford. There Is a gentlewoman in this town, 
her husband's name is Ford. 

Fal. Well, sir. 

Ford. 1 have long loved her, and, I prote.'^t 
to you, bestowed much on her ; followed h*'r 
with a doting observance; engrossed oppui - 
tunities to meet her ; fee'd every slight occa- 
sion, that could but niggardly give me sight ..f 
her; not only bought many presents to liive 
her, but have given largely lo many, to tnnw 
what she would have given: briefly, I hu\e 
pursued her, as love hath pursued n>e ; wjik'i 
hath been, on the wing of all occasions. Bui 
whatsoever I have merited, either in my mimi, 
or in my means, meed), I am sure, 1 have rt-- 
ceived norie ; unless experieiice be a jewel : 
that 1 have purchased at an iuhuite rate ; aud 
that halh taught me to say this « i 

Love like a shadow Jiics, when substance , 
love pursues ; i 

Pursuing that thutjlies, and Jlying tvhut 
pursues. 

Fal. Have yow leceived no promise of sa- 
tisfaclion at her hands? 

Fi^rd. Never. 

Fal. Have you importuned her to such a 
purpose? 

Ford. Never. 

Fal. Of what quality was your love, then ? 

Ford. Like a fair houw», built upon anothei 
m.m's ground ; so that I have lost my edifici;, 
by mistaking the place where I erected it. 

Fal. To what purpose have you unfolded 
this to me ? 

Ford. When I have told yon that, I have 
told you all. Some say, that, though she ap- 
pear honest to me, yet, in other places, sh.e 
enlargetli her mirth so far, that there is shrewd 
construction made of her. Now, sir John, here 
is the he«rt of my purpose : You are a gentle- 
man of excellent breeding, admirable dis- 
course, of gredt admittance ||, authentic in your 



• A watch-word. 



t A cant phrase of exultation. 
II li^ tt.e greatest companies. 



X Sipce. 



\ HfiM-ard. 



Srevue 11. 



MERRY AVIVES OF WINDSOR. 



55 



place and person, generally allowed • for 
your many warlike, court-like, and learned 
preparalious. 

Fal. O, sir ! 

Ford. Believe it, for you know it : — ^There 
is money ; spend it, spend It ; spend more ; 
spend all I have ; only give me so much of 
your time in exchange of it, as to lay an amiable 
siege to the honesty of this Ford's wife: use 
your art of wooing, win her to consent to you ; 
if any man may. you may as soon as any. 

Fal. Would it apply well to the vehemency 
of your atfeclion. that I should win -what you 
would enjoy? M(;thinks, you prescribe to 
yourself very preposterously. 

Ford. O, understand my drift I she dwells 
po sesurely on the excellency of her honour, 
that the folly of my soul dares not present it- 
self; she is too briglit to be looked against. 
Now, coukl I come to her with any detection 
in my hand, my desires had instance and ar- 
gument to commend themselves ; I could drive 
her then from the ward t of her purity, her 
reputation, her marriage-vovV, and a thousand 
other her defences, which now are too strongly 
embattled against me: What say you to't, 
sir John ? 

Fal. Master Brook, I will first make bold 
■with your money ; next, give me your hand ;; 
and last, as 1 am a gentleman, you shall, if you 
will, enjoy Ford's wife. 

Ford. (J good sir ! 

Fal. Master Brook, I say you shall. 

Ford. Want no money, sir John, you shall 
want none. 

Fal. Want no mistress Ford, master Brook, 
you shall want none. I shall be with her (I 
may tell you,) by her own appointment ; even 
as you came in to me, h^r assistant, or go-be- 
tween, parted from me : I say, I shall be with 
her between ten and eleven ; for at that time 
the jealous rascally knave, her husband, will 
be forth. Come you to me at night ; yon shall 
Wnow how I speed. 

Ford. I am blest in your acquaintance. Do 
you know Ford, sir? 

Ful. Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave! I 
know him not: — yet I wrong him, to call him 
poor ; they say, the jealous wittolly knave 
oath masses of money ; for the which his wife 
seems to me well-favoured. I will use her as 
the key of the cuckoldly rogue's cofifer; and 
there's my harvest-home. 

Ford. 1 would you knew Ford, sir ; thai you 
might avoid him, if you saw him. 

Fal. Hang him, mechanical sail-butter rogue! 
I will stare him out of his wits ; I will awe 
him with my cudgel: it shall hang like a me- 
teor o'er the cuckold's horns : master Brook, 
thou shalt know, I will predominate o'er the 
peasant, and thou shalt lie with his wife. — 
Couje to me soon at night : — Ford's a knave, 
and 1 will aggravate his stile t; thou, master 
Brook,shalt know him for a knave and cuckohl: 
—cijme to me soon at night. [Exit. 



Ford. What a damned Epicurean fascal li 
this I — My heart is ready to crack with impa- 
tience — Who says, this Is improvident jea- 
lousy ? My wife hath sent to him, the hour is 
fixed, the match is made. Would any man have 
thought this?— See the hell of having a false 
woman ! my bed shall be abused, my cotfers 
ransacked, my reputation gnawn at; and 1 
shall not only receive this villainous wrong, 
but stand under the adoption of abominable 
terms, and by him that does me this wrong. 

Terms ! names ! Amaimon sounds well ; 

Lucifer, well; Barbason, well; yet they ar»i 
devils* additions, the names of fiends: but 
cuckold ! wittol§-cuckold! the devil himself 
hath not such a name. I'age is an ass, a secure 
ass ; he will trust his wife, he will not be jea 
lous : I will rather trust a Fleming with my 
butter, parson Hugh the Welshman with my 
cheese,.anlrisl*man with my aqna-viiaE;|l bottle, 
or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, than 
my wife With herself: then she plots, then she 
ruminates, then she devises: and what they 
think in their hearts they may effect, they will 
break their hearts but they will effect. He iven 
be praised for my jealousy ! — Eleven o'clock 
the hour ; — I will prevent this, detect my wiiV, 
be revenged OH FalstafF, and laugh at Page. I 
will about it; better three hours too soon,thHu 
a minute too late. Fie, fie, fie! cuckold ! 
cuckold! cuckold! [KiU, 

SCENE III. Windsor Park, 
Fnter Cm us and Rugby. 

Cams. Jack Rugby ! 

Mug. Sir. 

Caius. Vat is de clock, Jack t 

Rug. Tis past the hour, sir, that sir Hugh 
promised to meet. 

Caius, By gar, he has save his soul, dat he 
is no come; he has pray his Pible veil, dat he 
is no come : by gar. Jack Rugby, he is i\eiu\ 
already, if he be come. 

Bug. He is wise, sir ; he knew, your wor- 
ship would kill him, if he came. 

Caius. By gar, de herring is no dead, so as 
I vill kill him. Take your rapier. Jack; 1 
vill tell you how I vill kill him. 

Rug. Alas, sir, I cannot fence. 

Caius. Villainy, take your rapier. 

Jiug, Forbear ; here's company. 
Enter Host, Shallow, Slender, and 
Page. 

Host. 'Bless thee, bully doctor. 

Shal. 'Save you, master doctor Caius. 

Page. Now, good master doctor ! 

Slen. Give you good-morrow, sir. 

Cuius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, 
come for? 

Host. To see thee fight, to see thee foin ^, to 
see thee traverse, to see thee nere, to st« 
thee there; to see thee pass thy punto, thy 
stock.jthy reverse, thy distance, thy montdnt'* 
Is he dead, my Ethiopian ? is he dead, \\\y 



' Approved. f Guard. 

jj Usquebaugh. 



X Add lo his titles, 
*ff Fence. 



$ Contented ourVoId. 
♦• i'eruis lu fencing. 



56 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act III, 



Francisco? ha, bully! VVhat says my ^Escu- 
lapius? my Galen? my heart of elder ? ha! is 
b*; dead, bully .Stale? is he dead ? 

Caius. By gar, he is de coward Jack priest 
of the vorld ; he is not show his face. 

Ho^t. Thou art a Ca?tiliaii* Ling, Urinal! 
Hector of Greece, my boy ! 

CuUif!. I pray you, bear vitnws that me 
have stay six or seven, tvyo, tree hours /or 
him, and he is no come. 

Stial. He is the wiser man, master doctor: 
he is acurcr of souls, and yoo acurer of bodie«; 
if you should fi^ht, you go against the hair of 
your professions : is it not true, master Page 1 

Page. Master Shallow, you have yourself 
been a great fighter, though now a man of peace. 

Sh'il. Bodykins, master Page, though I now 
be old, and of the peace, if I see a sword out, my 
finger itches to make one: Jhough we are jus- 
tices, and doctors,and churchmen, master Page, 
we have some salt of our youth in us; we are 
the sons of women, master Page. 

Page. Tis true, master Shallow. 

Skul. It will be found so, master Page. 
Master doctor Caius, 1 am come to fetch you 
home. I am sworn of the peace; you have 
shewed yourself a wise physician, and sir Hugh 
hath shewn himself a wise and patient church- 
man: you must go with me, master doctor. 

Host* Pardon, guest justice :— A word, 
monsieur Muck-water t. 

Caius. Muckvater! vatiadat? 

Host, Muck-water, in our English tongue, 
is valour, bully. 

Caius. By gar, then I have as much muck- 
vater as de Englishman : — Scurvy jack-dog- 
priest! by gar, me vil cit his ears. 

//ojf.Hewill clapper-claw theetightly,bully. 



Caius. Clapper-de-claw! vat is dat? 

Host, That is, he will make thee amends. 

Caius. By gar, me do look, he shall olnp- 
per-de-claw nre; for, by gar, me vill have 
it. 

Host. And I will provoke him to*t, or let 
him wag. 

Caius. Me tan), you for dat. 

Host. And moreover, bully, — But first, mas 

ter guest, and master Page, and eke cavalero 

Slender, go you through the town to Frogmore. 

[Axide to them. 

Page. Sir Hugh h there, is he ? 

Host. He is there : sec what humour he is 
in; and I will bring the doctor about by the 
fields: will it do well? 

Shal. We will do it. 

Page, Shal. and Slen. Adieu, good master 
doctor. 
{Exeunt Vkg-r, Shallow, and Slend*; n. 

Caius. By gar, me vill kill de priest ; for 
he speak for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page. 

Host. Let him die : but, lirst, sbeath thy im- 
patience ; throw cold water en thy choler ; go 
about the fields with me through Fro'gmore ; I 
will bring thee where Mrs. Anne Page Is, al 
a fdrm-house a feasting; and thou shall wr-o 
her: Cry'd game, said I well ? 

Caius. By gar, me tank you for dat : by 
gar, I love you ; and I shall procure-a yon <ie 
good guest, de earl, dc knight, de lords, de 
gentlemen, my patients. 

Host. For the whicL, I will be thy adver- 
sary towards Alme Page ; said I well? 

Caius. By gar, 'tis good ; veil said. 

Host. Let us wag then. 

Caius. Come at iny heels. Jack Rugby. 

[Exeunt 



ACT III. 



SCENE L A Field near Frogmore. 
Enter Sir Hugh Evans and Simple. 

Era. I pray you no\», good master S lender's 
serving-man, and friend Simple by your name, 
A'hich way have you looked for master Caius, 
that calls himself Doctor of Physic k? 

Sim. Marry, sir, the (:ity-ward, the park- 
ward, every way ; old Windsor way, and 
every way but the town way. 

Eva. I most fehemently desire you, yon 
will also look that way. 

Sim. I will, sir. 

Eva. MMess my sonll how fnll of cholers I 
«m, and tremplingof mind! — I shall be glad, 
if he have deceived me: — how melancholies 
I am! — I will knog his urinals about his 
knave's costard J, when I have good opportu- 
nities for the 'orC : — 'pless my soul 1 [riings. 

To shallotv rivers, to whose falls 
Melodious birds sing madrigals ; 



There will we make ourpeds of roses. 
And a thousand fragrant posies. 

To shallow 

'Mercy on me! I have a great dispositions to cry 
Melodious birds sing madrigals ; — 

When as J sat in Pabylon $, 

And a thousand vagram posies. 

To shallow 

iS'/m. Yonder he is coming, thisway, sir Hugh . 

Eva He's welcome : 

To shallotv rivers^ to whose falls 

Heaven prosper the right !— What weapon? 
is he ? 

Sim. No weapoKS, sir : There comes my 

master, master Shallow, and another gentle 

man from Frogmore, over the stil«, this way. 

Eva. Pray you, give me my gown ; or else 

keep it in your arms. 

Enter Page, Shallow, and Slender. 

Shal. How now, matter parson? Good 



• Cant term for Spaniard. t Drain of a dimghill. 

4 Babylon, the first lino of the l.'iL'tb Ps.ilm. 



t Head. 



Sc^e /.] 



MERKY WIVES OF WINDSOR, 



57 



inorrow, good sir Hugh. Keep a gamester 
from the dice, and a good student from his 
book, and it is wonderiful. 

Sle7i. Ah, sweet Anne Page ! 

Page, Save you, good sir Hugh ! 

Era. *Ple.ss you from his mercy sake, all 
of you I 

.Skal. What! the sword and the word ! do 
yon study them both, master parson? 

Page. And youthful still, in your doublet 
and hose, this raw rheumatic day ? 

E"a. There is reasons and causes for it. 

P'ige. We are come to you, to do a good 
office, master parson. 

Eva. Fery well : What is it? 

Page. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, 
who belike, having received wrong by some 
person, is at most odds with his own gravity 
and patience, that ever you saw. 

iSlial. I have lived fourscore years and up- 
ward ; I never heard a rnan of his place, gra- 
vity , and learning, so wide of his own respect. 
' Era. What is he? 

Page, I think you know him ; master doc- 
tor Caius, the renowned French physician. 

Eva. Got'a will, and his passion of my 
heart I I had as lief you would tell me of a 
mess of porridge. 

Page. Why \ 

Eva, He has no more knowledge in Hibo- 
crates and Galen, — and he is a knave besides; 
a cowardly knave, as you would desires to be 
ac(iuainted withal. 

Page. I warrant you, he's the man should 
fight with him. 
iSlen. O, sweet Anne Page ! 
Skal. It appears so, by his weapons:-— Keep 
them asunder ; — here comes doctor Caius. 

E7iter Host, Caius, and Rugby. 

Page. Nay, good master parson, keep in 
your weapon. 

S lal. So do you, good master doctor. 

Host. Disarm them, and Itet them question ; 
let them keep their limbs whole, and hack our 
English. 

( 'aius. I pray you, let-ame speak a word vit 
rour ear: Verefore vill you not meet a-me? 

Eta. Pray you, use your patience : In good 
time. 

Cuius. By gar, you arede coward, de Jack 
dog, John ape. 

Era. Pray you, let us not be laughing-slogs 
to other men's humours ; I desire you in friend- 
ship, and I will one way or other make you 
amends : — I will knog your urinals about your 
kivive's cogscomb, for missing your meetings 
and appointments. 

Cains. Diable! — Jack Rugby, — mine Host 
dp Jarferre^ have 1 not stay for him, to kill 
him? h4ve 1 not, at de place I did appoint ? 

Era. As I am a christians soul, now, look 
you, this is the place appointed ; Pll be judg- 
ment by mine host of the Garter. 

Host. Peace,Isay,GHalliaand (iaul, French 
aiiii VVeLsh ; soul-ciirer and body-curer. 

• Foul. 



Cuius, Ay, dat is very good I excellent I 
Host. Peace, 1 say; hear mine host of th« 
Garter- Am I politic? am I subtle? am I a 
Machiavfcl? Shall I lose my doctof? no; he 
Kives me the potions, and the motions. Shall 
I lose my parson ? my priest? my sir Hugh? 
no ; he gives me the proverbs and the no-verbs. 
—Give me thy hand, terrestrial ; so : — Give 

me thy hand, celestial ; so: Boys of art, I 

havH deceived you both ; I have directed you 
to wrong places : your hearts are mighty, your 
skins are whole, and let burnt sack be the issne. 
— Come, lay their swords to pawn : — Follow 
me, lad of peace; follow, follow, follow. 

Shal, Trust me, a mad host :— Follow, gen- 
tlemen, follow. 
SLen. O, sweet Anne Page! 

[Exeunt Shal. Slf.n. Page, and Host. 
Caius. Haldol perceive dat ? have yoa 
make-a de sot* of us? ha, ha ! 

jEna. This is well; he has made us his vlout. 
ing-stogt. — I desire you, that we may be 
friends; and let us knog our prains together, to 
be revenge on this same scall, scurvy, cogging 
companion, the host of the Garter. 

Cuius. By gar, vit all my heart ; he promise 
to bring me vere is Anne Page: by gar, he 
deceive me too. 

Eva. Well, I will smite his noddies : — Pray 
you, follow. [Exeunt* 

SCENE II. The Street in Windsor, 

Enter Mrs. Page and Robin. 
3frs. Page. Nay, keep your way, little gal- 
lant ; you were wont to be a follower, but now 
you are a leader : Whether had you rather, 
lead mine eyes, or eye your master's heels? 

Bob. I had rather, forsooth, go before you 
like a man, than follow him like a dwarf. 

jHrs. Page. O you are a flattering boy : 
now, I see, you'll be a courtier. 

Enter Ford. 

Ford, Well met, mistress Page : Whither 
go you? 

Mrs. Page, Truly, sir, to see your w*ife : I» 
she at home ? 

Ford, Ay, and as idl'e as she may hang to- 
gether, for want of company : I think, if >our 
husbands were dead, you two would marry. 

Mrs. Page. Be sure of that, — two other 
husbands. 

Ford. Where had you this pretty weather- 
cock ? 

Mrs. Page. I cannot tell what the dickens 
his name is my husband had him of: What do 
you call your knight's name, sirrah ? 

Rob. Sir John Falstaff. 

F'rd. Sir John Falstaff! 

Mrs. Page. He, be; I can never hit on's 
name. There is such a league between my good 
man and he! — Is your wife at home, indeed? 

Forii. Indeed, she is. 

Mrs. Page. By your leave, sir; I am sick 
till I see her. {E-xeunt Mrs.'PKG^andB.OBi^, 

Ford. Has Page any brains? hat lihe any 

♦ Flouting stock. 



58 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Art 111. 



e3e»? hath be any thinkiog? Snre, Ihey sleep ; 
lie hath no use ot them. Why, this boy will 
carry a letler twenty miles, as easy as a can- 
non \s'\\\ shoot poi«it-blan!c twelve score. He 
pirces-oul \\U wife's inclination; he gives her 
folly motion and advantage: and now she's 
going to my w ife, and Fal^tatt's boy with her. 
A man may hear this shower sing in the wind ! 
—and Falstaff's boy with her!— Good plots! 
they are laid; and our revolted wives share 
damnation together. Well; I will take him, 
tlien torture my wife, pluck the borrowed veil 
of modesty fr(»m the so seeming* mistress 
Page, divulge Page himself for a secure and 
wilful Actajon ; and to these violent proceed- 
ings all my neighbours shall cry aimt. [Clock 
strikes^] 1 he clock gives* me my cue, and my 
a-^surance bid* me search; there I shall find 
Falstaff: I shall be rather praised for this, than 
mocked ; for it is aj) positive as the earth is 
tirm, that Falstaff is there : I will go. 

Enter Page. Shallow, Slender, Host, 
Sir Hugh Evans, Cai us, and Rugby. 

Shal. Page, &c. Well met, master Ford. 

Fur(i,T\\\ii me, a good knot : 1 have good 
cheer at home ; and, I pray yon, all go with me. 

Shal. I must excuse myself, master Ford. 

Slen. And so must I, sir ; we have appointed 
to dine with mistress Anne, and I would not 
break with her for more money than Pil 
speak of. 

Sjial. We have lingered about a match be- 
tween Anne Page and my cousin Slender, and 
this day we shall have our answer. 

Slen, I hope, I have your good-will, father 
Page. 

Page. You have, master Slender; I stand 
wholly for you :— but my wife, master doctor, 
is for you altogether. 

(-aius. Ay, by gar; and de maid is love-a 
me ; my nursh-a Quickly tell me so mush. 

Host. What say you to young master Fen- 
ton ? he capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, 
he writes verses, bespeaks holyday J, hesmelli 
Aprrland May: he will carry't, he will carry't; 
'us in his buttons; he will carry't. 

Page. Not by my consent, I promise you. 
The gentleman is of no having j: he kept com- 
pany with the wild Prince and Poins ; he is of 
too high a rei^ion, he knows too much. No, he 
ih?M not knit a knot in his fortunes with the 
finger of my substance: if he take her, let him 
take her simply ; the wealth I have waits on my 
conseiit, and my consent goes not that way. 

Ford. I beseech you, heartily, some of you 
go home with me to dinner : besides your cheer, 
you shall have sport; I will shew you a mon- 
ster. Master doctor, you shall go ; — so shall 

)on, master Page; — and you, sir Hugh. 

>Shal. VVell, fare you well: — we shall have 
the freer woomg at master Page's. 

{Exeunt Shallow and Slender. 

Cuius. Go home, John Rugby ; I come I 



Hoit. Farewell, my hearts: I will to my 
honest knight Falstaff, and drink canary with 
him. \Exit Host. 

Ford. [A»i(!e.'\ I think, 1 «»!iall drink in pipe- 
wine (irst with him ; Pll make him dance. 
Will you go, gentles T 
ALL Have with you, to see this monster. 

\ Exeunt, 
SCENE III. 
A Room in Ford's House. 
Enter Mrs. Fokd and Mrs. Page. 
Mrs. Ford. What, John! what, Robert! 
Mrs. Page. Quickly, quickly : Is the buck- 
basket— 
Airs, Ford. I warrant :— What, Robin, I say. 

Enter Servants with a basket. 

Mrs. Page. Come, come, come. 

Mrs. Ford. Here, set it down. 

Mrs. Page. Give your men the charge ; we 
must be brief. 

.'ifrs. Ford. Marry, as I told yoi; before, 
John, and Robert, be ready here hard by in 
the brewhouse ; and when I suddenly call you, 
come forth, and (without any pause, or stag- 
gering.) take this basket on your shoulders : 
that done, trudge with it in all haste, and carry 
it among the whitstersi| in Datchet mead, 
and there empty it in the muddy ditch, close 
by the Thames' side. 

Mrs. Page. You will do it ? 

Mrs. Ford. I have told them over and over; 
they lack no direction: Begone, and come 
when you are called. [Exeunt Servants. 

Mrs. Page. Here comes little Robin. 

Enter Robin. 

3Trs. Ford. How now, my eyas-musketUT 
what news with you ? 

Rob. My master sir John is come in at your 
back-doof, mistress Ford; and requests your 
company. 

Mrs. Page. You little Jack-a-Lent**, have 
you been true to us? 

Rob. Ay, I'll be sworn : My master knows 
not of your being here ; and hath threatened to 
put me into everlasting liberty, if I tell you of 
it ; for, he swears, he'll turn nie away. 

Mrs. Page. Thou'rt a good boy ; thi? se- 
crecy of thine shall be a tailor to thee, and 
chall make tht-ti a new doublet and hose. — 
Pll go hide me. 

Mrs. Ford. Do so: — Go tell thy master, I 
am alone. Mistress Page, remember you your 
cue. [Exit Robin. 

Mrs. Page. 1 warrant thee; if I do not act 
it, hiss me. [Fxit Mrs. Page. 

Mrs. Ford. Go to then; we'll use this uih 
wholesome humidity .this gross wati y pum pion; 
— we'll teach him to know turtles from jays. 

Enter Falstaff. 

Fal. Have J caught thee, my heavenly 



[I^it Rugby, \jotvelf Why, now let me die, for I have lived 

Specious. + ShiU Rn<-ouragc. ; Out of the comnjonslylc. $ Not rich. |i Bleachers of linea. 
% A >oung »maU jnwk. •• A puppet fnrown at in Loil, like shrovc-cocks. 



MERBY WIVES OF WIJNDSOR. 



f^ccnc JI2.] 



long enough; this is the period of my am- 
bition : O this blessed hour ! 

Mrs. Ford. O sweet sir John ! 

Fill. Mistress Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot 
prate, mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in n.y 
wish: I would thy husband were dead: I'il 
speak it before the best lord, I would make 
thee my lady. 

Mrs. Ford. I your lady, sir John! alas, I 
BhoiiTd be a pitiful lady. 

Fal. Let the court of France shew m^ such 
another; I see hov/ thine eye would enuilite 
the diamond: Thou hast the right arched bent 
of the brow, that becomes the ship tire, tl-.e tire- 
valiant, or any tire of Venetian admittance*. 

Mrs. Ford. A plain kerchief, sir Joiin : my 
brows become nothing else; nor that well 
neither. 

Fal. Thou art a traitor to say so: thou 
would'st make an absolute courtier; and th* 
firm fixture of thy foot would give an excellent 
motion to thy gait, in a semi-circled farthingale, 
i see what thou wert, if fortune thy foe were 
iot; nature is thy friend: Come, thou causl 
not hide it. 

Mrs. Ford. Believe me, there's no such 
tiling in me. 

Fal. What made me love thee? let that per- 
suade thee, there's something extraordinary in 
tiiee. Come, I cannot cotj, and say, thou art 
ti is and that, like a many of these lisping 
haw-thorn buds, that come like women in 
men's apparel, and smell lil<e Bucklers-bury t 
in simple-time ; I cannot : but I love thee ; 
none but thee ; and thou deservest it. 

Mrs, Ford. Do not betray me, sir; I fear, 
you love mistress Page. 

Fal. Ihou might'st as well say, I love to 
walk by the Counter t gate; which is as hate- 
ful to me as the reek of a lime-kiln. 

Mrs. Ford. Well, heaven knows, how I 
love you ; and you shall one day find it. 

Fal. Keep in that mind ; I'll deserve it. 

Mrs. Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you 
tSo ; or else I cou-ld not be in that mind. 

Ilob.[tvithin.'] Mistress Ford, mistrcbs Ford ! 
here's mistress Page at the door, sweating, and 
blowing, and looking wildly, and would needs 
speak with you presently. 

Fal. She shall not see me ; I will ensoonce § 
nve behind the arras 1[. 

Mrs. Ford, Pray you, do so ; she's a ver}' 
tattling woman. — [^ ^i^sT Kt v hides himseLj', 

Enter Mrs. V'^GB and ^0^1^. 

What's the matter? how now? 

Mrs. Page. O mistress Ford, what iiave 
you done? You're shamed, you are over- 
thrown, you are undone for ever. 

Mrs. Ford. What's the matter, good mis- 
tress Page? 

Mrs. Page. O well-a-day, mistress Ford ! 
fiaving an honest man to your husband, to give 
tiiiu SQch cause of suspicion ! 

Mrs. Ford. What cause of suspicion? 



59 



Mrs. Page. What cause of suspicion! — Out 
upon yoa! how am I mistook in you V 

Mrs. Ford. Why, alas! what's the matter? 

Afrs. Page. Your husband's coming hither, 
woman, with all the officers in Windsor, to 
search for a gentleman, that, he pays, is here 
now in the house, by your consent, to take an 
ill advHUtHge of his absence : You are undone. 

Mrs. Ford. Sp^ak louder.— [^,sif/e.]—'Ti8 
not so, 1 hope. 

Afrs. Pinge. Pray heaven it be not so, that 
you have such a man here; but 'tis most cer- 
tain your hi!sl>nnd*s coming with half Windsor 
at his heels, to iccfch for such a one. I come 
before to tell y j« . if yoti know yourself clear, 
why I am glad of it : but if you have a friend 
here, convey, convey him out. Be not amazed; 
call all your senses to you ; defend your repu- 
tation, or bid fareweil to your good life for 
ever. 

Mrs. Ford. What shall I do ?— There is a 
gentleman, my dear friend ; and I fear not 
mine own shame so much as his peril: I had 
rather than a thousand pound, he were Out of 
the house. 

Airs. Page. For shame, never stand you 
had rather, and you han rather ; your hus- 
band's here at hand, bt^hink you of some con- 
veyance : in the house yon cannot hide him, 
O, how have you deceived me! — Look, here 
is a basket; if he be of any reasonable ^tature, 
he may creep in here ; and throw foul linen 
upon him, as if it were going to bucking : Or, 
it is whiting-time H, send him by your two 
men to Datchet mead. 

Airs. Ford. He's too big to ^o in there: 
What shall 1 do? 

Re-enter Falstaff, 

Fal. Let me see't, let me gee't! O let me 
see't! I'll in, I'll in; — follow your friend's 
counsel ; — I'll in. 

Atn. Page. What! sir John Falstaflf! Are 
these your letters, knight 1 

Fal. I love thee, and none but thee ; help 
me away: let me creep in here; I'll never — 

[He goes into the basket ; they cover him 
with foul linen. 

Airs. Page. Help to cover your master, 
boy: Call your men, mistress Ford:-=-Yt.« 
dissembling knight ! 

Airs. Ford. What, John, Robert, John! 
[Exit Robin ; Re enter Servants.] Go take 
up these clothes here, quickly ; Where's the 
cowl-staff**? look, how you drumblett : cany 
them to the laundress in Datchet mead ; quick- 
ly, come. 

Filter YoRTi, Page, Cai us, and iVir Hugh 
Evans. 

Ford. Pray you, come near : if I snspeci 
withont cause, why then make sport at me, 
then let me be your jest; I deserve it.— Hov* 
now ? whither bear you this? 

Serv. To the laundress, forsooth. 



• Venetian fashions. t Formerly chiefiy inhabited by druggists. % Prison. § Hide. 
^ Ta^enry- «I JikaJimg lime. •• A etalf for carr^v iug i large tub or basket, tt DrOne. 



CO 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Ait 111, 



Mrs, Ford. Why, what have you to do 
vhither they bear it? You were best mecidle 
^ith buck-washing. 

Ford, Buck? I would I could wash inyfielf 
of the buck ! Buck, buck, buck? Ay, buck; 
I warrant you, buck ; and of the season too, 
»t shall appear. {Elxeunt Servants with the 
hiskft.] Gentlemen, I have dreamed to-night; 
I'll tell you my dream. Here, here, here be 
my keys: ascend my chambers, senrch, seek, 
tiud out : 1*11 warrant, we'll unkennel the fox: 
— Let me stop this way first: — So, now uu- 
cape*. 

rage. Goixl master Ford, be contented: 
>on wrong yourself too much. 

Forrf. True, master Page — Up, gentlemen; 
you shall see spurt anon: follow me, gentle- 
men. \l£xit. 

Eva, This is fery fantastical humours, and 
Jalousies. 

Cuius. By gar, 'tis no de fashion of France : 
i is not jealous in France. 

Page, Nay, follow him, gentlemen ; see the 
i6sue of his search. 

[Exeunt Evans, Page, and Caius. 

Mrs,Puge, Is there not a double excellency 
in this ? 

Mrs, Ford, I know not which pleases me 
better, that my husband is deceived, or sir 
John. 

Mr S.Page. What a taking wa» he in, when 
y«>ur husband asked whot was in the basket! 

Mrs, Ford, I am half afraid he will have 
heed of washing; so throwing him into the 
\Nater will do him a benefit. 

Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest rascal ! 
I would, all of the same strain were in the 
same distress. 

Mrs, Ford, 1 think, my husband hath some 
special suspicion of Falstaff's being here ; for 
1 never saw him so gross in his jealousy till 
now. 

Mrs, Page. I will lay a plot to try that : 
And wc will yet have more tricks with Fal- 
staff: his dissolute disease will scarce obey 
tills medicine. 

Mrs. Ford, Sliall we send that foolish car- 
I ion, mistress Quickly, to him, and excuse his 
throwinti into the water ; and give him another 
hope, to betray him to another punishment? 

Mrs. Page. We'll do it; let him be sent 
for to-morrow eight o'clock, to have amends. 

Re-enter Ford, Page, Caius, and Sir 
Hugh Evans. 

Ford. I cannot find him : may be the knave 
bragged of that he could not compass. 

Airs. Page, Heard you that? 

Mrs. Ford. Ay, ay, peace: — You use me 
well, master Ford, do youl 

Ford. Ay, I do so. 

Mrs. Ford. Heaven make you better than 
your thoughts ! 

Ford. Amen. 

Mrs, Page, You do yourself niii;lity wrong, 
master Ford. 



Ford, Ay, ay ; I must bear it. 
Eva, If there be any pody in the house, and 
in the chambers, and in the cotfers, and in the 
presses, heaven forgive my sins at the day of 
judgment I 

Caius. By gar, nor I too; dere is no bodies. 
Page. Fie, fie, master Ford! are you nut 
ashamed? What spirit, what devil suggests 
this imagination? I would not have you) dis- 
temper in this kind, for the wealth of V\ iud- 
sor Castle. 

Ford, Tis my fault, master Page : I suffer 
for it. 

Eva, You Buffer for a pad conscience : your 
wife is as honest a 'omans, as I will desires 
among five thousand, and five hundred too. 

Caius, By gar. I see 'tis an honest woman. 

Ford. Well: — I promised you a diimer: — 
Come, come, walk in the park : I pray yon, 
pardon me ; I will hereafter make known to 
you, why I have done this. — Come, wife; — 
come, mistress Page ; I pray you, pardon me ; 
pray heartily, pardon me. 

Page. Let*s go in, gentlemen ; but, trust nie, 
we'll mock him. I do invite you to-morrow 
morning to my house to breakfast; after, we'll 
a birding together ; I have a fine hawk for the 
bush : Shall it be so? 

Ford, Any thing. 

Eva, If there is one, I shall make tw« io 
the company. 

Caius. If there be one or two, I shall make a 
de turd. 

Eva. In your teeth : for shame. 

Ford. Pray you go, master Page. 

Eva. I pray you now, remembrance to 
morrow on the lousy knave, mine host. 

Caius. Dat is good; by gar, vit all my 
heart. 

Eva. A lousy knave; to have his gibes and 
his mockeries. [Kieu/tt, 

SCENE IV. 

A Room in Page's House, 

Enter YnhTOfi, and Mistress Anne Pao*. 

Fent. I see, I cannot get thy father's love; 
Therefore, no more turn me to him,8weet N an, 

Anne. Alas! how then? 

Fent. Why, thou must be thyself. 

He doth object, I am loo great of birth ; 
And that, my state being galled with my ex- 
I seek to heal it only by his wealth : [pence, 
Besides these, other bars he lays before me,— 
My riots past, my wild societies; 
And tells me, tis a thing impossible 
1 should love thee, but as a property. 

Afwe. May be, he tells you true. 

Fent. ^o, heaven so speed me in my time 
to ceme ! 
Albeit, 1 will confess, thy father's wealth 
Was the first motive that i woo'd thee, Anne . 
Yet, wooing thoe, I found thee of more value 
Than stamps in gold, or sums in sealed bags; 
And 'tis the very riches o.»* thyself 
That now I aim at. 



• Unbag the fox. 



« What. 



Scene IF.] 



MERRY WIVES OF WIJVDSOR. 



61 



A?ine. Gentle master Fenton, 

Yet seek my father's love: still seek it, sir: 
If opportunity and hnmblest suit 
Cannot attain it, why then.— Hark you hither. 
[They converse ay art. 

Enter Shallow, Slender, arid Mrs, 
Qdickly. 

Shal. Break their talk, mistress Quickly; 
my kinsman shall speak for hiniself. 

Slen. I'll make a shaft or a bolt on*t*: 
•lid, 'tis but venturing. 

Mhal. Be not disniay'd. 

iSlen. No, she shall not dismay me: I care 
rot for that, — but that I am ateard. 

Quick. Hark ye; master Slender would 
spt*^ik a word with you. 

Anne. I come to him— This is my father's 
choice. 
O, what a world of vile ill-favonr'd faults 
Looks handsome in three hundred pounds a- 
year! [A^idt^. 

QuU k. And how does good master Fenton ? 
J^ray y^ u, a word with you. 

Shul. She's coming; to her, coz. O boy, 
thou had^t a father? 

Slen. \ had a father, mistress Anne ; — my 
uncle can rell you good jests of him: — Pray 
you, uncle tell mistiess Anne the jest, how 
my faiher siole two geese out of a pen, good 
uncle. 

Sfial. Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you. 

Slen, Ay, that I do; as well as I love any 
woman in Gkcestershire. 

•"^hul. He Will maintain you like a gentle- 
woman. 

Slen. Ay, thit I will, come cut and long- 
tail t, undtr the « degree of a 'squire. 

Shal. He wilV make you a hundred and 
fiity pounds jointL re. 

*^tine. Good ma,-ler Shallow, let him woo 
<or hmiself. 

Snal. Marry, I tl ank you for it; I thank 
you for that good comfort. She calls you, 
CO/: I'll leave you. 

Anne. Now, mastei Slender. 

Slen. Now, good mi tress Anne. 

Anne. What is your -vill ? 

Slen. My will? od's hearllings, that's a 
pretty jest, indeed! I n^'er made my will 
>et, 1 thank heaven; I aia not such a sickly 
creature, I give heaven praise. 

Anne. I mean, master SK uder, what would 
you with me? 

Slen. Truly, for mine o\^ a part, I would 
little or nothmg with you : \ our father, and 
my uncle, have made motion. : if it be my 
inck, so: if not, happy man '^e his dolex! 
1 hey can tell you bow things g.>, better than 
I can: You may ask your fathar; here he 
cunies. 

Enter Page, and Mistress Page. 
Page, Now, master Slender: — love him, 
daughter Anne. — 



Why, how now! what does master Fenton 

here ? [house : 

You wrong me, s'r, thus still to haunt my 

I told you, sir, my daughter is dispos'd of. 

Fent. Nay, master Page, be not impatient. 

Mrs. Page, Good master Fenton, come not 

to my child 
Page. She is no match for you. 
Fent. Sir, will you hear me? 
Page. No, good master Fenton* 

Come, master Shallow: come, son Slender; 
in : — [Fenton. 

Knowing my mind, you wrong me, mast^ 
[Exeunt Page, Shallow, and Slender. 
Quick. Speak t«> mistress Page. 
Fent. Good mij^tress Page, for that I lov« 
your daughtrr 
[n such a righteou? fashion as I do, 
Perforce, aj^ainst ill checks, rebukes, an«l 

manners, 
I must advance the colours of my love, 
And not retire : Let me have your good wil , 
Anne. Good mother, do not marry me tv> 

yond* fool. 
Mrs. Page. I m -an it not ; I seek you i 

better husban I. 
Quick. That's my .naster, master doctor. 
Anne. Alas, I had rather be set quick i* the 
earth, 
And bowl'd to death with turnips. 
Mrs. Page. Come trouble not yourself: 
Good master F-mton, 
I will not be your fritnd, nor enemy: 
My dau.ghter will I que. tion how she loves yoo. 
And as I find her, so fm 1 alfected ; 
rill then, farewell, &ir :- She must needs go in; 
Her father wi\l be ang y. 

[Exeunt Mrs. Page and Anne. 
Fe?it, Farewell, gent e mistress; farewell, 
Nan. 

Quick. This is my do ng now ; — Nay, said 
I, will you cast away y »ur child on a fool, 
and a physician ? Look i n, master Fenton : — 
this is my doing. 

Fent. 1 thank thee; ai d I pray thee, once 
to-night 
Give my svveet Nan this ri ng : There's for thy 
pains- [Exit. 

Quick. Now heaven send thee good fortune! 
A kind heart he hath: a woman would run 
through lire and water for uch a kind heart. 
But yet, I wonki my max ter had misUess 
Anne; or I would master S leader had her; or, 
in sooth, I would master Fe; ton had her: I 
will do what I can for them dl three; for so 
I have promised, and Pll be as good as my 
word; but speciously $ for master Fenton. 
Well, I must of another eiraud to sir John 
Falstaff from n y two mistresse.* : What a beast 
am I to slack H it ! [Exit, 

SCENE V. 
A Room in the Garten Inn, 
Enter Falstaff and Bafdolfh. 
Fal. Bardolph, I say,— 



A proverb— a shaft was a I »ng arrow, and a bolt, a thick short one. 
Conie. Door or rich. I Lot. 5 Specially. _ U Ne-I 



t Come, poor or rich. 



62 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IIL 



h 'Tit. Here, sir. 

Fill. Go fetch me a quart of sack; put a 
toast in't. [Exit Bard.] F{ave I lived to be 
carried in a basket, like a barrow of bntcliers 
olfal ; and to be thrown into the Thames? 
Weil; if I be served snch another trick, I'll 
hiive my brains ta'en out, and buttered, and 
give ll'.cm to a dos; for a new-year's t^ift. Tlie 
roti;ue8 slighted me into the river vviih as HttU- 
remorse* as they would have drowned a 
bitch's bliiid puppies, fifteen i' the litter: and 
you may know by my size, that I have a kind 
of alacrity in sinking; if the bottom were as 
deep a* hell, I should down. I had been 
drowned, but that the shore was shelvy and 
shallow; a death that I abhor; for the water 
•wells a man; and what a thing should I have 
been, when I ha'l been swelled ! I should have 
been a mountain of mummy. 

Re-enter Bardolph, with the wine. 

Bard. Here's mistress Quickly, sir, to speak 
with you. 

Fill. Come, let me pour in some sack to tlie 
Thames water; for my btlly's as cold, as if I 
had swallowed snow-balls for pills to cool the 
reins. Call her in. 

Bard. Come in, woman. 

Enter Mrs. Quickly. 

Quick. By your leave; I cry you mercy: 
Give your worship good-morrow. 

Fal. Take away these chnlicest : Go brew 
me a pottle of sack finely. 

Bi:r. With eggs, sir? 

Fal. Simple of itself; I'll no pullet-sperm 
in my brewage.— [Aai/^ Bardolih.]— How 
now? 

Quick. Marry, sir, I come to your worship 
from mistress Ford. 

FuL Mistress Ford ! 1 have had ford enough : 
I was thrown into the ford: I have my belly- 
ful I of ford. 

Quick. Alas the day ! good heart, that was 
not her fault; she does so take on with her 
men ; they mistook their eredion. 

Fal. So did I mine, to build upon a foolish 
woman's promise. 

Quick. Well, she laments, sir, for it, that it 
would yearn your heart to see it. Her tius 
band goes this morning a-birding ; she desires 
you once more to come to h^r between eight 
and nine: I must carry her word quickly: 
ehe'U make you amends, I warrant >ou. 

/'<//. Well, I will visit her: Tell Jierso; and 
bid her think, what a man is : let her consider 
his frailty, and then judge of my merit. 

Quick. 1 will tell her. 

Jf'al. Do so. Between nine and ten, say'st 
lh(Mi I 

Quick. Eighw and nine, sir. 

F<'l. Well, be gone: I will not miss her. 

Quick. Peace be with you, sir! [Lxit. 

Fal. I marvel, I hear not of master Brook ; 
he »ent me word to stay within : 1 like his 
uioney well. O, here he comes. 



' Pity. 



t c:u;». 



Enter Ford. 
Ford. Bless you, sir! 

Fal. Now, master Brook, yoo come to 
know what hath passed between me and 

Ford's wife? 

/'^rrf. That, indeed, sir John, is my bosiness. 

Fal. Master Brook, I will not lie to you ; 
I was at her house the hour she appointed me. 

Ford. And how sped yon, sir? 

Fal. Very ill-favoured ly, master Brook. 

Ford. How so, sir? Did she change her de- \ 
termination? 

Fal. No, master Brook; but the peaking 
cornuto, her husband, master Brook, dwelling 
in a continual 'larum of jealousy, comes me i 
in the instant of our encounter, after we had 
embraced, kissed, protested, and, as it were, 
spoke the prologue of our comedy ; and at his 
heels a rabble of his companions, ihither pro- 
voked and instigated by his distemper, and, 
forsooth, to search his house for his wife's love. 

Ford. What, while you were there? 

Fal. While I was there. 

Ford.Xnd did he search for you, and could 
not find you? 

Fal. You shall hear. As good luck would 
have it, comes in one mistress Page; gives 
intelligence of Ford's approach ; and, by her 
invention, and Ford's wife's distraction, they 
conveyed me into a buck-basket. 

Ford. A buck-basket! 

FaL By the Lord, a buck-basket: rammed 
me in with foul shirts and smocks, socks, foul 
stockings, and greasy napkins ; that, master 
Brook, there was the rankest compound of 
villanous smell, that ever offended nostril. 

Ford. And how long lay you there? 

Fal. Nay, yon shall hear, master Brook, 
whut I have suffered to bring this woman to 
evil for your good. Being thus crammed in 
the basket, a couple of Ford's knaves, his 
hinds, were called forth by their mistress, to 
carry me in the name of foul clothes to Datchet- 
lane: they took me on their shoulders; met 
the jeilous knave their master in the do<»r; 
who asked them once or twice what they had 
in their basket: I quaked for fear, lest the lu- 
natic knave would have searched it ; but Fate, 
ordaining he should be a cuckold, held his 
hand. Well ; on went he for a search, and 
away went 1 for foul clothes. But mark the 
sequel, nuister Brock: I suffered the pangs of 
three several deaths: first, an intolerable fright, 
to be detected with a jealous rotten bell-wether, 
next, to be compassed like a good bilbo j, in 
the circumference oi a peck, hilt to point, heel 
to head : and then, to be stopped in, like a 
strong flistillatii)n, Vt-ith stinking clothes that 
fretted in their own grease: think of that, — a 
man of my kivlney, — think of that; th:it am as 
subject to heat as butter; a man of oontinual 
dissolution and thaw ; it was a miracle to 'scape 
suffocation. And in the height of this batii, 
when 1 was mere than half stewed in grease, 
like a Dutch dish, to be thrown into the Thames 

i Bilboa, where the best blades are made. 



>Stene V.] 



and cooled, glowing hot, in that surge, like a 
liorseshoe ; think of that ;— hissing hot,— 
tliink of that, master Brook. 

Ford. In good sadness*, sir, I am sorry that 
for my sake you have suffered all this. My 
suit then is desperate; you'll undertake her 
no more. 

Fill. Master Brook, I wUl be thrown into 
^itna, as I have been into Thames, ere I will 
leave her thus. Her husband is this morning 
gone a-birding: I have received from her an- 
other embassy of meeting; 'twixt eight and 
nine is the hour, master Brook. 

Ford. *Tis past eight already, sir. 

F(iL. Is it.' I will then addresst me to my 
appointment. Come to me at your convenient 
leisure, and you shall know how I speed ; 
and the conclusion shall be crowned with 
your enjoying her: Adieu. You shall have 



MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 



63 



her, master Brook ; master Brook, you shall 
cuckold Ford. {Exit. 

Ford. Hum! ha! is this a vision? is this a 
dream? do I sleep? Master Ford, awake; 
awake, master Ford; there's a hole made in 
your best coat, master Ford. This 'tis to be 
married! this 'tis to have linen and buck-bas- 
kets! — Well, I will procUim n;yself what 1 
ara ; I will now take the lecher; he is at my 
house; he cannot 'scape me; 'tis impossible 
he should ; he cannot creep into a halfpenny 
purse, nor into a pepper-box : but, lest the 
devil that guides him should aid him, I will 
search impossible places. Though what I am 
I cannot avoid, yet to be what I would not, 
shall not make me tame : if I have horns to 
make one mad, let the proverb go with me, 
I'll be horn mad. [Exit, 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. The Street. 



Enter Mrs, Page, Mrs. Quickly, and 
William. 

Mrs. Page. Is he at master Ford's already, 
Ihink'st thou? 

Quick. Sure, he is by this, or will be pre- 
sently; but truly, he is very courageous :j 
mad, about his throwing into the water. Mis- 
tress Ford desires you To come suddenly. 

Mrs. Page. I'll be with her by and by; 
I'll but bring my young man here to school : 
Look, where his master comes ; 'lis a playing 
day, I see. 

Enter Sir Hugh Evans. 

How now, sir Hugh? no school to-day? 

Eva. No; master Slender is let the boys 
leave to play. 

Quick. Blessing of his heart! 

Mrs. Page. Sir Hugh, my husband says, 
my son protits nothing in the world at his 
book; I pray you, ask him some questions in 
his accidence. 

Eva. Come hither, William ; hold up your 
head ; come. 

Mrs. Page. Come on, sirrah; hold up your 
head; answer your master, be not afraid. 

Eva. William, how many numbers is in 
ciouns? 

JViU. Two. 

Quick. Truly, I thought there had been one 
number more; because they say, od's nouns. 

Eva. Peace your tattlings. W hat is fair, 
William? 

l4^iU. Pulcher. 

Quick. Poulcatsl there are fairer things 
than poulcats, sure. 

Era. You are a very simplicity 'oman; I 
pray you, peace. What is f-apis, William i 



TVill. A stone. 

Eva. And what is a stone, William? 

Will. A pebble. 

Eva . N o, it is iapis ; I pray you remember 
in your prain. 

M ill. La pis, 

Eva. That is good, William. What is he, 
William, that does lend articles? 

flill. Articles are borrowed of the pro- 
noun; and be thus declined, Singulariter, 
nominativoy hie, hac, hoc. 

Eva. Nominativo, hig^ hag, hog,- pray 
you, mark; genitivo, hnjus: Weil, what is 
your accusative case? 

Will. Accusative, hinc. 

E> a. I pray you, have your remembrance, 
child ; AccusativOy hing, hangy hog. 

Quick. Hang hog is Latin for bacon, I war- 
rant you. 

El a. Leave your prabbles, 'oman. What 
is the focative case, William ? 

Will. O—Vocativo, O. 

Eva. Remember, William^ focative is, 
caret. 

Quick. And that's a good root. 

Eva. 'Oman, forbear. 

Mrs. Page. Peace. 

Eva. What is your genitive case plural, 
William? 

Will. Genitive case ? 

Eva. Ay. 

Will. Genitive,— horum, harum, horum. 

Quick. 'Vengeance of Jenmfs case! fie on 
her! — never name her, child, if she be a whore. 

Eva. For shame, 'oman. 

Quick. You do ill to te.ich the child such 
wonls : he teaches him to hick and to hack, 
which they'll do fast enough of themselves; 
and to call horum ; — fie upon you! 

Eva. 'Oman, art thou lunatics ? hast thou 
no understandings for thy cases, and the nmu- 



• Seriousntyifi. 



t Make myself ready. 



X Outrageous. 
G2 



04 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV. 



bers of the genders'? Thoa art as foolish 
chriptian creatures as I %voiild desires. 

Mrs. Page. Pr'ythee 1 old thy peace. 

Eva. Shew me novv,W illiam, some declen- 
Bituis of your pronouns. 

H ill. Forsooth, I hav^ forgot. 

l:lva. It is ki, koEy coo : if you forget your 
A- es, your keBs, and yonr codSf you must-be 
pieeches*. Go your wiys, and play, go. 

Mrs. Page. He is a 'setter gcholaj* than I 
thought he was. 

Eva. He is a good sf rag t memory. Fare- 
well, mistress Page. 

jUrs. Page. Adieu, good sir Hugh. [Exit 
iV'r HoGH.] Get you home, boy.— Come, 
we stay too long. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. 
A Room in l^ord's House. 
Enter Falstaff and Mrs. Ford. 
Fal. Mistress Forr*, your sorrow hath eaten 
lip my sufferance: I see, you are obsequious! 
ill your love, and I j rofess requital to a hair's 
breadth ; not only, B/iistress Ford, in the simple 
ottice of love, but in all the accoutremeiit, 
complement, and ceremony of it. But are 
you sure of your 1 usband now ? 
Mrs. Ford. He's a birding, sweet sir John. 
Mrs. Page, [ulthm.] What hoa, gossip 
Ford ! what hoa ! 
Airs. Ford, Step into the chamber, sir John. 
[Exit Falstaff. 

Enter Mrs. Page. 

Mrs. Page. How now, sweetheart? who's 
at home beside yourbeif? 

Mrs. Ford. Why, none bat mine own 
people. 

Mrs. Page. Indeed I 

Mrs. Ford. No, certainly; — speak hinder. 

[Ash.e. 

Mrs. Page Truly, I am so glad you have 
nt.body here. 

Mrs. Ford . Why 1 

Mrs. Pug* . Why, woman, your husband is 
ill his old lu les § again: he so takts on yon- 
der with my husband ; so rails against all mar- 
ried mankii d ; so curses all Eve's daughters, 
o: what co nplexion soever; and so liutt'ets 
himself on the forehead, crying. Peer out, 
; f^f / out II that any madness 1 ever yet be- 
liild. seem .d but tameness, civility, and pa- 
tieiice, to itiis his distemper he is in now: I 
am clad tl e fat knight is not here. 

^lts. Ftrd. Why, does he talk of him? 

Mrs. Page. Of none but him ; and swears 
he was carried oat, the last time he searched 
lur him, in a basket : protests to my husband 
I'.e is now here; and hath drawn him and the 
ret»t of iheir company from their sport, to 
make aiiOther experiment of his suspicion: 
but I an glad the knight is not here ; now he 
•liail 8e» his own fooltry. 

Mrs. Ford. How near is he, mistress Page? 



Mrs. Page. Hard by ; at dtreet end ; he will 
be here anon. 

Mrs. Ford. I am undone ! — the knight ia 
here. \ 

Mrs. Page. Why, then you are utterly 
shamed, and he's but a dead man. What a 
woman are you ! — Away with him, away with 
him ; better shame than nmrder. 

Mrs. Ford, Which way should he go? how 
should I bestow him? Shall I put him into 
the basket again ? ^ 

Be-enter Falstaff. 

Fal. No, I'll come no more i' the basket : 
May I not go out, ere he come ? 

Mrs. Page. Alas, three of master Ford's 
brothers watch the door with pistols, that none 
siiaii issue out; otherwise you might slip away 
ere he came. But what make you here? 

Fal. What shall I do? — I'll creep up into 
the chimney. 

Mrs. Ford. There they always use to dis- 
charge their birding-pieces : Creep into the 
kiin-hole. 

Fal. Where is it ? 

Mrs. Ford. He will seek there, on my word. 
Neither press, cutler, chest, trunk, well, vault, 
but he hath an abstract H for the remembrance 
of such places, and goes to them by his note; 
There is no hiding you in the house. 

Fal. I'll go out then. 

Mrs. Page. If you go out in your own »em 
blance, you die, sir John. Unless you go out 
disguised, — 

Mrs. Ford. How might we disguise him? 

Mrs. Page. Alas the day, I know u^t. 
There is no woman's gown big enough for him; 
otherwi>e, he might put on a hat, a muff er, 
and a kerchief, and so escape. 

Fal. Good hearts, devise something: Any 
extremity rather than a mischief. 

Mrs. Ford. My maid's aunt, the fat woman 
of Brentford, has a gown above. 

Mrs. Page. On my word, it will serve him; 
she's as big as he is : and there's her thi um'd 
hat, and her muffler too: Run up, sir Jjhn. 

Mrs. Ford. Go, go, sweet sir John: mistress 
Page and I will look some linen for your head. 

Mrs. Page. Quick, quick ; we'll conie dress 
you straight: put on the gown the while. 

[Exit Fa I STAFF. 

Mrs. Ford. I would my husban 1 would 
meet him in this shape : he cannot abide the 
old woman of Brentford ; he sweai s she's a 
witch; forbade her my house, and haih threat- 
ened to beat her. 

Mrs. Pa^e. Heaven guide him to thy hus, 
' band's cudgel ; and the devil guide his cudgel 
\ afterwards! 
j Mrs. Ford. But is my husband coming? 

Mrs. Page. Ay, in good sadness •*, is he; 
and talks of the basket too, howsoever he 
I hath had intelligence. 
i Mrb. Ford. W e'ii try that ; foi 1*11 appoint 



• l^reeched, i.e., flogged. t Apt to learn. t Sorrowful. § Mad fits. 

I As childreu call on a snail to push forth his horns. Sho t note of. 

•• Seriousness. 



Svene IL] 



MERRY AYIVES OF WINDSOR. 



65 



my men to carry the basket again, to meet 
him at the door with it, as they did last time. 

Mrs, Page. Nay, but he'll be here present- 
ly : let's go dress him like the witch of Brent- 
ford. 

Airs. Ford. I'll first direct my men, what 
they shall do with the basket. Go up, I'll 
bring linen for him straight. [Exit. 

Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet! 
we cannot misuse him enough. 

We'll leave a proof, by that which we will 
do. 

Wives may be merry, and yet honest too : 

We do not act, that often jest and laugh ; 

*Tis old but true. Still swme eat all the 
draff. [Exit. 

Re-enter Mrs. YnnD, with tuo Servants. 

Mrs. Ford. Go, sirs, take the basket again 
on yonr shotilders ; your master is hard at 
door; if he bid you set it down, obey him: 
quickly, despatch. [Exit. 

1 tSVrf. Come, come, take it up. 

2 Serv. Pray heaveo, it be not full of the 
knight again. 

1 Serv. I hope not ; I had as lief bear so 
much lead. 

Enter YoKB, Page, Shallow, Caius, and 
Sir Hugh Evans. 

Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, master Page, 
have you any way then to unfool me again f — 
Set down the basket, villain: — Somebody call 

my wife : You, youth in a basket., come 

out here!— O, you panderly rascals! there's a 
knot, a ging*, a pack, a conspiracy against 
me: Now shall the devil be shamed. What! 
wife, I say ! come, come forth ; behold what 
honest clothes you send forth to bleaching. 

Page. Why, this passes tl Master Ford, 
you are not to go loose any longer ; you must 
be pinioned. 

Eva. Why, this is lunatics ! this is mad as 
a mad dog ! 

Shal. Indeed, master Ford, this is not well ; 
indeed. 

Enter Mrs. Ford. 

Ford. So say I too, sir. — Come hither, mis- 
tress Ford ; mistress Ford, the honest woman, 
the modest wife, fhe virtuous creature, that 
hath the jealous fool to her husband! — 1 sus- 
pect without cause, mistress, do H 

Mrs. Ford. Heaven be my witness, you do, 
if yon suspect me in any dishonesty. 

Ford. Well said, brazen face ; hold it out. — 
Come forth, sirrah. 

[PuUs the clothes out of the basket. 

Page. This passes ! 

Mrs. Ford. Are you not ashamed 1 let the 
clothes alone. 

Ford. I shall find yon anon. 

Eva. 'Tis unreasonable! Will you take up 
your wife's clothes l Come away. 

Ford. Empty the basket, I say. 

Mrs. Ford. Why man, why, — 

Ford. Master Page, as I am a man, there 



•Gang, t Surpasses, to go beyond bounds, trover. 



was one conveyed out of my house yesterday 
in this basket : Why may not he be ther« 
again? In my house I am sure he is: my in. 
telligence is true ; my jealousy is reasonable' 
Plnck me out all the linen. 

Mrs. Ford. If you find a man there, ha 
shall die a flea's death. 
Page. Here's no man. 
Shut. By my fidelity, this is not well, mas- 
ter Ford ; this wrongs you. 

Eva. Master Ford, you must pray, and not 
follow the imaginations of your own heart: 
this is jealousies. 
Ford. Well, he*s not here I seek for. 
Page. No, nor no where else, but in yowr 
brain. 

Ford. Help to search my house this one 
time : if I find not what I seek, show no co- 
lour for my extremity, let mc for ever be 
your table-sport; let them say of me. As jea- 
lous as Ford, that searched a hollow walnut 
for his wife's lemanj. Satisfy me once more ; 
once more search with n»;, 

Mrs. Ford. What hoa. distress Page! — 
come yon and the old woman down ; my hus- 
band will come into the chamber. 

Firrd. Old woman ! What old woman's 
that? 

Mrs. Ford. Why, it is my maid's aunt of 
Brentford. 

Ford. A witch, a quean, an old cozening 
quean! Have 1 not forbid her my house? 
She comes of errands, does she? We are sim 
pie men ; we do not know what's brought to 
pass under the profession of fortune telling. 
She works by charms, by spells, by the 
figure, and such daubery as this is ; beyond 

our element: we. know nothing. Come 

down, you witch, you hag you ; come down, 
I say. 

Mrs. Ford. Nay, good, sweet husband ; — 
good gentlemen, let him not strike the old 
woman. 

Enter Falstaff In women*s clothes, led 
by Mrs. Page. 

Mrs. Page. Come,mother Pratt, come, give 
me your hand. 

Ford. I'll prat her :— Out of my door, you 
witch ! [beats him.] You rag, you baggage, 
you polecat, you ronyon § ! out ! out I I'll con 
jure you, I'll fortune-tell you. 

[Eait Falstaff. 

Mrs. Page. Are you not ashamed ? I think 
you have killed the poor woman. 

Mrs. Ford. Nay, he will do it : — 'Tis * 
goodly credit for you. 

Ford. Hang her, witch ! 

Era. By yea and no, I think, the 'oman is 
a witch indeed : I like not when a 'oman hat 
a great peard ; I spy a great peard under he» 
muffler. 

Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen? I be 
seech you, follow ; see but the issue of ni> 
jealousy: if I cry out thus upon no trail jj 
never trust me when I opeuf again. 



$ Scab. I! Scent. 
Gd 



^ Cry out. 



C(- 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV, 



Page. Lot's ohcy his humour a little further: 
Corne, gentlemen. 
[Kicunt Page, Ford, Shal. and Evans. 

Mrx. Page. Trust me, he beat him most 
pit fully. 

Mrs. Ford. Nay, by the mass, that he did 
not: he heat him most nnpitifully, methought. 

I\fy s. Pos,e. I'll have the cudgel hallowed, 
and han^ o^er the altar; it hath done merito- 
rious service. 

Mr'i. Ford. What think you? May we, 
with the warrant of womanhood, and the wit- 
ness of a good conscience, pursue him with 
any further revenge? 

Mrs. Page. The spirit of wantonness is, 
Bure, scared out of him ; if the devil have him 
not in fee simple vvith fine and recovery, he 
will never, I think, in the way of waste, at- 
tempt us again, 

yl7rv. Ford. Shall we tell our husbands how 
we have served him ? 

Mrs. Page. Yes, by all means; if it be but 
to scrape the figures out of your husband's 
brains. If they can find in their hearts, the 
poor unvirtuous fat knight shall be any fur- 
ther afflicted, we two will still be the minis- 
ters. 

Mrs. Fo7'd. I'll warrant, they'll have him 
publicly shamed : and. methinks, there v^^onld 
be no period to the jest, should he not be pub- 
licly shamed. 

Mrs. Page. Come, to the forge with it then, 
shape it : 1 would not have things cool. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III. A Room in the Garter Inn. 
Enter Host and Bardolph. 

Bard. Sir, the Germans desire to have 
three of yoirr horses: the duke himself will 
be to-morrow at court, and they are going to 
meet him. 

Host. What duke should that be, comes so 
secretly? I hear not of him in the court 
Let me speak with the gentlemen; they spe»\ 
English ? 

Jiitrd. Ay, sir; I'll call them to you. 

Host. They shall have iny horses; but >'ll 
make them pay, I'll sauce them: they b tve 
lad my houses a week at command; I I dve 
turned away my other guests: they mustf ome 
ott; I'll saute them : Come. [El'f unt. 

SCENE IV. A Boom in Ford's House. 

Entt r F AGT.,ToKD, Mrs. V\GE,Mrs. Ford, 
and Sir Hugh Evans. 

Era. 'Tis one of the pest discreti ns of a 
*oman as ever I did look upon. 

Page. And did he send you both « hese let- 
ter? at an instant? 

Mrs. Page. Within a quarter of in hour. 

Ford. Pardon me, wife: Hanreforth do 
what thou w)lt ; 
I rather will suspect the sun with cold. 



Than thee with wnntonnees: now doth thy 

honour stand, 
In him that was o< late an heretic. 
As firm as faith. 

Page. * I'is well, 'tis well ; no more. 

Be not as extrenr : in submission. 
As in offence; 

But let our plot go forward : let our wives 
Yet once again, to make us public sport, 
Appoint a mee'mg with this old fat fellow. 
Where we m? y^ take him, and disgrace hiri 
for it. 

Ford. Ther ' is no better way than that they 
spoke f. 

Page. Ho v! to send him word they'll meet 
him in the ^^ark at midnight! fie, fie; he'll 
never couk . 

Eva. Y< J say, he has been thrown in the 
rivers; an \ has been grievously peaten, as 
an old 'on an: methinks, there should be ter 
rors in h',n, that he should not come; me- 
thinks, hi i flesh is punished, he shall have no 
desires. 

Page So think I too. 

Mrs. Ford. Devise but how you'll use hiio 
^^hen he comes, 
And le' us two devise to bring him thither. 

Mr . Page. There is an old tale goes, that 
Heme the hunter, 
Som time a keeper here in Windsor forest, 
Doth all the \^ inter time, at still midnight, 
Wa k round about an oak, with great ragg'd 
horns; [cattle; 

ApJ there he blasts the tree, and takes* the 
A» d makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes 

a chain 
I » a most hideous and dreadful manner: 
^ ou have heard of such a ppirit ; and well yon 
Ihe superstitious idle-headed eldt [know. 
Received, and did deliver to our age, 
This tale of Heme the hunter for a truth. 

Page. Why, yet there want not many, that 
do fear 
In deep of night to walk by this Heme's oak: 
But what of this? 

Mrs. Ford. Marry, this is our device ; 
That Falstaff at that oak shall meet with us. 
Disguised like Heme, with huge horns on l.is 
head. [come. 

Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll i 
And in this shape: When you have brotight 
him thither, [plot? 

Wha-t shall be done with him? what is your 

Mrs. Page. That likewise have we thought 
upon, and thus : 
Nan Page my daughter, and my little son, ' 
And three or four more of their growth, we'll " 
dress [white, ^ 

Like unhins, onphesj, and fairies, green and •- 
With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads. 
And rattles in their hands; upon a sudd«n, 
.4s Falstaff, she, and I, are newly met, 
Let them from forth a saw-pit rush at once 
W ith some diffused $ song ; upon their sight, 
W^e two in great amazedncss will fly ; i 



• Strikes. 



t Old age 



t Elf, hobgoblin. 



$ Wild, discordant. 



Scene /T.J 



MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 



67 



Then let them all encircle him about, 
And, fairy like, to-pinch the unclean knight; 
And ask him, why, that hour of fairy revel, 
In their so sacred paths he dares to tread. 
In shape profane. 

Mrs. Ford. And till he tell the truth, 

Let the supposed fairies pinch him sound*. 
And burn him with their tapers. 

Mrs. Page. The truth bein^known, 

We'll all present ourselves ; dis-horn the spirit. 
And mock him home to Windsor. 

Ford. The children must 

Be practised well to this, or they'll ne'er do't. 

Eva. I will teach the children their beha- 
viours ; and I will be like a jack-an-apes also, 
to burn the knight with my taber. 

Ford. That will be excellent. I'll go buy 
them vizards. [all the fairies, 

Mrs. Page. My Nan shall be the queen of 
Finely attired in a robe of white. [time 

Page. That silk will I go buy ;— and in that 
Shall master Slender steal my Nan away, 

{Aside. 

And marry her at Eton. Go, send to Fal- 

staff straight. [Brook : 

Ford. Nay, 1*11 to him again in name of 
He'll tell me all his purpose : Sure, he'll come. 

Mrs. Page. Fear not you that : Go, get us 
And tricking for our fairies. [properties t, 

Eva. Let us about it : It is admirable plea- 
sures, and fery honest knaveries. 

[Exe2cnt Page, Yord, and Evans. 

Mrs. Page. Go, mistress Ford, 
Send quickly to sir John, to know his mind. 
[Exit Mrs. Ford. 
I'll to the doctor; he hath my good will. 
And none but he, to marry with Nan Page. 
That Slender, though well landed, is an idiot ; 
And he my husband best of all affects : 
The doctor is well moneyed, and his friends 
Potent at court ; he, none but he, shall have her. 
Though twenty thousand worthier come to 
crave her. lExit. 

SCENE V. 

A Room in the Garter Inn, 

Enter Ho^tand Simple. 

Host. What would'st thou have, boor? 
what, thick-skin? speak, breathe, discuss; 
brief, short, quick, snap. 

Sim. Marry, sir, I come to speak with sir 
John Fali?taff from master Slender. 

Host. There's his chamber, his house, his 
ca?tle, his standing-bed, and truckle-bed ; *tis 
painted about with the story of the prodigal, 
fresh and new : Go, knock and call ; he'll 
speak like an Anthrofophagin'ianX unto 
thee : Knock, I say. 

Sim. There's an eld woman, a fat woman, 
gone up into his chamber; I'll be so bold as 
stay, sir, till she come down : I come to speak 
with her, indeed. 

Host. Ha ! a fat woman ! the knight may 
be robbed: I'll call.— Bully knight! Bully sir 



John ! speak from thy lungs military : Artthoa 
there? it is thine host, thine Ephesian, calls. 

Fal. [above.'] How now, mine. host? 

Host. Here's a Bohemian-Tartar tarries the 
coming down of thy fat woman : Let her de- 
scend, bully, let her descend ; my chambers 
are honourable : Fye ! privacy ? fye I 
Enter Falstaff. 

Fal. There was, mine host, an old fat wo- 
man even now with me ; but she's gone. 

Sim. Pray you, sir, was't not the wise§ 
woman of Brentford ? 

Fal. Ay, marry, was it, muscle shell ; What 
would you with her? 

Si77i. My master, sir, my master Slender, 
sent to her, seeing her go thorough the streets, 
to know, sir, whether one Nym, sir, that be- 
guiled him of a chain, had the chain, or no. 

Fal. I spake with the old woman about it. 

Sim. And what says she, I pray, sir? 

Fal. Marry, she says, that the very same 
man, that beguiled master Slender of his 
chain, cozened him of it. 

Sim. I would, I could have spoken with 
the woman herself; I had other things to have 
spoken with her too, from him. 

Fal. What are they? let us know. 

Host. Ay, come; quick. 

Sim. I may not conceal them, sir. 

Fal. Conceal them, or thou diest. 

Sim. Why, sir, they were nothing but about 
mistress Anne Page ; to know, if it were my 
master's fortune to have her, or no. 

Fal. 'Tis, *tis his fortune. 

Sim. What, sir ? 

Fal. To have her, — or no: Go; say, the 
woman told me so. 

Sitn. May I be so bold to say so, sir? 

Fal. Ay, sir Tike; who more bold? 

Sim.. I thank your worship : I shall make my 
master glad with these tidings. [Exit Sim pl i.. 

Host. Thou art clerkly ||, thou art clerkly, 
sir John : Was there a wise woman with thee ? 

Fal. Ay, that there was, mine host ; one, that 
hath taught me more wit than ever I learned 
before in my life : and I paid nothing for it 
neither, but was paid for my learning. 

Enter Bardolph. 

Bard. Oat, alas, sir! cozenage! meer '^ozen- 
age! 

Host. Where be my horses? speak well of 
them varletto. 

Bard. Run away with the cozeners : for 
so soon as I came beyond Eton, they threw 
me off, from behind one of them, in a slough 
of mire; and set spurs, and away, like three 
German devils, three Doctor Faustuses. 

Host. They are gone but to meet the duke, 
villain: do not say, they be fled; Germain* 
are honest men. 

Enter Sir Hugh Etans. 

Eva. Where is mine host? 

Host, What is the matter, sir? 



Soundly. t Necessari. a. 



J A cannibaK $ Conning woar.an, a fortone teller 
11 Scholar -like. 



as 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Art rr. 



Eva. Have a care of your entertainments: 
there is a friend of mine come to town, tells 
me, there is three conzin germans, that has 
cozened all the hosts of Readings, of Maiden 



head, of Colebrook, of horses and money. 1 
tell you for good-will, look you : you are wise, 
and full of gibes and vionling-stogs ; and 'tis 
not convenient you should be cozened : Fare 
you well. {Exit. 

Enter Doctor Caius. 

Caius. Vere is mine Host de Jarterrr. 

Host. Here, master doctor, in perplexity 
and doubtful dilemma. 

Caiuv. I cannot tell vat is dat : but it is tell- 
a me, dat you make grand preparation for a 
duke ffe Jarmany : by my trot, dere is no 
duke, dat the court is kuow to come ; I tell 
you for good vill: adieu. [Exit. 

Host. Hue and cry, villain, go : — assist me, 
knight; I am undone : — fly, run, hue and cry, 
villain! I am undone! 

[Exeunt Host and Bardolph. 

Fal. I would, all the world might be co- 
zened ; for I have been cozenM and beaten too. 
If it should come to the ear of the court, how 
I have been transformed and how my trans- 
formation hath been washed and cudgeled, 
they would melt me out of my fat, drop by 
drop, and liquor fishermen's boots with me ; I 
warrant, they would whip me with their fine 
wits, till I were as crestfallen as a dried pear. 
I never prospered since I forswore myself at 
Prhnero^. Well, if my wind were but long 
enough to say my prayers, I would repent.— 

Enter Mrs. Quickly, 
Now ! whence come you ? 

Quick. From the two parties, forsooth. 

Fal. The devil take one party, and his dam 
the other, and so they shall be both bestowed ! 
I have suft'ered more for their sakes, more, 
than the villainous inconstancy of man's dis- 
position is able to bear. 

Quick. And have not they suffered? Yes, 
1 warrant; speciously one of them; mis- 
tress Ford, good heart, is beat«n black 
and blue, that you cannot see a white spot 
about her. 

Fal. What tell'st thou me of black and 
blue? I was beaten myself into all the colours 
of the rainbow, and I was like to be appre- 
hended for the witch of Brentford ; but that 
my admirable dexterity of wit, my conrjter- 
feiting the action of an old woman, deliver'd 
me, tlie knave constable had set me i* the 
stocks, i' the common stocks, for a witch. 

Quick. Sir, let me speak with you isi your 
chamber : you shall hear how things go ; anri, 
I warrant, to your content. Here is a letter 
will say somewhat. Good hearts, what ado 
here is to bring you together! Suie, oneof 
you does not serve heaven well, that you are 
•o crossed. 

Fal, Come up into my chamber. [Exeunt. 



* A game at cards. 



SCENE VI. 

Another Boom in the Garter Inn. 
Enter Fen ton and Host. 
Host. Master Fenton, talk not to me; my 
mind is heavy, I will give over all. [purpose^ 

Fent. Yet hear me speak : Assist me in my 
And, as I am a gentleman, I'll give thee [lo>s, 
A hundred pound in gold, more than your 

Host. I will hear you, master Fenton ; and 
I will, at the least, keep your connsel. [you 

Fent. From time toiime I have acquainted 
With the dear love I bear to fair Anne P »ge ; 
Who, mutually, hath answer'd my aflection 
(So far forth as herself might be her chooser,] 
Even to my wish : I have a letter from her 
Of such contents as you will wonder at; 
The mirth whereof so larded with my matter. 
That neither, singly, can be manifested, 
Without the show of both; — wherein fatf 

Falstaff 
Hath a great scene: the image of the jest 

[Slitnving the Litter 
I'll show you here at large. Hark, good 
mine host: [and oi»e, 

To-night at Heme's oak, just 'twixt twelve 
Must my sweet Nan present the fairy queen; 
The purpose why, is here t ; in which disguise. 
While other jests are something rank on foot, 
Her father hath commanded her to slip 
Away with Slender, and with him at Eton 
Immediately to marry : she hath consented : 
Now, sir. 

Her mother, even strong against that match. 
And firm for doctor Caius, hath appointed 
That he shall likewise shufHe her away, 
While other sports are tasking of their minds. 
And at the deanery, where a priest attends, 
Strai^^iht marry her: to this her mother's plot 
She, seemingly oberiient, likewise hath [resls : 
Made promise to the doctor; — Now, thus it 
Her father means she shall be all in white; 
And in that habit, when Slender sees his time 
To take her by the hand, and bid her go. 
She shall go with him :— her mother hath 

intended. 
The better to denote her to the doctor, 
(For they must all be mask'd and vizardrd.) 
Ihat, quaint^ in green, she shall be loose 

enrob'd. 
With ribands pendant, flaring 'bout her head ; 
And when the doctor spies his vantage rij)e. 
To pinch her by the hand, and on th.tt token, 
The maid hath given consent to go with him. 

Host. Which means she to ileccive? father 
or Mjotherf [with me ; 

Fcnt. lioth, my good host, to go alomj 
And here it res-ts,— that you'll procure the vicar 
To stay for me at church, 'twi\t twelve and 
And, in the lawful name of marrying, [one, 
To give our hearts united ceremony. 

iio^t. Well, husband your device ; I'll tu 

the vicar: [priest. 

Bring you the maid, you shall not lack a 

Fent. So shall i evermore be bound to thee 5 
Besides, I'll make a present recompense. 

{Exeunt 

t In the letter. \ Faotastically. 



MERRY WIVES OF WINTS OR- 



69 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. A Room in the Garter Inn» 
Enter Falstafp and Mrs. Quickly. 

Fill. Pr'ythee.no more prattling ; — go. 

I'll hold*: This is the third time; I hope, 
good luck lies in odd numbers. Away, go; 
they say, there is divinity in odd numbers, 
either in nativity, chance, or death. — Away, 

Quick. I'll provide you a chain ; and I'll 
do what I can to get you a pair of horns. 

F^aL Away, I say ; time wears : hold up 
your head, and mince. [Exit Mm. Quickly. 

Enter Ford. 
How now, master Brook ? Master Brook, 
the matter will be known to-night, or never. 
Be you in the Park about midnight, at 
Heine's oak, and yon shall see wonders. 

Ford. Went you not to her yesterday, sir, 
as you told me you had appointed 1 

Fal. I went to her, master Brook, as you 
see, like a poor old man : but I came from 
her, master Brook, like a poor old woman. 
That same knave. Ford her husband, hath 
the finest mad devil of jealousy in him, master 
Brook, that ever governed frenzy. I will 
tell you. — He beat me grievously, in the 
shape of a woman ; for in the shape of man, 
master Brook, 1 fear not Goliath with a 
weaver's beam ; because I know also, life is 
a shuttle. I am in haste ; go along with me; 
I'll tell you all, master Brook. Since I 
plucked geese, played truant, and whipped 
lop, I knew not what it was to be beaten, till 
luely. Follow me : I'll tell you stranije 
things of this knave Ford : on whom to-night 
I will be revenged, and I will deliver his wife 
iiito your hand. — Follow : Strange things 
in hand, master Brook! follow. \_Exeunt. 
SCENE II. Windsor Park. 
Enter Page, Shallow, and Slender. 

Page. Come, come ; we'll couch i* the 
castle-ditch, till we see the 1-iLiht of our fairies. 
— Remember, sun Slender, my daughter. 

SUn. Ay, forsooth ; I have spoke with 
her and we have a nay-word t, how to know 
one another. 1 come to her in white, and 
cry, riuim ; she cries, budget ; and by that 
we know one another. 

Shal. That's good too : But what needs 
either your inum^ or her budget? the while 
will decipher her well enough. — It hath 
struck ten o'clock. 

Page. The night is dark ; light and spirits 
will become it well. Heaven prosper our 
Rpott! No man means evil but the devil, 
and we shall know him by his horns. Let's 
away ; follow me. [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. The Street in Windsor. 

Enter Mrs. Page, Mrs. Ford, and Dr. 

Caius. 

Airs. Page, Master doctor, my daughter 



is in green: when you see your time, take 
her by the hand, away with her to the 
deanery, and despatch it quickly : Go before 
into the park ; we two must go together. 

Caius. 1 know vat I have to do ; Adieu. 

Mrs. Page. Fare you well, sir. [Exit 
Caius.] My husband will not rejoice so 
much at the abuse of Falstaif, as he will 
chafe at the doctor's marrying my daughter : 
but 'tis no matter ; better a little chiding, 
than a great deal of heart-break. 

3Irs. Ford, Where is Nan now, and her 
troop of fairies? and the Welsh devil, Hugh? 

Mrs. Page. They are all couched in a pit 
hard by Heme's oak, with obscured lights ; 
which, at the very instant of Falstatf 's and oui 
meeting, they will at once display to the night, 

Mrs. Ford. That cannot choose but amaze 
him. 

Mrs. Page. If he be not amazed, he will 
be mockt d ; if he be amazed, he will every 
way be mocked. 

Afrs. Ford. We'll betray him finely. 

Mrs. Page. Against such lewdsters, and 
their lechery. 
Those that betray them do no treachery. 

M7^s. Ford, The hour draws on ; To the 
odk, tothc oak! [Eueunt, 

SCENE IV. Windsor Park. 
Enter Sir Hugh Evans, and Fairies, 
Eva. Trib, trib, fairies; come; and re- 
member your parts: be pold, I pray you; 
follow me into the pit; and when I give the 
watch-'ords, do as 1 pid you ; Come, come; 
trib, trib. [Exeunt. 

SCENE V. Another part of the Park. 
Filter Falstaff disguised, with a buck's 
head on. 
Fal. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; 
the minute draws on : Now, the hot-blooded 
gods assist me : — Remember, Jove, thou wast 
a bull for thy Europa ; love set on thy horns. 
— O powerful love! that, in some respects, 
makes a beast a man ; in some other, a man 
a beast. — You were also, Jupiter, a swan, for 
the love of Lcda ; — O, omnipotent love ! 
how near the god drew to the complexion of 
a goose ? — A fault done first in the form of a 
beast; — O Jove, a beastly fault ! and then 
another fault in the semblance of a fowl; 
think on't, Jove ; a foul fault. — When god» 
have hot backs, what shall poor men do? 
For me, I am here a Windsor stag ; and the 
fattest, I tbink, i' the forest : send me a cool 
rut-time, Jove, or who can blame me to pis» 
my tallow? Who comes here? my doe? 

Enter Mrs. Ford and Mrs, Page. 
Mrs. Ford. Sir John ? art thou there, my 
deer? my male deer? 
Fal. My doe ^^ith the black scut ?— Let 



70 



SlIAKSPEARE. 



\ActV, 



the sky rain potatoes ; let it thunder to the 
tune oi Green Sleeves ; hail kissing-conitits, 
aiiit snow erini:oes; let there couie a tempest 
oi provocation, I will shelter nie here. 

[Embracing her, 

}Trs, Ford. Mistress Page Is come with 
me, sweetheart. 

FaL Divide me like a bribe-buck, each a 
haunch : I will keep my sides to myself, my 
shuidders for the fellow • of this walk, and 
my horns I bequeath your husbands. Am 1 
1 wotidman ? ha! Speak I like Heme the 
hunter \ — Why, now is Cupid a child of con- 
icience ; he makes restitution. As I am a 
true spirit, welcome! {Noise iviUiin. 

AIr.\. Page. Alas! what noise 1 

Mrs. Ford. Heaven forgive our sins ! 

Fal. WhA should this be? 

ifrl'. pZt } Away, away. [Thei/ runoff, 

Fal. 1 think, the devil will not have me 

damned, lest the oil that is in me should set 

Jieilonf.re; he would never else cross me thus. 

tliiter Sir HutiH Evans, l/ke a satyr; 

Mrs. Quickly, and Pistol ; Anne 

PAGh, as the Fairy Queen, attended by 

her brother and others, dresud like 

/'dries, tilth waxen t-y^rs on thtir heads. 

Q/^icA. Fairies, black, grey, vieen and white, 

Y'ju moon -shine reveller*, and shades of nii^ht. 

You orphan-heirs of fixed destiny, 

Attend your office, and your quality +. 

Crier Hobgoblin, make the fairy <» yes. 

Fist. Elves, list your names ; silence, you 

airy toys. leap : 

Cricket, to VVindsor chimneys shalt thuu 

Where tires thou tind'st uurak'd, and hearths 

unswept, 
rhrre pinch the maids aa blue as bilberry t: 
Uur radiant queen hates sluts, and sluttery. 
FuC. They are fairies ; he, that speaks to 
them, shall die : 
I'll wink and couch : No man their works 
must eye. {Lits down upon his face. 
Eva. Where's Fede? — Go you, and where 
you find a maid, 
That, ere she sleep, has thrice her prayers said. 
Raise up the organs of her fantasy. 
Sleep she as sound as careless infancy: 
But those as sleep, and think not on their sins. 
Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, 
Quick. About, about; [and sliins. 

Search Winds(»r castle, elves, within and out: 
Strew goo»l luck,oaphes,on every sacred room ; 
That it may utand till the peipetuai doom, 
In state as wholesome, ah in state 'tis ht ; 
\V orthy the owner, and the owner it. 
The several chairs of ordir look you scour 
With juice of balm, and every precious ttower : 
Each fair instalment, coat, and several crest. 
With loyal blazon, evermore be blest ! 
And nightly, meadow-fairies, look, you sing, 
Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring : 
riiC expressure that it bears, green let it be. 
More fertile-fresh than all the field to see ; 



And, Ho?i!/ Suit qui mal y pense, write, 
In emerald tults,fiowers purple, blue,and white; 
Like sapphire, pearl, and rich embroidery, ^ 
Buckled below fair knight-hood's btnding (^ 
knee : i 

Fairies use flowers for their charactery i. J 
Away; disperse: But, till 'tis one o'clock, 
Oiir dance of custom, round about the oak 
Of Heme the hunter, let us not fo»get. 

Eva. Pray you, lock hand in hand, your- 
selves in order set : 
And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be. 
To guide our measure round about ine tree. 
But, stay; 1 smell a man of middle earth. 

Fal. Heavens defend me from that Welsh 
fairy I lest he transform me to a piece (»f cheese I 

Fist. Vile w> rm, thou wast o'er-look'd 
even in thy birth. [end : 

Quick. With trial ftre touch me his linger- 
If he be chaste, the flame will back descend. 
And turn him to no pain ; but if he start. 
It is the flesh of a corrupted heart. 

Fist. A trial, come. 

Eva. Come, will this wood take fire ? 

[They burn idni with tneir tapfr.<i, 

Fal. Oh, oh, oh ! [desire 1 

Quick. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in 
About him fairies ; sing a scornful rhyme : 
And, as you trip, still pinch him to yourtiiue. 

/'>>'«. it is ritjlit; indeed he is full ol 
lecheries and iniquity, 

?ONG. 

Fye on .sinful fa fr?n^sy! 

Fye on lu'^t and ti^^mry f 

Lust is but a bloody Ji re. 

Kindled uith unchaste desire. 

Fed in heart ; iihose flumes aspire. 

As thoui;hts do blou' them, higher a nd higher. 

Fim U him, fairies, mutually ; 

Finch hitnjor his villainy ; [about ^ 

Finch him, and burn him, and turn unn 

Till candles, and star-light, and moonshine 

be out. 
During this song, the fairies pinch Falstatf. 
J)0( tor Cains comes one way, and steals 
away a fairy in green ; Slender oyiolhrr 
way, and takes ojj a fairy in white ; nnd 
Fenton comes, and steals away iNlis. 
Anne Page. A noise of hunting is maae 
within. All the fairies runaway. Fai- 
staff pulls off his buck*s hemt^ and risi .\. 

Enter Page, Ford, Mrs. Pack, and 3[rs. 

Ford. I'hey lay hold on him. 
Page. Nay, do not fly : 1 think, we liave 

watch'd you now ; [turn ? 

Will none but Heme the hunter serve >our 

Mrs. Fagt. I pray you, comn; hold up 

the jest no higher : — [wives 1 

Now, good sir John, how like you Winds. if 
See you these, husband? do not lhes»; fail 

yokes ij 
Become the forest better than the town? 



• Keeper of the forest. 



t Fellowship. t Whortleberry. § The letters 
H'^rns which Fal?tatt hud. 



Scene V.] 



MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 



71 



Ford. Now, sir, who's a cnckold now 1 — 
Master Brook, Falstaff'sa knave, a cuckoklly 
knave; here are his horns, master Brook: 
K\v\, master Brook, he hath enjoyed nothing 
of Ford's but his buck-basket, his cndgei,an(l 
tweniy pounds of money ; which must be 
paid to master Brook ; his horses are arrested 
for it, master Brook. 

Mrs. Ford^ Sir John, we have had ill 
huk ; we could never meet. I will never 
take you for my love again, but I will always 
count you my deer. 

Fill. I do begin to perceive that I am 
made an ass. 

Ford. Ay, and an ox too ; both the proofs 
are extant. 

Fal. And these are not fairies? I was 
three or four times in the thought, they were 
not fairies : and yet the guiltiness of my 
mind, the sudden surprise of my powers, 
drove the grossness of the foppery into a 
received belief, in despite of the teeth of all 
rhyme and reason, that they were fairies. 
See now, how wit may be made a Jack-a- 
lent, when 'tis upon ill employment ! 

Eva. Sir John Falstaff, serve G^t, and leave 
your desires, and fairies will not pinse you. 

Fmd. Well said, fairy Hugh. 

Eva. And leave you your jealousies fco, I 
pray yon. 

Ford. I will nev^er mistrust my wife again, 
till thou art able to woo her in ^ood English. 

Fal. Have 1 laid my brain in the sun, and 
dried it, that it wants matter to prevent so 
^1 o^s o'er-reaching as this ? Am I ridden 
with a Welsh goat too? Shall I have a cox- 
comb of frize*? 'tis time I were choked 
with a piece of toasted cheese. 

El &. Seese is not good to give putter ; 
your pelly is all putter. 

Fat. Seese and putter! Have I lived to 
stand at the taunt of one that makes fritters 
of English? This is enough to be the dicay 
of lust and late-walking, through the realm. 

I\lr. Page. Why, sir John, do you think, 
though we would have thrust virtue out of 
our hearts by the head and shouUlers, and 
have given ourselves without sciuple to hell, 
that ever the devil could have made you 
our delight? 

Ford. What, a hodge pudding? a bag of flax! 

Mrs, Page. A pulfed man? 

f^oge. Old, cold, withered, and of in te- 
le ible entrails ? 

Ford. And one that is as slanderous as Satan? 

Page. And as poor as Job? 

Find. And as wicked as his wife? 

Eta. And given to fornications, and to 
taverns, and sack, and wine, and metheglins, 
and to drinkings,and swearings, and starings, 
pribbles and prabbles? 

Fat. Well, I am your theme : yon have 
the start of me ; I am dejected ; 1 am not able 
*o answer the Welsh fi.mnel ; ignorance itself 
18 a plummet o'er me : use me as you will. 

Font. Marry, Sir, we'll brinj; you to 



Windsor, to one master Brook, that you have 
cozened of money, to whom you should hav«> 
been a pander : over and above that you 
have suflfered, I think, to repay that money 
will be a biting affliction. [make amends; 

Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go t<j 
Forgive that sum, and so we'll all be frit nda 

Ford. Well, here's my hand ; all's forgives 
at last. 

Page. Yet be cheerful, knight : thon shall 

eat a posset to-night at my house ; where 1 

will desire thee to laugh at my wife, tha. 

now laughs at thee : Tell her, master Slendei 

hath married her daughter. 

[ Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that : If Ann* 

! Page be my daughte^ she is, by this, docto. 

Caius' wife, \^Aside 

Enter Slender. 

SI en. Whoo, ho! ho! father Page! 

Page. Son! how now? how now, son^ 
have you despatched ? 

Sien. Despatched— I'll make the best it 
Glocestershire know on*t; would I wer% 
hanged, la, else. 

Page. Of what, son ? 

Slen. 1 caiT\e yonder at Eton to marry mis- 
tress Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly 
boy : If it had not been i' the church, 1 would 
have s\^inged him, or he should have swinged 
me. If I did not think it had been Anne Page, 
would 1 might never stir, and 'tis a post mas- 
ter's boy. 

Page. Upon my life then you took the 
wrong. 

Sbn. What need yon tell me that? I think 

so, when I took a boy for a iiirl : If I had 

j been married to him, for all he was in woman's 

I' apparel, ] would not have had him. 
Fuge. W hy, this is your own folly. Bid 
not I tell you, how you should know my 
I daughter by her garments ? 
I Slen. I went to her in white, and cry*d 
ihuin, and she cry'd budget, as Anne and I 
had appointed ; and yet it was not Anne, but 
a post-master's boy. 

Eta, Jeshu! Master Slender, cannot you 
see but marry boys? 

Page. 0, 1 am vexed at heart: What shall 
I do? 

Mrs. Page. Good George, be not anzry : I 
knew of your purpose; turiied my daughter 
into green; and, indeed, she is now with the 
doctor at tke deanery, and there married. 
Enter Cails. 
Cauis. Vere is mistress Page? By ear, I 
am cozened ; I ha* married ini g'irgoj;, a boy ; 
iin puisan, by gar, a boy ; it is not Anne 
Page: by gar, I am cozened. 
Mrs. Page. Why, did you take her in green? 
Caius. Ay, begar, and 'tis a boy : be i-ar, I'll 
raise all Windsor. [Exit Caius. 

Ford. This is strange: Who hath got the 
rigni Anne? 

Page. My heart misgives me; Here comes 
master Fenton. 



• A fool's cap of Welsh materials. 



r5 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r. 



Enter Fenton and Anne Page. 
How now, master Fenton? 

Anne. Pardou, good father! good my mo- 
ther, pardon ! 

Page. Now, mistress? how chance you 
went not with master Slender f 

Mrs. Page. Why went you not with mas- 
ter doctor, maid? 

Ftnt. You do amaze • her: Hear the truth 
of it. 
You would have married her most shamefully, 
Where there was no proportion held in love. 
1 he truth is, She and I, long since contracted. 
Are now so sure, that nothing can dissolve us. 
Tlie oft'ence is holy, that she hath committed : 
And this deceit loses the name of craft. 
Of disobedience, or unduteous title ; 
Since therein she doth evilatet and shun 
A thousand irrelidous cursed hours, [upon her. 
Which forced marria;^e would have brought 

Ford. Stand not amaz'd : here is no re- 
medy : — 



In love, the heavens themselves do guide the 

state ; 

Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate. 

Fal. I am glad, though you have ta'en a 

special stand to strike at me, that your arrow 

hath glanced. [give thre joy I 

Page. Well, what remedy? Fenton, heaven 

What cannot be eschew'd must be embrac'd. 

" Fal. When night-dogs run, all sorts of deer 

are chas'd. 

Eva. I will dance and eat plums at your 

wedding. 
Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further :— • 
Master Fenton, 
Heaven give you many, many merry days I 
Good husband, let us every one go home, 
And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire ; 
Sir John and all. 

Ford. Let it be so :— Sir John, 

To master Brook you yet shall hold your word ; 
For he, to night, shall lie with Mrs. Ford. 

[Exeunt. 



• Confonnd her by your questions. t Avoid. 



Of this play there is a tradition preserved by Mr, Rowe, that it was written at the com 
mand of queen Elizabeth, who was so delighted with the character of Falstaff", that she 
wished it to be diffused through more plays; but suspecting that it might pall by continued 
uniformity, directed the poet to diversify his manner, by shewing him in love. No task is 
harder than that of writing to the ideas of another. Shakspeare knew what the queen, if the 
story be true, seems not to have known, that by any real passion of tenderness, the stlfish 
craft, the careless jollity, and the lazy luxury of Falstatf must have suffered so much abate- 
ment, that little of his former cast would have remaiiied. Falstaff could not love, but by 
ceasing to be Falstaff. He could only counterfeit love, and his professions could be prompted, 
i.ot by the hope of pleasure, but of money. Thus the poet approached as near as he couid to 
tne work enjoined him; yet having peihapsin the former plays completed his own idea, 
fceeins not to have been able to give Falstaff all his former power of entertainment. 

This comedy is remarkable for the variety and number of the personages, who exhibit more 
characters appropriated and diseriniinaied, than perhaps can be found in any other play. 

Whether Shakspeare was the firt>t that produced upon the English stage the effect of 
lautjuage distorted and depraved by provincial or foreign pronunciation, I cannot certainly 
decide. Ihis mode of forming ridiculous characters can confer praise only on him who 
•>riginally discovered it, for ii requires not much of either wit or judgment; its success 
must be derived almost wholly from the player, but its power in a skilful mouth, even he 
that despises it, is unable to resist. 

The conduct of this drama is deficient; the action begins and ends often, before the con- 
clnsjon, and the different parts might change places without inconvenience; but its ge- 
rera< Dower, that power by which all works of genius shall finaJly be tried, is such, that 
perliapjj it never yel had reader or specrator whu did not think it too soon at the end.— 



T W E L F T II-N I G H T* 

OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 



Rsjfjo, duke of Illy rid. 
Sebastian, a young gentleman, brother 
.y\ to Viola, 

AjILntonio, a sea-captain, friend to Se- 
,lv bast tan, 
\xK A sea-captain .friend to Viola. 
y ,VALENTiSE,\Gentlemen attending on the 
f\ Curio, J Z>7ike. 

L * n 9 ^**^ Lords, Priests, Sailors, Officers, Musicians, and other Attendants, 
, ^ Scene, — a city in lllvria; and the sea-coast near it. 



/ 



Sir Toby Belch, uncle of Olivia, 
Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. 
Malvolio, steward to Olivia, 

Olivia, a rich Countess, 
Viola, in love with the Duke, 
Maria, Olivia's woman. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. An Apartment in the Duke's 

Palace. 

Enter Duke, Curio, Lords; Musicians 

attending. 

Duke. If musick be the food of love, play on. 
Give me excess of it ; that, surfeiting. 

The appetite may sicken, and so die . 

That strain again; — it had a dying fall : 
O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, 
That breathes upon a bank of violets, [more ; 
Stealing, and giving odour. — Enough ; no 
Tis not so sweet now, as it was before. 
O spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou ! 
That notwithstanding thy capacity 
Heceivcth as the sea, nought enters there. 
Of what validity ♦ and pitch soever. 
But falls into abatement and low price. 
Even in a minute ! so full of shapes is fancy. 
That it alone is high-fantastical t. 
^em Cur. Will you go hunt, my lord? 

Duke. What, Curio? 

Cur. The hart. 

Duke. Why, so I do, the noblest that I have : 
O, when mine eyes did see Olivia first, 
M«thouiiht, she purg'd the air of pestilence; 
Tbfft instant was I turn'd into a hart ; 
And my desires, like fell and cruel hounds, 
E'ertince pursue me. — How now? what news 
from her ? 

Enter Valentine. 

Val. So please my lord, 1 might not be 
admitted. 
But from her handmaid do return this answer : 
The element itself, till seven years heat j, 
ShalS not behold her face at ample view; 
But, like a cloistress, she will veiled walk. 
And water once a day her chamber rountl 
With eye-otfending brine : all this, to season 
A brother's dead love, which she would keep 
And lasting, in her sad remembrance, [fresh, 

Duke. O, she, that hath a heart of that fine 
To pay this debt of love but to a brother, [frame. 



How will she love, whentberich golden shaft. 
Hath kill'd the flock of all affections else 
That live in her! when liver, brain, and heart. 
These sovereign thrones, are all supplied, and 

fiU'd, 
(Her sweet perfections,) with one self king!— 
Away before me to sweet beds of flowers ; 
Love-thoughts lie rich, when canopied with 

bowers. {Exeunt, 

SCENE II. The Sea-coast, 
Enter Viola, Captain, ffwd Sailors. 

Vio. What country, friends, is this? 

Cap. Illyri?., lady. 

Vio. And what should I do in Illyria? 
My brother he is in Elysium, [you, sailors? 
Perchance, he is not drown'd : — What ilwnk 

Cap. Itis perchance, that you yourself wore 
saved. [may he be. 

Vio. O my poor brother! and so, perchance, 

Ctfj7. True, madam: and, to comtortyou with 
chance. 
Assure yourself, after our ship did split, [you. 
When you, and that poor number saved ^^ilh 
Hung on our driving boat, I saw your brotlu r. 
Most providentin peril, bind himself [practi e) 
(Courage and hope both teaching him ilie 
To a strong mast, that lived upon the sea; 
Where, like Arion on the dolphin's back, 
I saw him hold acquaintance with Ihe waves. 
So long as I could see. 

Vio. For saying so, there's gold : 

Mine own escape unfoldeth to my hope, ; 

Whereto thy speech serves for authority. 
The like of him. Know'st thou this country? 

Cap. Ay, madam, well; for 1 was bred and 
born. 
Not three hours* travel from this very place. 

Vio. Who governs here ? 

Cap. • A noble duke, in nature. 

As in bis namp. 

Vio. What is his name ? 



• Value. 



t Fantastical to the height. 



t Heated. 
H 



74 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Act /. 



Cop. O IS I no 

Via. Orsiuo! I have heard my father name 
He was a bachelor then. ihiin : 

Cap. And so is now. 

Or was 80 very late : for but a month 
Ago I went from hence ; and then 'twas fresli 
lu murmur, (as, you know, what great ones do, 
The less will prattle of,) that he did seek 
The Jove of fair Olivia. 

^io. What'? she ? 

Cap. A virtuous maid, the daughter of a 
count [leaving her 

That died some twelvemonth since; then 
In the protection of Ids son, her brother. 
Who shortly also died : for whose dear love, 
Tliey say, she hath abjured the company 
And sight of men. 

Via. O, that I served that lady : 

And might not be delivered to the world, 
Till I had made mine own occasion mellow, 
A\ hat my estate is. 

Cap. That were hard to compass; 

Because she will admit no kind of suit, 
T^ J, not the duke's. 

Vio. There is a fair behaviour in thee,captain; 
And ihouih that nature with a beauteous wall 
Doth oft close in pollution, yet of thee 
1 will believe, thou hast a mind that suits 
With this thy fair and outward character. 
I pray thee, and I'll pay thee bounteously, 
Conceal me what I ain ; and be my aid 
l''or such disguise as, haply, shall become 
The form of my intent. I'll serve this duke; 
Thou shalt present me as an eunuch to him, 
It may be worth thy pains; for 1 (an sing. 
And speak to him in many sort? of musick. 
That will allow * me vtry worth his service. 
What else may hap, to time I will commit ; 
Only shape thou thy silence to my wit. 

Cap. Be you his eunuch, and your mute 

I'll be : [not see! 

When my tongue blabs, then lot mine eyes 

f'io. I thank thee: Lead me on. [Exeunt 

SCENE III. A Room in Olivia's House. 
Enter Sir Toby Belch a7id Maria. 

Sir To. What a pi igue means my niece, to 
take the death of her brother thus? I am 
sure, care's an enemy to life. 

Mar. By my troth, sir Toby, you must come 
in earlier o' nights ; your cousin, my lady, takes 
great exceptions to your ill hours. 

*S'ir7'o. Why,let her except before excepted. 

.Mar. Ay, but you must confine yourself 
■within the modest limits of order. 

Sir To. Conline? I'll confine myself no 
finer than I am : these clothes are good enough 
to driiik in, and so be these boots too; an they 
be not, let them hang themselves in their own 
fetraps. 

Mar. That quaffinf; and drinking will undo 
you : I heard my lady talk of it yesterday ; 
and of a foolish knijit, that you brought in 
one night here, to be her wooer. 

Sir To. Who? Sir Andrew Ajue-cheek ! 



Mar. Ay, he 

Sir To. He's as tallt a man as any's in 
lllyria. 

Mar. What's that to the purpose? 

Sir To, Why, he has three thousand ducats 
a year. 

Mar. Ay, but he'll have but a year in all 
these ducats; he's a very fool, and a prodigai. 

Sir To. Fie, that you'll say so ! he pl<iys o' 
the viol-de-gambo, and speaks three or tour 
languages word for word without book, and 
hath all the good gifts of nature. 

Mar. He hath, indeed, — almost natural : for, 
besides that he's a fool, he's a great quarreiler ; 
and, but that he hath the gift of a coward to 
allay the gust he hath in quarrelling, 'tis thought 
among the prudent, he would quickly have 
the gift of a grave. 

Sir To, Wy this hand, they are scoundrels 
and substractors that say so of him. Who are 
they ? 

Mar. They that add moreover, he's drunk 
nightly in your company. 

Sir To. With drinking healths to my niece ; 
I'll drink to her, as long as there is a passage 
in my throat, and drink in lllyria: He's a 
coward, and a coystril | ,thal will not drink to 
my niece, till his brains turn o* the toe like a 
parish-top. What, wench? Castiliano vulgo; 
for here comes Sir Andrew Ague-face. 

Enter Sir Andrew Ague-cheek. 

Sir And. Sir Toby Belch! how now. Sir 
Toby Belch? 

Sir To. Sweet Sir Andrew! 

Sir And. Bless you, fair shrew. 

Mar. And you too, sir. 

Sir To. Accost, Sir Andrew, accost. 

Sir And. What's (hat? 

Sir To. My niece's chamber maid- 

S r And. Good mistress Accost, I desire 
better acquaintance. 

Mar. My name is Mary, sir. 

SirA>/d. Good Mis'ress MaiV Accost, 

Sir fb. \o» mistake, knight: accost is, 
front her, board her, woo her, assail her. 

Sir And. By my troth, I would not under- 
take her in this company. Is that the mean- 
ing of accost ? 

Jifar. Fare you well, gentlemen. 

Str To. An thou let part so. Sir Andrew, 
'would thou might'st never draw sword aiiain. 

Sir And. An you part so, mistress, I would 
I might never draw sword again. Fair lady, 
do you think you have fools in hand { 

Mar. Sir, I have not you by the hand. 

Sir And. Marry, but you shall have; and 
here's my hand. 

Mar. Now, sir, thought is free : I pray you 
bring your hand to the buttery-bar, and lei it 
drink. 

Sir And. Wherefore, sweet-heart? what's 
your metaphor i 

Mar. It's dr>', sir. 

Sir And. Why, 1 think lo; I am not sncb 



Approv 



I Keystril, a bastard hawk. 



Scene III.] Tni:LFTH MGIIT: Oil, WHAT YOU WILL. 



But 



au ass, but 1 can keep my hand dry. 
H'hat's your jest? 
Mtir. A dry jest, sir. 
Sir And. Are you full of them? 
Mar. Ay, sir; I have them at my fingers* 
ends: marry, now I let go your hand, I am 
l^^^nyn. [Exit Maria. 

Sir To. O knight, thou lackM a cup of ca- 
nary : When did I see thee so put down? 

Sir And. Never in your life, I tliink ; un- 
less you see canary put me down : Methinks, 
sometimes I have no more wit than a Christian, 
or an ordinary man has : but I am a great eater 
of beef, and, I believe, that does harm to my 
wit. 

Sir To. No question. 

Sir And. An I thought that, I'd forswear it. 
1*11 ride home to-morrow, sir Toby. 
Sir To. Pourqnoy, my dear knight? 
Sir And. What is } ourqu»y? do or not do? 
I would 1 had bestowed that time in the 
tongues, that 1 have in fencing, dancing, and 
bear-baiting: O, had I but followed the arts! 
Sir To. 'i hen hadst thou had an excellent 
head of I air. 

Sir A?id. Why, would that have mended 
my hair? 

S/r To. Past question^ for thou seest, it will 
not curl by nature. 

Sir And. But it becomes me well enough, 
does't nof? 

Sir To. Excellent; it hangs like flax on a 
distatt; and 1 hope to see a housewife lake 
thee between her legs, and spin it off. 

Sir And. 'Faith, I'll home lo-morr^w, sir 
Toby : your niece will nut be seen; or, if she 
be, ii's fuur to one she'll none of me: the 
count hi.iiself, here haid by, wooes her. 

Sir To, Xlie'Il none o' ihe count; she'll not 
match above her degree, neither in estate, 
> ears, nor wit; I have heaid her swear it. 
Tut, there's life iii'i, man 

Sir And. I'll stay a month longer. I am a 
fellow o' the siranj^est mind i* the world; 1 
delisiht in masques and revels sometimes alto, 
gether. 

Sir To. Art thou good at these kick shaws, 
knight? 

Sir And. As any man in lUyria, whatsoever 
he be, under the decree of my betters; and 
}4i.l I vvill not compare with an old man. 

Sir To. W hat is thy excellence in a galliard 

khight { 

Sir And 'Faith, I can cut a caper. 

Sir To- And 1 can cut the mutton to't. 

S/r And. And, I think, 1 have the back- 

tri'vk, simply as strong as any man in lllyria. 

Sir To. VVheiefore are these things hid? 

wherefore hdve these gifts a curtain before 

tiiem ? are they like to take dust, like mistress 

Mail's picture { why dost thou not go to church 

in a galliard, and come home in a coranto ? 

My very walk should be a jig; I would not so 

much as make water, but in a sink-^ pace *. 

Vv hat dosi thou me;m? is it a world to hide 

virtues in i i did think, by the excellent con- 

* (.'inque-pace^ the name of a dance 



slitution of thy leg, it was formed under the 
star of a galliard. 

Sir And. Ay, 'tis strong, and it does indif- 
ferent well in a flaine-coloured %tockt. JShaW 
we set about some revels? 

Sir To. What shall we do else? were we 
not born under Taurus ? 

S'r And. Taurus? that's sides and heart. 

Sir To. No, sir ; it is legs and thighs. Let 
me see thee caper : ha ! higher : ha, ha ! — ex- 
cellent! [Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. 
A Room in the Duke's Palace, 

Enter Valentine, aiid Viola in man*s 
atthe. 

Vol. If the duke continue these favours to- 
wards you, Cesario, you are like to be much 
advanced ; he hath known you but three days, 
and already you are no stranger. 

P 10. You either fear his humour or my neg- 
ligence, that you call in question the continu- 
ance of his love: Is he inconstant, sir, in his 
favours? 

Val. No, believe me. 

Eater Duke, Curio, and Afteiidant^. 
Vio. I thank you. Here comes the count. 
Duke. Who saw Cesario, ho? 
Vio. On your attendance, my lord ; here. 
Duke. Stand you awhile aloof. — Cesario, 
Thou know'st no less but all; I have unclasp'd 
To thee the book even of my secret soul : 
Therefore, good youth, addiess thy gait j unto 

her; 
Be not deny'd access, stand at her doors, 
And tell tlieni, there thy fixed foot shail grow, 
Till thou have audience. 

Vio. Sure, my noble lord, 

If she be so abandoned to her sorrow 
As it is spoke, she never will admit me. 
Duke. Be clamorous, and leap all civil 
bounds. 
Rather than make unprofited return. 

yio. Say, I do speak with her, my lord; 

Vv hat then? 
Duke. 0,then unfold the passionof my love, 
Surprise her with discourse of my dear faith: 
It shall become thee well to act my woes; 
She will attend it better in thy youth. 
Than mi a nuncio of more grave aspect. 
V !0. I think not so, my lord. 
Duke. Dear lad, believe it; 

For they shall yet belie thy happy years 
'ih.it say, thou art a man : Diana's lip 
Is not more smooth and rubious; thy sn all pipe 
is as the mniden's organ, shrill and sound. 
And all is sembl itive a woman's part. 
I know, thy constellation is right apt 
For this attair:— Some four or five attend him; 
All, if you will; for I myself am best, 
When least in company:— Hrosper well in this 
Ana thou shalt live as freely as thy lord, 
To call his fortunes thine. 

Vio. I'll do my best. 



t Stocking. 



J Go thy way 



76 



SHAKSPEARE. 



Uct I, 



To woo yo'ir lady: yet, [Aside.] a barful* 

strife ! 
Whoe'er I woo, myself would be his wife. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE V. A Room in Olivia's House, 
Enter Maria and Clown. 

Mar. Nay, either tell me where thon hast 
been, or I will not open my lips so wide as a 
bristle may enter, in way of thy excuse: my 
lady will hang; thee for thy ab?ence. 

( 'lo. Let her han» me : he that is well hanged 
in this world, needs to fear no colours. 

Mar. Make that good. 

Clo. He shall see none to fear. 

Mar. A good Icntent answer: I can tell 
thee where that saying w^as born, of, I fear no 
colours. 

Clo. Where, good mistress Mary? 

Mar. In the wars ; and that may you be 
bold to say in your foolery. 

Clo. Well, God give them wisdom that have 
it; and those that are fools, let them use their 
talents. 

Mar. Yet you will be hanged, for being so 
long absent: or, to be turned away; is not 
that as good as a hanging to you 1 

Clo. Many a good hanging prevents a barl 
Tiarriage; and, for turning away, let summer 
bear it out. 

Mar. You are resolute then? 

Clo. Not so neither; but I am resolved on 
iwo points. 

Mar. That, if one break J, the other will 
ho4d; or, if both break, your gaskins fall. 

Clo. Apt, in good faith; very apt! Well, go 
♦.hy way ; if sir Toby would leave drinking, 
♦lion wert as witty a piece of Eve's flesh as 
any in Illyria. 

Mar. Peace, you rogue, no more o* that ; 
here comes my Iddy : make your excuse wise- 
ly, you were best. [Exit. 

Enter Olivia and Malvolio. 

Clo. Wit, aud't be thy will, put me into 
goo I fooling! Those wits that thiiik they have 
thee, do very oft prove fools ; and I, that am 
sure I lack thee, may pass for a wise man : 
For what says Quinapalus? Better a witty 
fool than a foolish wit. — God bless thee, lady! 

on. Take the fool away. 

Clo. Do you not hear, fellows? Take away 
the lady. 

Oli. Go to, you're a dry fool ; I'll no more 
of you : besides, you grow dishonest. 

Clo. Two faults, madonna^, that drink and 
good counsel will amend : for give the dry 
fool drink, then is the fool not dry; bid the 
dishonej^t man mend himself; if he mend, he 
is no longer dishonest ; if he cannot, let the 
botcher mend him : Any thing that's mended 
is but patched : virtue that transgresses is but 
patched. with sin; and sin that amends is but 



patched with virtue : If that this nimple syllo- 
gism will serve, so; if it will not, what re. 
medy .' As there is no true cuckold but cala. 
mity, so beauty's a flower : — the lady bad« 
take away the fool ; therefore, I say again, take 
her away. 

OIL Sir, I bade them take away yon. 

Clo. Misprision in tire highest degree! — 
Lady, Cucullus nonfucit monachum ; that'a 
as much as to say, I wear not motley in my 
brain. Good madonna, give me leave to prove 
you a fool. 

Oli, Can you do it? 

Clo. Dexteriously, good madonna. 

Oli. Make your proof. 

Clo. I must catechize you for it, madonna : 
Good my mouse of virtue, answer me. 

on. Well, sir, for want of other idleness, 
I'll 'bide your proof. 

Clo. Good madonna, why mourn'st thon ? 

on. Good fool, for my brother's death. 

Clo. I think his soul is in hell, madonna. 

Oli. I know his soul is in heaven, fool. 

Clo. The more fool you, madonna, to mourn 
for your brother's soul being in heaven. — 
Take away the fool, gentlemen. 

Oli. What think you of this fool, Malvolio? 
doth he not mend? 

Mai. Yes; and shall do, till the pangs of 
death shake him : Infirmity, that decays the 
wise, doth ever make the better fool. 

Clo. God send you, sir, a speedy infirmity, 
for the better increasing your folly ! bir T()i>y 
M'ill be sworn, that I am no fox; but he will 
not pass his word for two-pence, that you are 
no fool. 

Oli. How say you to that, Malvolio? 

Mai. I marvel your ladyship takes delight 
in such a barren rascal; 1 saw him put down 
the other day with an ordinary fool, that Ins 
no more brain than a stone. l>ook you now, 
he's out of his guard already; unless you laugh 
and minister occasion to him, he is gagged. 
I protest, I take these wise men, that crow >o 
at these set kind of fools, no better than the 
fools' zanies |1. 

Oli. (), you are sick of self-love, Malvolio, 
and taste with a distempered appetite. To be 
generous, guiltless, and of free disposition, is 
to take those things for bird-bolts ^f, that ><>u 
deem cannon-bullets: There is no slander i.j 
an allovved fool, though he do nothing but 
rail ; nor no railing in a known discreel man, 
though he do nothing but reprove. 

Clo, Now Mercury endue thee with leas- 
ing *», for thou speakest well of fools! 

Re-enter Maria. 

Mar, Madam, there is at the gate a young 
gentleman much desires to speak wirh you. 

Oli. From the count Orsino, is it i 

Mar. 1 know not,midam ; 'tis a fair young 
man, and well attended. 

Oli, Who of my people hold him in delay 1 



• Full of impediments. t Short and spare. 

X Points were hooks which fastened the hose or breeches, j Italian, uii«tre<=«!.damc. 

U Fool*' baubles. i[ Short arrows. •• Liiuj:. 



f If tie f'\] 



TWELFTH night: OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 



77 



A/or. JSir'l'oby, madam, your kinsman. 

Olf. Fetch him off, I pray you; he speaks 
nothing but madman: Fie on him! [Exit 
Maria.] Co you, Malvolio; if it be a suit 
from the count, I am sick, or not at home;, 
what you will, to disuJss it. [Eiit Malvo- 
Lio.] Now you see, fir, how your fooling 
grows old, and people lislike it. 

Clo. Thou hast spokr for us, madonna, as if 
thy eldest son should tc a fool : whose skull 
Jove cram with brainji, for here he comes, 
one of thy kin, has a mo£l weak j)ia mater*. 

Enter Sir Toby Belch. 

Oil. By mine honour, half drunk. — What 
is he at the gate, cousin i 

Sir To. A gentleman. 

Oli. A gentleman ! What gentleman? 

Sir To. 'Tis a gentleman here — A plague o* 
these pickle-herrings! — How now, sot? 

Clo. Good sir Toby, 

Oli. Cousin, cousin, how have you come so 
early by this lethargy"? 

Sir To, Lechery 1 I defy lechery : There's 
one at the gate. 

Oli. Ay, marry; wh^t is he? 

Sir To. Let him be the devil an he will, I 
care not: give me faith, say I. Well, it's all 
one. [Exit. 

Oli. What's a drunken man like, fool? 

Clo. Like a drownM man, a fool, and a 
madman: one draught above heat makes him 
a fool ; the second mads hizn; and a third 
drowns him. 

Oil. Go thou and seek the coroner, and let 
him sit o' my coz; for he's in the third dei^ree 
of drink, he's drown*d: go, look after him. 

Clo. He is but mad yet, madonna; and the 
fool shall look to the madman. [Exit Clown. 

Re-enter Ma lv olio. 

Mai. Madam, yond* young fellow sweats 
he will speak with you. 1 told him you were 
sick; he takes on him to understand so much, 
and therefore comes to speak with you : 1 
told him you w^ere asleep ; he seems to have 
a fore-knowledge of that too, and therefore 
comes to speak with you. What is to be said 
to him, lady? he's fortified against any denial. 

Oil. Tell him, he shall not speak with me. 

Mai. He has been told so; and he says, he'll 
stand at your door like a sheriff's post, and 
be the supporter of a bench, but he'll speak 
with you. 

Oli. What kind of man is he? 

Mai. Why, of man kind. 

Oli, What manner of man? 

Mai. Of very ill manner; he'll speak with 
yon. will yon, or no. 

Oli. Of what personage and years is he? 

Mai. Not yet old enough f(»r a in;m, nor 
young enough for a boy; as a squash is before 
'tis a pCflscod, or a codiiiig when 'tis almost 
an apple: 'tis with liitn e'en standmg water, 
between boy and man. He is very weil-f.i 



voured, and he speaks very shrewishly ; one 
would think his mother's milk were scarce out 
of him. 

Oli. Let him approach : Call in my gentle- 
woman. 

Mai. Gentlewoman, my lady calls, [Exit, 

Re-enter Makia. 

Oli, Give me my veil : come, throw it o'er 
my face ; 
We'll once more hear Orsino's embassy. 

Enter Viola. 

Vio. The honourable lady of the house, 
whch is she? 

Oli. Speak to me, I shall answer for her. 
Your will? 

Vio. Most radiant, exquisite, and unmatch- 
able beauty, — I pray you, tell me if this be 
the lady of the house, fi»r I never saw her: I 
would be loath to cast away my speech; for, 
besides that it is excellently well penn'd, I 
have taken great paias to con it. Good beau- 
ties, let me sustain no scorn ; I am very comp- 
tiblet, even to the least sinister usage. 

Oli. V/hence came you, sir? 

Vio. I can say little more than I have stu- 
died, and that question's out of my part. Good 
gentle one, give me modest assurance, if you 
be the lady of the house, that I may proceed 
in my speech. 

Oli. Are you a comedian? 

Vio. No, my profound heart: and yet, by 
the very fangs of malice, I swear I am not 
that I play. Are you the lady of the house? 

Oli. If 1 do not usurp myself, I am. 

Vio. Most certain, if you are she, you do 
usurp yourself; for what is yt^nrs to bestow, 
is not yours to reserve. But this is from my 
commission: I will on with my speech in 
your praise, and then shew you the heart of 
my message. 

Oli, Come to what is important in't : I for- 
give you the praise. 

Vio. Alas, I took great pains to study it, 
and 'tis poetical. 

Oli. It is the more like to be feigned ; I 
pray you, keep it in. 1 heard you were saucy 
at my gates ; and allowed your approach, ra^ 
ther to wonder at you than to hear yon. If 
you be not mad, be gone; if you have reason, 
be brief: 'tis not that time of moon with me, 
to make one in so skipping a dialogue. 

Mar. Will you hoist sail, sir? here lies your 
way. 

Vio. No, good swabber ; I am to hull here 
a little longer. — Some mollification for your 
giant J, sweet lady. 

Oli. Tell me your mind. 

Vio. 1 am a messenger. 

Oli. Sure, you have some hideous matter to 
deliver, when the courtesy of it is so fearful. 
Speak your t.lTice. 

r/<;. It alone concerns your ear. I brirer 
no overture of war, no taxation of homage ; 



• The cover of the brain. + Accountable. 

It appears from 5rvt:r.d p «i i.-, of this play, that the original actreJ^s of Maria was very short, 

il >» 



78 



SIIAKSPEAHE. 



[Act I. 



I hold the olive in my hand : my words are 
as full of peace as matter. 

0/i. Yet you began rudely. What are 
you? what would you 1 

Vio. The rudeness that hath appeir'd in me, 
have I learn'd from my entertainment. What 
1 rm, and what 1 would, are ar secret as mai- 
denhead : to your ears, divinity; to anj' other's, 
p.-ofanation. 

Oil. Give us the place alone , we will hear 
this divinity. [Exit Maria.] Now, sir, what 
is your text? 

Vio. Most sweet lady, — 

Oli. A comfortable doctrine, and much may 
be said of it. Where lies your text? 

Vio. In Orsino's bosom. 

OIL lu his bosom! In what chapter of his 
bosom ? 

Vio. To answer by the method, in the first 
of his heart. 

OH. O, I have read it; it is heresy. Have 
you no more to say? 

Vio. Good madam, let me see yonr face. 

Oli. Have you any commission from your 
lord to negotiate with my face? you are now 
out of your text: but we will draw the cur- 
tain, and shew you the picture. Look yon, 
sir, such a one as I was this present* : Is't not 
well done? [Uriveiling. 

Vio. Excellently done, if God did all. 

Oli. 'Tis in grain, sir; 'twill endure wind 
and weather. 

Vio. Tis beauty truly blent t, whose red 
and white 
Nature's own sweet and cunning hand laid on : 
i-ady, >ou are the cruel'st she alive. 
If you will lead these graces to the grave, 
An«i leave the world no copy. 

Oli. O, sir, I will not be so hard-hearted ; I 
will give out divers schedules of my beauty: 
ft shall be inventoried ; and every particle 
find utensil, labelled to my will; as,ite ii, two 
lips inditferent red; item, two grey eyes.wiih 
l.ds to them ; item, one neck, one chin, and 
80 forth. Were you sent hither to 'praise 
me ? 

Vio. I see yon what you are: you are too 
proud ; 
I5nt, if you were the devil, yon are fair. 
My lord and master loves you; O, such love 
Could be but recoinpens'd, though yt»u were 
I'he nonpareil of beauty ! [crown'd 

Oli. How does he love me? 

Vin. With adorations, with fertile tears, 
With groans that thunder love, witii sighs of 
tire. [cannot love him : 

Oli, Your lord does know my mini, I 
Yet I suppose him virtuous, know him noble. 
Of p;reai estate, of fiesh and stainless youth ; 
lit voices well divulged J, free, learn'd, aiid 
valiant, 



And, in dimension, and the shape of nature, 
A gracious person : but yet I cannot love him » 
He might have took his answer long ago. 

Vio. If I did love you in my master's tlame, 
With such a suffering, such a deadly life, 
In your denial I would find no sense, 
I would not imderstand it. 

Oli. Why, what would you ? 

Vio. Make me a willow cabin at your gate, 
And call upon my soul within the h^use ; 
Write loyal cantons § ol contemned love. 
And sing them loud even in the dead of night ; 
Holla your name to the reverberate || hills. 
And make the babbling gossip of the air 
Cry out, Olivia! O, you should not rest 
Between the elements of air and earth, 
But you should pity me. [parentage? 

Oli. You might do mncn : What is your 

Vio. Above my fortunes, yet my state i* 
I am a gentleman. [well : 

Oli. Get you to your lord ; 

I cannot love him: let him send no more; 
Unless, perchance, you come to me again. 
To tell me how he takes it. Fare you well : 
I thank you forj'our pains : spend this for me. 

Vio. I am no fee'd postH, lady; keep your 
purse ; 
My master, not myself, lacks recompense. 
Love make his heart of fiint, that you shall love. 
And let your fervour, like my master's, be 
PlacM in contempt ! Farewell, fair crueltv. 

[El it. 

OIK What is your parentage ? 
Above my Jo rtu lies J yet my state is well : 

I am a g-ntlem'tn. I'll be sworn thou art ; 

Thy tonij;ue, thy face, thy limbs, actions, and 
spirit, [fast: — soft! soft! 

Do give thee five-fold blazon**: — Not too 
Unless the master were the man. — How now ? 
Even so quickly may one catch the plague? 
Melhinks, 1 feel this youth's perfections. 
With an invisible and subtle stealth. 
To creep in at mine eyes. Well, let it be. — 
What, ho, Malvolio!— 

Re enter Malvolio. 

Mai. Here, madam, at your service. 

OH Run after that same peevish messenger. 
The county's tt man: he leftthisring behind him. 
Would 1, or not; tell him, I'll none of it. 
Desire him not to flatter with his lord, 
Nor hold him up with hopes; I am not for him: 
If that the >onth willcomethis way to morrow, 
I'll give him reasons for't. Hie thee, Malvolio. 

Mai. Madam, I will. {Exit. 

Oil. I do I know not what: and fear to find 
Mine eye too great a flatterer for my mind. 
Fate, shew thy force : Ourselves we do not 

o we j; ; 
What i» decreed, must be; and be this sc' 



• Present*. t Blende*!, mixed together. % Well spoken of by the worl.l. 

^ Cantos, verses. |1 Echointj. % Messenger. •• Proclamation of gentility. 

tt Count. jj Own, possess. 



TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 



79 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. The Sea-coast. 
Enter Antonio and Sebastian. 

Ant. Will yoa stay no longer? nor will you 
not, that I go with yon 1 

Seb. By your patience, no: my stars shine 
darkly over me; the malignancy of my fate 
might, perhaps, distemper yours ; therefore I 
shall crave of you your leave, that J may bear 
my evils alone : It were a bad recompense for 
yonr love, to lay any of them on you. 

Ant, Let m.e yet know of yon, whither you 
are bound. 

Seb. No, 'sooth, sir ; my determinate voyage 
is mere extravagancy. But I perceive in you 
so excellent a touch of modesty, that you will 
not extort from me what I am willing to keep 
in ; therefore it charges me in manners the 
rather to express* myself. You must know 
of me then, Antonio, my name is Sebastian, 
which I called Rodorigo; my father was that 
Sebastian of Messaline, whom I know, you 
have heard of: he left behind him, myself, and 
a sister, both born in an hour. If the heavens 
had been pleased, 'would we had so ended ! 
but you, sir, altered that ; for, some hour be- 
fore you took me from the breach of the sea, 
was my sister drowned. 

Ant. Alas, the day ! 

Seb. A lady, sir, though it was said she much 
resembled me, was yet of many accounted 
beautiful : but, though I could not, with such 
estimable wonder, overfar believe that, yet 
thus far I will boldly publish her, she bore a 
mind that envy could not but call fair : she is 
drowned already, sir, with salt water, though 

seem to drown her remembrance again with 
more. 

Ant. Pardon me,sir,your bad entertainment. 

Seh, O, good Antonio, forgive me your 
trouble. 

Ant. If you will not murder me for my 
love, let me be your servant. 

Stb. If you will not undo what you have 
done, that is, kill him whom you have reco- 
vered, desire it not. b'are ye well at oi.ce: 
my bosom is full of kindness; and I am yet 
8u near the manners of my mother, that upon 
tiie least occasion more, mine eyes will tell 
tales of me. I am bound to the count Orsino's 
court : farewell. [Exit. 

Ant. The gentleness of all the gods go with 
1 have many enemies in Orsino's court, [thee ! 
l^lse wouldl very shortly see thee there : 
But, come what may, I do adore thee so, 
That danger shall seem sport, and I will go. 

[Exit. 

SCENE IL A Street. 
Enter Viol \; M a l \ o l i o followmg, 
Mai. Were not you even now with the 
countess Olivia ? 



Vio. Even now, sir ; on a moderate pace I 
have since arrived but hither. 

Mai. She returns this ring to you, sir; yon 
might have saved me my pains, to have taken 
it away yourself. She adds, moreover, that 
you should put your lord into a desperate as- 
surance she will none of him : And one thing 
more; that you be never so hardy to come 
again in his attairs, unless it be to report your 
lord's taking of this. Receive it so. 

Fio. She tooktheringof me ; Pil none of it. 

Mai. Come, sir, you peevishly threw it to 
her; and her will is, it should be so returned : 
if it be worth stooping for, there it lies in your 
eye ; if not, be it his that finds it. [t'X/t. 

Fio. I left no ring with her : What means 

this lady ? "" [her ! 

Fortune forbid, my outside have not charm'd 

She made good view of me ; indeed, so much. 

That, sure, methought, her eyes had lost her 

tongue. 
For she did speak in starts distractedly. 
She loves me, sure ; the cunning of her passion 
Invites me in this churlish messenger. 
None of my 'ord'sring! why, hesent her none. 
I am the man ; — If it be so, (as 'tis), 
Poor lady, she were better love a dream. 
Disguise, I see, thou art a wickedness, 
Wherein the pregnant t enemy does much. 
How easy is it, for the proper-false i 
In women's waxen heaits to set their forms! 
Alas, our frail;y is the cause, not we; 
For, such as we are made of, such we be. 
How will this fadge j? My master loves her 

dearly ; 
And I, poor monster, fond as much on him 
And she, mistaken, seems to dote on me : 
What will become of this! As I am man, 
My state is desperate for my master's love ; 
As I am woman, now alas the day! 
What thriftless sighs shall poor Olivia breatlie ? 
O time, thou must untangle this, not 1 ; 
It is too hard a knot for me to untie. [Edit, 
SCENE III. A Boom in Olivia's House. 
Enter Sir Toby Belch, and Sir Andrlw 
Ague-cheek. 

Sir To. Approach, sir Andrew: not to be 
a-bed after midnight, is to be up betimes ; 
and dilnculo surgere, thou know'st, 

Sir And. Nay, by my troth, I know not: 
but I know, to be up late, is to be up la'ie. 

Sir To. A false conclusion ; I hate it as an 
unfilled can: To be up after midnight, and to 
go to bed then, is early ; so that, to go to bed 
after midnight, is to go to bed betimes. Do 
not our lives consist of the four elements ? 

Sir And, 'Faith, so they say ; but, I think 
it rather consists of eating and drinking. 

Sir To. Thou art a scholar ; let ut therefore 

eat and drink. — Marian, I say I a stoop ol 

wine I 



• Reveal. i Dexterous, ready fiemU t Fair dccciycr. $ Suit 



so 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IL 



Enter Clown. 

Sir And. Here come* the fool, i'faith. 

Clo. How now, my hearts ? Did you never 
gee the picture of we three • ? 

Sir To. Welcome, ass. Now let's have a 
catch. 

.Sir And. By my troth, the fool has an ex- 
cellent breast t. 1 had rather than forty shil- 
linjis I had such a leg; and so sweet a breath 
to sing, as the fool has. In sooth, thou wast 
in very gracious fooling last night, when thou 
spokest of Pigrogromitus,oftheV apians passing 
the equinoctial of Queubus; 'twas very good, 
i'faith. I sent thee sixpence for thy leman j : 
Hadst it? 

Clo. Ididimpeticosthy erafillity §; forMal- 
volio's nose is no whips'ock : My lady has a 
white hand, and the Myrmidons are no bottle- 
ale houses. 

Sir And. Excellent! Why, this is the best 
foolmg, when all is done. Now, a song. 

Sir To. Come on ; there is sixpence for you : 
let's have a song. 

Sir A nd. There's a testril of me too : if one 
knight give a 

(Uo. Would you have a love-song, or a 
song of good life? 

Sir To. A love-song, a love-song. 

Sir And. Ay, ay ; 1 care not for good life 

SONG. 
Clo.O mistress mine, uhere are you roam 
ing? [coming, 

O, stay and hear ; your true lovt^s 

That can sing both high and low: 
Trip no further, pretty sweeting ; 
Journeys end in lovers' meeting. 
Every wise man's son dofh know. 
Sir And. Excellent good, i'faith! 
Sir To. Good, good. 
Clo. f^^^hatis love? *tis not hereafter ; 

Present mirth hath present luvghter; 

lVhat*s to come, is still unsure: 

In delay there lies no plenty ; 

Then come kiss me sweet -ajid-twenly , 

Youtk*s a stuff will not endure. 

Sir And. A mellifluous voice, as I am true 

knight. 

.sir To. A contagious breath. 
Sir And. V^ery sweet and contagions, i'faith. 
Sir To. To hear by the nose, it is dulcet in 
contagion. But shall we make the welkin 
dance li indeed? Shall we rouse the night-owl 
in a catch, that will draw three souls out of 
one weaver? shall we do that ? 

.Sir And. An you love me, let's do't: I am 
dog at a catch. 

< 'lo. By'r lady, sir, and some dogs will catch 
well. 

.Sir And, Most certain: let our catch be. 
Thou kna' e. 

Clo. Hold thy peace, thou knave, knight? 
I shall be coustrain'd in*t to call thee knave, 
knight. 



Sir And. *iu not the first time I have con* 
strain'd one to call me knave. Begin, fool ; it 
begins, Hoid thy peace. 

i'lo. I shall never begin, if 1 hold my peace. 
Sir And. Good, i'faith! Come, begin. 

[They sing a catch. 
Enter Maria. 

Mar. What a catterwauling do you keep 
here! If my lady have not called up her 
steward, Malvolio, and bid him turn you out 
of doors, never trust me. 

Sir To. My lady's a Catalan IT, we are polU 
ticlans; Malvolio'a a Peg-a-Ramsey ♦*, and 
Three merry men we be. Am not I consan- 
guineous? am I not of her blood? Tilly -val- 
ley ft, lady ! There dwelt a man in Babylon, 
lady, lady ! [Singing. 

Clo. Beshrew me, the knight's in admirable 
fooling. 

Sir And. Ay, he does well enough, if he he 
disposed, and so do I too; he does it with a 
better grace, but I do it more natural. 

Sir To. O, the twelfth day of December.-^ 
[Sinking, 

Mar. For the love o' God, peace. 
Enter Malvolio. 

Mai. My masters, arc you mad? or what 
areycu? Have you no wit, manners, nor ho- 
nesty, but to gabble like tinkers at this time 
of night? Do ye make an alehouse of my la- 
dy's house, that ye squeak out your co/iers'^ 
catches without any mitigation or remorse of 
voice? Is there no respect of place, persons, 
nor time in you? 

Sir To. We did keep time, sir, in our 
catches. Sneck up §^! 

Mai. Sir Toby, I must be round wnth you. 
My lady bade me tell you, that, though she 
harbours you as her kinsman, she's nothing 
allied to your disorders. If you can separaie 
yourself and your misdemeanors, you are 
welcome to the house ; if not, an it would please 
you to take leave of her, she is very willing to 
bid you farewell. 

Sir To. Farewell, dear heart, since J must 
needs be gone. 

Mar. Nay, good sir Toby. 

Clo. His eyes do shew his days are almost 
done. 

Mai. Is't even so? 

Sir To. But I will never die. 

Clo. Sir Toby, there yon lie. 

Mai. This is much credit to you. 

Sir To. Shall I bid him go? [Singing. 

Clo. What an if you do? 

Sir To. Shall 1 bid him go, and spare not ? 

Clo. () no, no, no, no, you dare not. 

.Sir To. Out o'time? sir, ye lie. — Art any 
more than a steward? Dost thou think, be- 
cause thou art virtuous, there shall be no more 
cakes and ale? 

C 0. Yes, by Saint Anne ; and ginger shall 
be hot i'the mouth too. 

Sir To. Thou'rt i'the right. — Go, sir, rub 



• Loggerheads be. + Voice. J Mistress. $ I did iinpetticoat thy gratuity, 

n Drink till the sky turns round. U Romancer. •• Name of an old song. 
Tt Ei\\i\\u\cDi to filly, fatly, shilly, slially. ; J Cobblers. $ ^ Haag yourself. 



Scenelll.^ TWELFTHS-NIGHT: OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 



8t 



your chain* with cruras : — A stoop of wine, 
Maria ! 

MuL Mistress Mary, if you prized my lady's 
f«ivonr at any thin^ more than contempt, you 
would not give means for this uncivil rulet; 
she shall know of it, by this hand. [Exit. 

Mar. Go shake your ears. 

Sir And. Twere as good a deed as to drink 
when a man's a hungry, to challenge him to 
the field ; and then to break promise with him, 
and make a fool of him. 

Sir To. Do't, knight; I'll write thee a chal- 
lenge; or I'll deliver thy indignation to him 
by word of mouth. 

Mar. Sweet sir Toby, be patient for to- 
nii^ht ; since the youth of the count's was to- 
(iay with my lady, she is much out ot quiet. 
For monsieur Malvolio, let me alone with 
lim : if I do not gull him into a nay- word j, 
and make him a common recreation, do not 
think I have wii enough to lie straight in my 
l)f d : I know, I can do it. 

Sir To. Possess us §, possess us ; tell us 
something of him. 

Mar. Marry, sir, sometimes he is a kind 
of Puritan. 

Sir A d. O, if I thought that, Pd beat him 
lik^' a dog. 

Sir To. What, for being a Puritan? thy ex- 
quisite reason, dear knight? 

Sir And. I have no exquisite reason for*t, 
but 1 have reason good enough. 

Mar. The devil a Puritan that he is, or 
any thing constantly but a time pleaser; an 
affectioned |1 ass, that cons state without book, 
and utters it by great swarthsU: the best per- 
su ided of himself, so crammed, as he thinks, 
^vith excellencies, that it is his ground of 
faith, that all that lopk on him love him ; and on 
that vice in him will my revenge find notable 
cause to work. 

Sir To. What wilt thou do 1 

Mar. I will drop in his way some obscure 
epistles of love ; wherein, by the colour of 
Ids beard, the shape of his leg, the manner of 
his gait, the expressure of his eye, forehead, 
and complexion, he sliall find himself most 
feelingly personated : I can write very like 
iny lady, your niece; on a forgotten matter 
we can hardly make distinction of our hands. 

Sir To. Excellent! I smell a device. 

Sir And. 1 have't in my nose too. 

Sir To. He shall think, by the letters that 
thou wilt drop, that they come from my niece 
and that she is in love with him. 

Alar. My purpose is, indeed, a horse of 
that colour. 

Sir Ami. And your horse now would make 
him an ass. 

Mar. Ass, I doubt not. 

Sir And. O, 'twill be admirable. 

Alar. Sport royal, 1 warrant you: I know, 
my physick will work with him. I will 
plant you two, and let the fool make a third, 



where he shall find the letter; observe his 
construction of it. For this night, to be<l, 
and dream on the event. Farewell. {LxU. 

Sir To. Good night, Penthesilea **. 

Sir And. Before me, she's a good wench. 

Sir To. She's a beagle, true-bred, and one 
that adores me; What o'that 1 

Sir And. I w.as adored once too. 

Sir To. Let's to bed, knight.— Thou hadst 
need send for more money. 

*y//' And. If I cannot recover your niece, 1 
am a foul way out. 

Sir To. Send for money, knisiht ; if thou 
hast her not i'the end, call me Cntti. 

Sir And. If I do not, never trust me, take 
it how you will. 

Sir To. Come, come ; I'll go burn some 
sack, 'tis too late to go to bed now : come, 
knight; come, knight. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. il Ro( n in the Duke's Palace, 
Enter Duke, Viola, Curio, awrfo/Aer^. 

Duke. Give me some musick : — Now, good 
morrow, friends : — 
Now, good Cesario, but that piece of song. 
That old and antique song we heard last night ; 
Methought, it did relieve my passion mu-h ; 
More than light airs and recollected terms. 
Of these most brisk and giddy-paced times ; — 
Come, but one verse. 

Cur. He is not here, so please your lord- 
ship, that should sing it. 

JJuke. Who was it 1 

Cur. Feste, the jester, my lord : a fool, that 
the lady 01i^fla*s father took much delight in : 
he is about the house. 

JJuke. Seek him out, and play the tune the 
while. [Exit Curio. — Musick. 

Come hither, boy ; If ever thou shalt love. 
In the sweet pangs ot it, remember me: 
For, such as ] am, all true lovers are; 
Unstaid and skittish in all motions else. 
Save, in the constant image of the creature 
That is belov'd.— How dost thou like this tune 1 

Vio. It gives a very echo to the seat 
Where Love is thron'd. 

JJuke, Thou dost speak masterly : [eye 
My lite upon't, young though thou art, thine 
Hath stay'd upon some favour X[ ^^'^^ it loves ; 
Hath it not, boy? 

Vio. A little, by your favour. 

JJuke. What kind of woman is't? 

Vio. Of your complexion. 

Dw/Je.Sheisnot worth thee then. What years, 

Vio. About your years my lord. [i'faith ? 

Duke. Too old, by heaven; Let still the 
woman take 
An elder than herself ; so wears she to him. 
So sways she level in her husband's heart. 
For, boy, however we do praise ourselves. 
Our fancies are more giddy and unfirm. 
More longins:, wavering,sooner lost and worn, 
I Than women's are. 



* Stewards anciently wore a chain. t Method of life. t Bye-word. $ Inform ns. 

jjAiicctcd. % The row of grass lett by a mower. •• Amazon. It Horse. 

t\ Countenance. 



8-3 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[^c.'/A 



fio, I think it well, my lord. 

Duke. Then let thy love be younger than 
Or thy affection cannot hold the bent: [thyself, 
Por women areas roses; whose fair flower, 
Beiiii; once display'd, doth fall that very hour. 

f io. And so they are: alas, that they are so ; 
To die, even when they to perfection grow I 
Re-ejiter Curio, and Clown. 

Duke. O fellow, come, the song we had last 
Alark it,Ce8ario ; it is old, and plain . [night : — 
■J he spinsters and the knitters in the sun. 
And the free maids, that weave their thread 

with bones*, 
Do use to chaunt it; it is silly sooth t. 
And dallies with the innocence of love. 
Like the old age J. 

CLo. Are 3'ou ready, sir? 

Du>ie, Ay : pr'ythee, sing. \Musick. 

SONG. 
Clo. Come away, come uiony, death, 

And in sad cypress Itt 7)ie be laid ; 
Fly aivay,Jiy away, breath ; 
I am slain hy a fair cruel maid. 
My shroud of white, stuck all with yetv, 

O, prepare it ; 
My part of aeath 110 one so true 
Did share it. 

I\ot a ftotver, not a flower sweet. 
On my black cojin let there be strotvn ; 

Not a friend, not a frierid gnet 
M:i poor corpse, uhere my bones shall be 
A thousand t housand. sighs to saie,{throtvn: 

Lay me, (), where 
Sad true lover m*er1iiid my grave 
To weep there. 

Duke. There's for thy pains, [singing, sir. 

Clo. No p.iins, sir; 1 take pleasure in 

Duke. I'll pay thy pleasure then. 

Clo. 1 ruly, sir, and pleasure will be paid, 
one time or another. 

Duke. Give me now leave to leave thee. 

Clo. Now, tlie melancholy god protect 
tliee ; and the tailor make thy doublet of 
changeable taffata, for thy mind is a very opal^ 
— I would have men of such constancy put 
to sea, that their business might be every 
thing, and their intent every where ; for that's 
it, that always makes a good voyage of 
nothing.— Farewell. [Exit Clown. 

Duke. Let all the rest give place 

{Ejieunt Curio and Attendants. 
Once more, Cesario, 
Get thee to yon* fame sovereign cruelty : 
'iell her, my love, more noble than the world, 
Prizes not quantity of dirty lands ; 
'1 he parts that fortune hath beitow'd upon her, 
I'ell her, I hold as giddily as fortune; 
but 'li? that miracle, and queen of gems. 
That nature pranks i. her in, attracts my soul. 

/ io. But, if she cannot love you, sir f 

Duke. 1 c-annot be so answer'd. 

Vio. 'Sooth, but you must. 

Say, that some lady, as, perhaps, there is, 
Hatli for your love as great a paog of heart 
As you have for Olivia : you cannot love her ; 



You tell her so ; Mustshe not then be ans werM ? 

Duke. There is no woman's sides, 
Can bide the beating of so strong a passion 
As love doth give my heart : no woman's heart 
So big, to hold so luuch ; they lack retention. 
Alas, their love may be call'd appetite, — 
No motion of the liver, but the palate, — 
That suffer surfeit, cloyment, and revolt ; 
But mine is all as hungry as the sea. 
And can digest as much : make no compare 
Between that love a woman can bear me. 
And that I owe Olivia. 

Vio. Ay, but I know, — 

Duke. What dost thou know ? [may owe : 

Vio. Too well wliat love women to men 
In faith, they are as true of heart as we. 
My father had a daughter lov'd a man. 
As it might be, perhaps, were I a woman, 
I should your lordship. 

Duke. And what's her history ? 

Vio. A blank, my lord : She never told her 
love. 
But let concealment, like a worm i'the bud. 
Feed on her damask cheek : she pin'd iu 

thought ; 
And, with a green and yellow melancholy. 
She sat like patience on a monument. 
Smiling at grief. Was not this love, indeed ? 
We men may say more, swear more : but, 
indeed i [prove 

Our shows are more than w\\Y\ for still we 
Much in our vows, but little in auf love. 

Duke, hutdied thy sister ol her love, myboy ? 

Vio. I am all the daughters of my laihei's 
house, [not: — 

And all the brothers too ; — and yet .1 know 
bir, shall 1 to this lady? 

Duki. Ay, that's the theme. 

To her in haste ; give her this jewel ; s>ay. 
My love can give no plate, bide no dcnay ^. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE V. Olivia's Gtfracw. 

Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew 

Agu£-cheek, and Fabian. 

Sir To. Come thy ways, signior Fabian. 

Fab. Nay, I'll come ; if 1 lose a scruple of 

this sport, let me be boiled to deaih with 

I melancholy. 

Sir 'To. Would'st thou not be glad to have 
the niggardly rascally sheep-biter come by 
' some notable shame ? 

j Fab. 1 would exult, man : yon know, he 
brought me out of favour with my lady, about 
a bear-baiting hcie. 

Sir To. io anger him, we'll have the be<ir 
again ; and we will fool him black and blue: — 
Shall we not, sir Andrew ? 
Sir And. An we do not, it is pity of our lives. 

Enttr AiARiA. 
Sir To, Here comes the little villain : — 
How now, my nettle of India? 

Mar. Get ye all three into the box-tree: 
Malvolio's coining down this walk; he has 
been yonder i'the sun, practising behaviuui 



• Lace makers. 



t Simple truth. 

;iM rnlonr*. 



X Times of simplicity, 
n Decks. ^ Denial. 



$ A precious stone of 



Scene l\\ TWELFTH-NIGHT: OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 



8.S 



to his own shadow, this half hour : observe 
him, for the love of mockery ; for, I know, 
tl'is letter will make a contemplative idiot of 
him. Close, in the name of jesting ! [T/if 
men hide themselves.] Lie thou there ; 
{fhrotvs doivn a letter.] for here conies the 
trout that must be caught wiih tickling. 

[Exit Maria. 
Enter Malvolio. 
iSlal. 'Tisbut fortune ; all is fortune. Maria 
once told me, she did affect me : and J have 
htard herself come thus near, that, should 
she fancy*, it should be one of my com- 
plexion. Besides, she uses me with a more 
exalted respect, than any one else that fol 
lov»s her. What should I think on*t? 
iSir To. Hert.*s an ove-r- weening rogue! 
Fab. O, peace! Contemplation makes a 
rare turkey-cock of him ; how he jetst under 
his advanced plumes! 
iS'T And. 'Slight, I could so beat the rogue: — 
Sir To. Peac«*, I say. 
JMal. To be count IVIalvolio ; — 
Sir To. Ah, rogue! 
Sir And. Pistol him, pistol him. 
Sir To. Peace, peace ! 
Mai. There is example for't ; the lady of the 
strachy married the yeoman of the wardrobe. 
Sir And. Fie on him, Jezebel ! 
Fah. O, peace! now he's deeply in ; look, 
how imasiination blows X him. 

J\1aL Having been three months married 
to her, sitting in my stated, — 

Sir To. O, tor a stone-bow, to hit him in 
the eye ! 

Mai. Calling my officers about mc, in my 
branched velvet gown ; having come from a 
day bed II, where 1 left Olivia sleeping : 
Sir To. Fire and brimstone! 
Fah. O, peace, peace! 
Mai. And then to have thehumotir of state : 
and atter a demure travel of regard, —telling 
them, i know my place, as I would they should 
do theirs, — to ask for my kinsman Toby : 
Sir To. Bolts and shackles ! 
Fab. O, peace, peace, peace! now, now. 
Mai. Seven of my people, with an obedient 
start, make out for him : 1 frown ihe while; 
and, perchance, wind up my watch, or play 
with some rich jewel. Toby approaches ; 
couri'sies there to me : 
Sir To. Shnll this fellow live? 
Fab. Though our silence be drawn from 
us wiih cars, yet peace. 

Mat. I extend my hand to him thus, 
quenching my familiar smile with an ausVere 
regard of control ; 

Sir To And does not Toby take you a blow 
o'the lips then? 

Mai. Saying, Cousin Toby, my fortunes 
hai'tng cast me on your niece, git e me this 
prerogative of syecch : — 
Sir To. What, what? 
Mtil. Y'ou must amend your drunkenness* 
Sir To. Out, scab I 



Fab. Nay, patience.cr we break the sinewf 
of our plot. 

MaL Besides, you waste the treasure 
your time uith a foidlsh knight ; 
Sir And. That's me, I warrant you. 
Mul. One Sir Andrew: 
Sir And. I knew, 'twas I; for many 
call me tool. 

Mul. What employment have we here ? 

[Tuk'tfg wp the Utter, 
Fab. Now is the woodcock near the gin. 
Sir To. O, p*;ice! and the spirit of h»- 
mours intimate reading aloud to him ! 

Mai. By my life, this is my lady's hnnd: 
these be her very 6"s, her t/'s, and her Y""**; 
and thus makes she her great P*s. It is, in 
cuntempt of question, her hand. 

Sir yiiid. Her 6% her 6's, and her T'ti 
Why that? 

Mai. [read^] To the unknown beloved, 
this, and my good wishes : her very phrases { 
— By your leave, wax.— Soft i—and tiie ini- 
pressure her Lucrece, with which she uses to 
seal : 'tis my lany : To whom should this be ? 
Fab. This wins him, liver and all. 
Mai. {read'i] Jove knows, I love : 
But who? 
Lip A do not move, 
]\'o man must know. 
No man must knoiv. — What follows ? the 
numbers altered ! — No man must know : — If 
this should be thee, Malvolio? 

Sr To. Marry, hang thee, brock IT! 
Mai. I may command, nhere I adore: 

But sile7ice, like a Lucrece knife, 
W/th bloodless stroke my heart doth gore; 

M, O, A, I, dotfi sway my life. 
Fab. A fustian riddle i 
Sir To. Excellent wench, say I. 
Mai. M, O, A, I, doth sway my life. — Nay, 
but first, let me see,— let me see, — let me see. 
Fab. What a dish of poison has she dressed 
him ! 

Sir To And with what wing the stannyel** 
checks tt at it! 

Mai. J may command where I adore. 
Why, she may command me; I serve her, 
she is my lady. Why, this is evident to any 
formal capacity. There is no obstruction in 
this ; — And the end,— What should that alpha- 
betical position portend? if I could make 
that resemble something in me, — Softly! — 
M,0,A,1.— 

Sir To. O, ay! make up that:— he is now 
at a cold scent. 

Fab, Sowter j; wi^l cry upon't, for all this, 
though it be as rank as a fox. 

Mai. M, — Malvolio ; — AT, — why, that be- 
gins my name. 

Fa/>. l:id not I say, he would work it out? 
the cur is excellent at faults. 

Al'fl, M, — But then there is no consonancy 
in the sequel ; that suffers under probation : 
A should follow, but (J does. 
Fab. And O shall end, I hope. 



• Li.ve. 



♦ Struts. * Pntfs him up. $ State-clsair. || Couch. H 
*» M;^wV. ++ Flys at it. It Nauie of a huuud. 



Badge/ 



84 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act II L 



Sir To. Ay, or I'll cudgel him, aud make 
him cry, O. 

Mul, And then / comes behind ; 

Fub. Ay, an you had any eye behind yon, 
yon might see mi/re detraction at your heels, 
than tortiines before yon. 

Mai. M, O, A, 7,— This simulation is not 
as the former : — and yet, to crush this a little, 
it would bow to me, for every one of these 
I'tters are in my name. Soft; here follows 
prose. — If thhfull into thy hand, revolve. 
tn my stars 1 am above thee ; but be not 
(ifruid of greatness : Some are born great, 
some achieve greatness, and some have 
greatness thrust nyofi them. Thy fates 
o»en their hands ; let thy blood and spirit 
embrace them. And, to imire thyself to 
ivhat thou art like to be, cast thy humble 
slough*, and appear fresh. Be opposite 
tilth a kins/nan, surly with servants : let 
tiiy tongue tang arguments of state ; put 
t'^iy self into the trick of singularity : She 
thus advises thee, that sighs for thee. Re- 
member who commended thy yellow stock- 
ings ; and wished to see thee ever cross-gar- 
tered : 1 say, remember. Go to ; thou art 
made, if thou desirest to be so ; if not, let 
me see thee a steward still, the fellow of 
servants, and not worthy to touch for- 
tune's fingers. Farewell. She that tvo aid 
alter services with thee. 

The fortunate-unhappy. 
Day-light and champian t discovers not more : 
tliis is open. I will be proud, 1 will rend 
I'olitick authors, I will baltie Sir Toby, I will 
Masli off gross acquaintance, I will be point- 
«le-vicej, the very man. 1 do not now fool 
myself, to let imagination jade me ; for every 
reason excites to this, that my lady loves 
Die. She did commend my yellow stockings 
of late, she did praise my leg being cross- 
trarteied ; and in this she manifests heiself to 
iiiy love, and, with akind of injunction, drives 
me to these habits of her liking. I thank my 



stars, 1 am happy. I will be strange, stout, 
in yellow stockings, and cross gartered, even 
with the swiftness of putting on. Jove, and 
my stars be praised .' — Here is yet a post- 
script. Thou canst not choose but know 
who I am. Jf thou entertainest my lore, 
let it appear in thy smiling ; thy smiles 
become thee ivell : therefore in my presence 
still smile, dtar my sweet, I pr'ythe^, 
Jove, I thank thee. — I will smile ; 1 will do 
every thing that thou wilt have me. [Exit. 

Fab. I will not yive my part of this sport 
for a pension of thousands to be paid from 
th*' Sophy. 

Sir To. I could marry this wench for this 
device : 

Sir And. So could I too. 

Sir To. And ask no other dowry with her 
but such another jest. 

Ent^r Maria. 

Sir And. Nor I neither. 

Fab. Here comes my noble gull-catcher. 

Sir To. W ill thou set thy foot o'my ueckl 

Sir And. Or o' mine either? 

Sir To. Shall 1 play my freedom at tray 
trip§, and become thy bond-slave ? 

Sir And. Pfaith,or I either. 

Sir To. Why, thou hast put him in such f 
dream, that, when the image of it leaves hin\. 
he must run mad. 

Af«r.Nay,butsay true; does it work upon hiral 
Sir To. Like aqua-vitae with a midwife. 
Mar. W yon will then see the fruits of the sport, 
mark his first approach before my lady : he 
will come to her in yellow stockings, a .d 
'tis a colour she abhors ; and cross-gartertd,a 
fabhion she detests ; and he will smile upon 
her, which will now be so unsuitable to her 
tiisposition, being addicted to a melancholy as 
ihc is, that it cannot but turn him into a not- 
able contempt : if you will see it, follow mc. 

Sir To. To the gates of Tartar, thou most 
excellent devil of wit! 

Sir And. I'll make one too. Exeunt 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. Olivia** Garden, 

Enter Viola, and Clown with a Tabor. 

Vio. Save thee, friend, and thy musick : 
Dost thou live by thy tabor { 

Clo. No, sir, 1 live by the church. 

Vio. Art thou a churchman? 

Cio. No such matter, sir; I do live by the 
church : for I do live at my house, and my 
house dt*th stand by the church. 

Vio. So thou may 'at say, the king liesH by 
a heiigar, if a beggar d veil near him: or, the 
ciiurch »tands by thy tabor, if thy tabor stand 
bN I he church. 

Clo. 'i ou have said, sir. — To see this age! — 
A sentence is but a cheveril^ glove to a good 



• Skin of a snake. 



^ Opfn country. 
three and trip. 



wit ; How quickly the wrong side may oe 
turned outward ! 

Vio. ^ay, that's certain; they, that dally 
nicely with words, may quickly make them 
wanton. 

Clo. I would therefore, my sister had had 
no name, sir. 

Vio. Why, man? 

Clo. Why, sir, her name's a word ; and to 
dally with that word, might make my sister 
wanton : But, indeed, words are very rascals, 
since bonds disgraced them. 

Vio. 'I'liy reason, man? 

Cio. Troth, sir, 1 can yield you none witlioui 
words; and words are grown so false, 1 am 
loath to prove reason wilhtheui. 



\ Utmost exacttiei'5. 
D Dwells. % Kid. 



$ A Y-oy*i divejMOD 



Scrrir /.] 



twelfth-night; or, what you wiix. 



s.> 



Vio. I warrant, thou art a merry teiiow, 
and carest for nothins;. 

Clo. Not so, sir, 1 do care for something : 
but in my conscience, sir, 1 do not care for you ; 
if that be to care tor nothing, sir, I would it 
would make you invisible. ^ . , . ^ , ^ 
Vio. Art not thou the lady Olivia's fool ? 
Clo. No, indeed, sir ; the lady Olivia has 
no folly: she will keep no fool, sir, till she 
be married ; and fools are as like husbands, 
as pilchards are to herrings, the husband's 
the bigger ; I am, indeed, not her fool, but 
htr corrupter of words. _ 

Fio. I saw thee late at the count Orsino s. 
Clo. Foolery, sir, does walk about the orb, 
Hke the sun; it shines every where. I would 
be sorry, sir, but the fool should be as oft 
with your master, as with my mistress: I 
think, I saw your wisdom there. 

Fio. Nay, an thou pas? upon me, I'll no more 
with thee. Hold, there's expences for thee. 

Clo. Now Jove, in his next commodity of 
hair, send thee a beard ! 

no. By my troth, I'll tell thee; I am 

almost sick for one ; though 1 would not have 

it grow on my chin. Is thy lady within ? 

Vio. Would not a pair of these have bred, sir? 

Vio. Yes, being kept together, and put to use. 

C^o. I would play lord Pandarus* ofPhrygia, 

sir, to bring a Cressida to this Troilus. 

Vio, I understand you,sir ; 'tis well beggM. 
Clo. The matter, 1 hope, is not great, sir, 
beo-aing but a beggar; Cressida was a beggar. 
My' lady is w ithin, sir. I will construe to 
them whence you come ; who you are, and 
what you would, are o\it of my welkin: 1 
might say, element ; but the word is over- 
worn. [Exit. 
Vio. This fellow's wise enough to play the 
And, to do that woil. craves a kind ol wit: [fool ; 
Hemustobservetheirmoodon whom he jests. 
The quality of persons, and the time ; 
And, like the haggard t, check at every feather 
That comes before his eye. This is a practice, 
As full of :abor.r as a wise man's art : 
For folly, that he wisely shows, is fit ; 
But wise men, tolly fallen, quite tainttheir wit. 
J'Jiiter Sir Toby Belch and -Sir Andrew 
Ague-chlek. 
Sir To. Save you, gentleman. 
Fio. And you, sir. 

Sir And. T)ieu lous garde, monsieur. 
Vio. Et rot'S aussi ; rofre servitenr. 
.yiryl//^.Ihope,siv,youare;andIamyours. 
Sir To. Will you encounter the house? my 
niece is desirous you should enter, if your 
trade be to her. 

Vio. I am bound to your niece, sir: I mean, 
she is the listt of my voyage. 
Sir 7'o.Taste your legs,slr,put them to motion. 
Vio. My legs do belter understand me, sir, 
than I understand what you mean by bidding 
me taste my legs. 
Sir To. I mean, to go, sir, to enter. 



Vio. I will answer you with g.iit and en- 
trance : But we are prevented. 

Enter Olivia and Maria. 
Most excellent accomplished lady, the heavens 
rain odours on you ! 

Sir And. That youth's a rare courtier 
Rain odours! well. 

Vio. My matter hath no voice, lady, but to 
your own most pregnant) and vouchsafed ear. 
Sir And. Odours, pregnant, and vouch 
safed : — I'll get 'em all three ready. 

Oil. Let the garden door be shirt, and leave 
me to my hearing. 
[Exeunt Sir ToBY,A'irANDREW,4; Maria. 
Give me your hand, sir. 

Vio. My duty, madam, and most humble 
Oli. What is your name ? [service. 

Vio. Cesario is your servant's name, fair 
princess. [worhl, 

Oil. My servant, sir! 'Twas never merry 
Since lowly feigning was call'd compliment : 
You are servant to the count Orsino, youth. 
Vio. And he is yours, and his must needs 
be yours ; 
Your servant's servant is your servant, madam. 
Oli. For him, I think not oii him : for his 
thoughts, [with me ! 

'Would they were blanks, rather than fili'd 
V/o. Madam, I come to whet your gen-ti(? 
On his behalf :— [ihought* 

Oli. O, by your leave, I pray you; 

I bade you never speak again of him : 
But, would you undertake another suit, 
I had rather hear you to solicit that. 
Than musick from the spheres. 

Vio. l^ear lady, — 

OH. Give me leave, I beseech you : I di 
After the last enchantment you did here, [sena 
A ring in chase of you ; so did I abuse 
Myself, my servant, and, 1 fear me, you : 
Under your hard construction must 1 sit, 
To force that on you, in a shameful cunning. 
Which you knew none of yours : What mitjht 

you think? 
Have you not set mine honour at the stake, 
And baited it with all the unmuzzled thoijght* 
I hat tyrannous heart can think? To one of 

your receiving || 
Enough is shown; a cyprus, not a bosom. 
Hides my poor heart : So let me hear you 
Vio. I pity you. [speak. 

Oli. Thai's a degree to love. 
Vio. No, not a grise U ; for 'lis a vulgar proof, 
That very oft we pity enemies. [again : 

OH. Why, then, methinks, 'tis time to smile 
O world, how apt the poor are to be proud ! 
If one should be a prey, how much the better 
To fall before the lion, than the wolt? 

[Clock .strikes. 
The clock upbraids me with the waste of time - 
Be not afraid, good youih, I will not have you : 
And y et,when wit and youth is come to harvest, 
Your wife is like to reap a proper man : 
There lies your way, due west. 



See the play of Troilus and Cressida. t A hawk not well trained. t Bound, limit- 
) Ready. || Ready apprehension. % btep. 



95 



S<HAKSPi:ARE. 



[Act III 



Vio, Then westward-hoe : 

G»''»ce, ami good disposition 'tend yonr lady- 
y ou'll nothing,madam,to my lord by me I [sliip! 

OIL Stay : 
I pr'ythee, tell me, what thoo think'st of me. 

V/o. That yon do think,you are not what you 

Oli. If I think so, I think the same of you. [are. 

Vio. Then think you right; I am not what 
I am. [you be ! 

OH. I would, you were as I would have 

Vio. Would it be better, madam, than lam. 
I wish it might ; for now I am your fool. 

OIL O, what a deal of scorn looks beautiful 
In the contempt and anger of his lip ! 
A murd'rons guilt shows not itself more soon 
Than love that would seem hid : love*s night 
Cesario, by the roses of the spring, [is noon. 
By maidhood, honour, truth, and every thing, 
I Jove ihee so, that, maugre* all thy pride. 
Nor wit, nor reason, can my passion hide. 
Do not extort thy reasons from this clause, 
For, that I woo, thou therefore hast no cause: 
But, rather, reason thus with reason fetter : [ter. 
Love sought is good, but given unsought, is bet- 

Vio. By innocence I swear, and by my youth, 
I have one heart, one bosom, and one truth, 
And that no woman has ; nor never none 
{Shall mistress be of it, save I alone. 
And so adieu, good madam ; never more 
Will I my master's tears to you deplore. 

OtL Yet come again : for thou, perhaps, 
may'st move 
That heart, which now abhors, to like his love. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE II. A Room in Olivia's House. 

Enter Sir Toby Belch, Sir Andrew 
Ague-chkek, and Fabian. 

SirArt'^ No, faith, I'll not stay a jot longer. 

Sir To. Thy reason, dear venom, give thy 
reason. 

Fah. You must needs yield your reason, sir 
Andrew. 

Sir And. Marry, I saw your niece do more 
favours to the count's serving man, than ever 
she bestowed upon me; I saw't i'lhe orchard. 

Sir To. Did she see thee the while, old 
boy? tell me that. 

Sir Ahd. As plain as I see you now. 

F\ib. This was a great arrjument of love in 
her toward you. 

Sir And. 'Slight! will you make an ass o* me? 

Ftih. 1 will prove it legitimate, sir, upon 
the oaths of judgment and reason. 

Sir To. And ihey have been grand jury- 
men, since before Noah was a sailor. 

Eab. She did show favour to the youth in 
your sight, only to exa?pt'r:«te you, to awake 
your dormouse valour, to put (ire in your heart, 
and brimstone in your liver: You should then 
have accosted her; and with some excellent 
jests, fire-new from the mint, you shouUI have 
banged the youth into dumbness. This was 
looked for at your hand, an<l this was baulked : 
(he d«>uble gilt of this opportunity you let 



time wash off, and you are now sailed into tli!-. 
north of my lady's opinion; where you will 
hang like an icicle on a Dutchman's bfeaid, 
unless you do redeem it by some laudable at- 
tempt, either of valour, or policy. 

Sir And. And't be any way, it must be with i 
valour ; for policy I hate : 1 had as lief be a \ 
Brownistt, as a politician. 

Sir To. Why then, build me thy fortunes 
upon the basis of valour. Challenge me the 
count's youth to fight with him ; hurt him in 
eleven places ; my niece shall take note of it : 
and assure thyself, there is no love-broker iu ^ 
the world can more prevail in man's com- 
mendation with woman, than report of valonr. 

Fab. There is no way but this, sir Andrew. 

Sir And. Will either of you bear me a 
challenge to him? 

Sir To. Go, write it in a martial band ; be 
curstj and brief; it is no matter how witty, 
so it be eloquent, and full of invention : taunt 
him with the licence of ink: if thou thou*st. 
him some thrice, it shall not be amiss; and as 
many lies as will lie in thy sheet of paper, al- 
though the sheet were big enough for the beil 
of Ware ^ in England, set 'em down ; go, about 
it. Let there be gall enough in thy ink ; though 
thou write with a goose-pen,no matter: About it. 

Sir And. Where shall I lind you? 

Sir To. We'll call thee at the cubiculo\\: 
Go. [ Exit Sir An d r k w. 

Fab. This is a dear manakin to you, sir Toby. 

Sir To. I have been dear to him, lad; some 
two thousand strong, or so. 

Fab. We shall have a rare letter from hii:i: 
but you'll not deliver it. 

Sir To. Never trust me then ; and by tij 
means stir on the youth to an answer. I think, 
oxen and wainropes^ cannot hale them to'jr- 
ther. For Andrew, if he were opened, and joii 
find so much blood in his liver as will clo^ 1 1 e 
foot of a flea, I'll eat the rest of the anatomy . 

Fab. And his opposite, the youth, bears in 
his visage no great presage of cruelty. 
Enter Maria. 

Sir To. Look, where the youngest wren «.f 
nine comes. 

Mar. If you desire the spleen, and will laugh 
yourselves into siitdies, follow me: yon' gnil j 
Malvolio is turned heathen, a very renegad«> ; y 
for there is no Christian, that means to be save! 
by believing rightly, can ever believe sn li 
impossible passages of grossness. He's in j ol- ^ 
low stockintis. 

Sir To. And cross-gartered? 

Mar. Most villanonsly ; like a pedant that 
keeps a school i'lhe church. — I have dogged 
him, like his murderer: He does obey every 
point of the letter that I dropped to betray hint. 
He does smile his face into more lines, th ni 
are in the new map, \\'n\\ the augmentation o( 
the Indies: you have not seen s\idi a thing as 
'tis; I can hardly forbear hurling things at hiii). ^ 
I know, my lafly will strike him; if she dt>, 
he'll smile, and taUe'l for a great favour. 



ipitc of. t Separatists in Queen Elizabeth's reign, 
•hire, which held forty persons. U Chamber. 



t Crabbed. ilnU, 
% Wafon roj'es.. 



lUad- 



twelfth-night; or, wi 



YOU \VriLL, 



87 



Sir To. Come, bring us, bring us where he 
is. [Exeunt, 

SCENE III.— 4 Street, 
Enter Antonio a?id Sebastian. 

Seb. I would not, by my will, have troubled 
you ; [pains, 

But, since you make your pleasure of your 
I will no further chide yon. 

Ant. I could not stay behind you; my desire, 
More sharp than filed steel, did spur me forth ; 
And not all love to see you, (though so much, 
As might have drawn one to a longer voyage,) 
But jealousy what might befall your travel. 
Being skilless in these parts ; which to a 

stranger, 
Unguided, and unfriended, often prove 
Rough and unhospitable : My willing love. 
The rather by these arguments of fear, 
Set forth in your pursuit.. 

Seh. My kind Antonio, 

I can no other answer make, but, thanks, 
And thanks, and ever thanks : Often good turns 
Are shutlled off with such uncurrent pay : 
But, were my worth*, as is my conscience,firm, 
You should lind better dealing. What's to do? 
Shall we go see tlie reliques of this town? 

Ant, To morrow, sir; best, first, go see your 
Iodising. 

Seb. I am not weary, and 'tis long to night ; 
I pray yon, let us satisfy our eyes 
W ith the memorials, and the things of fame. 
That do renown this city. 

Ant. 'Would, you'd pardon me; 

I do not without danger walk these streets : 
Once in a sea-fight, 'gainst the Count his galleys, 
I did some service ; of such note indeed. 
That, weie I ta'en here, it would scarce be 
answered. [people. 

Seb. Belike, you slew great number of his 

Ant. The offence is not of such a bloody 
nature ; 
Albeit the quality of the time, and quarrel. 
Might well have given us bloody argument. 
It might have since been answerM in repaying 
What we took from them ; which, for traffick*s 

sake, 
Most of our city did : only myself stood out: 
For which, if 1 be lapsed t in ihis place, 
1 shall pay dear. 

Seh. Do not then walk too open. 

A7it. It doth not fit me. Hold,sir,here*s my 
In the south suburbs, at the Elephant, [purse; 
Is best to lodge : I will bespeak our diet, 
Whilfs you beguile the time, and feed your 
knowledge, [have me. 

With viewing of the town ; there shall you 

Seij. Why I your purse? [toy 

Ant. Haply, your eye shall light upon some 
^ on have desire to purchase ; and your store, 
1 think, is not for idle markets, sir. [you for 

Sel). I'll be your purse-bearer, and leave 
An hour. 

Ant. To the Elephant.— 

*i^b. I do remember. 

[L'xcunt. 



SCENE IV. Olivia's Garden. 
Enter Olivia and Maria. 

OH. I have sent after him : He says, he'll 
come ; 
How shall I feast him 1 what bestow on him ? 
For youth is bought more oft, than begg'd, 

I speak too loud. [or borrow'd. 

Where is Malvolio? — he is sad, and civil j, 
And suits well for a servant with my for- 
Where is Malvolio? [tunes; — 

Mar. He's coming, madam ; 

But in strange manner. He is sure possess'd. 

OLi. Why, what's the matter? does he rave? 

Mar. No, madam, 

He does nothing but smile: your ladyship 
Were best have guard about you, if he come; 
For, sure, the man is tainted in his wits. 

iJli. Go call him Hither. —I'm as mad as he. 
If sad and merry madness equal be.^- 

Enter Malvolio. 
How now, Malvolio? 

Mai. Sweet lady, ho, ho. [Smiles f ant as- 

Oil. Smil'stihou? \ticaUy, 

I sent for thee upon a sad§ occasion. 

Mai. Sad, lady ? I could be sad : This does 
make some obstruction in the blood, this cross- 
gartering ; But what of that, if it please liie 
eye of one, it is with me as the very true son 
nut is: Please one, and 'please all. 

OIL Why, how dost thou, man ? whajt is the 
matter with thee? 

Mai. Not black in my mind, though yellow 
in my legs : it did come to his hands, and co\\\- 
mands shall be executed. I think, we do know 
the sweet Roman hand. 

Oli. Wilt thou go to bed, Malvolio? 

Mai. To bed? ay, sweet-heart ; and I'll come 
to thee. 

OH. God comforfthee! Why dost thou smile 
so, and kiss thy hand so oft ? 

Mar. How do you, Malvolio? 

Mai. At your request? Yes; Nightingales 
answer daws. 

Mar. Why appear you with this ridiculous 
boldness before my lady? 

Mai. Be not afraid of greatness: — 'Twas 
well writ. 

Oli. What meanest thou by that, Malvolio? 

Mai. Some ai'e born great. — 

OH. Ha? 

Mai. Smne achieve greatness, — 

Oli. What say'st thou? 

'M.Al.Andsome have greatness thrustnpon 
them. 

Oli. Heaven restore thee! 

Mai. Remember, tvho commended thy y el- 
lotv stockings ; — 

Oli. Thy yellow stockings? 

Mai. Arid ivishedtoseethtecross-gartcrcd. 

Oli. Cross-gartered? 

Mai. Go to : thou art made, if thou de- 
sirest to be so ; — 

Oil. Am I made ? 

Mai. If not, let me see thee a servanf s'ill, 

0^i.\Vhy,thisis very midsummer mad lK■^^'g, 



•Wealth. + Caught. * Grave and demure. $ Crave. 



I Hot weather madnetis. 
12 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Act in. 



JEntir Servaai. 

Ser. Madam, the young gentleman of the 
count Orsino's is returned ; I could hardly en- 
treat him back : he attends your ladyship's 
pleasure. 

Oil, I'll cometohim. [^a:/# Servant.] Good 
Maria, let this fellow be looked to. Where's 
my cousin Toby ? Let some of my people have 
a special care of him ; I would not have him 
miscarry for the half of my dowry. 

[Exeunt Olivia dtid Maria. 

Mai. Oh, ho! do yon come near me now? 
no worse man than sir Toby to look to me ? 
This concurs directly with the letter : she sends 
him on purpose, that I may appear stubborn 
to him ; for she incites me to that in the letter. 
Cft.<>t thy humble slough, says she; be oppo- 
site with a kl/ismun, surly with servants, — 
let thy tongue tang with arguments of state, 
— put thyself into the trick of singularity ; 

and, consequently, sets down the manner 

how; as, a sa<l face, a reverend carriage, a slow 
tongue, in the habit of some sir of note, and 
80 forth. I have limed her*; but it is Jove's 
doing, and Jove make me thankful! And, 
when she went away now, Let this/eUojv he 
looked to: Fellow |! not Malvolio, nor after 
my degree, but fellow. Why, every thing ad- 
heres together ; that no dram of a scruple, no 
scruple of a scruple, no obstacle, no incredu- 
lous or unsafe circumstance, — What can be 
said ? Nothing, that can be, can come between 
me and the full prospect of my hopes. Well, 
Jove, not I, is the doer of this, and he is to 
be thanked. 

Reenter Maria, w'/th Sir Toby Belch, 
a?id Fabian. 

•S'r To. Which way i? he, in the name of 
sanctity? If all the devils in hell be drawn in 
tiitle. and Legion himself possessed him, yet 
I'll speak to him. 

^ai). Here he is, here he is : — How is't with 
you, s r? how is't with you, man? 

Mai. Oo off; I discard you; let me enjoy 
my private; go off. 

Mar. Lo, how hollow the fiend spenks 
within him ! did not I tvM you ?— Sir Toby , my 
lady prays you to have a care of him. 

MuL Ah, ha! does she so? 

S>r To. Go to, go to ; peace, peace, we 
must deal gently with him ; let me alone. 
Hovv do you, Malvolio? how is't with you? 
What, man! defy the devil: consider, he's 
an enemy to mankind. 

MaL Do you know what you say? 

Mar. La you, an you speak ill of the devil, 
liow he takes it at heart ! Pray God, he be 
not bewitched ! 

J^^ab. C^arry his water to the wise woman. 

JHur. Marry, and it shall be done to-mor- 
row morning, if I live. My lady would not 
lose him for more than I'll say. 

Mai. Hovv now, mistress? 

Mar. O Irrd ! 

Sir To. Pr'y thee, hold thy peace: this is 



not the way : Do you not see, yon move him ? 
let me alone with him. 

Fab. No way but gentleness ; gently, gently : 
the fiend is rough,and will not be roughly used. 

Sir To. Why, how now, my bawcock j? 
how dost thou, chuck ? 

Mai. Sir? 

Sir To. Ay, Biddy, come with me. What, 
man ! 'tis not for gravity to play at cherry pit ^ 
with Satan : Hang him, foul collier |i! 

Mar. Get him to say his prayers ; good sir 
Toby, get him to pray. 

Mai. My prayers, minx? 

Mar. No, I warrant you, he will not hear 
of godliness. 

Mai. Go, hang yourselves all ! you are idle 
shallow things: lam not of your element; 
you shall know more hereafter. [£jit. 

Sir To. Is't possible? 

Fab. If this were played npon a stage now, 
I could condemn it as an improbable fiction. 

Sir To. His very genius hath taken the 
infection of the device, man. 

Mar. Nay, pursue him now ; lest the device 
take air, and taint. 

Fab. Why, we shall make him mad, indeed. 

iMar. The house will be the quieter. 

Sir To. Come, we'll have him in a dark room, 
and bound. My niece is already in the belief 
that he is mad ; we may carry it thus, for our 
pleasure, and his penance, till our very p is- 
time, tired out of breath, prompt us to have 
mercy on him : at which time, we will bi intj 
the device to the bar, and crown thee for a 
finder of madmen. But see, but see. 

Enter Sir Anhrdw Ague-chkek. 

Fab. More matter for a May morning. 

Sir And. Here's the challenge, read it; I 
warrant, there's vinegar and pepper iu't. 

Fab, Is't so saucy? 

ly/r^/irf. Ay.isit,! warranthim : do but read. 

Sir To. Give me. [reads.] Youth, what o- 
ever thou art, thou art but a scurry fellow. 

Fab. Good, and valiant. 

Sir To. TVouder not, nor admire not in 
thy mind, tvhy / do call thee so, for I will 
show thee no reaso7ifo)*t. 

Fab. A good note: that keeps you from the 
blow of the law. 

Sir To. Thou comest to the lady Olivia, 
and in my sight she uses thee kindly : but 
thou liest in thy throat, that is not the 
matter 1 challenge thee for. 

Fab. Very brief, and exceeding good sense- 
less. 

Sir To. / will way-lay thee going home ; 
where if it be thy chance to kill me, 

Fab. Good. 

Sir To. Thou killest me like a rogue and 
a villain. 

Fab. Still you keep o'the windy side of the 
Ian' : good. 

Sir To. Fare thee well; And God have 
mercy upnn one of our souls! He may have 
7nercy upon mine; but my hope is better 



• Gaught her aa a bird with birdlime. 
5 A play among boys. 



t Comp.-mion. t Jolly cock, beau and coq, 
Colliors were accounted great ciieals. 



sceutir.] twelfth-night; or, what you avill. 



89 



a^/d so look to thyself. Thy friend, as thou 
u^est him, and thy sivorn enemy, Andrew 
Ague-cheek. 

Sir To. If this letter move him not, his 
|. gs cannot : I'll give't him. 

Mar. You may have very fit occasion for*t ; 
lu' is now in some commerce with my lady, 
aiul will by and by depart. 

Sir To. Go, sir Andrew ; scout me for him 
ai the corner of the orchard, like a bum-bailiflf: 
so j'oon as ever thou seest him, draw; and, as 
tlioii drawest, swear horrible; for it comes to 
pas-s oft, that a terrible oath, with a swaggering 
Hiceiit sharply twanged off, gives manhood 
more approbation than ever proof itself would 
have earned him. Away. 
Sir And. Isay, let me alone forswearing. 

lExit. 
Sir To. Now will not I deliver his letter: for 
the behaviour of the young gentleman gives him 
out to be of good capacity and breeding ; his 
employment between his lord and my niece 
coutirms no less ; therefore this letter, being 
so excellently ignorant, will breed no terror 
in the youth, he will find it comes from a 
ciodpDle. But, sir, 1 will deliver his chal 
kni^e by word of mouth ; set upon Ague- 
ciietk a notable report of valour ; and drive 
the gentleman, (as, I know, his youth will 
apily receive it,) into a most hideous opinion 
of his rage, skill, fury, and impetuosity. This 
will so fright them both, that they will kill 
one another by the look, like cockatrices. 
Enter Oli\\.\ and Y\oL..\. 
Fab. Her« he comes with your niece: give 
them way, till he take leave, and presently 
after him. 

S/r To. I will meditate the while upon some 
horrid message for a challenge. 

[ Exeui't Sir To b y , Fa b i a n , and Maria. 
OU. 1 have said too much untc a heart of 
And laid mine honour too unchary *out : [stone, 
Ihere's something in me, that reproves my 
But such ahead&trong potent fault it is, [fault; 
That it but mocks reproof. [bears, 

Fio. With the same 'haviour that your passion 
Go on my master's griefs. [picture ; 

OLi. Here, wear ihis jewel for me, 'tis my 
Refuse it not, it hath no tongue to vex you : 
And, I beseech you, come again to-morrow. 
What shall you ask of me, that I'll deny ; 
That honour, sav'd, may upon asking give 1 
Via. Nothing but this, your true love for 
my master. [that 

Oil. How with mine honour may I give him 
\Vl>lch I have given to you t 

Vio. • I will acquit you. 

Oil. Well, come again to-morrow : Fare 
thee well ; 
A fiend, like thee, might bear my soul to hell. 

[Ej.U. 
Pe-enter Sir Toby Belch, and Fabian, 
Sir To. Gentleman, God save thee. 
I 10. And you, sir. 

Sir To. That defence thou hast, betake thee 
to'i : of what nature the wronL;s are tlwu hast 



done him, I know not; but thy intercepter, 
full of despite, bloody as the hunter, attends 
thee at the orchard end: dismount thy tuckt, 
be yare j in thy preparation, for thy as8<iilant 
is quick, skilful, and deadly. 

Vio. You mistake, sir; I am sure, no man 
hath any quarrel to me : my remembran*.; is 
very free and clear from any image of offence 
done to any man. 

Sir To. You will find it otherwise, I assure 
you: therefore, if you hold your life at any 
price, betake you to your guard; for your op- 
posite hath in him w hat youth, strength^ skill, 
and wrath, can furnish man withal. 
Vio. I pray you, sir, what is he ? 
Sir To. He is knight, dubbed with unbacked 
rapier, and on carpet consideration ; but he is 
a devil in private brawl : souls and bodies hath 
he divorced three ; and his incensement at this 
moment is so im^ lacable,that satisfaction can 
be none but by p mgs of death and sepulchre : 
hob, nob, is his word; give't, or take't. 

Vio. I will return again into the house, and 
desire some conduct of the lady. 1 am no 
fighter. I have heard of some kind of men, 
that put quarrels purposely on others, to taste 
their valour: belike, this is a man of that 
quirk §. 

Sir To. Sir, no ; his indignation derives it- 
self out of a very competent injury ; therefore, 
get you on, and give him his desire. Back 
you shall not to the house, unless you under- 
take that with me, which with as much safety 
you might answer him: therefore, on, or strip 
your sword stark naked; for meddle you must, 
that's certain, or forswear to wear iron about 
you. 

Vio. This is as uncivil as strange. I beseech 
you, do me this courteous oltice, as to know 
of the knight what my oflence to him is ; it is 
something of my negligence, nothing of my 
purpose. 

Sir To. I will do so. Signior Fabian, stay 
you by this gentleman till niy return. 

[Exit Sir Toby. 
Via- Pray you, sir, do you know of this 
matter ? 

Fab. I know, the knight is incensed against 
you, even to a mortal arbitrement u; but no- 
thing of the eircumstance more. 

Vio. I beseech you, what manner of man is 
he? 

Fab. Nothing of that wonderful promise, to 
read him by his form, as you are like to find 
him in the proof of his valour. He is, indeed, 
sir, the most skilful, bloody, and fatal oppo- 
site ^ that you could possibly have found in 
any part of lllyria : Will you walk towards 
him'i 1 will make your peace with him, if I 
can. 

Vio. I shall be much bound to you for*t : I 

am one that would rather go with sir priest 

than sir knight: I care not who knows so 

much of my'mettle. [Exeunt 

Re-enter Sir To b v, with Sir An p r e w. 

Sir To- Why, man, he's a v€ry devil; I 



• Incautiously. t Uapicr. J Ready. § Sort. 



1 Decision. f Adveruary. 
I 3 



SHAKSPEARE. 



CO 



have not seen such a virago. I had a pass 
Miih him, rapier, scabbard , .and all, and he 
elves me the stack -in* , with such a mortal 
inoiion, that it is inevitable; and on the an- 
swer, he pays yout as surely as your feet hit 
thf ground they step on: They say, he has 
been fencer to the Sophy. 

Sir And. Pox on't, rli not meddle with 
him. 

Sir To. Ay, but he will not now be pacified : 
Fabian can scarce hold him yonder. 

Sir A7id. Plague on't; an I thought he had 
been valiant, and so cunning in fence, I'd have 
t-i-^n him d tmned ere I'd have challenged him. 
Let him let the matter slip, and I'll give him 
my horse, grey Capilet. 

Sir To. I'll make the motion: Stand here, 
make a good show on't; this shall end with- 
out the perdition of souls : Marry, Pll ride 
your horse as well as I ride you. {Aside. 

Reenter Fa'^bian and Viola. 
I have his horse {t.o Fa b.] to take up the quar- 
rel ; I have persuaded him, the youth's a devil. 

Fab. He is as horribly conceited; of him; 
and pants, and looks pale, as if a bear were at 
his heels. 

Sir To. There's no remedy, sir ; he will fight 
with you for his oath sake : marry, he hath 
better bethought him of his quarrel, and he 
finds that now scarce to be worth talking of: 
therefore draw, for the supportance of his 
vow ; he protests he will not hurt you. 

Vio. Pray God defend me! A little thing 
would make me tell them how much I lack 
of a man. [Aside. 

Fab, Give ground, if you see him furious. 

Sir To. Come, sir Andrew, there's no reme- 
dy ; the gentleman will, for his honour's sake, 
have one bout with you : he canaet by the 
duello § avoid it: but he has promised me, as 
he is a i^entleman and a soldier, he will not 
hurt you. Come on; to't. 

Sir And. Pray God he keep his oath! 

{Draws. 
Enter Antonio. 

Vio. I do assure you, 'tis against my will. 

{Draws. 

Ant. Put up your sword; — If this young 
gentleman 
Have done otfence, I take the fault on me ; 
If yon otfend him, I for him defy you. 

{Drawing. 

Sir To. You, sir? why, what are you? 

Ant. One, sir, that for his love dares yet do 
more 
Tb in you have heard him brag to yon he will. 

S r To. Nay, if you be an undertaker, I am 
for you. [Draws. 

Enter two Officers. 

Fab. O good sir Toby, hold; here come the 
oflicers. 

Sir 'To. VV be with you anon. [To Antonio. 

Vio. Pray, sir^ put up your sword, it you 
please. [!/'o A'ir Andrew. 

• Stoccata, an Italian term in f'.ncing. 
j Laws of duel. 



{Act IIL 



Sir And. Marry, will I, sir; — and, for thit 
I promised you, Pll be as good as my word: 
He will bear you easily, and reins well. 

1 Ojf. This is the man; do thy ollice. 

2 Off. Antonio, I arrest thee at the suit 
Of count Oi'sino. 

Ant. You do mistake me, sir. 

1 Off. No, sir, no jot; I know your favour 

well, " [head. — 

Though now you have no sea-cap on your 
Take him away ; he knows I know him well. 
Ant. I must obey. — This comes with seek- 
ing you; 
But there's no remedy ; I shall answer it. 
What will you do? New my necessity [me 
Makes me to ask you for ray purse : It grieves 
Much more, for what I cannot do for you, 
Than what befalls myself. You stand amaz'd; 
But be of comfort. 

2 Off. Come, sir, away. 

AfU. I must entreat of you some of that 
money. 

Vit). What money, sir? 
For the fairkindnessyou have show'd me here, 
And, part being prompted by your present 
Out of my lean and low ability [trouble, 

I'll lend you somethinij;: my having is not much; 
I'll make division of my present with you : 
Hold, there is half my cotler. 

Ant. Will you deny me now? 

Is't possible, that my deserts to you 
Can lack persuasion? Do not tempt my misery, 
Lest that it make me so unsound a man. 
As to upbraid you with those kindnesses 
That I have done for you. 

Vio. I know of none; 

Nor know I you by voice, or any feature : 
I hate ingratitude more in a man. 
Than lying, vainness, babbling, drunkenness. 
Or any taint of vice, whose strong corruption 
Inhabits our frail blood. 

Ant. heavens themselves 

2 Off. Come, sir, I pray you, go. 

A7it. Let me speak a little. This youth that 
you see here, 
I snatch'd one half out of the jaws of death ; 

Reliev'd him with such sanctity of love, 

And to his image, which, methought, did pro- 
Mosi venerable worth, did I devotion, [mise 

1 Off. What's thai to us? The time goes by; 
away. 

A7it. But, O, how vile an idol proves this 
god! — [fchame. — 

Thou hast, Sebastian, done good feature 
In nature there's no blemish, but the mind; 
None can be call'd deform'd, but the unkind; 
Virtue is beauty ; but the b<?auteous-evil 
Are empty trunks, o'erfiourish'dH by the devil, 

1 Ojp. 1 he man grows mad ; away with hinu 
Come, come, sir. 

Ant. Lead me on. 

[Exeunt Officers, with Antonio. 

Vio. Methinks, his words do from such pas- 
sion fly, 
That he believes himself; so do not I. 

t Does for you. j Horritl conception. 

H Ornamented. 



Hreyie ir.] TWELFTH-NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 



91 



Prove true, imasiuation! O, prove true! 
That I, dear brother, be now ta'en for you ! 

.S7r To. Come hither, knight ; come hither, 
Fabian ; we'll whisper o'er a couplet or two 
of niost sage saws. 

Vio. He nam'd Sebastian; I my brother know 
Yc.l living in my glass *; even such, and so, 
Li favour Was my brother; and he went 
Still in this fashion, colour, ornament. 
For him I imitate: O, if it prove. 
Tempests are kind, and salt waves fresh in 
love! {Exit. 

Sir To. A very dishonest paltry boy, and 
more a coward than a hare : his dishonesty 



appears, in leaving his friend here in necessi- 
ty, and denying him; and for his cowardship, 
ask Fabian. 

Fab. A coward, a most devout coward, re- 
ligious in it. 

^Sir And. 'Slid, I'll after him again, and beat 
him. 

Siir To. Do, cuflf him soundly, but never 
draw thy sword. 

Sir And. An I do not, — [Exit, 

Fab. Come, let's see the event. 

Sir To. I dare lay any money, 'twill be 
nothing yet. ^Exeunt. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE L 

The Street before Olivia's House, 

Enter Sebastian and Clown. 

Clo. Will you make me believe, tiiat I am 
tn)t sent for you? 

Seb. Go to. go to, thou art a foolish fellow; 
L^t mc be clear of thee. 

('lo. Well held out, i'faith! No, I do not 
kiK«w you ; nor I am not sent to you by my 
l.tf^y, to bid you come speak with her; nor 
>our name is not master Cesario ; nor this is 
not my nose neither. — Nothing that is so, is so. 

Seb. I pr'jthee, ventt thy folly somewhere 
el*e; Thou know'st not me. 

(Ho. Vent my folly ! He has heard that word 
of some great man, and now applies it to a 
fool. Vent my folly I I am afraid this great 
lubber, the world, will prove a cockney. — I 
pr'ythee now, ungird thy strangeness, and tell 
*ne what I shalf vent to my lady; Shall I 
vent to her, that thou art coming? 

Seb. I pr'ythee, foolish Greek, depart from 
me; 
There's money for thee; U you tarry longer, 
\ f^hall give worse payment. 

Clo. By my troth, thou hast an open hand : — 
These wise men, that give fools money, get 
themselves a good report after fourteen years' 
purchase. 
f.nter Sir kviT>RY.w y SirToB^ ,andV KE\ ks. 

Sir And. Now, sir, have I met you again? 
tr.ere's for you. [Striking Sebastian. 

Seb, Why, there's for thee, and there, and 
tliere: Are all the people mad? 

{Beating Sir Andrew. 

Sir To. Hold, sir, or I'll throw your dagger 
o'er the house. 

Clo. This will I tell my lady straight: I 
would not be in some of your coats for two- 
pence. {Exit Clown. 

Sir To, Come on, sir ; hold. 

[Holding Sebastian. 

Sir And. Nay, let him alone, I'll go another 



way to work with him ; I'll have an action of 
battery against him, if there be any law in 
lllyria: though I struck him first, yet it's no 
matter for that. 

Seb. Let go thy hand. 

Sir To. Come, sir, I will not let you go. 
Come, my young soldier, put up your iron: 
you are well fleshed ; come on. 

Seb. I will be free from thee. What wouldst 
thou now? 
If thou dar'st tempt me further, draw thy 
sword. {Dratvs. 

Sir To. What, what? Nay, then I must 
have an ounce or two of this malapert blood 
from you. [Draws, 

Enter Olivia, 

OH. Hold, Toby ; on thy life, I charge thee, 
hold. 

Sir To. Madam? 

O/i.WWi it be ever thus ? Ungracious wretch. 
Fit for the mountains, and the barbarous caves. 
Where maimers ne'er were preach'd ! out of 
my sight! 

Be not offended, dear Cesario: 

Rudesby j, be gone! — I pr'ythee, gentle friend, 
[Exeunt Sir Tuby, Sir And. a>>d Fabi.^n. 
Let thy fair wisdom, not thy passion, sway 
In this uncivil and unjust extent ^ 
Against thy peace. Go with me to my house ^ 
And hear thou there how macy fruitless prankt* 
This ruffian hath botch'd up |i, that thou thereby 
May'st smile at this : thou shalt not choose bur 
Do not deny: BeshrewlF his soul for me, [go^ 
He started one poor heart of mine in thee. 

Seb. What relish is in this? how runs the 
stream? 
Or I am mad, or else this is a dream : — 
Let fancy still my sense in Lethe steep ; 
If it be thus to dream, still let me sleep! 

Oli. Nay, come, I pr'ythee ; 'Would thuu'dst 
be rul'd by me! 

Seb, Madam, I will. 

Oli. O, say so, and so be I 

[Exeunt, 



• In the reflection of my own figure. 

li Made up. 



t Let out. 



t Rude fellow. 
H ill bttUdc. 



$ Violence. 



92 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Ace jr. 



SCENE II. A Boom in Olivia's House, 

Enter Maria and Clown. 

Mar. Nay, I pr'ythee, put on this gown, 
and this beard ; make him believe, thou art 
feir Topas the curate; do it quickly: 1*11 call 
sir Toby the whilst. [tufit Maria. 

Clo. Well, I'll put it on, and I will dissem- 
ble* myself in't; and I would I were the first 
that ever dissembled in such a gown. I am 
not fat enough to become the function well; 
nor lean enough to be thought a good student : 
but to be said, an honest man, and a good 
housekeeper, goes as fairly, as to say, a careful 
man, and a great scholar. The competitors t 
enter. 

Enter Sir Toby Belch and Maria. 

Sir 'io. Jove bless thee, master parson. 

CLo. Bonos dies, sir Toby : for, as the old 
hermit of Prague, that never saw pen and ink, 
very wittily said to a niece of king Gorboduc, 
That, that is, is: so I, being master parson, 
ara master parson; For what is that, but that? 
and is, but isT 

S*ir To. To him, sir Topas. 

Clo. Whatjhoa, I say, — Peace in this prison ! 

Sir To. The knave counterfeits well \ a good 
knave. 

Mai. [in a?i inner chamber.] Who calls 
there 1 

Clo. Sir Topas, the curate, who comes to 
viiit Malvolio the lunatic. 

Mai. Sir Topas, sir Topas, good sir Topas, 
go to my lady. 

Clo. Out, hyperbolical fiend ! how vexest 
thou this man? lalkest thou nothing but of 
ladies? 

Sir To. Well said, master parson. 

Mai. Sir Topas, never was man thus wrong- 
ed : good sir Topas, do not think I am mad; 
ihey have laid me here in hideous darkness. 

Cto. Fie, thou dishonest Sathan! I call thee 
by the most modest terms; for I am one of 
those gentle ones, that will use the devil him- 
i«elf with courtesy: Say'st thou, that hou&e is 
dark? 

Mai. As hell, sir Topas. 

Clo. Why, it hath bay-windows J transpa- 
rent as barricadoes, and the clear stones to- 
wards the south-north are as lustrous as ebony; 
and yet complainest thou of obstruction? 

Mai. I am not mad, sir Topas; I say to 
yon, this house is dark. 

Clo. Madman, thou errest : I say, there is no 
darkness, but ignorance; in which thou art 
more puzzled, than the Egyptians in iheir fog. 

Mai. I say, this house is as dark as igno- 
rance, though ignorance were as dark as hell ; 
and I say, there was never man thus abused : 
1 am no more mad than yon are ; make the 
tiial of it in any constant question $. 

Clo. What is the opinion of i^ythagoras con- 
cerning wild-fowl? 



Mai. That the soul of our grandam might 
haply inhabit a bird. 

Clo. What thinkest thou of his opinion? 

Mai. I think nobly of the soul, and no way 
approve his opinion. 

Clo. Fare thee well : Remain thou still in 
darkness: thou shalt hold the opinion of Py- 
thagoras, ere I will allow of thy wits ; and fear 
to kill a woodcock, lest thou dispossess the 
soul of thy grandam. Fare thee well. 

Mai. Sir Topas, sir Topaa, — 

Si}' To. My most exquisite sir Topas I 

Clo. Nay, I am for all waters ||. 

Mar. Thou might'st have done this without 
thy beard and gown ; he sees thee not. 

Sir To. To him in thine own voice, a)d 
bring me w^ord how thou findest him: I 
would we were well rid of this knavery, li 
he may be conveniently delivered,! would he 
were; for I am now so far in offence with my 
niece, that I cannot pursue with any safety 
this sport to the upshot. Come by and by to 
my chamber. {Exeunt SirTo^Y and Makia. 

Clo. Bey Bobin, jolly Boinn, 

T( It me ho2v thy lady does. [Singing. 

Mai. Fool,— 

Clo. My lady is unkind, perdy. 

Mai. Fool,— 

Clo. Alas, why is she so? 

Mill. Fool, I say; — 

Clo. She loves another — Who calls, ha? 

Mai. Good fool, as ever thou wilt deserve 
well at my hand, help me to a eandle, and 
pen, ink, and paper; as I am a gentleman, I 
will live to be thankful to thee for't. 

do. Master Malvolio! 

Mai. Ay, good fool. 

Clo. Alas, sir, how fell you besides your five 
wits U ? 

MaL Fool, there was never man so noto- 
riously abused : I am as well in my wits, fool, 
as thou art. 

Clo. But as well ? then yon are mad indeed, 
if you be no better in your wits than a f»»ol. 

Mai. They have here propertied me**; keep 
me in darkness, send ministers to me, asses, 
and do all they can to face me out of my wit*. 

C/o. Advise you what you say; the minister 
is here. — Malvolio, Malvolio, thy wits the hea- 
vens restore ! endeavour thyself to sleep, and 
leave thv vain bibble babbie. 

Mai. *Sir Topas, 

Clo. Maintain no words with him, good fel- 
low. — Who, I, sir? not I, sir. God b'wi'you, 
good sir Topas. — Marry, amen. — I will, sir, I 
will. 

Mai. Fool, fool, fool, I say. — 

Clo. Alas, sir, be patient. What say you, 
sir? 1 am shent^t for speaking to you. 

Mdl. Good fool, help me to some light, and 
some paper; I tell thee, I am as well in my 
wits as any man in lllyria. 

Clo. Well-a-day, — that you were, sir! 



• Dii»:;ci8e. t Confederates. J Bow-windows. 

li Any other gem, as a Toj-az. % Senses. 

♦t Scolded, repi imanded. 



$ Regular conversation. 
•• Taken possession or. 



Scene IJ.] TWELFTH-NIG BT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 



93 



Mai. By this hand, I am ; Good fool, some 
ink, paper, and light, and convey what I wii) 
ftet down to my lady ; it shall advantage thee 
more than ever the bearing of letter did. 

Cio. I will help you to't. But tell me true, 
Hre you not mad indeed? or do you but coun- 
terfeit? 
Mul. Believe me, I am not ; I tell thee true. 
Clo. Nay, I'll ne'er believe a madman, till 
I see his brains. I will fetch you light, and 
paper^ and ink. 

Mai. Fool, Pll requite it in the highest de- 
gree : I pr') thee, be gone. 
Clo. / am gone, sir, 
And ano)tf sir, 
IHl be with you again. 
In a trice; 

Like to the old vJCf: *, 
Your need to sustain ; 

Tf ho wHh dagger of lathy 
In his rage and his wrath. 

Cries, ah, ha! to the deuiC: 
JAke a mad lad. 
Pare thy nails, dad. 

Adieu, goodmau drivel, [Eiut. 

SCENE III. Olivia's Garden. 
Enter Sebastian. 
Seb. This is the air ; that is the glorious sun ; 
1 his pearl she gave me, I do feel't and see*t : 
And though 'tis wonder that enwraps me ihns, 
Yet 'tis not madness. Where's Antonio then ? 
I could not find him at the Elephant : 
Yet there he was ; and there I found this creditt, 
That he did range the town to seek me out. 



His counsel now might do me golden service 
For though my soul disputes well with my 

sen>e. 
That this may be some error, but no madncts, 
Yet doth this accident and flood of fortune 
So far exceed all instance, all discourse %, 
That I am ready to distrust mine e>es, [nie 
And wrangle with my reason, thai persuades 
To any other tru §, but that I am mad. 
Or else the hidy*. iiad ; yet, if 'twere so. 
She could not sway her house, command her 

followers II, 
Take, and giveback, affairs, and their despatch. 
With such a smooth, discreet, aud stable bear- 
ing. 
As, I perceive, she does : there's something in't. 
That is deceivable. But here comes the lady. 
Enter Olivia and a Priest. 
Oli. Blame not this haste of mine: If you 
mean well. 
Now go with me, and with this holy man. 
Into the chantry IT by ; there, before him. 
And underneath that consecrated roof. 
Plight me the full assurance of your faith; 
That my most jealous and too doubtful soul 
May live at peace: He shall conceal it. 
Whiles** you are willing it shall come to note; 
What time we will our celebration keep 
According to my birth. — What do you say? 
Seb. I'll follow this good man, and go with 
you ; 
And, having sworn truth, ever will be true. 

Uli. Then lead the way, good father; 

And heavens so shine. 
That they may fairly note this act of mine! 

{Eieuttt. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. 



The Street before Olivia's House. 
Enter Clown and Fabian. 
I Fab. Now, as thou lovest me, let me see 
I his letter. 

I Clo. Good master Fabim, grant me another 
1 request. 
' Fab. Anything. 

Clo. Do not desire to see this letter. 
Fab. That is, to give a dog, and, in recom- 
pense, desire my dog again. 

Filter Duke, Vioi.a, and Attendants. 
Duke. Belong you to the lady Olivia,friends? 
Clo. Ay, sir; we are some of htr trappings. 
Duke. I know thee well ; How dost thou, 
niy good fellow ? 

( to. Truly, sir, the better for my foes, and 
the worse for my friends. 

Duke. Just the contrary ; the better for thy 
fj leads. 



Clo. No, sir, the worse. 

Duke. How can that be? 

Clo. Marry, sir, they praise me, and make 
an ass of me ; now my foes tell me plainly 1 
am an ass : so that by my foes, sir, I prolit in 
the knowledge of myself ; and by my friends 
I am abused : so that, conclusions to be as 
kisses, if your four negatives make your two 
aflirmatives, why, then the worse for my 
friends, and the better for my foes. 

Duke. Why, this is excellent. 

Clo. By my troth, sir, no; though it please 
you to be one of my friends. 

Duke, ihou shalt not be the worse for me; 
there's gold. 

Clo. But that it would be double-dealing, 
sir, I would you could make it another. 

Duke. O, you g»ve me ill counsel. 

Clo. Put your grace in your pocket, sir, for 
this once, and let your llesh and blood obey it. 

Duke. v\ ell, 1 will be so much a sinner to 
be a double dealer ; there's another. 



• A buffoon character in the old plays,, and father of the modern harlequin, 
t Account. ; Keasou. j Btlief. jj .Servants. % Liltie chapel. •* Until. 



94 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r. 



Clo, PriviOf secundo, terti), is a good 
play ; and the old saying is, the third pays 
for all : the triplex, sir, is a good tripping 
measure ; or the bells of St. Benuet, sir, may 
put you in mind ; One, two, three. 

Duke. You can fool no more money out 
of me at this throw : if yon will let your 
lady know, I am here to speak with her, and 
brius: her along with you, it may awake "my 
bounty further. 

Clo. Marry, sir, lullaby to your bounty, till 
I come again. I go, sir ; but I would not 
have you to think, that my desire of having 
is the sin of covetousness : but, as you say, 
eir, let your bounty take a nap, I will awake 
it anon. [Gxit down. 

Enter Antonio and Officers. 

Vio. Here comes the man, sir, that did res- 
cue me. 

Duke. That face of hi. I do remember well ; 
Yet, when I saw it last, it was besmear'd 
As black as Vulcan, in the smoke of war : 
A bawbling vessel was he captain of, 
For shallow draught, and bulk, unprizable; 
With which such scathful * grapple did he make 
With the most noble bottom of our fleet, 
That very envy, and the tongue of loss, 
Cry'd fanae and honour on him — What's the 

lOff. Orsino.thisis that Antonio, [matter? 
That took the Phoenix, and her fraught t, from 
And this is he, that did theTisjer board, [Candy; 
When your young nephew Titus lost his leg : 
Here in the streets, desperate of shame, and 
In private t rabbledid we apprehend bira.[gtate, 

y'lo. He did me kindness, sir ; drew on my 
side ; [me, 

But, in conclusion, put strange speech upon 
I know not what 'twas, but distraction. 

Dii-ke. Notable pirate ! thou salt-water thief ! 
What foolish boldness brought thee to their 

mercies, 
Whom thou, in terms so bloody, and so dear. 
Hast made thine enemies % 

Ant. Orsino, noble sir, 

r?e pleas*d that I shake off these names you 
Antonio never yet was thief,or pirate, [give me ; 
Thoui^h, I confesB,on base and ground enough, 
Orsino's enemy. A witchcraft drew me hither : 
That most ingrateful boy there, by your side, 
From the rude sea's enrag'd and foamy mouth 
J)id I redeem ; a wreck past hope he was : 
His life I gave him, and did thereto add 
My love, without retention, or restraint, 
All his in dedication : for his sake. 
Did 1 expose myself, pure for his love, 
Into the danger of this adverse town ; 
Drew to defend him, when he was beset ; 
Where being apprehended, his false cunning, 
(Not meaning to partake with me in danger,) 
Taught him to face me out of his acquaintance. 
Arid grew a twenty-years-removed thing, 
Whilf one would wink ; denied m€ mine own 
VVlijch I had recommended to his use [purse, 
Koi half an hour before. 

Vio, How can this be? 

JJuke, When came he to this town? 



j Ant. To-day, my lord ; and for three months 
(No interim, not a minute's vacancy), [before, 
Both day and night did we keep company. 
Enter Olivia and Attendants. 

Duke. Here comes the countess; now heaven 

walks on earth. [madness : 

But for thee, fellow, fellow, thy words are 
Three months this youth hath tended upon me ; 
But more of that anon. Take him aside. 

on. What would my lord,but thathe may not 
Wherein Olivia may seem serviceable ?-[have, 
Cesario, you do not keep promise with me. 

Vio. Madam? 

Duke. Gracious Olivia, [my lord, 

(Hi, What do you say, Cesario? Good 

Fio.My lord would speak,myduty hushes me. 

Oil. If it be aught to the old tune, my lord, 
It is as fatj and fulsome to mine ear. 
As howling after musick. 

Duke. Still so cruel? 

Oil. Still so constant, lord. [lady, 

Duke. W^hat ! to perverseness? you uncivil 
To whose ingrate and unauspicious altars [out, 
My soul the faithfull'gt offerings hath breath'd 
That e'er devotion tender'd! What shall I do? 

Oli. Even what it please my lord, that shall 
become him. [do it 

Du' e. Why should I not, had I the heart to 
Like to the Egyptian thief, at point of death, 
Kill what I love ; a savage jealousy, [this : 
That sometime savours nobly? — But hear mc 
Since you to non regardance cast my faith. 
And that I partly know the instrument [favour, 
That screws me from my true place in your ! 
Live you, the marble-breasted tyrant, stili ; 
But this your minion,whom,l know, you love. 
And whom, by heaven, I swear, I tender dearly. 
Him will I tear out of that cruel eye. 
Where he sits crowned in his master's spite. — 
Come, boy, with me ; my thoughts are ripe in 
I'll sacrifice the lamb that 1 do love, [mischief : 
To spite a raven's heart within a dove. [Going. 

Vio. And 1, most jocund, apt, and willingly. 
To do you rest, a thousand deaths would die. 
{Foliotving, 

Oli. Where goes Cesario ? 

Vio. After him I love. 

More than I love these eyes, more than my life. 
More, by all mores*, than e'er I shall love wife : 
If I do feign, you witnesses above, 
Punioh my life, for tainting of my love ! 

Oli, Ah me, detested ! how am I beguil'd ! 

Vio. Who does begHile yoH ? who does do 
you wrong ? 

Oli. Hast thou forgot thyself! Is it so long! — 
Call forth the holy father. [ tJxit an Attendant. 

Duke. Come away. [To Viola. 

Oli. Whither, my lord ?— Cesario, husband, 

Duke. Husband ? [stay. 

Oli Ay, husnand ; Can he that deny ? 

Duke. Her husband, sin ah ? 

Vio. No, my lord, not I. 

Oli. Alas, it is the baseness of thy fear. 
Thai makes thee strangle thy propriety §: 
Fear not, Cesario, take thy fortunes up ; 
Be that thou know'st thou art,and'then ihou i^rl 



' Mischievous. + Freight. J Dull, gross. $ Disown thy property. 



Sane I.] TWELFTH-MGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL. 



95 



As great as that thou fcar'st. — O, welcome, 
father ! 

Re-enter Attendant and Priest. 
Father, I charge thee, by thy reverence. 
Here to unfold (though Irately we intended 
To keep in darkness, what occasion now 
Reveals before 'tis ripe,) what thou dost know. 
Hath newly past between thi-s youth and me. 

Priest. A contract of eternal bond of love, 
Confirm'd by mutual joinder of your hands, 
Attested by the holy close of lips, [rings; 

Strtngthen'd by interchangemenit of your 
And all the ceremony of this compact 
Seal'd in my function, by my testimony : 
Since when, my watch hath told nie, toward 
I have travell'd but two liours. [my grave, 

Duke. O, thou dissembling cub I what wilt 
thou be, 
When time hath sow*d a grizzle on thy case*? 
Or will not else thy craft so quickly grow. 
That thine own trip shall be thine overthrow? 
Farewell, and take her; but direct thy feet. 
Where thou and I henceforth may never meet. 

Vio, My lord, I do protest, — 

Oli. O, do not swear ; 

Hold little faith,though thou hast too much fear. 

Enter Sir Andrew AcuE-CHJiEK, with his 
head broke. 

Sir And. For the love of God, a surgeon; 
send one presently to sir Toby. 

Oli. What's the matter ? 

Sir And. He has broke my head across, 
And has given sir Toby a bloody coxcomb 
X)o : for the love of God, your help: I had 
rather than forty pound, I were at home. 

Oli. Who has done this, sir Andrew ? 

Sir Ahd. The count's gentleman, one Ce- 
sario : we took h\\\\ for a coward, but he's 
tile very devil incardinate. 

Duke. My gentleman, Cesario ! 

Sir And. Od's lifelings, here he is : — You 
broke my head for nothing ; and that that I 
did, I was set on to do't by si-r Toby, [you : 

Vio. Why do you speak to me 1 I never hurt 
^ ou drew your sword upon me,without cause; 
But I bespake you fair, and hurt you not. 

Sir And. If a bloody coxcomb be a hurt, 
you have hurt me ; I think, you set nothing 
by a bloody coxcomb. 

Enter Sir Toby Belch, drunk, led by the 

Clown. 
Here comes sir Toby halting, yoa shall hear 
more : but if he had not been in drink, he would 
have tickled you othergatest than he did. 

Duke. How now, gentleman 1 how is't with 
you ? 

Sir To. That's all one ; he has hurt me, 
and there's the end ou't. — Sot, did'st see Dick 
surgeon, sot ? 
p(Uo. O he's drunk, sir Toby, an hour agone ; 
his eyes were set at eight i'the morning. 

Sir To. Then he's a rogue. After a passy- 
int asure, or a pavin t, I hate a drunken rogue. 

Oli. Away with him : Who hath made this 
Udvock with them ? 



Sir And. I'll help you, sir Toby, because 
we'll be dressed tos^ether. 

Sir To. Will you help an ass-head, and a cox- 
comb, and a knave ? a thin-faced knave, a gull? 

Oil. Get him to bed, and let his hurt b«» 
look'd to. 

[Exeunt Clown, SirToBY,«w<? Sir Andrew. 
Enttr Sebastian. 

Seb. I am sorry, madam, I have hurt your 
kinsman ; 
But, had it been the brother of my blood, 
I must have done no less, with wit, and safety. 
You throw a strange regard upon me, and 
By that I do perceive it hath otfendcd you ; 
Pardon me, sweet one, even for the vows 
We made each other but so late ago. [persons ; 

Duke. Oneface,one voice, onehabit, and two 
A natural perspective, that is, and is not, 

Seb. Antonio, O my dear Antonio ! 
How have the hours rack'd and tortur'd me. 
Since I have lost thee. 

Ant. Sebastian are you? 

Seb. Fear'st thou that, Antonio 1 

Ant. How have you made division of your 
An apple,cleft intwo, isnot more twin [self? — 
Than these two creatures. Which is Sebastian? 

Oli. Most wonderful I [brother: 

Seh. Do I stand there ? I never had a 
Nor can there be tha-t deity in my nature. 
Of here and every where. 1 had a sister. 
Whom the blind waves and surges have 

devour'd : — 
Ofcharity 5,whatkin areyoUtome?[7oViOLA. 
What countryman? what name? what pa- 
rentage? 

Vio. Of Messaline : Sebastian was my father; 
Such a Sebastian was my brother too. 
So went he suited to his watery tomb : 
if spirits c n assume both form and suit 
You come to fright us. 

Seb. A spirit I am, indeed ; 

But am in that dimension grossly clad. 
Which from the womb I did participate. 
Were you a woman, as the rest goes even, 
I should my tears let fall upon your cheek. 
And say — Thrice welcome, drowned Viola! 

Vio. My father had a mole upon his brow. 

Seb. And so had mine. [birth 

J^io. And died that day when Viola from her 
Had number'd thirteen years. 

Seb. O, that record is lively in my soul I 
He finished, indeed, his mortal act. 
That day that made my sister thirteen years. 

Vio. If nothing lets j! to make us happy both. 
But this my masculine ;isurp'd attire. 
Do not embrace me, till each circumstance 
Of place, time, fortune, do cohere, and jump. 
That I am Viola : which to contirm, 
I'll bring y<>u to a captain in this town, [help 
Where lie my maiden weeds; by whose gentle 
1 was preserv'd, to serve this noble count: 
All the occurrence of m.y fortune since 
Hath been between this lady, and this lord. 

Seb. So comes it, lady, you have been 
mistook: [2'o Olivia. 

But nature to her bias drew in that. 



•Skin. 1 Other ways. J Serious dances, j Out of charity tell me. |j Hiudere. 



9(3 



SHAKSPEARE, 



[Act r. 



You would have been contracted to a maid ; 
Nor are you therein, by my life, deceiv'd. 
Vou are betroth'd both to a maid and man. 

Duke. Be not amaz'd ; right noble is his 
If this be so,asyet the glass seems trne,[blood. — 
1 shall have share in this most h?ppy wreck : 
Boy, thou bast said to me a thousand times, 

[To Viola. 
Thoa never shonld'st love woman like to me. 
f^io. And allthosesayino;s will I over-swear; 
And all those swearings keep as true in soul. 
As doth that orbed continent the fire 
That severs day from night. 

Duke. Give me thy hand ; 

And let me see thee in thy woman's weeds. 
no. The captain, that did bring me first on 
shore, [action, 

Hath my maid's garments : he, upon some 
Is now in durance; at Malvolio's suit, 
A gentleman, and follower of my lady's. 

OIL He shall enlarge him : — Fetch Malvolio 
.* ndyet, alas, now I remember me, [hither: — 
i'hey say, poor gentleman, he's mnch distract. 

Re-enter Clown, with, a letter. 
A most extracting frenzy of mine own 
From my remembrance clearly banish'd his. — 
How does he, sirrah ? 

Clo, Truly, madam, he holds Belzebub at 
the stave's end, as well as a man in his case 
may do : he has here writ a letter to you, 1 
^-hould have given it you to-day morning ; 
^|lt as a madman's epistles are no gospels, so it 
skills not much, when they are delivered. 
OH. Open it, and read it. 
Clo. Look then to be well edifierl, when the 
iV)ol delivers the madman : — By the lord, 
ni'idam, — 

Oli. How now ! art thou mad ? 
Clo. No, madam, I do but read madness : 
an your ladyship will have it as it ought to 
be, you must allow vox*. 
Oli. Pr'ythee, read i'thy right wits. 
Clo. So I do, madonna; but to read his 
ri'j;ht wits, is to read thus: therefore perpend t^ 
niy princess, and give ear. 

Oil. Read it you, sirrah. [To Fabian. 

Fab. [reads.] By tlie Lord, madam, you 

wrong me, and the it or Id shall knoiv it: 

tJioa^h you hare pat me into darkness, 

t fid given your drunken covsin rule over 

me, yet have I the benefit of my senses as 

veil as your ladyship. J hate your 07vn 

Letter that induced me to the semblance 

J put on ; with the tvhirh I doubt not but 

h> do myseljmuch right, or you much shame. 

Think of me as you •please. 1 leave my 

I itty a lift € unf hough t of, and speak out 

Of }ny injury. The madly-used MaJvolio. 

(Hi. J)id he write this ? 

Clo. Ay, madam. 

Dnke.')L\\\% savour* not much of distraction. 

Oil. See him delivered, Fabian; bring him 

hither. {Exit Fabian. 

My lord, 8o please yon, these things further 

'I'o think me as well a sister as awife,[thonght on, 



One day shall crown the alliance on't, sf> 

please yow. 
Here at my house, and at my proper cost. 
Duke. Madam, I am most apt to embrace 
your offer. — [your service done him. 
Your master quits you; \To Viola.] and, for 
So much against the mettle j of yosr sex. 
So far beneath your soft and tender breeding. 
And since you call'd me master for so long. 
Here is my hand ; you shall from this time be 
Your master's mistress. 
Oli. A sister ? — you are she. 

R'-enter Fabian, with Malvolio. 
Duke. Is this the madman? 
Oli. Ay, my lord, this same : 

How now, Malvolio ? 

Mai. Madam, you have done me wrong. 
Notorious wrong. 
Oli. Have I, Malvolio? no. 

Mdl. Lady, you have. Pray you, peruse that 
You must not now deny it is your hand, [letter : 
Write from it, if you can, in hand, or phrase; 
Or say, 'tis not your seal, nor y(mr invention : 
You can say none of this: Well, grant it then. 
And tell wie, in the modesty of honour, [favour ; 
Why you have tiiven me such clear lights of 
Bade me come smiling, and cross-garter'd to 
To put on yellow stockings, and to frown [you. 
Upon sir 'i'oby, and the lighter^ people ; 
And, acting this in an obedient hope, 
Why have you sulfer'd me to be imprison'd. 
Kept in a dark house, visited by the priest. 
And Riade the most notorious geek t| ,and gull. 
That e'er invention play'd on 1 tell me why. 

Oli. Alas, Malvolio, this is not my writing. 
Though, I confess, much like the character : 
But, out of question, 'ris Maria's hand. 
And now I do bethink me, it was she [smiling. 
First told me, thou wast mad ; then cam'st in 
And in such forms which here were pre- 

suppos'd 
Fpon thee in the letter. Pr'ythee, be content: 
This practice hath most shrewdly pass'd upon 
thee; [<>^ it. 

But, when we know the grounds and authors 
I'hou Shalt be both the plaintiff and the judge 
Of thine own cause. 

Fab. Good madam, hear me speak; 

And let no quarrel, nor no brawl to come, 
Taint the condition of this present hotn-, [not. 
Which I have wonder'd at. In hope it shall 
Most freely 1 confess, myself, and Toby, 
Set this device against Malvolio here. 
Upon some stubborn and nncourteous parts 
We had conreiv'd against him: Maria writ 
The letter, at sir Toby's great importai cel^ ; 
In recompense whereof, he hath married her. 
How with a sportful malice it was follow'd. 
May rather pluck on laughter than revenge ; 
If that the injuries be jusily weigh'd, 
i'hat have on both sides past. [thee! 

Oli. Alas, poor fool ! how have they battled •• 
Clo. Why, Some are borii great, some 
achieve greatness, and some have greatness 
thrinvn upon them. I was one, sir, in this ' 



• Voice. t Attt-nd. % Frame and constitution. $ Inferior. 

U Iinportnjiacy. *• Cheated. 



Q Fool. 



Srr»f> /.! 



twelfth-night; or, avhat you will. 



97 



interlude; one sir Topas, sir; bnt that's alii 
one: — i/y the Lord,Jool, I um not mad; — 
But do you rt;member 'I Madam, why luugh 
you at yuch a barren rascal? an you smde 
nat^ he's gagg'd : And thus the whirligig of 
time brings in his revenges. 

MaL I'li be revenged on the whole pack 
of you. [JtLuit. 

Oil. He hath been most notoriously abus'd. 
Duke. Pursue him, and entreat him to a 
peace : — 
He hath not told us«f the captain yet; 
When that is known and golden time con- 
vents*, 
A solemn combinatioa shall be made 
Or" our dear souls— Mean time, sweet sister, 
We will not part from hence. — Cesario, come, 
For so you shall be, while you are a man ; 
But, when in other habits you are seen, 
Orsino's mistress, and his fancy's queen. 

[i:jj.€Unt. 



SONG. 

. When that J was and a little tiny boif. 

With hey, ho, the wind and the rum, 
A foolish thing was but a toy, 

For the rain it rdineth eiery day, 
Bnt when I came to man's estate. 

With hey, ho, the icind and the rain, 
'Gainst knuve andthiej'men shut their 
gate, 

Fur tue rain it raiticth every day. 
But ichen I came, aLts! to wiie. 

With hey, ho, the wind, and the rain 
By swaggering could I never thrive. 

For the rain it raineth every day. 
But when 1 came unto my bed. 

With hey, ho, the wind and the rain. 
With toss-pots still had drunken head. 

For the rain it raineth every day. 
A great ivhile ago the world begun. 

With hey, ho, the u ind and the rain. 
But th'ifs all one, our play is done. 

And we'll strive to please you every 
day, [Exit. 



• Shall serve. 



This play is in the graver part elegant and easy, and in some of the lighter scenes exqui- 
itely humorous. Ague-cheelc is drawn with great propriety, but his character is, in a 
jreat measme, that of natural fauiity, and is therefore not the proper prey of a satirist. The 
oliloquy of Malvolio is truly coi ic; he is betrayed to ridicule merely by his pride. The 
nairiage of Olivia, and the succeiding perplexity, though well enough contrived to divert 
»a ti e stage, wants credibility, and fails to produce the proper insrructioo required in the 
Jrama, as it exhibits no just picture of life. — Johnson 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 



^er^on^ tcprcg^ntcD. 



ViHCENTio, duke of Vienna, 

Angelo, lord deputy in the duke's absence. 

EscALus, an ancient lardy Joined with 

Angelo in the deputation, 
Clauuio. a young gentleman. 
Lucio, aj'antuslic, 
Tno other like gentlemen. 
\' KRnius, a gentleman, servant to theduke. 
Provost. 



A Justice. 

Elbow, a simple constable. 

Froth, a foolish gentleman. 

Clown, servant to Mrs, (hjer-done. 

Abhorson, an executioner. 

BARNARDiNE,a dissolute prisoner, 

Isabella, sister to Claiidto. 

Mariana, betrotfied to Angelo. 

Juliet, beloved by Claudia. 

Francisoa, a nun. 

Mistress Over-done, a bawd. 



Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, Officers, and other Attendants, 
Scene, — Vienna, 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. An Apartment in the Dnke's 
Palace. 

Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords, and At- 
tendants. 

Duke. Escalus, — 

Escal. My lord. 

Duke. Of government the properties to 
unfold, [course ; 

Would seem in me to affect speech and dis- 
Since I am put to know, that your own science, 
Exceeds, in that, the lists* of all advice 
My strength can give you : Then no more 
remains [able. 

But that lo your safliciency, as your worth is 
And let thefu work. The nature of our people 
Our city's institutions, and the terms 
For common justice, you are as pregnant t in, 
As art and practice hath enriched any 
That we remember: 1 here is our commission. 
From whith we would not have you warp. — 
1 hay,bid come before us Angelo. — [Call hither, 
\EJiit un Attendant. 
What figure of ng think you he will bear ? 
For you must know, we have with special soul 
Elected him our absence to supply ; 
Lent him our terror, drest him with our jove :i 
And given his deputation all the organs 
Of our own power: What think you of it? 

Escal. If any iu Vienna be of worth 
To undergo such ample grace and honour. 
It is lord Angelo. 

Enter Angelo. 

Duke. Look, where he comes. 

Ang. Always obedient to your grace's will, 
I come to know your pleasure. 

Duke, Angelo^ 



There is a kind of character in thy life, 
That, to the observer, doth thy history 
Fully unfold: Thyself and thy belongings t 
Are not thine own so proper^, as to waste 
Thyself upon thy virtues, them on thee. 
Heaven doth with us, as we with torches do, 
Not light them for themselves : for if oui 
Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike [virtiura 
As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely 

touch'd. 
But to fine issues I|: nor nature never lends 
The smallest scruple of her excellence. 
But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines 
Herself the glory of a creditor, [speech 

Both thanks and use^f. But I do bond n»v 
To one that can ray part in him advertise ; 
Hold therefore, Angelo ; 
In our remove, be thou at full ourself ; 
Mortality and mercy in Vienna 
Live in thy tongue and heart : Old Escalus, 
I'hough first in (question, is thy secondary : 
Take tliy commission. 

A)ig. Now, good my lord. 

Let there be some more test made of my metal. 
Before so noble and so gre^it a figure 
Be stamp'd upon it. 

Duke. No more evasion : 

We have with a leaven'd and prepared choice 
Proceeded to you ; therefore take your honours. 
Our haste from hence is of so quick condition. 
That it prefers itself, and leaves unquestion'd 
Matters of needful value. We shall write to you. 
As time and our roncernings shall injporiune. 
How it goes with us ; and do look to know 
What (loth befall you here. So, fare you well : 
'lo ihe ht»peful execution do 1 leave you 
Of your commissions. 



Bounds. 



t F"II of. X Endowments. $ So nmch thy own properly. 

4 For high purposes. ^ Interest. 



Scene I \ 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 



99 



Aug. Yet, give leave, my lord, 

That we may bring you something on the way. 

Duke. My haste may not admit it ; 
Nor need yon, on mine honour, have to do 
With any scruple : your scope * is as mine 
So to enforce, or qualify the laws, [own ; 

As to your soul seems good. Give me your 
I'll privily away : I love tlie people, [hand ; 
But do not like to stage me to their eyes ; 
Though it do well, 1 do not relish well 
Iheir loud applause, and aves-\ vehement; 
Nor do I think the man of safe discretion, 
That does affect it. Once more, fare you well. 

Aug. The heavens give safety to your 
purposes! [happii.ess. 

EscuL Lead forth, and bring you back in 

Duke. I thank you : Fare you well. [Exit. 

Escal. I shall desire you, sir, to give me 
leave [me 

To have free speech with you ; and it concerns 
To look into the bottom of my place : [nature 
A power I have ; but of what strength and 
I am not yet instructed. [together, 

Ang. *Tis so with me : — Let us withdraw 
And we may soon our satisfaction have 
Touching that point. 

Escal. ril wait upon your honour. 

\Exeunt. 
SCENE II. A Street. 
Enter Lucio and tico Gentlemen. 

Lucio. If the duke, with the other dukes, 
come not to composition with the king of 
Hungary, why, then all the dukes fall upon 
the king. 

1 Gent. Heaven grant us its peace, but not 
the king of Hungary's ! 

2 Gent. Amen. 

Lucio. Thou concludest like the sanctimo- 
nious pirate, that went to sea with the ten 
commandments, but scraped one out of the 
table. 

2 Gent. Thou shalt not steal? 

Lucio. Ay, that he razed. 

1 Gent. Why^, 'twas a commandment to 
command the captain and all the rest from 
their functions ; they put forth to steal : 
There's not a soldier of us all, that, in the 
thanksgiving before meat, doth relish the 
petition well that prays for peace. 

2 Gent. I never heard any soldier dislike it. 
Lucio. I believe thee ; for, I think, thou 

never wast where grace was said. 

2 Gent. No ? a dozen times at least. 

1 Gent. What? in metre? 

Lucio. In any proportion J, or in any 
language. 

1 Gent. I think, or in any religion. 

Lucio. Ay! why not? Grace is grace, de- 
spite of all controversy : As for example ; 
Thou thyself art a wicked villain, despite of 
all grace. 

1 Gent. Well, there went but a pair of 
sheers between us§. 

Lncin. I grant; as there may between the 
lists and the velvet : Thou art the list. 



1 Gent. And thou the velvet : thou art 
good velvet ; thou art a three-pil'd piece, i 
warrant thee : I had as lief be a list of an 
English kersey, as be pil'd, as thou art pi I'd, 
for a French velvet H- Do I speak feelingly 
now ? 

Lucio. I think thou dost; and, indeed, with 
most painful feeling of thy speech : I will, 
out of thine own confession, learn to begMi 
thy health ; but, whilst 1 live, forget to drink 
after thee. 

1 Gent. I think, I have done myself wrong; 
have I not? 

2 Ge7it. Yes, that thou hast ; whether thou 
art tainted, or free. 

Lucio. Behold, behold, where madam Mi- 
tigation comes ! 1 have purchased as many 
diseases under her roof, as come to — 

2 Gent. To what, I pray ? 

1 Gent. Judge. 

2 Gent. To three thousand dollars a-year. 
1 Gent. Ay, and more. 

Lucio. A French crown IT more. 

1 Gent. Thou art always figuring diseases 
in me; but thou art full of error; 1 am sound. 

Lucio. Nay, not as one would say, healthy ; 
but so sound, as things that are hollow : thy 
bones are hollow ; impiety has made a feast 
of thee. 

Efiter Bawd. 

1 Gent. How now? Which of your hips 
has the most profound sciatica ? 

Bawd. Well, well; there's one yonder ar- 
rested, and carried to prison, was worth five 
thousand of you all. 

1 Gent. Who's that, I pray thee? 

Bund. Marry, sir, that's Claudio, signior 
Claudio. 

1 Getit. Claudio to prison ! 'tis not so. 
Band. Nay, but I know, 'tis so : I saw 

him arrested ; saw him carried away ; and, 
which is more, within these three days his 
head's to be chopped off. 

Lucio. But, after all this fooling, I would 
not have it so : Art thou sure of this? 

Bated. I am too sure of it : and it is for 
getting madam Julietta with child. 

Lucio. Believe me, this may be : he pro- 
mised to meet me two hours since ; and he 
was ever precise in promise-keeping. 

2 Gtnt. Besides, you know, it draws some- 
thing near to the speech we had to such a 
purpose. 

I Gcjif. But most of all, agreeing with tlie 
proclamation 

Lucio. Away ; let's go learn the truth of it 
[Exeunt Lvcxo and Gentlemen. 

Bawd. Thus, what with the war, what with 
the sweat **, what with the gallows, and what 
with poverty, I am custom-shrunk. How 
now i what's the news with you? 
Enter Clown. 

Clo. Yonder man is carried to prison. 

Bawd. Well; what has he done? 

Clo. A woman. 



Extent of power. 
1! A jpst on tlif lo«! 



Hailings. J Measure. 

hair by the French disca.-e. 

** I ho jiweal'-i^ si ku! fi 



§ A cut of thp same cloth. 
M (oron.t Fcncris. 



100 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act A 



Bated. But what's his offence'? 
do. Groping for trouts in a peculiar river. 
Baivd, What, is there a maid with child 
by him ? 

Clo. Nj ; bat there's a woman with maid 
by him : You have not heard of the procla- 
mation, have >ou? 

Bawd. What proclamation, man. 
VLo. All houses in the suburbs of Vienna 
must be pluck'd down. 

Bawd. And what shall become of those in 
the city 1 

Clo. They shall stand for seed : they had 
gone down too, but that a wise burgher put 
in tor them. 

Bawd. But shall all our houses of resort in 
the suburbs be pull'd down ? 
Clo. To the ground, mistress. 
Bawd. Why, here's a chan2;e, indeed, in the 
commonwealth! What shall become of me ? 
Clo. Come ; fear not you ; good coun- 
sellors lack no clients: though you change 
your place, you need not change your trade ; 
I'll be your tapster still. Courage ; there will 
be pity taken on yon : you that have worn 
your eyes almost out in the service, you will 
be considered. 

Batvd. What's to do here, Thomas Tapster ? 
Let's willuiraw. 

Clo. Here comes signior Claudio, led by 
the provost to prison : and there's madam 
Juliet. [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. The same. 

Enter Provost*, Claudio, Julirt, and 

Officers ; Lucio, and two Gentlemen. 

Claud. Fellow, why dost thou show me 

thus to the world 1 

Bear me to prison, where I am committed. 

Prov. I do it not in evil disposition, 
But from lord Angelo by special charge. 

(Jlaud. Thu« can the demi-god, Authority, 
Make us pay dov/n for our otfence by weight.— 
Thewordsofheaven;— onwhomitwilljitwill ; 
On whom it will not, so; yet still 'tis just. 
Lucio. Why, how now, Claudio? whence 

comes this restraint? 
Claud. From too much liberty, my Lncio 
As surfeit is the father of much fast, [liberty : 
So every scope by the immoderate use 
Turns to restr lint : Our natures do pursue, 
(Like rats that ravintdown their proper bane,) 
A thirsty evil ; and when we drink, we die. 

Lmio. If I could speak so wisely under an 
arrest, I would send for certain of my credi- 
tors : And yet, to say the truth, 1 had as lief 
have the foppery of freedom, as the mora 
lity of imprisonment.— What's thy offence, 
Claudio ? 
Claud. What, but to speak of would offend 



Lucio. What is it ? murder % 

Claud. Tso. 

Lucio. Lechery? 

Claud. Call it so. 

Prov. Away, sir; yon must go. 

* Gaoler. t Voiacioualy devour. 



[again. 



Claud. One word, good friend : — Lucio, 
word with you. \Takes him aside, 

Lucio. A hundred, if they'll do you any 
Is lechery so look'd after? [good. — 

Claud. Thus stands it with me: — Upon a 
true contract, 
I got possession of Julietta's bed ; 
You know the lady ; she is fast my wife, j 

Save that we do the denunciation lack I 

Of outward order : this we came not to, 
Only for propagation of a dower 
Remaining in the cotter of her friends; [love. 
From whom we thought it meet to hide our 
Till time had made them for us. But itch;inci», 
The stealth of our most mutual entertainment 
With character too gross, is writ on Juliet. 

Lucio. With child, perhaps? 

Claud. Unhappily, even so. 
And the new deputy now for the duke, — 
Whether it be the fault and glimpse of new- 
Or whether that the body public be [ness; 
A horse whereon the governor doth ride, 
Who, newly in the seat, that it may know 
He can command, lets it straight feel the spur : 
Whether the tyranny be in his place. 
Or in his eminence that fills it up, 
I stagger in : — But this new governor 
Awakes me all the enrolled penalties, 
Which have, like unscour'd armour hunj;, by 
the wall [round. 

So long, that nineteen zodiacs! have gone 
A.nd none of them been worn; and, for a name. 
Now puts the drowsy and neglected act 
Freshly on me :--'tis surely for a name. 

Lucio. I warrant, it is: and tliy head stands ^ 
so tickle § on thy shoulders, that a milk maid^j, 
if she be in love, may sigh it off. Send after 
the duke, and appeal to him. [found. 

Claud. I have done so, but he's not to beij 
I pr'ythee, Lucio, do me this kind service : ™ 
This day my sister should the cloister entor. 
And there receive her approbation i| : 
Acquaint her with the danger of my state ; ■ ^ 
i ni plore her, in my voice, that she make fi lends 
To the strict deputy ; bid herself assay him ; ^ 
I have great hope in that: for in her youth 
There is a prone H and speechless dialect, ' 

Such as moves men; beside, she hath pro-j 
sperous art i 

When she will play with reason and discoui se. 
And well she can persuade. 

Lucio. I pray, she may : as well for the en. 
couragement of the like, which else would 
stand under grievous imposition; as for the en-J 
joying of thy life, who 1 would be sorry shouuf 
be thus foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack^^ 
I'll to her. 
Claud. I thank you, good friend Lucio. 

Lucio. W ithin t\vo hours. 

Claud. Come, officer, away. [Exeunt^ 

SCENE IV. A Monastery. i 

Enter Duke and Friar Thomas. 
Duke. No; holy father; throw away thai 
thought ; 



I Yearly circles. 
*i Prompt. 



§ Ticklish. U Enter on her probatlo 



SctJie IV,] 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 



101 



lieMeve not that the dribbling dart of love 
Can pierce a c6mplete bosom * : why I desire 

thee 
To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose 
More grave and wrinkled than the aims and 
Of burning youth. [ends 

JF'ri. May your grace speak of it ? 

Duke. My holy sir, none better knows than 
How I have ever lov'd the liferemov'd + ; [you 
And held in idle price to haunt assemblies. 
Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery 
I have delivered to lord Angelo [keeps X. 

t'A man of stricture §, and firm abstinence,) 
My absolute power and place here in Vienna, 
And he supposes me travell'd to Poland ; 
For so [ have strew'd it in the common ear. 
And so it is receiv'd : Now, pious sir, 
Vou will demand of me, why I do this? 
Fii. Gladly, my lord. [biting laws, 

Duke. We have strict statutes, and most 
iThe needful bits and curbs for head-strong 

steeds,) [sleep ; 

Which for these fourteen years we have let 
Even like an o'er-grown lion in a cave, 
That goes not out to prey : Now, as fond fathers 
Having bound up the threatening twigs of birch, 
Only to ftick it in their children's sight. 
For terror, not to use ; in time the rod [crees, 
]iecomes more mockVi, than fear'd : so our de- 
l)ead to infliction, to themselves are dead ; 
And liberty plucks justice by the nose; 
1 hp baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart 
Goes all decorum. 

Fri, It rested in your grace 

To unloose this tied-up justice, when you 

pleas'd; 
A nd it in you more dreadful would have seem'd, 
1 han in lord Angelo. 

Duke. I do fear, too dreadful : 

Sith II 'twas my fault to give the people scope, 
Twould be my tyranny to strike, and gall them 
For what I bid them do: For we bid this be 

done, 
When evil deeds have their permissive pass. 
And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, 

my father, 
I have on Angelo impos'd the office; 
Who may, in the ambush of my name, strike 

home, 
A nd yet my nature never in the sight. 
To do it slander : And to behold his sway, 
1 will, as 'twere a brother of your order, [thee, 
\ isit both prince and people : therefore, I pr'y^ 
Supply me with the habit, and instruct me 
How I may formally in person bear me 
Like a true friar. More reasons for this action, 
At our more leisure shall I render you ; 
jnly, this one : — Lord Angelo is precise ; 
Stands at a guard % with envy ; scarceconfesses 
ihat his blood flows, or that his appetite [see, 
*s more to bread than stone: Hence shall we 
♦f power change purpose, what our seemers 

be. ^Exeunt. 



SCENE V. A Nunnery. 
Enter Isabella owd' Francisca. 

Isab. And have you nuns no further privi- 
leges '? 

Era 71. Are not these large enough ? [more ; 

Isab. Yes, truly: I speak not as desiring 
But rather wishing a more strict restraint 
Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of saint 
Clare. 

Lucio. Ho ! Peace be in this place? [Iflthin.] 

Isab. Who's that which calls t 

Fran. It is a man's voice : Gentle Isabella, 
Turn you the key, and know his business of him; 
You may, I may not; you are yet unsworn: 
When you have vow'd, you must not speak with 
But in the presence of the prioress; [men. 

Then, if you speak,you must not show your face; 
Or, if you showyour face, you must not speak. 
He calls again; I pray you, answer him. 

[Exit Francisca. 

Isab. Peace and prosperity ! Who is't that 
calls ? 

Enter Lucio. 

Lucio. Hail, virgin, if you be; as those 
cheek-roses 
Proclaim you are no less ! Can you so stead me, 
As bring me to the sight of Isabella, 
A novice of this place, and the fair sister 
To her unhappy brother Claudio? 

Isab. Why her unhappy brother? let me ask 
The rather, for I now must make you know 
I am that Isabella, and his sister. 

Lucio. Gentle and fair, your brother kindly 
greets you : 
Not to be weary with yon, he's in prison. 

Isab. Woe me! For what? [his judge, 

Lvcio. For that, which, if myself niight be 
He should receive his punishment in thanks : 
He hath got his friend with child. 

Isab Sir, make me not your story ♦*. 

Lucio. It is true. 

I would not — though 'tis my familiar sin 
With maids to seem the lapwing, and to jest. 
Tongue far from heart, — play with all virgins 
I hold you as a thing ensky'd, and sainted ; [so : 
By your renouncement, an immortal spirit ; 
And to be talk'd with in sincerity. 
As with a saint. 

Isah. You do blaspheme the good, in mock- 
ing me. ['tis thus: 

Lucio. Do not believe it Fewness an dtruthtt. 
Your brvcher and his lover have embraced : 
Asthose that feed grow full; as blossoming time. 
That from the seedness the bare fallow brings 
To teeming foisonjj; even sober plenteous 

womb 
Expresseth his full tilth $$ and husbandry. 

Isab. Some one with child by him?- My 

Lucio. Is she your cousin? [cousin Juliet? 

Isab. Adoptedly; as school-maids change 
By vain though apt affection. ^ [their names 

Lucio. She it is. 



» Completely armed. t Retired. J Showy dress resides. $ Strictness. i Since, 

% On his defence. •• Do not make a jest of me. 1 1 In few and true words. 

I J Breeding plenty. ^ ) TilLmg. 

K 3 



102 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act TL 



Ixa. O, let him marry her! 

LiUcio. This is the point. 

The (iuke is very strangely gone from hence ; 
Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, 
In hand, and hope of action : but we do learn 
By those that know the very nerves of state. 
His givings out were of an infinite distance 
From his true-meant design. Upon his place. 
And with full line* of his authority, 
Governs lord Angelo; a man, whose blood 
Is very snow broth ; one who never teeis 
The wanton stings and motions of the sense; 
But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge 
With profits of the mind, study and fast. 
He (to give fear to use and libeity. 
Which have, for long, run by the hideous law, 
As mice by lions,) hath pick'd out an act. 
Under whose heavy st:nse your brother's life 
Falls into forfeit : he arrests him on it; 
And follows close the rigour of the statute. 
To make him an example: all hope is gone. 
Unless you have the grace t by your fair prayer 
To soften Angelo: And that's my pith 
Of business 'twixt you and your poor brother. 



Isah. Doth he so seek his life? 

Lucio. Has censnr'd t him 

Already; and, as I hear, the provost hath 
A warrant foi* his execution. 

I^ah. Alas! what poor ability's in me 
To do him good? 

Lucio. Assay the power you have. 

I''ab, My power! Alas! 1 doubt, — 

Iaic'w. Our doubts are traitors. 

And make us lose the good we oft might win. 
By fearing to attempt : Go to lord Angelo, 
And let him learn to know, when maidens sue. 
Men give like gods; but when they weep and 
All their petitions are as freely theirs [kneel. 
As they themselve'- would owe j them. 

Isab. I'll see what I can do. 

lAicio. But speedily. 

Isab, I will about it straight; 
No longer staying but to give the motlier|| 
Notice of my alfair. I humbly thank yon: 
Commend me to my brother : soon at night 
P!l send him certain word of my success. 

JjUcio. I take my leave of you. 

Isab. Good sir, adieu. 

[Kxeunt, 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. A Hall in Angelo's House. 

Enter AsGhhOfF.scAhVs, a Justice, Provost, 
Officers, Li7iU other Attendants. 

Ang. We must not make a scare-crow of the 
Satting it up to fear^ the birds of prey, [law. 
And let it keep one shape, till custom make it 
Their perch, and not their terror. 

E^cul. Ay, but j'et 

Let ns be keen, and rather cut a little, [lleinan, 
Than fall, and bruise to death : Alas! this gen- 
Whora I would save, had a most noble father. 
Let but your honour know**, 
(Whom I believe to be most strait in virtue,; 
That, in the working of your own aflections. 
Had time coher'dtt with place, or place with 

wishing, 
Or that the resolute acting of your blood [pose, 
Could have attain'dtheetfect of your own pur- 
Wh ether you had not sometime in your lite 
Err'd in this point which now you censure him, 
And puU'd the law upon you. 

Ang, Tis one thing to be tempted, Escalus, 
Another thing to fall. I not deny. 
The jury, passing on the prisoner's life. 
May, in the sworn twelve, have a thief or two 
Guiltier than him they try : What's o^mii made 

to justice, 
That justice seizes. What know the laws, 
'1 hat thieves do pass i; on thieves? 'J is very 

pregnant 55, 
The jewel that we find, xge Htoop and take it. 
Because we see it; bat what we do not see. 
We tread upon, and never think of it. 



You may not so extenuate his offence, 
Foril II I have had such faults ; but rather tell me, - 
When I, tiiat censure UH him, do so otfend, 
Let mine own judgment pattern out my death. 
And nothing come in partial. Sir, he must die. 

Escat. Be it as your wisdom will. 

Ang. * Where is the provost? 

Prov. Here, if It like your honour. 

Ang. See that Claudio 

Be executed by nine to-morrow n)orning : 
Bring him his confessor, let him be prepared; 
For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage. 

[Exit Provost. 

Escal. Well, heaven forgive him ; and for- \ 
give us all 1 
Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall: 
Some run from brakes *•• of vice, and answei 

none ; 
And some condemned for a fault alone. 
Enter Ei-Bow, Froth, Clown, Officers, JJ:'*. 

El!>. Come, bring them away : if these be 
good people in a common-weal I T t, that do no- 
tliing but use their abuses in common hou.ses, i\ 
1 know no law ; bring them away. 

Ang. How now, sir! What's your name! < 
and what's the matter? 

EUt. If it please your honour, I am the pool 
duke'ii constable, and my name is Elbow; J 
do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in her© 
before your goo'l honour two notorious bene- 
factors. 

Ang. Benefactors? Well ; what bcnefactori 
are they? are they not malefactors? 

Elb. If it please your honour, I know not ) 



• Extent. 4 Power of gaining favout. t Sentenced. 

S Scare. •• Kxamine. tt Suited. JJ Past' juilgment. 
H^ Seiitcnce. ••• Thickets, thorny paths <>^ vj^c 



$ Have. I] Abbess 

$^ Plain. 111! Because* 
Itt Wealth. 



Scene /.] 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 



io:> 



well what they are: but precise villains they 
are, that I am sure of; and void of all profa- 
nation in the world, that good christians ought 
to have. 

Escal. This comes off well •; here's a wise 
officer. 

Ang. Go to: What quality are they of? 
Elbow is your name? Why dost thou not 
speak, Elbow? 

Vlo. He cannot, sir; he*s out at elbow. 

Ang. What are you, sir? 

Elb. He, sir? a tapster, sir; parcel t-bawd ; 
one that serves a bad woman ; whose house, 
sir, was, as they say, pluck'd down in the sub- 
urbs ; and now she professes J a hot-house, 
which, I think, is a very ill house too. 

Escal. How know you that? 

Etb. My wife, sir, whom I detest $ before 
heaven and your honour, — 

Escal. How! thy wife? 

Elb. Ay, sir ; whom, I thank heaven, is an 
honest woman, — 

Escal. Dost thou detest her therefore? 

Elb. I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as 
well as she, that this house, if it be not a 
bawd's house, it is pity of her life, for it is a 
Daughty house. 

Escal. How dost thou know that, constable! 

Elb. Marry, sir, by my wife ; who, if she 
had been a woman cardinally given, might 
fcave been accused in fornication, adultery, 
tnd all uncleanliness There. 

Escal. By the woman's means? 

Elb. Ay, sir, by mistress Overdone's means : 
but as she spit in his face, so she defied him. 

Clo. Sir; if it please your honour, this is 
tot so. 

Elb. Prove it before these varlets here, thou 
honourable man, prove it. 

Escal. Do you hear how he misplaces? 

[Vo Angelo. 

Clo. Sir, she came in great with child; and 
longing (saving your honour's reverence,) for 
stew'd prunes; sir, we had but two in the 
house, which at that very distant time stood, 
uS it were, in a fruit-dish, a dish of some three 
pence; your honours have seen such dishes; 
they arenotChinadishes, but very good dishes. 

Kscul. Go to, go to : no matter tor the dish, 
sir. 

Clo. No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are 
therein in the right : but, to the point: As I 
Siiy, this mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with 
child, and being great beliy'd, and longing, as 
I •'lid, for prunes; and having but two in the 
(i.sh, as 1 said, master Froth here, this very 
n-an, having eaten the rest, as I said, and, as 
I say, paying for them very honestly; — for, 
as you know, master Froth, I could not give 
you three pence again. 

Frotk, No, indeed. 

Clo. Very well: yon being then, if you be 
reniember'd, cracking the stones of the fore- 
said prunes. 

I'Yoth. Ay, so I did, indeed. 



Clo. Why, very well : I telling you then, if 
you be remembered, that such a one, and such 
a one, were past cure of the thing you wot of, 
unless they kept very good diet, as I told you. 

Froth. All this is true. 

Clo. Why, very well then. 
Escal. Come, you are a tedious fool : to the 
purpose.— What was done to Elbow's wife, 
that he hath cause to complain of? Come nie 
to what was done to her. 

Clo. Sir, your honour cannot come to that 
yet. 

Escal. No, sir, nor I mean it not. 

Clo. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your 
honour's leave: And, I beseech you, look into 
master Froth here, sir; a man of fourscore 
pound a-year; whose father died at Hallow- 
mas :— Was'tnol at Hallowmas, master Froth! 

Froth. All-hollond|l eve. 

Clo. Why, very well ; I hope here be truths : 
He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower U chair, 
sir ;— 'twas in the Bunch of Grapes, where, 
indeed, you have a delight to sit: Have you 
not ? 

Froth. I have so; because it is an open 
room, and good for winter. 

Clo. Why, very well then ; — I hope here be 
truths. 

Ang. This will last out a night in Russia, 
When nights are longest there : I'll take my 

leave, 
And leave you to the hearing of the cause; 
Hoping, you'll find good cause to whip them 
ail. 

Escal. I think no less: Good morrow to 
your lordship. [Exit Ang klo. 

Now, sir, come on : What was done to Elbow's 
wife, onre more? 

Clo. Once, sir? there was nothing done to 
her once. 

Elb. I beseech you, sir, ask him what this 
man did to my wife. 

Clo. I beseech your honour, ask me. 

E-cal. VV ell, sir : What did this gentleman 
to her? 

Clo. 1 beseech you, sir, look in this gentle- 
man's face: — Good master Froth, look upon 
his honour ; 'lis for a good purpose : Doib 
your honour maik his face? 

E^cal. Ay, sir, very well. 

Clo. Nay, I beseech you, mark it well. 

Escal. Well, 1 do so. 

Clo. Doth your honour see any harm in his 
face ? 

E^cal. Why, no. 

Clo. I'll be supposed** upon a hook, his fact 
is the worst thing about him: Good th. n; if 
his face be the woist thing about him, how 
could master Froth do the constable's wife a.iy 
harm? 1 would know that of your honour. 

E-'Cal. He's in the right: Constable, what 
say you to it? 

Elb. First, an it like you, the house is a re- 
spected house; next, this is a respected fel- 
low ; and his mistress is a respected woman. 



• Well told. T Partly. 

U Eve of All Saints day. 



I Keeps a bagnio. § For protest. 

f Ka^y. *• Deposed, sworn 



104 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act n. 



Clo. By thig hand, sir, his wife is a more 
respected person than any of ns all. 

t^ib, Variet, thuu liest ; thou liest, wicked 
varlet: the time is yet to come, that she was 
ever respected with man, woman, or child. 

Clo. Sir, she was respected with him before 
he married with her. 

EscaL Which is the wiser here? Justice, or 
Iniquity*? Is this true? 

Elh. O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou 
wicked Hannibal t ! I respected with her, be- 
fore I was married to her? If ever I was re- 
ppected with hp.r, oi she with me, let not your 
worship think me the poor dnke*s officer : — 
Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or 1*11 have 
mine action of battery on thee. 

Escal. If he took you a box o' ear, you 
might have your action of slander too. 

Eib. Marry, I thank your good worship for 
It : What is't your worship's pleasure I should 
do with this wicked caitiff? 

Escal. Truly, officer, because he hath some 
offences in him, that thou wouldst discover if 
thou couldst, let him continue in his courses, 
till thou know'st what they are. 

Elb. Marry, I thank your worship for it: — 
Thou seest, thou wicked varlet now, what's 
come upon thee; thou art to continue now, 
Ihou varlet; thou art to continue. 

Escal. Where were you born, friend ? 

[7'o Froth. 

Froth, Here in Vienna, sir. 

Escal. Are you of fourscore pounds a-year? 

Froth. Yes, and't please you, sir. 

EscaL, So. — What trade are you of, sir? 

[7'o the Clown. 

Clo, A tapster ; a poor widow's tapster. 

Escal. "\our mistress's name? 

Clo. Mistress Over done. 

Escal. Hath she had any more than one 
husband ? 

Clo. Nine, sir; Over-done by the last. 

Escal. Nine ! — Come hither to me, master 
Froth. Master Froth, I would not have you 
acqu;unted with tapsters ; they will draw you, 
master Froth, and you will hang them : Get 
you gone, and let me hear no more of you. 

Froth. I thank your worship : For mine 
own part, I never come into any room in a 
taphouse, but I am drawn in. 

Escal. Well; no more of it, master Froth: 
farewell. [Ejcit Froth.] — Come you hither to 
me, master tapster; what's your name, master 
tapster? 

Clo. Pompcy. 

Escal. What else? 

Clo. Bum, sir. 

Escol.*TTOi\\, and your bum is the greatest 
thing about yoa : so that, in the beastliest sense, 
yon are Poinpey the great. Pompey,you are 
partly a bawd, Pompey, howsoever you coJonr 
ii in being a tapster. Are you not? come, tell 
me true ; it shall be the better for you. 

Clo. Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow, that 
wotild live. 

Escal. How would you live, Pompey? by 



being a bawdt What do you think of the 
trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade? 

Clo. If the law would allow it, sir. 

Escal. But the law wil! not allow it, Pom- 
pey; nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna. 

Clo. Does your worship mean to geld and 
spay all the youth in the city? 

Escal. No, Pompey. 

Clo. Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they 
will to't then : If your worship will take or- 
der j for the drabs and the knaves, you need 
not to fear the bawds. 

Escal. There are pretty orders beginning, I 
can tell you: It is but heading and hanging. 

Clo. If you head and hang all that offend 
that way but for ten year together, you'll be 
glad to give out a commission for more heads. 
If this law hold in Vienna ten year, I'll rent 
the fairest house in it, after three pence a bay: 
If you live to see this come to pass, say, Pom- 
pey told you so. 

Escal. Thank you, good Pompey: and, in 
requital of your prophecy, hark you, — I advise 
you, let me not tind you before me again upon 
any complaint whatsoever, no, nottor dwelling 
where you do; if I do, Pompey, I shall beat 
you to your tent, and prove a shrewd Caesar 
to you; in plain dealing, Pompey,! shall have 
you whipl : so for this time, Pompey, fare you 
well. 

Clo. I thank your worship for your good 
counsel ; but I shall foljow it, as the flesh and 
fortune shall better determine. 
Whip me? No, no ; let carman whip his ja/le ; 
The valiant heart's not whipt out of his trade, i 

[Exit, \ 

Escal. Come hither to me, master Elbow ; 
come hither, master Constable. How long 
have you been in this place of constable? 

Elb. Seven year and a half, sir. 

Escal. I thought, by your readiness in the 
office, you had continued in it some time: 
You say, seven years together? 

Elb. And a half, sir. 

Escal. Alas! it hath been great pains to 
you! They do you wrong to put you so oft 
upon't : Are there not men in your ward suf- 
ficient to serve it I 

Eib. Faith, sir, few of any wit in such mat- 
ters : as they are chosen, they are glad to 
choose me for them ; I do it for some piece of | 
money, and go through with all. 

Escal. Look you, bring me in the names ot 
some six or seven, the most sufficient of your ^ 
parish. 

Elh. To your worship's house, sir? 

Escal. To my house: Fare you well.[£iii^. 
Elbow.] What's o'clock, think yon? 

Just. Eleven, sir. 

Escal. I pray you home to dinner with rae* 

Just. I humbly thank you. 

Escal. It grieves me for the death of Clau* 
dio ; But there's no remedy. 

Just. Lord Angelo is severe. 

Escal. It is but needful" 

Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so ; ; 



1 



• Constable or clown. 



t For cannibal. 



t Measures. 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 



105 



Pardon is still the nurse of second woe; 
But yet,— Poor Claudio!— There's no remedy. 
Come, sir. [±Jj:eunt. 

SCENE II. Another Room in the same. 
Fmter Provost and a Servant. 

Serv. He's hearing of a caase; he will come 
straii^ht. 
I'll tell him of you. [know 

Pr."-. Pray you, do. \Exit Servant.] I'll 
His pleasure ; may be, he will relent : Alas, 
He hath but as offended in a dream! 
Ail sects, all ages smack of this vice; and he 
To die for it ! — 

Fmter Angelo. 

Aug. Now, what's the matter, provost? 

Prov. Is it your will Claudio shall die to- 
morrow? 

Ang. Did I not tell thee, yea 1 hadst thou 
Why dost thou ask again ! [not order ! 

Prov. Lest I might be too rash : 

Under your good correction, I have seen. 
When, after execution, judgment hath 
Repented o'er his doom. 

^7?^. Go to; let that be mine: 

Do you your office, or give up your place, 
And you shall well be spar'd. 

Prov. I crave your honour's pardon. — 
What shall be done, sir, with the groaning 
She's very near her hour. [Juliet! 

Ang. Dispose of her 

To some more fitter place ; and that with speed. 

Re-e?iUr Servant. 

Serv. Here is the sister of the man con- 
Desires access to you. [demn'd, 

Ang. Hath he a sister? 

Proc. Ay, my good lord ; a very virtuous 
And to be shortly of a sisterhood, [maid, 

If not already. 

Ang. Well, let her be admitted. 

[EjlU Seivant. 
See you, the fornicatress be removed; 
Let her have needful, but not lavish, means ; 
There shall be order for it. 

Enter Lucio and Isabella. 

Prov. Sdvey our honoml [O^e I i?ig to retire. 

Ang. Stay a little v,'hi\el—[To Isab.] You 
are welcome: What's your will ! 

Isab. I am a woeful suitor to your honour, 
Please but your honour hear me. 

Ang. Well ; what's your suit! 

Iscib. There is a vice, that most I do abhor, 
A.nd most desire should meet the blow of justice; 
For which I would not plead, but that I must; 
For which I must not plead, but that I am 
At war, 'twixt will and will not. 

Ang. Weil; the matter! 

Isab. I have a brother is condemned to die : 
I di» beseech you, let it be his fault, 
And not my brother. 

Prov. Heaven give thee moving graces! 

Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor 
of it! 
Why, every fault's condemn'd, ere it be done: 
Mine were the very cipiier of a function, 



To find the faults, whose fine stands in record, 
And let go by the actor. 

Isab. O just, but severe law ! 

I had a brother then. — Heaven keep your ho- 
nour! [Retirhg. 

Lucio. [To Isab.] Give not o'er so : to him 
again, entreat him ; 
Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown ; 
You are too cold : if you should need a pin. 
You could not with more tame a tongue desire 
To him, I say. [it: 

Isab. Must he needs die ! 

Af/g. Maiden, no remedy. 

Isab. Yes ; I do think that you might par- 
don him, fmercy. 
And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the 

Atig. 1 will not do't. 

Isab. But can you, if you wouldl 

Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do. 

• Isab. But might you do't, and do the world 

no wrong, [morse * 

If so your heart were touch'd with that re- 

As mine is to him! 

Ang. He's sentencM : 'tis too late. 

Lucio. You are too cold. [To Isabella. 

Isab. Too late? why, no ; I, that do speak 
word, 
May call it back again: Well believe t this. 
No ceremony that to great ones 'longs. 
Not the king's crowi;, nor the deputed sword, 
The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe. 
Become them with one half so good a grace. 
As mercy does. If he had been as you 
And you as he, you would have slipt like him ; 
But he, like you, would not have been so stern. 

A7ig. Pray yoii, begone. 

Isab. I would to heaven I had your potency. 
And you were Isabel! should it then be thus? 
No : I would tell what 'twere to be a judge. 
And what a prisoner. 

Lucio, Ay, touch him : there's the vein. 
[Aside, 

Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the law. 
And you but waste your words. 

Isab. Alas! alas! 

Why, all the souls that were, were forfeit once; 
And He that might the vantage best have took. 
Found out the remedy: How would you be. 
If he, which is the top of judgment, should 
But judge you as you are? O, think on that ; 
And mercy tlien will breathe within your lips. 
Like man new made. 

Ang. Be you content, fair maid ; 

It is the law, not I, condemns your brother; 
Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son. 
It should be thus with hira;— he must die to- 
morrow, [him, spare him : 

Isab. 1l o-moxroyv\ O, that's sudden! Spare 
He's not prepai-*d for death! Even for our 
kitchens, [heaven 

We kill the fowl of season j; shall we serv% 
With less respect than we do minister 
To cur gross selves? Good, good my lord, be 

think you : 
Who is it th;U hath died for this oflence? 
There's many have committed it. 



Pity. 



t Be assured. 



i When in season. 



106 



SHAKSPEARE. 



Lucio. Ay, well said. 

Aug. The law hath not been dead, though it 
hath slept : 
Those many had not dar'd to do that evil, 
If the first man that did the edict infringe, 
Had ansvver'd for his deed: now, 'tis awake; 
Takes note of what is done ; and, like a prophet, 
Looks in a glass, that shows what future evils, 
(Either now, or by remissness new-conceiV'd, 
And Sv> in progress to be hatched and born,) 
Are now to have no successive degrees. 
But, where they live, to end. 

Isab. Yet show some pity. 

Ang. I show it mosl of all, when I show jus- 
For then I pity those 1 do not know, [tice; 
Which a dismiss'd ofl'ence would after gall; 
And do him right, that, answering one foul 
Lives not to act another. F^e satisfied ; [wrong. 
Your brother dies to-morrow ; be content. 

Isab. So you must be the first,that gives this 
sentence : 
And he, that sutFers: O, it is excellent 
To have a giant's strength ; but it is tyrannous 
To use it like a giant. 

Lucio. That's well said. 

Isah. Could great men thunder 
As Jove himsclfdoes, Jove would ne'er be quiet, 
For every pelting *, petty officer, 
Would use his heaven for thunder; nothing 

but thunder. 

Merciful heaven ! 

Thou rather,with thy sharp and sulphuronsbolt, 

Split'.>?t the unwedgeable and gnarled t oak. 

Than the soft myrtle; — 0,but man, proud man! 

Drest in a little brief authority; 

Most ignorant of what he's most assurM; 

His glassy essence,— like an angry ape, 

Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven. 

As make the angels weep; who, with our 

Would all themselves laugh mortal., [spleens, 

Lvcio. O, to him, to him, wench: he will 
He's coming, 1 perceive't. [relent ; 

Prov. Pray heaven, Ehe win him! 

Isab. We cannot weigh our brother with 
ourself: [them ; 

Great men may jest with saints: 'tis wit in 
But, in the less, foul profanation. 

Lucio. Thou'rt in the ri^it, girl; more o' 
that. [word, 

Isah. That in the captain's but a cholerick 
Which ir. the soldier is flat blasphemy. 

Lucio. Art advis'd o' that ? more on't. 

Ang. Why do you put these sa> ingsuponme? 

J.sttb. Because authority, though it err like 
Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself, [others. 
That skins the vice o' the top : Go to your 
bosom; [know 

Knock there; and ask your heart, what it doth 
1 hat's like my brother's fault: if it confess 
A natural guiltiness, such as is his, 
Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue 
Against my brother's life. 

/I /ii;. She speaks, and 'tis 

Such tsense, that my sense breeds with it. 

Fare you well. 



{CK'f li 



Jsab. Gentle my lord, turn back. 

Ang. I will bethink me : — Come again t4> 
moiTow. [lord, turn back 

Isab. Hark, how I'll bribe you : Good mj 

Aug. How! bribe me! 

Isab. Ay, with such gifts, that heaven shak 
share with you. 

Lucio. You had marr'd all else. [gold 

Isah. Not with fond shekels of the tested j 
Or stones, whose rates are either rich or poor, ' 
As fancy values ihem: but with true prayers. 
That shall be up at heaven, and enter there, 
Ere sun rise; prayers from preserved j souls. 
From fasting maids, whose minds are dedicate 
To nothmg temporal. 

Aug. Well : come to me 

To-morrow. 

Lucio. Go to; it is well; away. 

{Aside to Isabcl. 

Isab. Heaven keep your honour safe ! 

Ang. Amen : for I 

Am that way going to temptation, \Aside, 
W^here prayers cross. 

I^ab. At what hour to morrow 

Shall I attend your lordship 1 

Ang. At any time 'fore noon. 

Isah, Save yonr honour! 

{Exeunt Lucio, Isabella, and Provost. 

Aug. From thee; even from thy virtue. — 
What's this ! what's this ! Is this her fault, or " 
mine! [Ha! 

The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most! 
Not she; nor doth she tempt: but it is I, 
That lying by the violet, in the sun. 
Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower, 
Corrupt vvith virtuous season. Can it be. 
That modesty may more betray our sense 
Than woman's lighfuess? Having waste groimd 
Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary, i enough, 
And pitch our evils there ij ! O tie, tie, fie! 
Wh It dost thou ! or what art thou, Anirelo! 
Host thou desire her foully, for those things 
That make her good! O, let her brotlier live: 
Thieves for their robbery have authority, 
When judges steal themselves. What! do I 

love her, 
That I desire to hear her speak again, 
•Vnd feast upon her eyes? Whatis't I dream on? 
cunning enemy, that, to catch a saint. 
With saints dost bait thy hook ! Most dangerous 
Is that temptation, that doth goad us on 
To sin in lovinvivirtue:nevercouldtlie strumpet. 
With all her double vigour, art, and nature, 
Once stir my temper ; but this virtuous mai(l 
Subdues me quitf ; — Ever, till now, [!o\v. 
When men were fond, I sniil'd, and wondei'd 

[ I'h it, 
SCENE III. A Room in a Prisu/t. 
Enttr DuKK, habited like a Friar ^ ami 
Provost. 

Duke. Hail to you, provost ! so, I ihinU 
you are. [good fi iar \ 

Prov. I am the provost : What's your w ill, 

Duke. Houud by iny charity, and my bless'U 
order, 



Paltry. t Knotted. 



j: Attest. (I, stamped. \ PrtHr- cd from ih»' corruption oJ lue 
vrorid. [j See 2 Kin^is, x. 27. 



Ak V Uf] 



IMEA81 RE FOR MEASURE. 



107 



I ccTne to Tiait il^k' ifiiicted spirits 
Hei«» in the 5)rU::vc do me the common right 
To l«t rae see t&rn., and to make me know 
The nature of their -rjrimes, that I may minister 
To them accordingly. [were needful. 

Prov. I would do more than that, if more 
Enter Juliet. 
Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine, 
Who falling in the flames of her own youth. 
Hath blisterVi her report : She is with child ; 
And he that got it, sentenc*d : a yoiiug man 
More fit to do another such offence, 
Thin die for this. 

Duke. When must he die? 

Prov. As I do think, to-morrow. — 
I have provided for you ; stay a while. 

[To JUMET. 

And you shall be conducted. [carry? 

Duke. Repent yoii, fair one, of the sin you 

Juliet. 1 do ; and bear the shame most 
patiently. [your conscience, 

Duke. I'll teach ym how you shall arraign 
And try your penitence, if it be sound, 
Or hollowly put on. 

Juliet. 1*11 gladly learn. 

Duke. Love you the man that wrong'dyou? 

Juliet. Yes, as I love the woman that 
wrong'd him. [ful act 

Duke. So then, it seems, your most offence- 
Was mutually committed ? 

Juliet. Mutually. 

Duke, Then was your sin of heavier kind 
than his. 

Juliet. 1 do confess it and repent it,father. 

Duke. 'Tis meet so, daughter : But lest you 
do repent, 
As that the sin hath brought you to this sharae, — 
Which sorrow is alwaystoward ourselves, not 
heaven ; [love it, 

Showing, we'd not spare • heaven, as we 
But a? we stand in fear, — 

Juiitt. 1 do repent me, as it is an evil ; 
And take the shan>e with joy. 

Duke. There rest. 

Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow. 
And i am going with instruction to him. — 
Grace go with you ! Benedicite! [Erit. 

Juliet. Must die to-morrow! O, injurious 
That respites me a iife,whose very comfort[love, 
Is still a dying horror ! 

Prov. 'lis pity of him. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. A Room in Angelo's House. 
Enter Angelo. 
Ang. When I would pray and think, I 
think and pray [words ; 

To several subjects ; heaven hath my empty 
Whilst my invention, hearing not my tongue. 
Anchors on Isabel : Heaven in ray mouth. 
As if I did but only chew his name ; 
And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil 
*'f my conception: The state, whereon I 
Is like a good thing, being oiten read, [studied, 
(irown tcar*d and tedious; yea, my gravity. 
Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride, 
Couid l,\vith boott, chan^^e fur an idle ; ume, 1 



j Whith the air beats lor vain. Oplacel Oform I 
! How often dost thou with thy ca?et, thy habit, 
I Wrench awe from fools, and tie the wiser souls 
To thy false seeming? Blood thou still art blood 
' Let's write good angel on the devil's horn, 
' 'Tis not the devil's crest. 

Enter Servant. 
How now, who's there"? 

Serv. One Isabel, a sister. 

Desires access to you. 
Ang. Teach her the way. \^Exit Serv. 

heavens ! 

Why does my blood thus muster to my heart ; 
Making both it unable for itself, 
And dispossessing all the other parts 
Of necesary fitness? [swoons ; 

So pi y the foolish throngs with one that 
Come all to help him, and so stop the air 
By which he should revive : and even so 
The general 5, sabject to a well-wish'd king. 
Quit their own part, and in obsequious fond- 
ness [love 
Crowd to his presence, where their untaught 
Must needs appear offence. 

Enter Isabella. 
How now, fair maid ? 

Is ah. I am come to know your pleasure. 

Ang. That you might know it, would much 
"better please me, 
Than to demand what 'tis. Your brother cannot 
live. 

Isab. Evenso? — Heaven keep your honour! 
{Retiring. 

Ang. Yet may he live a while ; and, it may 
As long as you, or I: Yet he must die. [be. 

Isab. Under your sentence? 

Ang. Yea. [reprieve, 

Isab. When, I beseech you? that in his 
Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted. 
That his soul sicken not. [as good 

Ang. Ha! Fye, these filthy vices! It were 
To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen 
A man already made, as to remit [image, 

Their saucy sweetness, that do coin heaven's 
In stamps that are forbid : 'tis all as easy 
Falsely to take away a life true made. 
As to put mettle in restrained means. 
To make a false one. [in earth. 

J.sah. 'Tis set down so in heaven, but not 

Ang. Say you so ? then I shall pose j ou 
quickly. 
W^hich had you rather. That the most just law 
Now took your brother's life ; or, to redeem 

him, 
Give up your body to such sweet uncleanuess, 
As she that he hath staiu'd ? 

Isab. Sir, believe this, 

1 had rather give my body than my soul. 
Ang. 1 talk not of your soul: Our compeil'd 

Stand:more for number than accompt. [sins 
Isab. llowsayyt»o? 

Ang. Nay, I'll not warrant that ; for 1 can 
speak 
Against the thing I say. Answer to this ;— ' 
I, now the voice of the recordeil law. 
Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life ; 



Spare to offend hcaveu. f Profit. j Outaide. $ People. 



108 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act II 



Might there not be a charity in ain. 
To save this brother's life 7 

J sub. Please you to do*t, 

I'll take it as a peril to my soul, 
It is no sin at all, but charity. [soul, 

Ang. Pleas*'! you to do't, at peril of your 
were equal poise of sin and charity. 

Isab. That I do beg his life, if it be sin, 
Heaven, let me bear it! you granting of my suit. 
If that be sin, Pll make it my morn prayer 
To have it added to the faults of mine, 
And nothing of your, answer. 

Ang. Nay, but hear me : 

Your sense pursues not mine : either you are 

Ignorant, 
Or seem so, craftily ; and that's not good. 

I.\ab. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing 
But graciuusly to know 1 am no better, [good, 

Aug. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most 
bright. 
When it doth tax itself : as these black masks 
Proclaim an enshi Id • beauty ten times louder 
Than beauty could displayed. — But mark me; 
To b* received plain, I'll speak more gross: 
Youf brother is to die. 

Jsab. So. 

Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears 
Accountant to the law upon that paint. 

Jyab. True. 

Ang. Admit no other way to save his life, 
As I subscribe j not that, nor any other. 
But in the loss ot question) §, that you, his sister, 
Finding yourself desir'd of such a peison, 
W hose credit with the judge.or own great place, 
Could fetch your brother from the manacles 
Ot the all-binding law ; and that there were 
No earthl}- mean t(» save him, but that either 
^ ou must lay down liie treasures of your body 
To this supposed, or else let him sutler ; 
What woidd you do? [myself: 

Isah. As much lor my poor brother, as 
That is, Were I under the terms of death, 
']he iuipression of keen whips Pd wear as 
And strip myself to death, as to a bed [rubies, 
Tliat longing 1 have been sick for, ere Pd yield 
My body up to shame. 

Ang. Then must your brother die. 

Isab. And 'twere the cheaper way : 
Better it were, a brother diid at once, 
T ban that a sister, by redeeming him. 
Should (lie tor ever. 

Aug. Were not you then as cruel as the 
That you have slander'd so? [sentence 

Jsab. Ignoiny ll in ransom, and free pardon, 
Are of two houses: lawtul mercy is 
Nothing akin to foul redemption, [a tyrant; 

Aug. You seem'd of late to make the law 
And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother 
A merrimetJt than a vice. 

'Jsab. O, pardon me, my lord ; it oft falls 
out, [we mean : 

To have what we'd have, we speak not what 
I somethini; do excuse tlie thing I h?.'e. 
For his advantage that 1 dearly love. 

Aug. We are ail frail. 



Isab, Eke let my brother die. 

If not a feodaryir, but only he. 
Owe **, and succeed by weakness. 

A7ig. Nay, women are frail oo. 

Isub. Ay, as the glasses where they view 
themselves ; 
Which are as easy broke as they make forms. 
Women ! — Help heaven I men their creation 
mar [frail ; 

In profiting by them. Nay, call us ten timen 
For we are soft as our complexions are. 
And credulous to false prints tt, 

A?ig. I think it well 

And from this testimony of your own sex, 
(Since, 1 suppose, we are madeto be nostronger 
Than faults may shake our frames,) let me be 

bold ;— 
I do arrest your words ; Be that you are, 
That is, a woman ; if you be more, you're none ; 
If you be one, (as you are well express'd 
By all external warrants,) show it now. 
By putting on the destin'd livery. [lord, 

Isub. I have no tongue but one : gentle my 
Let me entreat you speak the former language. 

Ang. Plainly conceive, I love you. 

Isub. My brother did love Juliet: and yon 
That he shall die for it. [tell me, 

Ang. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me 
love. [in't, 

Isab. I know, your virtae hath a licence 
Which seems a little fouler than it is. 
To pluck on others. 

A/!g. Believe me, on mine honour. 

My words express my purpose. 

Isab. Ha! little honour to be much believ'd. 
And most pernicious purpose I — Seeming, 

seeming til — 
I will proclaim thee, Angelo ; look for't : 
Sign me a present pardon for my brother. 
Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I'll tell the 
Aloud, what man thou art. [world 

Ang. Who will believe thee, Isabel? 

My unsoil*d name, the austereness of my liie. 
My vouch^$ against you, and niy place i'lhe 
Will so your accusation overweigh, [stale, 
That you shall stifle in your own report. 
And smell of calumny. 1 have bt gun ; 
And now I give my sensual race the rein: 
Fit thy consent to niy sharp appetite ; 
Lay by all nicety, and prolixiousHII blusiies. 
That bajiish what they sue fi>r ; redeem thy 
By yielding up thy body to my will; rbrotlier 
Or el^e he must not only die the death. 
But thy unkindness shall his death draw out. 
To lingermg sufferance : answer me to-morrow. 
Or, by the affection that now guides me most, 
I'll prove a tyrant to him : As for you. 
Say what you can, my false o'er weighs your 
true. [Exit, 

Isab. To whom shall I complam? Divl I 
tell this, 
Wlio would believe me? O perilous months. 
That bear in them one and the self-same tongue, 
Either of condemnation or approot ! 
Bidding the jaw makecourt'sy to their will ; 



• Enshielded, covered. 
\ Associate. •• Own. 



t Penalty. I Agree to. § Conversation. it k'nnmiuy. 

tr Impressions, it Hypocrisy, q^j ^uesuiiou. ii ij keiuciaul. 



MEASLRE FOR MEASURE. 



109 



Hookins; both right and wrong to the appetite, 
To follow as it draws ! I'll to my brother : 
Though he hath fallen by prompture of the 

blood, 
Yet hath he in him such a nnnd of honour. 
That had he twenty heads to tender down 
On twenty bloody blocks, he'd yield them up. 



Before his sister s^houio her body Ac\.y 

To such abhorr'd pollution. 

Then Isabel, live chaste, and,, brother, die : 

More than our brother is onr chastity. 

I'll tell him yet of Angelo's request. 

And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. A Room in the Prison, 
Enter Duke, Cl AUDIO, and Provost. 

Duke. So, then you hope of pardon from 

lord Angelo? [cine, 

Claud. The miserable have no other medi- 
But only hope : 

I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die. 
Duke. Be absolute* for death ; either death, 

or life, [with life, — 

Shall thereby be the sweeter. Heason thus 
If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing [art, 

That none bet fools would keep : a breath thou 
(Servile to all the skiey influences,) 
That dost this habitation, where thou keep'st. 
Hourly atilict : merely, thou art death's fool ; 
For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, 
And yet nin'st toward him still : Thou art not 

uoble ; 
For all the accommodations that thou bear'st, 
Are nurs'd by baseness: Thou art by oo 

means valiant ; 
For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork 
Of a poor worm : Thy best of rest is sleep, 
And that thon oft provok'st ; yet grossly fear'st 
Thy death, which is no more. Thou art not 

thyself; 
For thou exisi'st on many a thousand grains 
That issue out of dust ; Happy thou art not : 
For what thou hast not, still thou striv'stto get ; 
And what thou hast, forget'st : Thou art not 

certain ; 
For thy complexion shifts to strange effects t. 
After the moon: If thon artrich, thou art poor; 
For, like an ass, whose back with ingots bows. 
Thou bear'st thy heavy riches but a journey. 
And death unloads thee : Friend hast thou none; 
For thine own bowels, which do call the« sire. 
The mere effusion of thy proper loins. 
Do curse the gout, serpigo +, and the rheum, 
V or ending thee no sooner : Thou hast nor 

youth, nor age; 
But, as it were, an after dinner's sleep, 
D. earning on both : for all thy blessed youth 
Becorrjes as aged, and doth beg the alms 
Of palsied eldc ; and when thou art old, and rich, 
Thou hast neither heat, atiection, limb, nor 

beauty, [this. 

To make thy riches pleasant. What's yet in 
That bears the name of life i Yet in this life 
Lie hid more thousand deaths: yet death we 
That makes these odds ail even. [frar, 

Claud. 1 hauibly thank you. 



To sue to live, I find, I seek to die : 
And, seeking death, find lite: Let it come on. 
Enter Isabella. 

Isab. What, ho ! Peace here ; grace and 
good company ! [serves a welconse. 

Prov. Who's there? come in: the wish de- 

Duke. Dear sir, ere long I'll visit you again 

Claud. Most holy sir, I thank you. 

Isab. My business is a word or two with 
Claudio. 

Prov. And very welcome. Look, signior, 
here's your sister. 

Duke. Provost, a word with you. 

Prov. As many as you please. 

Duke. Bring them to speak, where 1 mav 
be conceal'd. 
Yet hear them. \^Exeunt\i\{yi^ and Provost. 

Claud. Now, sister, what's the comfort? 

Isab. Why, as all comforts are ; most good 
Lord A.ngelo, having aflfairs to heaven, [in deed: 
Intends you for his swift ambassador, 
Where you shall be an everlasting leigerj; 
Iherefore your best appointment f make with 
To-morrow you set on. [speed ; 

Ciaud. Is there no remedy ? 

Isab. None, but such remedy, as to save a 
To cleave a heart in twain. [head, 

Claud. But is there any ? 

Isab. Yes, brother, you may live; 
There is a devilish mercy in the judge, 
If you'll implore it, that will free your life. 
But fetter you till death. 

Claud. ^Perpetual durance? 

Isab. Ay, just, perpetual durance ; a re- 
straint, 
Though all the world's vastidity *• you had. 
To a determin'd scope. 

Claud. But in what nature ? 

Isab. In such a one as (you consenting to*l) 
Would bark your honour from that trunk you 
And leave you naked. [bear, 

Claud. Let me know the point. 

Isab. O, I do fear thee, Claudio ; and I quake. 
Lest thou a feverous life should'st entertain. 
And six or seven winters more respect 
Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die? 
'i he sense of death is most in apprehension ; 
And the poor beetle, that we tread upon. 
In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great 
As when a giant dies. 

Claud. Why give you me this shame? 

Think yon 1 can a resolution fetch 
From tiowery tenderness I If I must die, 
1 \\\\\ encounter darkness as a bride. 



Determined. 



t Affects, affections. 
^ Pit paritlit D. 



t Leprous emotions. $ Old acre. Ij Resident. 
•• \ a.^tiieds of extent. 

L 



no 



SHAKSPEARE. 



From thiue own sister's shame { Wfcat CxocAd 

1 think? 
Heaven shield, my mother play'd my father 
For such a warped slip of wildernesa^F [fair I 
Ne'er issuM from his blood. Take my dt- 

fiance** : 
Die; perish ! might but my bendinor down 
Reprieve thee from thy f;ite, it should proceed 
I'll pray a thousand prayers for thy death. 
No word to save thee. 

Claud, Nay, hear me, Isabel. 

Isab. O, fye, fye, fye 

Thy sin's not accidental, but a iradett: 
Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd: 
'Tis best that thou diest quickly. [Gohtg, 

Claud, O hear ;n«, Isabella 

Re-enter Duke. 

Duke. Vouchsafe a word, yoursg fister, but 
one word. 

I.<iab. What is your will? 

Duke, Mi^htyou dispense with your leisure, 
I would by and by have some speech with 
you : the satisfaction I would require, is like- 
wise yoiir own benefit. 

Isaf). I have no soperfluoua leisure; ray 
stay must be stolen out of other affairs ; bull 
will attend you a while. 

Duke. [To Cl AUDIO, aside,] Son, I have 
overheard what hath past between you and 
your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to 
corrupt her; only he hath made an essay of 
ner virtue, to praciise his judgment with the 
disposition of natures: she, having the t»-uih 
of honour in her, hath made him th;tt gracious 
denial which he is most glad to receive : 1 am 
con essor to Angelo, and I know this to be 
true; therefore prepare yourself to deiih: 
Do not satisfy your resolution with hopes that 
are fallible: to-morrow you must die ; go to 
your knees, and m^ike ready. 

Cl'Ud. Let n)e ask my sister pardon. I 
am so out of love with life, that I will sue lo 
be rid of it. 

Duke, Hold t J you there: Farewell. 

[Exit Claudio, 
Rc-inter Provost. 
I'rovost, a word with you. 

truv. What's jour will, father? 

Duke. Ihat now y >u aie come, you will 
be gone: Leave me a while with the mail ; 
my mind promises with my habit, no lo.^s 
shall touch her by my compmy. 

Prov In good time. [i\:xit Provost. 

Duke. The hand that hath made you fair, 
hath made you good : the goodness, that is 
cheap in beauty, makes beauty brief in uo.td- 
ness : but urare, being the soul of your com- 
pk'xion, shoulfl keep the body ot it e\er fair. 
1 he assaidt, that Ai.gelo hath made to y«>u, , 
fortune h,ith convey'd to my undersr.mdinii ; 
and, but that frailty hath exi»mples foi his 
falling, 1 should wonder at Angelo. Ho.t 
x^ould you do to content this substitute, and 
to save yoin brother. 

l.\a. 1 am now going to resolve him ; I had 

6Lut up. t Laced robes. j Freely. v LaMiui^Iy. 1 Invisible. % Wddties*. 

•• Ucfubil. tt An estabiisbtil habit. ji Couti.iue in that resolution. 



A-od hug it in mine arms. [father's grave 

Isah. There spake my brother; there my 
Did utter forth a voice! Ves, thou must die : 
Thou art to<» noble to conserve a life [puty, — 
In base appliances. This oiKward-sainted de- 
W'hose settled visage and <leliberate word 
Nips youth i'tlie head, and follies doth enmew*, 
As falcon doth the fowl, — is yet a devil ; 
His filth within being cast, he would appear 
A pond as deep as hell. 

Claud. The princely Angelo ? 

Isab. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell. 
The damned'st body to invest and cover 
In princely guards!! Uost thou think, Claudio, 
If I would yield him my virginity. 
Thou might'st be freed ? 

Claud, O, heavens! it cannot be. 

Isab. Yes, he would give it thee, from this 
rank offence, 
So to oftend him still : This night's the time 
That I should do what I abhor to name. 
Or else thou diest to-morrow. 
Claud. Thon shall not do't. 

Isab, (), were it but my life, 
I'd throw it down for your deliverance 
A? frankly t as a pin. 

Clnud, Thanks, deir Is, bel. 

Isab. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to- 
morrow. 
Claud. Yes. — Has he affections in him. 
That thus can make liim bite the law by the 

nose, 
When he would force it ? Sure it is no sin ; 
Or of the deadly seven it is the least. 

Isab, Which is the least ? [wise, 

Claud, If it were danmable, he, being so 
Why, would he for the momentary trick 
Be perdurably^ fin'd ? — O Is -.bet! 
Isab, What says my brother? 
Claud. Death is a fearful thing. 

Isab. And shamed life a hat*ful. [where; 
Clouil. Ay, but to die, and go Me know not 
To lie in cold obstruction, and to rot ; 
This sensible warm motion to become 
A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit 
To bathe in fiery floods, or to reside 
In thrilling regions of thick-ribbed ice ; 
To be imprison'd in the vic.NlessI winds, 
Aiifl blown wiih restless violence round about 
The pendent world ; or to be worse than v/or^t 
Or those, that l.iwless and un.ertain thoughts 
Imagine bowling! — 'tis too horrible ! 
The weaiiest and most loathed worldly li-fe. 
That age, ach, penury, and imprisimmeui 
Can lay on nature, is a paradise 
To what we fear of death. 
Isab- Alas! alas! 

Claud. Sweet sister, let me live : 

What sin you do to save a brother's life, 
Nature dispenses with the i\ekn\ so far. 
That it becomes a viitue. 

Isab. O, yon beast! 

O, faithless coward ! O, dishonest wretch ! 
W ill thou be made a man ont of my vice ? 
<s't not a kind of incest, to take lite 



Scene /.] 



MEASIRE FOR MEASURE. 



Ill 



rather my brother die by the law, than my 
son should be unlawfully born. But O, how 
much is the good duke deceived in Angelo! 
If ever he return, and I can speak to him, 1 
will open my lips in vain, or discover his go- 
vernment. 

Duke. That shall not be much amiss : Yet, 
as the matter now stands, he will avoid your 
accusation; he made trial of yon only. — 
Therefore, fasten your ear on my advismgs ; 
to the love I have in doing good, a remedy 
presents itself. I do make myself believe, 
that you may most uprighteously do a poor 
wronged lady a merited benefit; redeem your 
brother from the angry law ; do no siain to 
your own gracious person; and much please 
the absent duke, if, peradventnre, he shall 
ever return to have tearing of this business. 

I.sab. Let me hear you speak further; 1 
have spirit to do any thing that appears not 
foul in the truth of my spirit. 

Duke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never 
fearful. Have you not heard speak of Ma- 
riana the sister of Frederick, the great soldier, 
who miscarrie(i^t sea? 

Isab. I have heard of the lady, and good 
words went with her name. 

Dukv. Her should this Angelo have mar- 
ried ; was affianced to her by oath, and the 
nuptial appointed: between which time of 
the contract, and limit of tlie solemnity, her 
brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, having 
in that perish'd vessel the dowry of his sister. 
But mark, how heavil} this befel to the poor 
gentlewoman : there she lost a m-ble and re- 
nowned brother, in his love toward her evir 
most kind and natural ; with him the portion 
and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry ; 
with both, her combinate * husband, this well- 
leeming Angelo. 

Isah. Can this be so? DidAngelo so leave her? 

Duke. Left her in her tears, and dryM not 
one of them with his comfort; swallowtd lii;; 
vows whole, pretending, in her, discoveries 
of dishonour: in few, bestowed t her on her 
own lamentation, which she yet wears for hii^ 
sake ; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed 
with them, but relents not. 

/^tf/^ What a merit were it in death, to 
take this poor maid from the world ! What 
corrupiion in this life, that it will lei this man 
live! — But how out of this can she avail? 

Duke. It is a rupture that you may easilj 
heal : and the cure of it not only saves jour 
brother, but keeps you from dishonour in 
doing it. 

Isub. Show me how, good father. 

Duke. This fore named maid hath yet in 
her the continuance of her first affection ; his 
unjust unkinduess, tliat in all reason shouhl 
have quenclied her love, hath, like an impe- 
diment in the current, made it more violent 
and unruly. Go you to Auj^elo ; answer his 
requiring ^^'ith a plausible obedience; agree 
with his demands to the p 'int : only refer i 



yourself to this advantage,— first, that your 
stay with him may not be long; that the time 
may have all shadow and silence in it; and 
the place answer to convenience: this being 
granted in course, now follows all. We shdU 
advise this wronged rnaid to stea.d up yv>ur 
appointment, go in your place; if the en- 
counter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may 
compel him to her recompense: and here, by 
this, is your brother saved, your honour un- 
tainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and 
the corrupt deputy scaled §. The maid will I 
frame, and make fit for his attempt. If you 
think well to carry this as you may, the double- 
ness of the benefit defends the deceit from 
reproof. What think you of it? 

Isab. The image of it gives me content al 
ready ; and, I trust, it will grow to a most 
prosperous perfection. 

Duke. It lies much in your holding up : 
Haste yoQ speedily to Angelo ; if for this 
night he entreat you to his bed, give him pro- 
mise of satisfaction. I will presently to St. 
Luke's ; there, at the moated grange II, resides 
this dejected Mariana: At that place call up 
on me ; and despatch with Angelo, that it may 
be quickly. 

Jsd'h. I thank j-^ou for this comfort: Fare 
you well, good father. {Exeunt severally. 

SCENE II. The Street before the Prison, 

Enter DuKK, as a Friar ; to him Elbow, 

Clown, and Officers. 

Elb. Nay, if there be no remedy for it, 
but that you will needs buy and sell men a in I 
women like beasts, we shall have all the world 
drink brown and white bastard^. 

Duke. O, heavens! what stuif is here? 

Clo. *Tvvas never merry world, since, of 
two usuries, the merriest was put down, ?.nd 
the worser allow 'd by order of law a furrM 
gown to keep lyai warm; and furr'd with fox 
and lamb skins too, to signify, that crafi, bemg 
richer th;;n innocency, stands for the facing. 

Eb. Come your way, sir : — Bless you, good 
father friar. 

Duke. And you, good brother father: What 
offence hath this man made )'0U, sir? 

Elb. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law; 
and, sir, we take him to be a thief too, sir ; 
tor we have found upon him, sir, a strange 
pick lock **, which we have sent to the deputy, 

Duke. Fye, sirrah ; a bawd, a wicked bawd 
he evil that thou causest to be done. 
Thai is thy means to live: Do thou bat thinli 
vV hat 'tis to cram a maw, or clothe a back. 
From such a fiithy vice: say to thyself,— 
From their abominable and beastly touches 
I drink, I eat, array myself, and live. 
C.mst thou believe thy living is a life, 
o stinkingly depending ? Go, mend, go, mend. 

Clo. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir ; 
but yet, sir, I would prove — [proofs for ^in, 

Duke. Nay, if the devil have given thee 
rhou wilt prove his. Take him to prison,officer; 



Betrothed. t Gave her up to her sorrow*. t Have recourse to. § Over-reached. 
U A solitary farm-house. ^ A sweet wine. •• For a S')anish padlock. 



112 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act J I 



Correction and instruction must both work, 
Ere this ru le beast will profit. 

Elh. He mn^t before the deputy, sir; he 
has given hiin warning: the deputy cannot 
abide a whoiemasier : if he be a whoremon- 
ger, and comes before him, he were as good 
go a mile on his errand. [seem to be, 

Duke. That we were all, as some would 
Free from our faults, as faults from seeming, 
free! 

Enter Lucio. 

Elh. His neck will corae to your waist, a 
eord*, sir. 

Clo. I spy comfort ; I cry, bail : Here's a 
gentleman, and a friend of mine. 

Imcio. How now, noble Pompey? What, 
at theheel> of Caesar'? Art thou led in triumph ? 
What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, 
newly made woman, to be had now, for put- 
ting the ban! in the pocket and extracting it 
clutch'd? What reply? Ha? What say'st 
thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is't 
not drown'd i' the last rain? Ha? What 
say*st thou, trot? Is the world as it was, 
man? Which is the way? Is it sid, and 
*^evv words? Or how? The trick of it? 

Duke. Slill thus, and thus! still worse! 

Lucio. How doth my dear morsel, thy 
mistress? Procures she still ? Ha? 

Clo. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her 
beef, and she is herself in the tubt. 

Lucio. Why, 'tis good ; it is the right of 
it ; it must be so : Ever your fresh whore, 
and your powder'd bawd -. An unshuna'd 
consequence ; it must De so : Art going to 
pri-on, Pompeyl 

Clo. Yes, faith, sir. 

Lucio. Why 'tis not amiss, Pompey : Fare- 
well : Go ; say, I sent thee thither. For debt, 
Pompey? Or how? 

Elb. For being a bawd, for K-mg a bawd, 

Lucio. Well, then imprison* him: If im- 
prisonment be the due of a bawd, why, *tis his 
right : Bawd is he, doubtless, and of an- 
tiquity, too; bawd-born. Farewell, good 
Pompey : Commend me to the prison, Pom- 
pey : You will turn good husband now, Pom- 
pey ; you will keep the house j. 

Clo. I hope, sir, your good worship will be 
my bail. 

Lucio. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey ; 
it IS not the wear^. I will pray, Pompey, 
to increase your bondage: if you take it not 
pitiently, why, your mettle is the more: 
Adit-U, trusty Pompey. — Hlcss you, friar. 

Duke. And you. 

/jucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha? 

Elb. Come your ways, sir; come. 

Clo. You will not bail me then, sir? 

Lucio. Then, Pompey? nor now. — What 
dews abroad, friar? What news? 

Elh. Come your ways, sir; come. 

Lucio. Go, — to kennel, Pompey, g(»: 

[Evtunt Eluow, Clown, a /id Otlicers. 
What news, friar, of the duke ? 



Duke. I know none: Canyon tell me of any ^ 

Lucio. Some say, he is with the emperor 
of Russia; other some, he is in Rome: Bat 
where is he, think you? 

Duke. I know not where : But whereso 
ever, I wish him well. 

Lucio. It was a mad fantastical trick of 
him, to steal from the state, and usurp the 
beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo 
dukes it well in his absence ; he puts trans- 
gression to't. 

Duke. He does well in*t. 

Lucio. A little more leflity to lech';ry 
would do no harm in him : something too 
crabbed that way, friar. 

Duke. It is too general a vice, and severity 
mun cure it. 

Lucio. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a 
great kindred; it is well ally'd: but it is im- 
possible to extirp it quite, friar, till eating and 
drinking be put down. They say, this Angelo 
was not made by man and woman, after the 
downright way of creation : Is it true, think 
you? 

Duke. How should he be ffkde then ? 

Lucio. Some report, a sea-maid spawn*d 
him : — Some, that he was begot between two 
stock-fishes : — But it is certain, that when he 
makes water, his urine is congeal'dice; that I 
know to be true : and he is a motion i unge- 
nerative, that's infallible. 

Duke.You are pie isant, sir; and speak apace. 

Lucio. Why, what a ruthless thing is this 
in him, for the rebellion of a cod-piece, to 
take away the life of a man? Would the 
duke, that is absent, have done this? Ere he 
would have hang'd a man for the yetting a 
hundred bastards, he would have paid for the 
nursini; a thousand : He had some feeling of 
the sport ; he knew the service, and that in- 
structed him to mercy. 

Duke. I never heard the absent duke much 
detected H for women; he was not inclined 
that way. 

Lucio. O, sir, you are deceived. 

Duke. *Tis not possible. 

Lucio. Who? not the duke? yes, youi 
beggar of fifty ; — and his use was, to put a 
ducat in her clack-dish : the duke had crotch 
ets in him: He would be drunk to©; that 
let me inform you. 

Duke. You do him wrong, surely. 

Lucio. Sir, I was an inward of bis: A ?^hy 
fello»v was the duke : and, I believe, I know 
the cause of his withdrawing. 

Duke. What,l pr'ythee, might be the cause? 

Lucio. No, — pardon; — 'lis a secret must i>e 
lock'd within the teeth and the lips: bui thi^ 
lean bt you understand, — The greater file ♦• 
of the subject held ihe duke to l^e wise. 

Duke. Wise? why, no question but he \^as. 

Lucio. A very superficial, ignorant, un- 
weighing+t fellow. 

Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or 
mistaking ; the very stream of his life, and 



♦ Tied like your waist with a rope. + Powdering tub. % Stay at home. i Fashion. 
I Puppti. II Su>pfccie'i •♦ The majority of his subjects. tt Inconsiderate. 



Scene II.] 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 



118 



the businegs he hath htlm'd*, must, upon a 
warranted need, give hhn a better proclama- 
tion. Let hitii be but testiinonied in his own 
bringings forth, and he shall appear to the 
envious, a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier : 
'I herefore, you speak unskilfully ; or, if your 
1< now ledge be more, it is much darkened in 
your malice. 

Jyiicio, Sir, I know him, and I love him. 

Duke. Love talks with better knowledge, 
and knowledge with dearer love. 

Liiicio. Come, sir, I know what I know. 

Duke. I can hardly believe thitt, since you 
know not what you speak. But, if ever the 
<!nke return, (as our prayers are he may,) let 
me desire you to make your answer before 
him : If it be honest you have spoke, you 
have courage to maintain it : I am bound to 
call upon you ; and, I piay you, your name 1 

Liicio. Sir, ray name is Lucio ; well known 
to the duke. 

Duke. He shall know you better, sir, if I 
may live to report you. 

Lucio. I fear you not. 

Duke. O, you hope the duke will return no 
more ; oi you imagine me too unhurtful an 
opposite t. But, indeed, I can do you little 
harm: youMl forswear this again. 

Lucio. I'll be hang'd first : thou art deceiv- 
ed in me, friar. But no more of this : Canst 
thou tell, if Claudio die to-morrow, or no? 

Duke, Why should he die, sir? 

Lucio. Why? for filling a bottle with a tun- 
dish. I would, the duke, we talk of, were re- 
tnrn'd again: this ucgenitur'd agent will un- 
jjtople the province with contin^ncy :_ spar- 
rows must not build in his house eaves, be- 
c.iuse they are lecherous. The duke yet would 
have dark deeds darkly answer'd; he would 
never bring them to light: would he were re- 
tp.rn'd! Marry, this Claudio is condemn'd for 
iintrnssing. Farewell, good friar ; Ipr*ythee, 
^ pray for me. The duke, I say to thee again, 
would eat mutton J on Fridays. He's now 
pH.st it: yet, and I say to thee, he would 
mouth with a beggar, though «he smelt brown 
bread and garlick : say, tha*^ I said so. Fare- 
well. {Exit. 

Duke. No might nor greatness in mortality 
Can censure 'scape ; back-wounding calunmy 
The whitest virtue strikes: What king so strong, 
('an tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue ? 
lint who comes here ? 
Enter Esc a l.u s , Provost, Bawd, and Officers. 

Escal. Go, away with her to prison. 

Biitvd. Good my lord, be good to me ; your 
honour is accounted a merciful man : good my 
lord. 

Escal. Double and treble admonition, and 
still forftit^ in the same kind? This would 
make mercy swear, and play the tyrant. 

Prov. A bawd of eleven years continuance, 
may it please your honour. 

ijuwd. My lord, this is one Lucio'a infor- 
mation against me: mistress Kate Keep-down 



was with child by him in the duke's time, he 
promised her marriage ; his child is a year 
and a quarter old, come Philip and Jacob : I 
have kept it myself; and see how he goes 
about to abuse me. 

Escal. That fellow a, a fellow of much li- 
cence :— let him be called before us. — Away 
with her to prison : Go to ; no more ^ ords. 
[Exeunt Bawd and Officers.] Provost, my 
brother Angelo will not be alter'd, Claudio 
must die to-morrow: let him be furnished 
^yith divines, and have all charitable prepara- 
tion : if my brother wrought by my pity, it 
should not be so with him. 

Prov. So please you, this friar hath been 
with him, and advised him for the entertain- 
ment of death. 

Escal. Good even, good father. 

Duke. Bliss and goodness on you I 

Escal. Of whence are you ? [is now 

i^wAe.Not of this country , though my chance 
To use it for my time : I am a brother 
Of gracious order, late come from the see, 
In special business from his holiness, 

Escal. What news abroad i' the world? 

Duke. None, but that there is so great a 
fever on goodness, that the dissolution of it 
must cure it: novelty is only in request; and 
it is as dangerous to be aged in any kind of 
course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any 
undertaking. There is scarce truth enough 
alive, to make societies secure ; but security 
enough, to make fellowships accurs'd : much 
upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. 
This news is old enough, yet it is every day's 
news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition 
was the duke? 

Escal. One, that, above all other strifes, 
contended especi;illy to know himself. 

Duke. What pleasure was he given to? 

Escal. Bather rejoicing to see another 
merry, than merry at any thing which pro- 
fess'd to make him rejoice: a gentleman of 
all temperance. But leave we him to his 
events, with a prayer they may prove prospe- 
rous ; and let me desire to know how you find 
Claudio prepared. I am made to understand, 
that you have lent him visitation. 

Duke. He professes to have received no si- 
nister measure from his judge, but mofct will- 
ingly humbles himself to tiie determination of 
justice : yet had he framed to himself, by the 
instruction of his frailty, many deceiving pro- 
mises of life; which I, by my good leisure, 
have discredited to him, and now is he resolv- 
ed II to die. 

Escal. You have paid the heavens your 
function, and the prisoner the very debt of 
> our calling. I have laboar'd for the poor 
gentleman, to the extremest shore of my mo- 
desty ; but my brother justice have I found so 
severe, that he hath forced »ne to tell him, he 
is indeed — justice. 

Duke. It his own life answer the straitne*.. 
of his proceeding, it shall became him Wfil: 



Guided. 



+ Opptment. 

§ Tran*tjres3. 



t Have a w<?rich. 

(S S.ilishl:u. 



lU 



SIlAKSPEAllK. 



[icf 1^. 



wh rein, i-f he chance to ^A\i, he hath seuteuc- 
ed himself. 

K^chI. I arn going to visit the prisoner: 
Fare you well. 

Duke. l*eace be with yo*" 

[hlveunf EsOalus and Provost- 
fie, who the sword of heaven will bear, ' 
Should be as holy as severe; 
l*atlerD In himself to know, 
(J race to stand, and virtue go ; 
More nor less to others paying, 
Than by self otfences weighing. 
Shame to him, whose cruel striking 
Kills for faults of his own liking 1 



Twice treble shame on Angelo, 
To wee I my vice, an ! let his grcrW 
O, what miy man within him hide. 
Though an^el on the outward side! 
How may likeness*, made ^ in crimes, 
Makin<; practice on the tiin^s. 
Draw vviih idle spiders' strings 
Most pond'rous and substantial things I 
Craft against vice I must apply : 
With An.elo to-night shall lie 
His old betrothed, but despis'd ; 
So disguise shall, by the di^sguis'd, 
Pay wiih falsehood false exacting. 
And perform an old contracting. 



[Exit, 



ACT IV. 



SCENE i. 

A Room In Mariana's House* 

Mariana discovered sitting: a Boy singing. 

SONG 

7^2**?, oh take those lips away, 

Th'it so sweetly wereforstcorn; 
And those e'^es tlie *^reak of day, 

Lights that do mlsl-ead the morn : 
But my kisses bring again, 

bring a gain y 
Seals oflo'e, but seal*a in vain, 

seal'd in tain. 
M'iri. Break off thy song, and haste thee 
quick away ; 
Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice 
Hath often stiU'd my brawling disconrenl. — 
[Exit Boy. 
Enter Duke. 
1 cry yon mercy, sir; and well could wish 
"\ on had not found me here so musical : 
L t me excuse me, and believe me so, — 
My mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my 
woe. [such a ch.jrm, 

Duke. *Ti9 good : though musick oft hath 
To make bad good, and good provoke to harm. 
I pray you, tell me, hath any body inquired 
f«»r me here to-day ? much upon this time 
have I promis'd here to meet. 

Mari. You have not been inquired after; 
I have sat here all day. 

Entt>r Isabella. 
Duke. I do constantly believe you : — The 
lime is come, e^'en now. I ahall crave your 
forbearance a little ; may be, I will call upon 
yon anon, for some advantage to yourself. 
Mfiri. 1 am always bound to you. [Euit. 
Duke. Very well met, and welcome. 
What is Ihe news from this good deputy? 
Isa'>. He hath a garden circummur'd ; with 
brick, 
Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd ; 
And to iliat vineyard is apian hed> gate, 
That makes his opening with this bigger key : 
This oihtr doth command a little door, 
Which fiom the vineyard to the garden leads ; 
There have 1 made my promise to call on him, 



Upon the heavy middle of th« niglt. 

Duke. But shall you on your knowledge 
find this way? [upon*i ; 

Isab. I have ta'en a due and wary note 
With whispering and most guilty diligence. 
In action all of precept, he did show ine 
The way twice o'er. 

Duke. Are there no other tokens 

Between you 'greed, concerning her observ- 
ance? [.lark; 
Isab. No, none, but only a repair i* the 
And that I have possess'd || him, my most stay 
I Can be but brief: fori have made him know, 

I have a servant comes with me along, 
I That stays ^ upon me; whose persuasion is, 

I come about my brother. 
{ D ike. Tis well borne up. 

^ I have not yet made known to Mariana 
; A word of thi«:— What, ho! within! come 
forth ! 

I Re-enter Mariana. 

\ I pray you, be acquainted with this maid ; 
^ She eomes to do you good. 

Isab. I do desire the like. 

Duke. Do you persuade yourself that I 

respect yt)u? 
Mart. Good friar, I know you do ; and 
have found it. [the hand, 

Duke. Take then this your companion by , 
j Who hath a ^tory ready for your ear: 
! I shall attend your leisure; but make haste; j 
', The vaporous night approtches. 

Mari. Will't please you walk aside? , 

[Exeunt Mariana and Isabllla. 
Duke. O place and greatness, millions of ; 
false eyes 
Are stuck upon thee ! volumes of report 
Run with these false and most conlrarlous 

quests ••^ ^ 

Upon thy doings! thousana 'scapes tt of wit 
Make thee the father o.' theii idle dream, 
And rack thee in their fancies! — Welcome I . 
How agreed ? 
Rc'intcr Mariana and Isabella. 
Isab. She'll take the enterprise upon her. 
If you advise it. i^ father, , 



• Appearance, 

Inforned. 



+ Trained. 
^ Waits. 



t Walled round. 
•• Iuqui>itious,in(4uirie8. 



$ Planked, woudeu. 
it Sallies. 



See tie /.] 



MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 



115 



Duke. It is iK>t my consent. 

But my entreaty too. 

fsab. Little have yon to say. 

When yoD depart from him, bnt, soft and 
Remember note mj brother. [iow, 

Mari, Fear me not. 

Duke. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not 
He is your husband on a pre-contract : [at all: 
To bring you thus together, 'tis no sin • 
Sith * that the justice of your title to him 
Doth flourish t the deceit. Come, let us go; 
Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's % to sow. 

{b^cunt. 

SCENE II. A Room in the Prison, 
Enter Provost and Clown. 

Prov. Come hither, sirrah: Can you cut off 
a man's head 1 

('to. If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can : 
but if he be a married man he is his wire's 
head, and I cau never cut off a woman's head. 

Prov. Come, sir, leave me your snatches, 
and yield me a direct answer. To-morrow 
morning are to die Clauiio and Barnardine : 
Here is in our prison a common executioner, 
who in his olfice lacks a helper : it you will 
take it on you to assist him, it shall redeen) 
you from your gyves 6 ; if not, you shall have 
your full time of imprisonment, and your de 
liverance with an unpitied vvhipping ; for you 
have been a notorious bawd. 

(■lo. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd, 
time out of mind : but yet I will be content 
to be a lawful hangman. I would be glad to 
receive some instruction from my fellow part- 
ner, [horson, there ? 

Prov. What ho, Abhorson ! Where's Ab- 
E'lter ABHORijON. 

Ahhor, Do you call, sir ? 

Prov. Sirrah, here'% a fellow will help you 
to-morrow in your execution : If you think it 
meet, compound with him by the year, and 
let him abide here with you; if not, use him 
for the present, and dismiss hiiij ; H^ cannot 
pk'ad his estimation with you } he haih been 
a bawd. 

Abhor. A bawd, sir? Fye upon him, he 
will discredit our mystery Ij. 

Prov. Go to, sir ; you weigh equally ; a 
feather will turn the scale. [tJxit. 

do. Pray, sir, by your good favour, (for, 
surely, sir, a good favour H you have, but that 
yon have a hanging look,) do you call, sir, 
your occupation a mystery^ 

Ab:ior. Ay, sir; a mystery. 

Clo. Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a 
mystery ; and your whores, sir, being mem- 
bers of my occupation, using painting, do 
prove my occupation a mysiery : but what 
mystery there should be in hanging, if I should 
be hang'd, I cannot imagine. 

Abhor. Sir, it is a mystery. 

Clo. Proof. 

Abhor. Every true •♦ man's apparel fits your 
thief : If it be too little for your thief, your 



true man thinks it big enoue;h, if it be too big 
for your thief, your thief thinks it little enungli : 
so every true man's apparel fits your thiv f. 
Re-enter Provost. 
Prov. Are you agreed? 
Clo. Sir, I will serve him; for I do find, 
your h ingman is a more penitent trade tha^ 
your bawd ; he doth oftener ask forgiveness. 

Prov. You, sirrah, provide your block and 
your axe, to-morrow four o'clock. 

Abhor. Come on, bawd; I will instruct 
thee in my trade ; follow. 

Clo. I do desire to leirn, sir; and, I hope, 
if you have occasion to use me for your own 
turn, you shall find meyare f^t : for, truly sir, 
for your kindness, I owe you a good turn. 
Prov. Call hither Barnardine and Claudio: 
[Exeu7it Clown an/ Ahhorson. 
One has ray pity ; not a jot the ot.her, 
Being a murderer, though he "were my brother. 

Enter Claudfo. 
Look, here's the warrant, Claudio, for thy 
death : [row 

'Tis now dead midnight, and by eight to mor- 
Thou must be made immortal. VV here's Bar- 
nardine ? [less labour 
Clnud. As fast lock'd up in sleep, as guilt- 
When it lies starkly H in the traveller's bones : 
He will not wake. 

Prov. Who can do good on him? 

Well, go, prepare yourself. But hark, what 
noise? [Knocking within. 

Heaven give your spiiits comfort ! 

[Exit. Claudio, 
By and by : — 
I hope it is some pardon, or reprieve, 
For the most gentle Claudio— Welcome/ather. 
Enter Duke. 
Duke. The best and wholesomest spirits of 
tlie night [here of late ? 

Envelop you, good Provost! Who call'd 
Prov. None, since the curfew rung. 
Duke. Not Isabel? 

. Prov. No. 

Duke. They will then, ere't be long. 

Prov. What comfort is for Claudio? 
Dike. There's some in hope. 

Prov. It is a bitter deputy. 
Duke. Not so, not so; his life is parallel'd 
Even with the stroke and line of his great 
He doth with holy abstinence subdue [justice ; 
That in hims If, which he spurs on his power 
To qualify 5^ in others: were he meal*d liij 
With that which he corrects, then weie he 
tyrannous ; [come. — 

But this being so, he's just. — Now are they 
[Knockmg withm. — Vxoxosxgoes out. 
This is a gentle provost : Seldom, when 
The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. — 
How now? What noise? That spirit's pos- 
sess'd with haste, [strokes. 

That wounds the unsisting postern with these 
Provost returns, s'peaking to one at thed or. 
Prov. There he must st:iy, until the office' 
Arise to let him in ; he is call'd up. 



• Si. 



t Gild, or varnish over. 

ir,.r,'jrire. •• Hoxit-ot. 



X Tilth, land prepared for sowing. § Fett rs. 
•H R«^^r|v. Tt StlHy. <i Vf^i^x--\t-. it 



B Trade. 



116 



shakspp:ark. 



'A'-t JV 



Vtike. Have you no counttnnand for 
Clauflio yet, 
But he must die to-morrow? 

Prof. None, sir, none. 

Duke. As near the dawning, Provost, as it is, 
Yon shall hear more ere morning. 

Prov, Happily*, 

You something know; yet, I believe there 

comes 
No couuiermand ; no such example have we : 
Hesides, upon the very sieger of justice. 
Lord Angtlo hath to the public ear 
Profess'd the contrary. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Duke. This is his lordship's man. 

Prov \nd here comes Olaudio's pardon. 

Mess My lord hath sent you this note; 
and by iJie this further charge, that you swerve 
not from the smallest article of it, neither in 
time, matter, or other circumstance. Good 
morrow ; fur, as I take it, it is almost day. 

Prov. I shall obey him. [Exit Messenger. 

Duke. This is his pardon ; purchas'd by 
such sin, [Aside. 

For which the pardoner himself is in ; 
Hence hath offence his quick celerity. 
When it is borne in high authority: 
When vice makes mercy, mercy's so extended. 
That for the fault's love, is the offender 
Now, sir, what news ? [friended. — . 

Prov. 1 told you: Lord Angelo, telike, 
thinking me remiss in mine office, awjkens 
me with this unwonted putting on t : methinks, 
strangely ; for he hath not used it before. 

JJuKe. Pray you. let's hear. 

Prov. [Reads.] Wliatso\rt:er youmay hear 
to the contrary, let Claudio he rxecufeo/ 
by Jour of the clock ; and, in the ttfter- 
fioon, Bajviardine: for my better sutisfac- 
tion, let me have Claudio's head sent me by 
five. Let this be duly perforin* d ; tvith a 
thought, that more depemts on it than we 
must yet deliver. Thus fail 7iot to do your 
oifire, as you will answer it at your peril. ^ 
What say you to this, sir? 

Duke. What is that Barnardine, who is to 
be executed in the afternoon 1 

Prov. A Bohemian born; but here nursed 
np and bred : one that is a prisoner nine 
) ears oldj. 

Duke. How came it, that the absent duke 
had not either deliver'd him to his iiberty, or 
executed him ? I have heard, it was ever his 
manner to do so. 

Proi . His friends still wrought reprieves 
for him : And, indeed, his fact, till now in 
the government of lord Angelo, came not to 
an undoubtful proof. 

JJukr. Is it now apparent ? 

Prnr. Most manifest, aad not denied by 
himself. 

Duke. Hath he borne himself penitently in 
j)ri.sou? How seems he to be toucli'd { 

Pr V. A man that apprehends death no 
more dreadfully, but as a drunken sleep; 
C4rele»s, reckless, and fearless of what's p.ist, 



pi esent, or to come ; insensible of mortality, 
and desperately mortal- 

Duke. He wants advice. 

Prov. He will hear none : he hath ever 
more had the liberty of the prison ; give him 
leave to escape hence, he would not : drunk 
many times a day, if not many days entiiely 
drunk. We have very often awaked him, as 
if to carry him to execution, and show'd him 
a seeming warrant for it: it hath not moved 
him at all. 

Duke. More of him anon. There is written 
in your brow. Provost, honesty and con- 
stjncy : if I read it not truly, my ancient 
skill beguiles me; but, in the boldness of my 
cunning, 1 will lay myself in hazard. Claudio, 
whom here you have a warrant to execute, is 
no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo who 
hath sentenced him : To make you under- 
stand this in a manifested effect, I crave but 
four days' respite; for the which you are 
to do me both a present and a dangeroui 
courtesy. 

Prov. Pray, sir, in what«? 

Duke. In the delaying death. 

Prov. Alack! how may 1 do it ? having 
the hour limited ; and an express command^ 
under penalty, to deliver his head in the f 
view of Angelo 1 I may make my case as 
Claudio*s, to cross this in the smallest. 

Duke. By the vow of mine order, I wai • 
rant you, if my instructions may be your 
guide. Let this Barnardine be this morning 
executed, and his head borne to Angelo. 

Prov. Angelo hath seen them both, and 
will discover the favour II. 

Duke. O, death's a great disguiser : and 
you may add to it. Shave the head, and tie 
the beard; and say, it was the desire of the 
penitent to be so bared before his death : 
Vou know, the course is common. If any 
thing fall to you upon this, niore than thanki 
and good fortune, by the saint whom I profess, 
I will plead against it with my lif«. 

Prov. Pardon me, good fathtr }. it is against 
my oath. 

Duke. Were you sworn to the duke, or to 
the deputy ? 

Prov. To him, and to his substitutes. 

Duke. You will think you have made no 
offence, if the duke avouch the justice of your 
dealing? 

Prov. But what likelihood is in that? 

Duke. Not a resemblance, but a certainty. 
Yet since I see you fearful, that neithei my 
coat, integriiy, nor my persuasion, can with 
ease attempt you, 1 will go further than I 
meant, to pluck all fears out of you. Lt)ok 
you, sir, here is the hand and seal of the 
duke. You know the character, I doubt not; 
and the signet is not strange to you. 

Prov. i know them both. 

Duke. The contents of this is the return of 
the duke ; you shall anon over-read it atyoui 
pleasure ; where you sh;dl find, within these 
two dajs he will be heie. 'Ihis is a ih'ng 



Perhaps. 



t Scat. t Spur incitement. $ Nine years in prisftn. H Counienauce 



Scene II.] 



MEASURE fOK MEASURE. 



117 



that Angelo knows not: for he this very d^y 
receives letters of strange tenor ; perchance, 
of the duke's death ; perchance, entering: into 
Borae monastery ; but, by chance, nothing of 
what is writ. Look, the unfolding star call? 
up the shepherd : Put not yourself into 
ajiiazement, how these things should be : all 
ditticulties are but easy when they are known. 
Call your execuiioner.andotf with Barnardine's 
held : I will give hira a present shrift, and 
advise him for a better place. Yet you are 
amazed ; but this shall absolutely resolve you. 
Come away ; it is almost clear dawn. [Exemit. 

SCENE III. Another Room in the same. 
Enter Clown. 
Clo. I am as well Ifceqnainted here, as I was 
in onr house of profession : one would think, 
it were mistress Overdone's own house, for 
here be many of her old customers. First, 
here's young master Rash ; hit's in for a com- 
modity of brown paper axd old uinger, nine- 
score and seventeen pounds; of which he 
made five marks, ready money : marry, then, 
ginger was not much in request, for the old 
women were all dead. Then is tliere here 
one master Caper, at thj suit of master Three- 
pile the mercer, for some four suits of pench- 
colour'd sitin, which now peaches him a 
beggar. Then have we here young Dizy, 
and young master Deep-vow, and master 
Copper-spur, and master Starve-lackey the 
rapier and dagger-man, and young Drop-heir 
that kill'd lusty Pudding, and master Forth- 
right the tilter, and brave master Shoe-tie 
the great traveller, and wild Half-can that 
stabb'd Pots, and, I think, forty more; all 

freat doers in our trade, and are now for the 
(Ord's sake. 

Enter Abhorson. 

Abhor. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. 

Clo, Master Barnardmc I you must rise and 
behang'd, master Barnardine \ 

Abhor. What, ho, Barnardine ! 

Barnar. [Pf^Uhi/i.] A pox o' your throats ! 
Who makes thit noise there? What are you ? 

Clo. Your friends, sir; the hangman: You 
must be so good^ sir, to rise and be put to death. 

Barnar. [I'Vithin,] Away, you rogue, 
away ; I am sleepy. 

Abhor. Tell him, he must awake, and that 
quickly too. 

Clo. Pray, master Barnardine, awake till 
you are executed, and sleep afterwards. 

Abhor. Go in to him, and fetch him out. 

Clo. He is coming, sir, he is coming ; I hear 
his straw rustle. 

Enter Barnardine. 

Abhor. Is the axe upon the block, sirrah ? 

Clo. Very ready, sir. 

Barnar. How now, Abhorson 1 what's the 
news with you? 

Abhor. Truly, sir, I would desire you to 
clap into your prayers ; for, look you, the 
warrant's come. 

Burnur. You rogue, I have been drinking 
all night, I am not fitted for't. 



Clo. O, the better, sir ; for he that drinks 
all night, and is hang'd betimes in the morn 
ing, may sleep the sounder all the next day. 
Enter Duke. 
Abhor. Look you, sir, here comes your 
ghostly father ; Do we jest now, think you ? 
Duke. Sir, induced by my charity, and 
hearing how hastily you are to depart, I am 
come to advise you, comfort you, and pray 
with you. 

Barnar. Friar, not I ; I have been drinking 
hard all night, and I will have more time to 
prepare me, or they shall be.it out my brains 
with billets : I will not consent to die this 
day, that's certain. 

Duke. O, sir, you must : and therefore, I 
beseech you, 
Look forward on the journey you shall go. 

Barnar. I swear, I will not die to-day for 
any man's persuasion. 

Duke. But hear you, 

Barnar, Not a word ; if you have any 
thing to say to me, come to my ward ; for 
thence will not I to-day. [Exit, 

Enter Provost. 
Duke. Unfit to live,or die : 0,gravel heart !—« 
After him, fellows ; bring him to the block. 
[Exeunt Abhorson and Clown. 
Prot". Now,sir,how do you find the prisoner? 
Duke. A creature unprepar'd, unmeet for 
And, to transport him in the mind he is, [death ; 
Were damnable. 

Prov. Here in the prison, father. 

There died this morning of a cruel fever 
One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate, 
A man of Ciaudio'syears ; his beard, and head, 
Just of his c<dour : What if we do omit 
This reprobate, till he were well inclined ; 
And satisfy the deputy with the visage 
Of Ragozine, more like to Claudio? [videsi 
Duke. O, 'tis an accident that heaven pro- 
Despatch it presently; the hour draws on 
Prefix'd by Angelo : See, this be done. 
And sent according to command ; whiles I 
Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. 
Erov. This shall be done, good father, 
presently. 
But Barnardine must die this afternoon: 
And how shall we continue Claudio, 
To save me from the danger that might come. 
If he were known alive ? [holds, 

Duke. Let this be done; — Put them in secret 
Beth Barnardine and Claudio : Ere twice 
Tlie sun hath made his journal greeting to 
The under generation*, you shall find 
Your safety manifested. 

Pro I. I am your free dependant. 
Duke, ' Quick, despatch. 

And send the head to Angelo. {Exit Provost. 
Now will I write letters to Angelo,— [tents 
The provost, he shall beitr them, — vrhose coo- 
Shall witness to him, I am near at home ; 
And that, by great injunctions, I am bound 
To enter publicly : him I'll desire 
To meet me at the consecrated fount, 
A league below the city ; and from thence. 



• The antipodes. 



^^^' 



US 



9HAKSPEARK. 



[Act IV, 



By cold gradarion and weal-balanced form, 
We shall proceed with Angelo. 
Re-enttr Provost. 

Protf. Here is the head ; I'll carry it myself. 

Duke. Convenient is it: Make a swift return ; 
For I would commune with you of such things, 
That want no ear but yours. 

Prov. I'll make all speed. [Exit. 

Jsah.[n^ithht.] Peace, ho, be here ! [know, 

Duke. The tont;ue of Isabel : — She's come to 
If yet her brother's pardon be come hither: 
But I will keep her ignorant of her good. 
To make her heavenly comforts of despair, 
When it is least expected. 

Enter Isabella. 

Isab, Ho, by your leave, [cious daughter. 

Duke. Good morning to you, fair and gra- 

Isah. The belter, given me by so holy a man. 
Hath yet the deputy sent my brother's pardon ? 

Duke. Hehathreleas'd him, Isabel, from the 
His head is off, and sent to Angelo. [world ; 

Lsub. Nay, but it is not so. 

Duke. It is no other: 

(Show your wisdom, daughter, in your close 
patience. [eyes. 

J'ittb, O, I will to him, and pluck out his 

Dukt. You shall not be admitted to his sight. 

Isab. Unhappy Claudio! Wretched Isabel! 
Injurious world ! Most damned Angelo ! [jot : 

Duke. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a 
Forbear it therefore; give your cause to heaven. 
Mark what I say; which you shall find 
By every syllable, a faithful verily : 
The duke comes home to-morrow ; — nay, dry 

your eyes ; 
One of our convent, and his confessor, 
Gives me this instance : Already he hath carried 
Notice to Escalus and Angelo ; 
Who do prepare to meet him tt the gates, 
There to give up their power. If you can, 

pace your wisdom 
In that good path that I would wish it go; 
And you shall have your bosom*on this wretch, 
Grace of the duke, revenges to your heart, 
Aiid general honour. 

J'^ab. I am directed by you. 

Duke. This letter then to friar Peter give; 
rris that he sent me of the duke's return : 
Say, by this token, I desire his company 
At Mariana's house to-night. Her cause, and 

yours, 
I'll perJect him withal; and he shall bring yon 
Before the Duke; and to the head of Angelo 
Accuse him home, and home. For my poor self, 
I am combined by a sacred vow, [letter: 

And shall he absent. Wend t you v\'ith this 
Curnuiand these fretting waters from >our eyes 
With a light heart} trust not x\\y lu>ly order. 
If 1 pervert your course. — Who's here? 
Enter Lucio. 

LiUclo. Good even I 

Friar, where it the provost? 

Duke. Not within, pir. 

Lucio. O. pretty Isabella, I am pale at 
mine heart, to see thine eyes so red : thou 



must be patient: I am fain to dine and sko 
with water and bran ; I dare not for my head | 
fill my belly ; one fruitful meal would set n«e 
to't : But they say the duke will be here to- 
morrow. By my troth, Isabel, 1 lov'd ihy 
brother : if the old fantastical duke of dai k 
corners had been at home, he had lived. 

[Exit ISABKI.LA. 

Duke. Sir, the duke is marvellous liitJe 
beholden to your reports ; but the best is, he 
lives not in them. 

Lucio. Friar, thou knowest not the duke 
so well as I do: he's a better woodman than 
thou takest him for. 

Duke. Well, you'll answer this one day. 
Fare ye well. 

Lucio. Nay, tarry ; I'll go along with thee ; 
I can tell thee pretty tales of the duke. 

Duke. You have told me too many of him 
already, sir, if they be true ; if not true, none 
were enough. 

Lucio. I was once before him for getting a 
wench with child. 

Duke. Did you such a thing? 

Lucio. Yes, marry, did I : but was fain to 
forswear it; they would else have married me 
to the rotten medlar. 

Duke. Sir, your company is fairer thrin 
honest: Rest you well. 

Lucio. By rny troth, I'll ^o with thee to 
the lane's end: If bawdy talk offend you, 
we'll have very little of it : Nay, friar, I am 
a kind of burr, I shall stick. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. A Room in Angelo's House. 
Enter Angelo and Escalus. 

Escal. Every letter he hath writ hath dis- 
vouch'dt other. 

An^i In most uneven and distracted man- 
ner. His actions shww much like to madnuss : 
pray heaven, his wisdom be not tainted ! And 
why meet him at the gates, and re-dtliver 
our authorities there ? 

Escal. I guess not. 

Aug. And why should we proclaim it in 
an hour before his entering, that, if any crave 
redress of injublice, they should exhibit their 
petiiions in the street? 

EscuL He shows his reason for that: to 
have a despatch of complaints ; and to deliver 
us from devices hereafter, wh-ch shall then 
have no power to stand against us. [claim'd : 

Ang. Well, I beseech you, let it be pro- 
Betime? i' the morn, I'll call you at your house : 
Give notiie to such men of sort and suiij. 
As are to meet him. 

Escal. I shall, sir : fare you well, [^r t. 

Ang. Good night. [pregnant. 

This deed unshapes me quite, makes me un- 
And dull to all proceedings. A deflc wer'd maid 1 
And by an t-minent bo<ly, that enforc*d 
The law against it I— But that her tender shame 
Will not proclaim against her maiden loss. 
How might she tongue me ? Yet reason dares \ 
hei ?— no : 



• Your heart's desire. 



t Go. t Contradicted. 

H Calls, chQUenges tie to do it. 



§ Figure and rani*. 



Scene 1V.'\ 



MKASUllE FOR MEASURE. 



1T9 



YoT aiy antiiority bems a credent* bulk, 
1 hat uo particular scandal once can ttmih, 
iiut it confounds the breather t. He should 

have liv'd, [sense, 

Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous 
Might, in the times to come, have ta'en revenj^e. 
By so receiving a dishononr'd life, [had liv'd! 
With ransomeof such shame. 'Would yet he 
Alack, \>hen once our grace we have forijot. 
Nothing goes right; we would, and we would 

n t. [Exit. 

SCENE V. Fields ivUhout the Totvn, 
Enter Dukk in his own ha it, and Friar 
Peter. 
Duke, These letters at tit time deliver me. 
\Givhig letters. 
The provost knows our purpose, and our plot. 
The matter bt.ing afoot, keep your instruction. 
And hold you ever to our special drift ; 
Though sometimes you do blench; from this 
to that," [house, 

As cause doth minister. Go, call at Flavins' 
And tell him where I stay : uive the like notice. 
To V^alentinns, Rowland, and to Crassus, 
And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate; 
But send me Flavins first. 
F. Peter, It shall be speeded well. 

{Exit Friar. 



Enter Varrius. 
Dnke. I thank thee, Varrins ; then hast 
made good hagte : [fi ientls 

Come, we will walk : There's other of our 
Will greet us here anon, my gentle Varrius. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE VI, Sfreet near the City Gate. 
Euttr Isabella and Mariana. 
Isab, To speak so indirectly, I am loath ; 
I would say the truth; but to accuse him so, 
That is your part; yet I'm advis'd to do it; 
He says, to veil fuii^ purpose. 
Mari. Be rulM by hiin. [tur* 

Jsuh. Besides, he tells me, that, if peradve**- 
He speak against me on the adver«.e side, 
I should not think it strange ; for 'tis a physic, 
Th.'.t's bitter to sweet end. 
A'ari. I would, friar Peter — 
Isab. O, peace; the friar is come. 

Enter Friar Peter. 
2'. Peter. Come, I have found you out a 
stand most fir, [duke. 

Where you may have such vantage H on the 
He shall not puSs you; Twice have the trum- 
pets sounded ; 
The generous 11 and gravest citizens 
Have hent** the gates, and very near upon 
The duke isent'riug; therefore hence, away. 

\^Exeunt» 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. 
A pnblic Place near the City Gate. 
hlA.KiAti\,Cveil'd,J Isabella, and Peter, 
at a distance. Enter at opposite doors, 
Duke, Varrius, Lords; Angelo, Esca- 
Lus, Lucio, Prov©st, Officers, S^ Citizens. 
Duke. My very worthy cousin, fairly met : — 
Our old and faithful friend, w^e are glad to see 
you. [royal grace! 

Ang. and Escal. Happy return be to your 
Duke. Many and hearty thankings to you 
both. 
We have made inquiry of yon ; and we hear 
Such goodness of your justice, that our soul 
Cannot but yield yon forth to public thanks. 
Forerunning more requital. 
Ang. You make my bonds still greater. 
Duke. O, your desert speaks loud ; aixl I 
should wrong it, 
To lock it in the wards of covert bosom. 
When it deserves with characters of brass 
A forted residence, 'gainst the tooth of time. 
And raznre of oblivion : Give me your hand 
And let the subject see, to make them know 
That outward courtesies would fain proclaim 
Favours that keep within.^ — Come, Escalus; 
^ ou must walk by us on our other hand , — 
A.nd good supporters are you. 

Peter and Isabella come forward . 
F. Pet(r. Now is your time; speak loud, 
and kneel before him. 



Isab. Justice, O, royal duke I Vail+t your 
regard 
Upon a wrong'do Pd fain have said, a maid ! 
O worthy prince, dishonour not your eye 
By throwing it on any other object. 
Till you have heard me in my true complaint, 
And given me, justice, justice, justice, justice! 

Duke. Relate your wrongs : In what J By 
whom? Be brief: 
Here is lord Angelo shall give you justice ; 
Reveal yourself to him. 

Isab. O, worthy dnke, 

You bid me seek redemption of the devil: 
Hear me yourself; for that which I must speak 
Must either punish me, not being believ'd. 
Or wring redress from you : hear me, O, hear 
me, here. [firm : 

Ang. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not 
She hath been a suitor to mt for her brother. 
Cut oflf by course of justice. 

Isab, By course of justice! 

Ang. And she will speak most bitterly, and 
strange. [I speak : 

Isab- Most strange, but yet most truly, will 
That Angelo's forsworn ; is it not strange? 
That Angvlo's a murderer; i'st not strange? 
That Anaelo is an adulterous thief. 
An hypocrite, a virgin-violator ; 
Is it not strange, and strange? 

Duke. Nay, ten times strangs 

Isab. It is not truer he is Angelo, 
Than this is all as true as it is strange : 



» Credit unquestionable. t Utterer. 1 Start off. § Availful- 

H Advantage. Most noble. _** Seized. t1 Lower. 



1^0 



SIIAKSPtAlki!.. 



Nay, it is ten times troe; for truth is truth 
To the end of reckoning. 

Duke. Away"" with her :— Poor »oui, 

She jipeaks tliis in tl^e infirmity of sense. 

Jsuh. O piince, I conjure thee, as thou 
bclicv'st 
There is another comfort than this world, 
That thon nej/lect me not, with that opinion 
That 1 am tonch'd with madnesi: make not 
impossihle [sible, 

That which but seems unlike : 'tis not impos- 
But one, the wicked'st caitiff on the ground, 
May seem as thy, as prave, as just, as absolute. 
As Anyelo; even so may Angelo, 
In all his dressings* characts, titles, forms, 
Be an arch-villain : believe it, royal prince, 
If he be less, he's nothing; but he's more, 
Had I more name for badness. 

Vnke. By mine honesty, 

If she be mad, (as T believe no other,) 
Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense, 
Xuch a dependency of thing on thing, 
As e'er I heard in madness. 

Jsab. O. gracious duke, 

Harp not on that; nor do not banish reason 
For inequality : but let your reason serve 
To make the truth appear, where it seems hid ; 
And hide the false, seems true. 

Duke. Many that Jire not mad, 

Have, sure, more lack of reason.— What 
would y©H say'? 

/.safe. I am the sister of one Claudio, 
Condemn'd upon the act of fornication 
To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo: 
I, in probation of a sisterhood. 
Was sent to by my brother ^ One Lucio 
As then the messenger ; — 

Lucio. That's I, an't like your {;race: 

I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her 
To try her gracious fortune with lord Angelo, 
For her poor brother's pardon. 

Isub, That's he, indeed. 

Duke. YoQ were not bid to speak. 

Lucio. No, my good lord ; 

Nor wishM to hold my peace. 

Duke. I vvisli you now then; 

Pray you, take note of it: and when you have 
A business for yourself, pray heaven, you then 
Be perfect. 

JjUcUk I warrant your hononr. [to it. 

Duke. The warrant's for yourseW; take heed 

Jsub. Tliis gentleman told somewhat of my 

Jjucio. Right. [tale. 

Duke. It may be right; but you are in the 
wrong 
To speak before your time. — Proceed. 

I sub. I went 

T<» this pernicious caitiff deputy. 

Duke. That's somewhat madly spoken. 

Isub. Pardon it ; 

The phrase is to the matter. 

Duke. Minded aijain: the matter; — Proceed. 

Isab. In biief,— to eet the needless process by, 
How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kned'd, 
How he relell'd t me, and how I repiy'd ; 

• Habits and characters of oflTire. 

I tJontipiracv. 



(For this was of much leiigth,) the vile con 

elusion 
I now begin with grief and shame to utter; 
He would noi, b t by gift of my chaste l.<.dy 
To his concupiu ♦"' le >Bien)perate Inst, I n»ent, 
Release my brother ; and, after much de'aie- 
My sisterly remorsej confutes min« honour, 
And 1 did yield to him: But the next moru 

betimes, \ 

His purpose surfeiting, he sends a warrant 
For my poor brother's head. 

Dut^e. This is most likely I 

Isub. O, that it were as like, as it is true! j 

Duke. By heaven, fond ^ wretch, thon 
know'st not what thou speak'st ; 
Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour, 
In hateful practice !|: First, his integrity 
Stands without blemish :— next, it imports no 

reason. 
That w ith such vehernency he should pursue 
Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended, 
He would have weigh'd thy brother by hiiii>(ir". 
And not have cut him off: Some one h.th ttt 

you on ; 
Confess the truth, and say by whose advice 
Thou cam'si here to complain. 

I^ab. And is this all \ 

Then, oh, you blessed ministers ahove, j 

Keep me in patience; and, with ripen'd time, 
Unfold the evil which is here wrapt up 
In countenance! — Heaven shield your grace 

from woe. 
As I, thus wrong'd, hence nnbelieved go : 

Duke. I know, you'd fain be gone: — An 
officer ! 
To prison with her: — Shall we thus permit 
A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall 
On him so near us? This needs must be a 

practice. — 
Who knew of your intent, and coming hither? 

Jsab. One that I would were here., friar 
Lodowick. [that Lodowiek \ 

Duke. A ghostly father, belike: — Who knows 

Lucio. My lord, I know him; 'tis a uh<U 

dling friar; [ionl, 

I do not like the man : had he been lay, uiy 

For certain words he spake against your griicc 

In your retirement, I hadswing'ilH him soundly. 

Duke. VN ords against umt This' a good friar, 
belike ! 
And to set on this wretched woman here 
Against our substitute! — Let this friar be found. 

Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and 
that friar 
I saw them at the prison: a Mucy friar, 
A very S(nrvy fellow. 

/'. Pete?'. Blessed be yonr royal grace 

I have stood by, my lord, and 1 have heard 
YoiM' royal ear abus'd : First, hath this wouiau 
Most wronglully accus'd your 8ub>titute; 
W ho is as tree from touch or soil with her, 
As she from one ungot. 

Duke. We did believe no le«>. 

Know you that friar Lodowick, that 8he»>5^c:iiL< 
of? 



+ Refuted. ! Pity. 

^ Beat. 



i F.Miligh, 



Saiie I.\ 



MEASURE FOa 31EASURE. 



121 



F. Peter. I know him for a man divine and 
Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, [holy; 
As he's reported by this gentleman; 
And, on my trnst, a man that never yet 
lUd, as he vouches, misreport your grace. 

Lucio, My lord, most villanously ; believe 
it. [clear himself ; 

F. Peter. Well, he in time may come to 
l^'Ut at this injtant he is sick, my lord, 
Of a strange fever : Upon his mere * request, 
(Being come to knowledge that there was 

complaint 
Intended 'gainst lord Angelo,) came 1 hither, 
T'.> speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know 
Is irne, and false ; and what he with his oath, 
And all probation, will make up full clear. 
Whensoever he*s convented t. First, for this 
(To justify, this worthy nobleman, [woman ; 
J o vulgarly % and personally accus'd,) 
Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, 
liil she herself confess it. 

Duke, Good friar, let's hear it. 

[Isabella is carried off, guarded; 
and Mariana conifsjorwurd. 
Do you not smile at this lord Aniielo? — • 
(> heaven ! the vanity of wrelchtd fools! — 
(live us some seats. — Come, cousin Augclo ; 
III this I'll be impartial; be you judge 
Of your own cause. — Is this the witness, friar? 
First, let her show her face ; and, after, speak. 

MarL Pardon, my lord ; I will not show 
Until my husband bid me. [my face, 

Duke. What, are you married ? 

jMari, No, my lord. 

Duke, Are you a maid? 

Mari, No, my lord. 

Jhike, A widow then ? 

Mari, Neither, my lord. 

Duke. Why, you 

Are nothing then :— Neither maid, widow, 
nor wife I 

Lucio, My lord, she may be a punk ; for 
many of them are neither maid, widow, nor 
wife. [some cause 

Puke. Silence that fellow : I would, he had 
To prattle for himself. 

Lucio. Well, my lord. [married ; 

Mari. My lord, I do confess I ne'er was 
And, I confess, besides, I am no maid : 
I have known my husband ; yet my husband 
That ever he knew me. [knows not, 

Liic'io. He was drunk then, my lord ; it can 
be no better. 

Duke. For the benefit of silence, 'would 
tlu>u wert so too. 

IjUc'io. Well, my lord. 

Duke. This is no witness for lord Angelo. 

Mari. Now I come to't, my lord : 
She, that accuses him of fornication, 
lu ;«elf-same manner doth accuse my husband ; 
Aiul chartj;es him, my lord, with such a time. 
When I'll depose I had him in mine arms. 
With all the etlect of love. 

AtK^. Charges she more than me? 

Mari. Not that 1 know. 

♦ Simple. + Tonvened. 

ll Htr fortune fell shoii. 



Duke. No? you say, your husband. 

Mar/. Why, just, my lord, and that is Anuelo, 
Who thinks, he knows, that he ne'er knew my 

body , 
But knows, he thinks, that he knows Isabel's. 

Aug. 1 his is a strange abuse ^: — Let's see thy 
face. [unmask. (Vnveilivg. 

Mari. My husband bids me; now I wnl 
Thia is that face, thou cruel Angelo, [ing on : 
Which, once thou svvor'st, was worth the look- 
This is the hand, which, with a vow'd contract. 
Was fast belock'd in thine : this is the body 
That took away the match from Isabel, 
And did supply thee at thy garden-house. 
In her imagined person. 

Duke. Know yon this woman? 

Lucio. Carnally, she says. 

Duke, Sirrah, no more. 

Lucio. Enough, my lord. [woman; 

Ang. My lord, I must confess, I know this 
And, five years since, there was some speech 

of marriage 
Betwixt myself and her; which was broke oflf. 
Partly, for that her promised proportions 
Came short of composition n : but, in chief. 
For that her reputation was disvalued 
In levity: since which time of five years, 
I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard 
Upon my faith and honour. [from her, 

Mari. Noble prince, 

As there comes light from heaven, and words 

from breath. 
As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue, 
I am affianc*d this man's wife, as strongly 
Ac words could make up vows : and, my good 
lord, [house. 

But Tuesday night last gone, in his garden- 
He knew me as a wife: As this is true 
Let me in safety raise me from my knees ; 
Or else for ever be contixtd here, 
A marble monument! 

Aug. I did but smile till now; 

Kow, good my lord, give me the scope of 

justice ; 
My patience here is touch'd: I do perceive. 
These poor informal % women are no more 
But instruments of some more mightier m.em- 

ber, 
That sets them on : Let me have way, my lord. 
To find this practice** out. 

Duke. Ay, with my heart; 

And punish them unto your height of pleasure.— 
Thou foolish friar; and thou pernicious woman, 
Compdct with her that's gone! think'st tliou, 
thy oaths, [saint. 

Though they would swear down each particular 
Were testimonies against his worth and credit, 
Thai's seal'd in approbation? — You, lord Es- 

calus. 
Sit with my cousin ; lend him your kind pain» 
To find out this abuse, whence 'tis deriv'd. — 
There is another friar that set them on ; 
Let him be sent for. [he, indeed, 

F. Petir. Would he were here, my lord; for 
Hath set the women on to this complaint; 

1 Publicly. V Tecri^lion. 

^ Craxv. •• Cons piracy. 

M 



)?9 



SHAKSPKAIIE. 



[Act r. 



Year provost knows the place where lie abides, 
And he may fetch him. 

Duke. Co, do it instantly. — \^Exit Provost. 
And you, my nohleimd well warranted cousin, 
\\ hom it concerns to hear this matter forth *, 
Do with your injuries as seems you best. 
In any chastisement: 1 for a while [we!l 

Will leave you ; but stir not you, till you have 
Determined upon these slanderers. 

E^cal. My lord, we'll do it thoroughly. — 
[E'.kY Duke.]— Signior lucio, did not you say, 
you knew that friar Lodowick to be a dis- 
honest person? 

Liicio. Cucvllus non fucit monachuni: 
honest in nothing, but in his clothes; and one 
that hath spoke most villanous speeches of 
the duke. 

Escal. We shall entreat you to abide here 
ti'l he come, and enforce them against him : 
We shall find this friar a notable fellow. 

Lucio. As any in Vienna, on my word. 

Escal. Call that same Isabel here once 
again; \To en Altendanf ."] I would speak 
with her: Pray you, my lord, give me leave 
to question; you shall see how Pll handle her. 

Lucio, Not belter than he, by her own 
report. 

JSucal. Say you? 

Lucio. Marry, sir, I think, if yon handled 
her privately, she would sooner confess; per- 
ch ince, publicly she'll be ashamed. 
Hv-enter 0^c^rs,w th l.sABtLLA;?AeDuKE, 
hi the Fi iai^s knhit, and Provost. 

Escal. 1 will iro darkly to work with her. 

Lucio. That's the way ; for women arc light 
at midnight. 

Escal. Come on, mistress: [7b Isabella.] 
hei e's a gentlewoman denies all thai you have 
8aid. 

Lucio. My lord, here comes the rascal I 
spoke of; here with the provost. 

E^caL. In very good time: — speak not you 
to him, till we call upon you. 

Jyiicio. Mum. 

Escal. Come, sir : Did yoa set these wo- 
men on to sl.iruler lord Angelo? they have 
CO fess'd you did. 

Duke. '1 is false. 

Escal. How! know you where you are? 

Dnke. inspect to your great place! and 

let the devil 

Be sometime hoiK)ur*d forhisburniiigthrone: — 

Where is the duke? 'tis he should hear me 

speak. [you speak: 

Escal. The duke's in us; and wc will hear 
Look, you f peak jn*t/y. 

Duke. Boldly, at least: — But, O, poor souls. 
Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox? 
(lood ni^ht to your redr ss. Is the duke gone? 
1 hen is your cause gone too. The duke's unjust, 
Tli'is to retort 1 your manifest appeal, 
Aid put your trial in the villain's mouth, 
Which he) e you come to accuse. [of. 

Jjurto. This is the rascal ; this is he I spoke 

Escal. Why, thou unreverend and unh.al- 
lowM iriur! 



Is*t not enough, thou hast suborn'd thesa 

women 
To accuse this worthy man; but, in foul moutli 
And in the witness of his proper ear. 
To call him villain? [himself; 

And then to glance from him to the duke 
To tax him with injustice?— Take him hence; 
To the rack with him: — We'll touzeyou joini 
by joint, [justt 

But we will know this purpose: — What! un 

Duke. Be not so hot ; the duke [h# 

Dare no more stretch this finger of mine, that 
Dare rack his own ; his subject ami not. 
Nor here provincial j : My business in this stat* 
Made me a looker on here in \ ienna, 
Wliere I have seen corruption boil and bubble 
Till it o'er-run the stew: laws, for all fault*; 
But faults so countenanc'd, that the strong sta 

tutes 
Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop. 
As much in mock as mark. 

Escal. Slander to the state ! Away with hinr. 
to prison. 

Aug. What can you vouch against him, sig 
nior Lucio? 
Is this the man that you did tell us of? 

Lucio. 'lis he, my lord. Come hither 
goodman bald-pate: Do you know me? 

Duke. I remember you, sir, by the sound 
of your voice : I met you at the prison, in the 
absence of the duke. 

Lucio. O, did you so? And do you remem- 
ber what you said of the duke? 

Duke. Most notedly, sir. 

Lucio. Do you so, sir? And was the dnke 
a flesh-monger, a fool, and a coward, as you 
then reported him to be? 

Duke, You must, sir, change persons with 
me, ere you make that my report: you, in 
deed, spoke so of him ; and iimch more, much 
worse. 

Lucio. O thou damnable fellow! Did not 
I pluck thee by the nose, for thy speeches? 

Duke. I protest, I love the duke, as 1 love 
myself. 

Ang. Hark I how the villain would close 
now, after his treasonable abuses. 

E^cal. Such a fellow is not to be talk'd 
withal :— Away wiih him to prison: — Where 
is the provost? — Away with him to prison; 
lay bolts enough upon him: let him speak no 
more:— Away with those giglots j> too, and 
with the other confederate companion. \Tue 
Provost lays hanth on the Duke. 

Duke. Stay, sir; stay awhile. 

Ang What ! resists he ? Help him, Lucio. 

Lucio. Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; 
foh, sir : Why, you bald pated, lying rascal! 
you must be hooded, must you ? Sh6w your 
knave's visaue, with a pox to you! show your 
sheep biting face, and be haug'd an houi I 
VVill't not oft? [Pulls off the Friar's hood^ 
and discovers ^/teDuKS. 

Duke. Thou art the first knave, that e'trr 

made a duke. 

First, provost, let me bail these gentle three :— 



• lo the end. 



t II fer hack. 



Accouiitabie. 



^ \Va itoiia. 



Scene /.] 



MEASLRE FOR MEASURE. 



123 



Sneak not away, sir; \To Lucio.] for tbe 

friar and you 
Mu?t have a word anon : — lay hold on him. 
Jjucio. This may prove worse than hanging. 
JJuke. What you have spoke, I pardon ; 

sit you down. {To Escalus. 

We'll borrow place of him : — Sir, by your 

leave: [7'o Angllo. 

Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence. 
That yet can do thee ofhce * ? If thou hast, 
Rely upon it till my tale be heard, 
. ind hold no longer out. 

Ang. O, my dread lord, 

' sliould be guiltier than my ^^niltiness, 
'o think I can be undiscernible, [divine, 

• Vlien I perceive, your grace, like power 
I'ath look'd upon my passe?t: Then, good 
Ino longersession hold upon my shame, [prince, 
I'Ut let my trial be mine own confession ; 
lu: mediate sentence then, and sequent J death. 
Is til the grace I beg. 

Duke. Come, hither, Mariana: — 

Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman? 
Ang. I was, my lord. [instantly. — 

Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her 
/)o you the office, friar; which consummate, 
ieturn him here again: — Go with him. Provost. 
[Elxeunt Angei.o, Mariana, Petek, 
and Provost. 
Fscal. My lord, I am more amaz'd at his 
rh.(n at the strangeness of it. [dishonour, 

Duke. Come hither, Isabel : 

Four friar is now your prince : As I was then 
^ilvertioing§, and holy to your business, 
N ot changins; heart with habit, I am still 
4.ttorney*d at your service. 

Jsab. O, give me pardon. 

That I, your vassal, have employed and pain'd 
\ our unknown sovereignty. 

Duke- You are pardon'd, Isabel : 

And now, dear maid, be you as free to us. 
"i our brother's deatlj, I know, sits at your heart ; 
And you may marvel, why I obscur'd myself, 
1 abouring to save his life ; and wou Id not rather 
Make rash remonstrance of my hidden power, 
1 ban let him so be lost: O, most kind maid. 
It was the swift celerity of his death. 
Which I did think with slower foot came on. 
That brain'd my purpose: But, peace be with 
That life is better life, past fearing death [him ; 
Than that which lives to fear : make it your 
So happy is your brother. [comfort, 

Me-enter Ang Eho, Mariana, Peter, 
and Provost. 
Jsab. I dc, my lord. 

Duke. For this new- married man, approach- 
ing here, 
Whose salt imegination yet hath wrong'd 
Your well-defend'^jd honour, you must pardon 
F r Mariana's sake: but as he adjudg'd your 
( Deing criminal, iB double violation [brotlicr, 
or sacred chastity^ and of promise breach, 
i f.ereon dependaat. for your brother's life,) 
The very mercy ol tbe law cries out 
Mo>t audible, eve» ^om his proper j| tongue, 
An Aftgelojor Cla =-* o, death for death. 



Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers 
leisure ; \Measure. 

Like doth quit like, and Measure still /or 
Then Angelo, thy fault's thus manifested ; 
Which though thou wouldst deny, denies thee 

vanUi^e : 
We do condemn thee to the very block 
W liere Cliudio stoop'd te death, and with 
Away with him. [like haste; — 

Muri. O, my most gracious lord, 

I hope you will not mock me with a husband ! 

Duke. It is your husband mock'd you with 
a husband : 
Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, 
I thought your marriage fit ; else imputation. 
For that he knew you, n)ight reproach your life. 
And choke your good to come: for his pos- 
sessions. 
Although by confiscation they are ours. 
We do instate and widow you withal. 
To buy you a belter husband. 

Mart. O, my dear lord, 

I crave no other, nor no better man. 

Duke. Never crave him ; we are definitive. 

Marl. Gentle, my liege, — [Kneeling. 

Duke. You do but lose your labour ; 

Away with him to death — Now, sir, [To 

Lucio.] to you. [take my part; 

Mari. O, my good lord! — Ssveet Isabel, 
Lend me your knees, and all my life/to come 
I'll lend you, all my life to do you service. 

i^wA:^. Against all sense you do importune her: 
Should she kneel down, in mercy of this fact. 
Her b» other's ghost his paved bed would break, 
And take her hence in horror. 

Mari. Isabel, 

Sweet Isabel, do yet but kneel by me; 
Hold up your hands, say nothing, I'll speak all. 
They say, best men are moulded out of faults ; 
And, for the most, become much more the better 
For being a little bad ; so may my husband. 
O, Isabel! will you not lend a knee? 

Duke, He dies for Claudio's death. 

Isab. Most bounteous sir, {Kneeling. 

Look, if it please you, on this man condemn'd. 
As if my brother livM : I partly think, 
A due sincerity governed his deeds. 
Till he did look on me ; since it is so. 
Let him not die: My brother had but justice^ 
In that he did the thing for which he died: 
For Angel o, 

His act did not o*ertake his bad intent; 
And must be buried but as an intent [jects; 
That perish'd by the way : thoughts are no sub- 
Intents but merely thoughts. 

Mari. Merely, my lord. [say. — 

Duke. Your suit's unprofitable ; stand up, I 
I have bethought me of another fault : — 
Provost, how came it, Claudio was beheaded 
At an unusual hour f 

Prov. It was commanded so. 

Duke. Had you a special warrant for the 
deed 1 [message. 

Prov. No, my good lord ; it was by private 

Duke. For which I do discharge you of 
Give up your keys. [your office. 



• Service. i j, vices. t Following. § Attentive. H Angelo'j* own tongue. 



124 



SHAKSPEARE* 



lAct r. 



Prov. Pardon me, noble lord : 

I thought it was a fault, but knew it not; 
Yet did repent me, after more advice* : 
For testimony whereof, one in the prison 
That should by private order else have died, 
1 have reserv'd alive. 

Duke, What's he? 

Prov, His name is Barnardine. 

Duke. I would thouhadstdone so byClaudio. 
Go, fetch him hither; let me look upon him. 
[Eiit Provost. 

Esca?.Iam8orry,onesolearned andso wise^ 
As you. lord Angelo, have still appear'd, 

hould slip so grossly, both in the heat of blood. 
And lack of temper'd judgment afterward. 

Ang. I am sorry, that such sorrow 1 procure: 
And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart, 
That 1 crave death more willingly than mercy; 
Tis my deserving, and I do entreat it. 
Re-enter Frovoit, Barnardine, Claudio, 
and Juliet. 

Duke. Which is that Barnardine? 

Prou, This, my lord. 

DaAre.There was a friar told me of this man:— 
Sirrah, thou art said to have a stubborn soul. 
That apprehends no further than this world. 
And sqaar'st thy life according. Thou'rt con- 

demn'd ; 
But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all ; 
And pray thee, take this mercy to provide 
For betler tinges to come: — Friar, advise him ; 
I leave him to your hand. — VVhat muffled 
fellow's that? 

Prov. This is another prisoner, that I sav*d. 

That should have died when Claudio lost his 

As like almost to Claudio, as himself, [heart ; 

[Unmiiffies Claudio. 

Duke. If he be like your brother, [7(0 
Isabella.] for his sake 
Is he pardon'd ; And, for your lovely sake, 
Give me your hand, and s:iy you will be mine. 
He is my brother too : But fitter time for that. 
By this, lord Aui^elo perceives he's safe; 
Methinks, I see a quick'nin<^ in his eye. — 
Well, Angelo, your evil quits t you well : 
Look that you love your wife ; hei worth, worth 
yours. — 



I find an apt remission in myself: 

And yet here's one in place I cannot pardon ; — 

You, sirrah, [To Lucio.] that knew mc for a 

fool, a coward. 
One all of luxury j, an ass, a madman; 
Wherein have I so deserved of you. 
That you extol me thus? 

Lucio. *Faith, my lord, I spoke it but ac- 
cording to the trick §: If you will hang me 
for it, you may, but I had rather it would 
please you, I might be whipp'd. 

Duke. Whipp'd first, sir, and hang*d after. — 
Proclaim it, provost, round about the city ; 
If any woman's wrong'd by this lewd fellow, 
(As I have heard him swear himself, there's on 
Whom he begot with child,) let her appear. 
And he shall marry her: the nuptial finish'd. 
Let him be whi p'd and hang'd. 

Lucio. I beseech your highness, do not mar- 
ry me to a whore! Your highness said even 
now, I made you a duke; good my lord, do 
not recompense me, in making me a cuckold. 

Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry 
Thy slanders I fori^ive: and therewithal [her 
Remit thy other forfeits : — Take him to prison; 
And see our pleasure herein executed. 

Lucio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is press 
ing to death, whipping, and hanging. 

Dukf. Sland'ring a prince deserves it — 
She, Claudio, that you wrpng'd, look you re- 
store. — 
Joy to you, Mariana! — love her, Angelo; 
I have confess'd her, and I know her virtue.— 
Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much 

goodness: 
There's more behind, that is more gratulate ||. 
Thanks, Provost, for thy care, and secrecy ; 
We shall employ thee in a worthier place : — 
F(»rgive him, Angelo, that brought you hom« 
The head of Ragozine for Ciaiulio's ; 
The offence pa'-'lons itself. — iJear Isabel, 
1 have a mc'' a much imports your good ; 
Whereto if ^ou'U a willing eai incline, [mine : 
What's mine is your's, and what is your's is 
So, bring us to our palace ; where we'll show 
What's yet behind, that's meet you ail should 
know. [Kieunt, 



The novel of Giraldi Cinthio, from which Shakspeare is supposed to have borrowed this 
fable, may be read in Shukspeure illustrated, elegantly translated, wiih remarks which 
will assist the inquirer to discover how much absurdity .Shakspeare has admitted or avoided. 

I cannot but suspect tbat some other had new-modelled the novel of Cinthio, or written a 
8tory which in some particulars resembled it, and that Cinthio was not the author whom 
Shakspeare immediately followed. The Emperor in Cinthio is named Maximine: the Duke, 
in Shakspeare's enumeration of the per9(»ns of the drama, is called Vincentio. This appears 
a very slight remark ; but since the Duke has no name in the play, nor is ever niLMitioned 
but by his title, why should he be called Vincentio among the persons, but because the name 
was copied from the story, and placed superlluously at the head of the list by the mere habit 
of transcription ? It is, therefore, likely that there was then a story of Vincentio Duke ol 
Vienna, ditterent from thai of Maximine Emperor of the Romans. 

Of this play, the light or comic patt is very natural and pleasing, but the grave scenes, if a 
few passages be excepted, have more labour than elegance. The plot is rathir intricate than 
artful. The time of the action is indefinite ; some time, we know not how much, must have 
elapsed between the re '.ess of the Duke and the imprisonment of Claudio ; for he must have 
tearne<l the story of Mariana in his disguise, or he delegated his power to a man already 
known to be currujMed. Tb ii.iuic-<>r .icfjon and place :ir<' snfTicicntly pres Tved. — J)Hnson« 



Couiidtr^tliou. t llo' 



OUi:nUe.-^ pi tvll 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 



^mongj rcpu^cnteD. 



Don Pedro, Prince of Arragon, 

Don John, his bastard brother. 

Claudio, a young lord of Florence, fa- 
vourite to Don Pedro. 

Benedick, a young lord of Padudffavou- 
rite likewise of Don Pedro. 

Lkonato, governor of Messina. 

AsTONio, his brother. 

Balthazar, servant to Doii Pedro, 

lolilll°')f<>»<^''-' "J Don John. 



Verges?''') two foolish officers. 
A Sexton. 
I A Friar. 
A Boy. 

Hero, daughter to Leonato. 
BiiATRiCE, niece to Leonato. 
Marcaret,!^ gentletvomen attending 



Ursula. 



Hero. 



Messengers, Watch, and Attendants, 
Scene, — Messina, 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. Before Leonato*s House. 

Enter Leonato, Hero, Beatrice, and 
others, with a Messenger. 

Leon. I learn in this letter that Don Pedro 
of Arragon comes this night to Messina. 

Mess. He is very near by this ; he was not 
three leagues off when I left him. 

Leon. How many gentlemen have you lost 
ill this action 1 

Mess, But few of any sort *, and none of 
name. 

Leon. A victory is twice itself, when the 
achiever brings home full numbers. I find 
here, that Don Pedro hath bestowed much 
honour on a young Florentine, called Claudio. 

Mess. Much deserved on his part, and 
equally remembered by Don Pedro : He hath 
borne himself beyond the promise of his age; 
doing, in the figure of a lamb, the feats of a 
li'ii : he hath, indeed, better bettered expec- 
trtiion, than you must expect of me to tell 
jou how. 

Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina 
vill be very much glad of it. 

Mess. 1 have already delivered him letters, 
and there appears much joy in him ; even so 
iiinch, that joy conld not show itself modest 
enough, without a badgtj of bitterness. 

Leon. Did he break out into tears 1 

Mtss. In great measure t. 

Leon. A kind overllovv of kindness : There 
are no faces truer than those that are so washed. 
How much better is it to weep at joy, than 
to joy at weeping ? 

Beat. 1 pray you, is signior Montanto 
returned from the wars, or no? | 



Mess- I know none of that name, lady; 
there was none such in the army of any sort. 

Leon. What is he that you ask for, niece ? 

Hero. My cousin means signior Benedick 
of Padua. 

Mess. O, he is returned ; and as pleasant 
as ever be was. 

Beat. He set up his bills here in Messina, 
and challenged Cupid at the flight J: and my 
uncle's fool, reading the ^phalleni^e, subscribe? 
for Cupid, and challenged him at the bird 
bolt.— I pray you, hov^' many hath he killed 
and eaten in these wars ? Bat how many hath 
he killed ? for, indeed, 1 promised to eat all 
of his killing. 

Leon. Faith, niece, you tax signior Bene 
dick too much; but he'll be meetj with you, 
I doubt it not. 

Mess. He hath done good service, lady, iu 
these wars. 

Beat. You had musty victual, and he hath 
holp to eat it: he is a very valiant trencher- 
man, he hath an excellent stomach. 

Mess. And a good soldit* too, lady. 

Beat. And a i^ood soldier to a lady ; — But 
what is he to a lord ? 

Mess. A lor.d to a lord, a man to a man ; 
stuffed with all honourable virtues. 

Beat. It is so, indeed ; he is no less than a 
stuffed man 11 : but for the stuffing,— Well, we 
are all mortal. 

Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my 
niece : there is a kind of merry war betwixt 
siguior Benedick and her : they never meet, 
but there is a skirniiah of wit between them. 

Beat. Alas, he yets nothing by that. \\\ 
our last condict four of his five wits went 



iiiJ. t Abui«lance. t At long lengths. 



% Even. 



li A cuckold. 



126 



SHAKSFEARfi. 



[Act /. 



baiting off, and now is the whole man go- 
veriied with one: so that if he have wit 
enou'jih to keep himsclt warm, let liiin boar 
<t for a difference ht tween liifnself and his 
horse: for it is all tne wealtli tiiit he .hath 
left, to be known a reasonable creature. — 
V/ho i? his comp .nion now ? He hath every 
month a new sworn brother. 

Mess. Is it possible 1 

Beat, Very easily possible: he wears his 
faith but as the fashion of his hat, it ever 
changes with the next block*. 

Mess. I see, lady, the gentleman is not in 
y^onr books. 
<|tt| Beat. No : an he were, I wonld burn 
^^my study. But, I pray yon, who is his com- 
panion ? Is there no yonng squarer t now, 
thai will make a voyage with him to the devil ? 

Mess. He is most in the company of the 
right noble Claudio. 

Beat. O Lord! he will hang npon him 
like a disease : he is sooner caught than the 
pestilence, and the taker runs presently mad. 
God help the noble Claudio! if he have 
can^ht the Eenedick, it will cost him a 
thousand pound ere he be cured. 

Mess. I will hold friends with you, lady. 

Beat. Do, good friend. 

Ij€on» You will never run mad, niece. 

Beit, No, not till a hot January. 

Mess. Don Pedro is approached. 
Enfer Don Pedro, attended by Baltha- 
zar, and ot.herSy Don John, Claudio, 

and Benedick. 

D. Pedro. Good signior Leon^to, y«Hj are 
come to meet your trouble : the fasliion of the 
world is to avoid cost, and you encounter it. 

Leon. Never came trouble to my house in 
the likeness of your grace: for trouble being 
gone, c«)mfort should remain ; hut, when you 
depart from me, sorrow abides, and happiness 
takes his leave. 

D. Pedro. You embrace your charge j too 
willingly. — I think, this is your daughter. 

Leon, Her mother hath many times told 
me so. 

Bene. Were you in doubt, sir, that you 
asked her? 

Lton. Signior Benedick, no; for then were 
you a child. 

D. Pedro. You have it full, Benedick : we 
may guess by this what you are, being a 
man. Truly, the lady fathers herself? — Be 
happy, lady ! for you are like an honourable 
father. 

Bene. If signior Leonato be her father, she 
would not have his head ow her shoulders, 
for all Messina, as like him as she is. 

Beat. I wonder, that you will still be talk- 
inv, signior Benedick ; nobody mnrks you. 

Bene. What, my dear lady Disdain! are 
yo 5 >et living? 

Beat. Is it possible, disdain should die, 
while she hath such meet food to feed it, as 
si'^nior Benedick I Courtesy itself must con 
vert to disdain, if you come in her presence. I 



Bene. Then is courtesy a turncoat: — But 
it is certain, I am loved of all ladies, only 
you excepted : and I would I could find io 
my heart that I had not a hard heart; for, 
truly, I love none. 

Bent. A dear happiness to women; they 
would else have been troubled with a perni 
cious suitor. I thank God, and my cold 
blood, I am of your humour for that; I had 
rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than a 
man swear he loves me. 

Bene. God keep your ladyship still in thai 
mind ! so some gentleman or other shall 'scap* 
a predestinate scratched face. 

Beat, Scratching could not make it worse 
an 'twere such a face as yours were. 

Bene. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. 

Beat. A bird of my tongue, is better than a 
beast of yours. 

Bene I would, my horse had the speed ol 
your tontzae ; and so good a continuer : Bu* 
keep your way o'God's name ; I have done. 

Beat. Y'ou always end with a jade's trick ; 
I know you of old. 

D. Pedro. This is the sum of all : Leonato, — 
signior Claudio, and signior Benedick, — my 
dear friend Leonato hath invited you all. I 
tell him, we shall slay here at the least a 
month ; and he heartily prays, some occasion 
may detain us longer : 1 dare swear he is no 
hypocrite, but prays from his heart. » 

Li-un. If you swear, my lord, you shall not 
be forsvvorn. — Let me bid you welcome, my 
lord : being reconciled to the prince your 
brother, I owe you all duty. 

D. John. I thank you: i am not of many 
words, but I thaiik you. 

Leon. I'lease it your grace lead on? 

D. Pedro. Your hand, Leonato ; we will 
go together. 
[EretcHt all bvt Benedick tf7«rf Claudio. 

Claud. Benedick, didst thou note the daugh- 
ter of signior Leonato ? 

Bene. 1 noted her not ; but I looked on her. 

Claud. Is she not a modest young lady? 

Bejie. Do you question me, as an honest 
man should do, for my simple true judgment; 
or would you hnve me speak after my custom, 
as being a professed tyrant to their sex ? 

Claud. No, 1 pray thee, speak in sober 
judgment. 

Bene. Why, i'faith, methinks she is too 
low for a high praise, too brown for a fair 
praise, and too little for a great praise : only 
this commendation I can atford her ; that 
were she other than she is, she were unhand- 
some ; and being no other but as she is, I do 
not like her. 

Claud. Thou thinkest, I am in sport; I 
pray thee, tell me truly how thou likest her. 

Bt7ie. Would you buy her, that you inquire 
after her? 

Claud. Can the world buy such a jewel? 

Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. But 
speak you this with a sad brow? or do you 
play the flouting Jack ; to tell lis Cupid is a 



Mould for a hat. 



Qu;*.irel30me fellow. J Trust, 



Scene /.] 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIJVQ. 



127 



tood hare-finder, and Vulcan a rare carpen- 
itM ? Come, in what key shall a man take 
) ""» to gw in the sons^? 

(fltiud. In mine eye, she is the sweetest 
Iddy that ever I looked on. 

ii€fie. 1 can see >et without spectacles, and 
I see no such mailer : there's her cousin, an 
sIh.' were not possessed with a fury, exceeds 
her as much in beauty, as the liist of May 
fiotli the last of December. But 1 hope, you 
have no intent to turn husband ; have you ? 

(laui, I would scarce trust mypeif, though 
1 had sworn the coutraiy, if Hero would be 
my wite. 

lUne. Is it come to this, i'faith? Hath not 
t);e world one man, but he will wear his cap 
with suspicion ? Shall I never see a bachelor 
ot threescore again? Go to, i'taith ; an thou 
wilt needs thrust thy neck into a yoke, wear 
tlie print of it, and sigh away Sundays. Look, 
IJon Pedro is returned to seek you. 
He-enter Don Pedro. 

D. Pedro. What secret hath held you 
here, that you followed not to Leonato's ? 

Bene, 1 would, your grace vfouhi constrain 
me to tell. 

I). Pidro. I charge thee on thy allegiance. 

BiTic. You hear, Count Claiidio : I can be 
secret as a dumb man, 1 would have you 
think so ; but on my allegiance, — mark you 
iiiis,on my allegiance :— He is in love. With 
who? — now that is your grace's part. — Mark, 
how short his answer is: — With Hero, 
Leoiiato's short daughter. 

Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered. 

Bene. Like the old lale, my U)rd : it is not 
so, nor 'twas not so; but, indeed, God forbid 
it shouhl be so. 

(Uuiid. If my passion chano'e not shortly, 
GjiI forbid it should be otherwise. 

D. Pedro. Amen, it you love her ; for the 
lady is very well wortliy. 

(land. You speak this to fetch me in, my 
lord. 

D. Pedro. By mj troth, I speak my thought. 

(I (lid. An^,m faith, my U»i<!,I spoke mine. 

lime. And, by my two laiths and troths, 
my lord, I spoke mine, 

('L:ud. That I love her, I feel. 

D. Pedro. That she is worthy, I know. 

Bene. That I neither feel how she should 
be loved, nor know how she should be worthy, 
\i. the opinion that fire cannot melt out ot 
nie ; I will die in it at the slake. 

D. Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate 
heretic in the despite of beauty. 

Claud. And never could maintain his part, 
but in the force of his will. 

Bene. That a woman conceived me, I thank 
hiM- ; that she brought me up, I likewise give 
!♦ r most humble thanks : but that I will 
have a recheat* wintled in my forehead, or 
I hang my buglet in an invi-ible baldric;, all 

I xxoip.en >hall pardon me; Because I will not 

(Iw I hem the wron;; to mistrust any, I will do 



myself the right to trust none ; and the fine 
is, (for the which 1 may go the finer,) 1 will 
live a bachelor. 

D. Pidro. I shall see thee, ere I die, look 
pale with love. 

Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with 
hunger, my lord ; not with love : prove, that 
ever I lose more blood with love, than I will 
get again with drinking, pick out mine eyes 
with a ballad. maker's pen, and hang me up at 
the door of a brolhel-house, for the sign of 
blind Cupid. 

p. Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fall from 
this faith, thou wilt prove a notable argument. 

Bene. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a 
cat, and shi>ot at me ; and he that hits me, 
let him be clapped on the shoulder, and called 
Adam^. 

D. Pedro. Well, as time shall try: 
l7i time the savage bull doth hear the yoke. 

Bene. The savage bull may ; but if ever 
the sensible Penedick bear it, pluck otf the 
bull's horns, and set them in my foiehead : 
and let me be vilely painted ; and in such 
great letters as ihey write. Here is good horse 
fo litre, let them signify under my sign, — 
Here you may see Benediek the married 
man. 

Claud. If this should ever happen, thou 
wouldsi be horn. mad. 

D. Pedro. ISay, if Cupid have not spent 
all his quiver in Venice, thou wilt quake for 
this shortly. 

Bene. I look for an earthquake too then. 

D. Pedro. Well, you will temporize with 
the hours. In the mean time, good signior 
Benedick, repair to Leonaio's ; comniend 
me to him, and tell him, 1 wili not fail him 
at supper; for, indeed, he hath made great 
preparation. 

Bene. I have almost matter enough in me 
for such an embas>age ; and so I commit you — 

Claud. To the tuition of God: From my 
house, (if I had it,) — 

D. Penro. The sixth of July : Your loving 
friend, Benedick. 

Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not: The 
body of your discourse is sometime guarded i 
with fragments, and the guards are hut sli-ghtly 
basted on neither: ere you fl'uit old ends any 
further, examine your conscience ; and so I 
leave you. [Exit Beineihck. 

Claud. My liege, your highness now may 
do me good. [it hut how, 

D. Pedro. My love is thine to Teach ; teach 
And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn 
Any hard lesson that may do thee good. 

Claud. Hath Leonato any son, my lord? 

D. Pedro. No child but Hero, she's his only 
Dost thou aliect her, Claudio ! [Iieir ; 

Claud. O, my lord 

When you went onward on this ended action, 
I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye. 
That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand 
Than to drive liking to the name of love; 



• 'J'he tune sounded to rail off the dogs. t Hunting-horn. t Girdle. § The name o/ 
i» l.urio.'jo archer. It Trimmed. 



^^ 



128 



SHAKSPEARE. 



\_Act L 



But now I am return'd, and that war thoughts 
Have left their places vacant, in their rooms 
Come thronging soft and delicate desires, 
All prompting me how fair young Hero is, 
Saying, 1 lik'd her ere I went to wars. . 

Z). Pedru.Thou wilt belike a lover presently, 
And tire the hearer with a book of words : 
if thou do8t love fair Hero, cherish it; 
And I will break with her, and with her father, 
A nd thou shalt have her : Was't not to this end, 
'J'hat thou began'st to twist so fine a story ? 

CYtf Mrf.How sweetly do you minister to love. 
That know love's grief by his complexion ! 
But lest my liking might too sudden seem, 
1 would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. 

D. Pedro. What need the bridge much 
broader than the flood 1 
rhe fairest grant is the necessity : [lov*8t ; 
Look, what will serve, is fit: *tis once*, thou 
And 1 will fit thee with the remedy. 
i know, we shall have revelling to-night; 
I will assume thy part in some disguise, 
And tell fair Hero 1 am Claudio ; 
And in her bosom I'll unclasp my heart. 
And take her hearing prisoner with the force 
And strong encounter of my amorous tale : 
Then, after, to her father will I break ; 
And, the conclusion is, she shall be thine : 
In practice let us put it presently. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. A Room in Leonato's House. 
Enter Leonato and Antonio. 

Leon. How now, brother? Where is my 
cousin, your son ? Hath he provided this 
music ? 

Ant. He is very busy about it. But, bro- 
iler, I can tell you strange news that you yet 
dreamed not of. 

Leon. Are they good ? 

Ant. As the event stamps them ; but they 
iMve a good cover, they show well outward, 
'llie prince and Count Claudio, walking in a 
•I'.ick-pleachedT alley in my orchard, were 
tins much overheard by a man of mine : The 
|iiiiice discovered to Claudio, that he loved 
I! y niece your daughter, and meant to acknow- 
!' 'ige it this night in a dance ; and, if he found 
i er accordant, he meant to take the present 
time by the top, and instantly break with you 
ol it. 

Leon. Hath the fellow any wit, that told 
sou this? 

Ant. A good sharp fellow: I will send for 
him, and question him yourself. 

Leon. ISo, no; we will hold it as a dream, 
till it appear itself:— but I will acquaint my 
(l.iughter withal, that she may be the better 
pr«pared for an answer, if ptradventure this 
! e true. Go you, and tell her of it. {^Scierul 
i , <'r.so7is cross the stage.] Cousins, you know 
\.hat you have to do.— O, I cry you mercy, 
I 'lend ; you go with me, and I will use your 
f- cill :— Good cousins have a care this busy 
liuie. [Exeunt. 



SCENE III. Another Room in Leouato'i 
House. 
Enter Don Jons and Conrade. 

Con. What the goujere t, my lord 1 why are, 
you thus out of measure sad ? 

D. John. There is no measure in the occa- 
sion that breeds it, therefore the sadness is 
without limit. 

Con. You should hear reason. 

D. John. And when I have heard it, what 
blessing bringeth it 1 

Con. If not a present remedy, yet a patient 
sufferance. 

D. John. I wonder, that thou being (aa 
thou say'st thou art) born under Saturn, goest 
about to apply a moral medicine to a morti- 
fying mischief. I cannot hide what I am : I 
must be sad when I have cause, and smile at 
no man's jests ; eat when I have stomach, and 
wait for no man's leisure ; sleep when I am 
drowsy, and tend to no man's business ; laugh 
when I am merry, and claw§ no man in his 
humour. 

Con. Yea, but you must not make the full 
show of this till you may do it without con- 
trolment. You have of late stood out against 
your brother, and he hath ta'en you newly 
into his grace; where it is impossible you 
should take true root, but by the fair weather 
that you make yourself: it is needful that 
you frame the season for your own harvest. 

D, John. I had rather be a canker || in a 
hedge, than a rose in his grace; and it better 
fits my blood to be disdained of all, than to 
fashion a carriage to rob love from any : in 
this, though I cannot be said to be a flatter- 
ing honest man, it must not be denied that I 
am a plain dealing villain, lam trusted with 
a muzzle, and enfranchised with a clog ; there- 
fore I have decreed not to sing in my cage : 
If I had my mouth, I would bite; if I had my 
liberty, I would do my liking : in the mean 
time, let me be that I am, and seek not to al- 
ter me. 

Coil. Can you make no use of your dis- 
content? 

D. John. I make ;dl use of it, for I use it 
only. Who comes here? What news, Borak- 
chio? 

Enter Borachio. 

Bora. I came yonder from a great supper ; 
the prince, your brother. Is royally entertained 
by Leonato; and I can give you intelligence 
of an intended marriage. 

1). Johii. WillJt serve for any model to 
build mischief on? Whati< he for a fool, that 
betroths himself to unquietness? 

Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right 
hand. 

JJ. John. Who ? the most exquisite Claudio T 

Bora. Even he. 

D.Johii. A proper squire! And who, and 
who? which way looks he? 



♦ Once lor all. 



t Thickly-interwoven. 1 The venereal disease. 

1, iJo--ro?c. 



5 Flatter. 



Scene 111, 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 



129 



Bora. Marry, oa Hero, the daiigliter aud 
heir of Leouato. 

D. John. A very forward March cliick ! 
How came you to this? 

Bora, Being enteitained for a perfumer, as 
I was smoking a musty room, comes me the 
prince and Claudio, hand in hand, in sad * 
conference: I whipt me behind the arras; 
and there heard it agreed upon, that the prince 
should woo Hero for himself, and having ob 
tained her, give her to count Claudio. 

D, John. Come, come, let us thither ; this 



may prove food to my displeasure : that young 
start-up hath all the glory of my overthrow; 
if I can cross him any way, I bless myrelf 
every way : You are both sure, and will as- 
sist me? 

Con, To the death, my lord. 

D. John. Let us to the great supper; their 
cheer is the greater, that I am st\bdne<l : 
'Would the cook were of my mind ! — Shall we 
go prove what's to be done? 

Bora, We'll wait upon your lordship. 

{Exeunt. 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. A Hall in Leonato's iJow^e. 
Enter Leonato, Antonio, Hero, Bea- 
trice, and others, 

Leon, Was not count John here at supper? 

Ant. I saw him not. 

Beat, How tartly that gentleman looks! I 
never can see him, but I am heart-burned an 
hour after. 

Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposi- 
tion. 

Beat. He were an excellent man, that were 
niaae jusc iO the mid-way betvreen him and 
Benedick : the one is too like an image, and 
says nothing; and the other, too like my la- 
dy's eldest son, evermore tattling. 

Leon. Then half signior Benedick's tongue 
in count John's mouth, and half count John's 
melancholy in signior Benedick's face, — 

Beat. With a good leg, and a good foot, 
uncle, and money enough in his purse, such a 
man would win any woman in the world,— if 
he could get her good will. 

Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never 
get thee a husband, if thou be so shrewd of 
thy tongue. 

Ant. In faith, she is too curst. 

Beat. Too curst is more than curst : I shall 
lessen God's sending that way : for it is said, 
God sends a curst cow short horns ; but to 
a cow too curst he sends none. 

Leon. So, by being too curst, God will 
senrl >ou no horns. 

Beat. Just, if he send me no husband ; for 
the which blessing, I am at him upon my 
knees every morning and evening : Lord ! I 
could not endure a husband with a beard on 
his face ; I had rather lie in the woollen. 

Leon, You may light upon a husband, that 
hath no beard. 

Beat. \V hat should I do with him ? dress 
him in my appai el, and make him my waiting 
gentlewoman { He that hatha beard, is more 
th ui a youth; and he that hath no beard, is 
less than a man : and he that is more than a 
youth, is not t\>r me; and he that is less than 
a man, I am not for him. Therefore I will 
even take sixpence in earnest of the bear-herd, 
and had lus aj.es into hell. 

• Serioue;. 



Leo. Well then, go you into hell 1 
I Beat, ^'o; but to the gate; and there will 
j the devil meet me, like an old cuckold, with 
horns on his head, and say, Get youto heaven, 
j Beatrice, get you to heaven ; here's no 
place for you maids : so deliver I up my 
apes, and away to Saint Peter for the hea- 
vens ; he shows me where the bachelors sit, 
aud there live we as merry as the day is long. 

Ant. Well, niece, [To Hero.] I trust, yoa 
will be ruled by your father. 

Beat. Yes, faith ; it is my cousin's duty to 
make courtesy, and say. Father, as it ]dease 
you : — but yet for all that, cousin, let him be 
a handsome fellow, or else make another 
courtesy, and say. Father, as it please me, 

Leon, Well, niece, I hope to see you ont 
day fitted with a husband. 

Beat. Not till God make men of some 
other metal than earth. Would it not grieve 
a woman to be over-mastered with a piece of 
valiant dust 1 to make an account of her life 
to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I'l' 
none : Adam's sons are my brethren ; and 
trul>, I hold it a sin to match in my kin 
dred. 

Leon. Daughter, remember, what I told 
you : if the prince do solicit you in that kind, 
you know your answer. 

Beat. The fault will be in the music, con- 
sin, if you be not M'oo'd in good time : if the 
prince be too important t, tell him, there is 
measure in every thing, and so dance out the 
answer. For hear me. Hero ; Wooing, wed- 
dijig, and repenting, is as a Scotch jig, a mea- 
sure, and a cinque-pace : the first suit is hot 
and havSty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fan- 
tastical ; the wedding, mannerl'^ modest, as a 
measure full of Slate and ancientry ; and then 
comes repentance, and, with his bad legs, 
falls into the cinque-pace faster and faster, till 
he sink into his grave. 

Leon. Cousin, you apprehend passing 
shrewdly. 

Beat. I have a good eye, uncle ; I can sec 
a church by day-light. 

Leon, The revellers are entering ; brother, 
make good room, 

t Importunale, 



1:^0 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act I 



Enter Do^ Pedho, Claudio, I^enedick, 

Balthazar; Don John, Bobachio, 

MAROAiitT, Ursula, and others, 

masked. 

I). Pedro. Lady, will you walk about 
with your friend • ? 

//< ro. So you walk softly, and look sweet- 
ly, and say nolhiiit;, 1 am yours for the walk; 
and, especially, when 1 walk away. 

I). Pidro. With nic in your company t 

Hern. I may say so,\vhen I please. 

I). Pedro. And when please you to say so? 

Hero. When I like your favour; for God 
defend +, the lute shoulil be like the case! 

D. Pedro. My visor is Philemon's roof; 
within the house is Jove. 

Hero. Why, then your visor should be 
thatch'd. 

JJ. Pedro. Speak low, If you speak love. 
[7V/^T^ her aside. 

Bene. Well, I would you did like me. 

Alarg. So would not I, foryourown sake; 
for 1 have many ill qualities. 

Bene. Which is one? 

Marg. I say my prayers aloud. 

Bene. I love you the better ; the hearers 
may cry, Amen. 

Marg. Cod match me with a good dancer! 

Balth. Amen. 

Marg. And God keep him out of my sight, 
when the dance is done! — Answer, clerk. 

Balth. No more words; the clerk is an- 
swered. 

Urs. I know you well enough ; you are 
lignior Antonio. 

Ant. At a word, I am not. 

Vrs. I know you by the waggling of your 
head. 

Ant. To tell you true, I counterfeit him. 

Vrs, You could never do him so ill-well, 
unless you were the very man : Here's his dry 
hand up and down ; you are he, you are he. 

Ant. At a word, 1 am not. 

Urs. Come, come ; do you think I do not 
know you by your excellent wit? Can vir- 
tue hide itself ? Go to, nnim, you arc he : 
graces will appear, and there's an end. 

Bent. Will y oil not tell me who told you so ? 

Bene. No, you shall pardon me. 

Beat, Nor will you not tell me who you 
are? 

Bene. Not now. 

Biut. That I was disdainful, — and that I 
had my good wit out of the Hundred merry 
T'/z/r-y;— Well, this was signior Benedick that 
said 80. 

BtJie. What's he? 

Jit at. I am sure, you know him well 
enough. 

Bene. Not I, believe me. 

Btat. Did he never make you laugh ? 

Bene. I pray you, what is he? 

Btnt. Why, he is the prince's jester: a 
very dull fool; only his {j;ifi is indevisinijim- 
iossible J slanders : none but libertines de- 



light in him ; and the commendation is ru>t in 
his wit, but in his villany ; for he bolh pleaa- 
eth men, and angers them, and then they iaugh 
at him, and beat him : I am sure, he is lu tlie 
tleet; 1 would he had boarded^ me. 

Bene. When I know the gentleman, I'il 
tell him what you say. 

Beat. Do, do : he'll but break a comparison 
or two on me ; which, peradven*tire, not 
marked, or not laughed at, strikes him into 
melancholy; and then there's a partridge-wing 
saved, fur the fool will eat no supper that 
night [Music uithin.] We must follow the 
leaders. 

Bene. In every good thing. 

Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, 1 will 
leave them at the next turning 

[Dance, Then eaeuut all but DonJouy, 
BoRACHio, and Clauuio. 

D. John. Sure, my brother is amorous on 
Hero, and hath wilhdravvn her father to break 
with him about it. The ladies follow her, and 
but one visor remains. 

Bora. And that is Claudio : I know him by 
his bearing ||. 

JJ. John. Are not you signior Benedick ? 

Claud. You know me well; I am he. 

D. John. Sigiiior, you are very near rny 
brother in his love : he is enamoured on Hero ; 
I pray you, dissuade him from her, she is no 
equal for his birth: you may do the part of au 
honest man in it. 

Claud. How kJiow you he loves her? 

D. John. 1 heard him swear his aftection. 

Bora. So did I too ; and he swore he 
would marry her to-night. 

J). John. Come, let us to the banquet. 

[Exeunt 79o?i John and Borauhio. 

Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, 
But hear these ill news with the ears of Clau- 
dio.— [self. 
'Tis certain so ;— the prince wooes for him 
Friendship is constant in all other things. 
Save in the otbceand afitairs of love: 
Therefore, all hearts in love use their own 

tongues ; 
Let every eye negotiate for itself. 
And trust no agent : for beauty is a witch, 
Against whose charms faith melteth into 

blood H. 
This is an accident of hourly proof, [Hero 1 
Which lmistru^led not: Farewell, then fore, 
Be-enter Benedick. 

Bene. Count Claudio? 

Claud. Yea, the same. 

Bene. Come, will you go with me ? 

Claud. Whither? 

Bene. Even to the next willow, about youi 
own business, coujit. What fashion will you 
wear the garland of? About your neck, likt. 
an usurer's chain? or under your arm, like a 
lieutenant's scarf? You must wear it on-f 
way, for the prince hath got your Hero. 

Claud. I wish him joy of her. 

Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest 



• Lover. 



t Forbid. 
H Carriage, demeanour. 



X Incredible 



% Passion. 



§ Accosted. 



Scene /.] 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 



13! 



drover; so they sell bullocks. But did you 
think, the prince would have served you thus? 

Claud. I pray you, leave me. 

Bene. Ho! now you strike like the blind 
man; 'twas the boy that stole your meat, and 
you'll beat the post. 

Claud, If it will not be. Til leave you. 

[Exit. 

Ben". Alas, poor hurt fowll Now will he 
creep into sedges. But, that my lady Bea- 
trice should know me, and not know me! 
The prince's fool ! — Ha ! it may be, I go un- 
der thu title, because I am merry. — Yea; but 
so; I am apt to do myself wrong : 1 am not 
so reputed : it is the base, the bitter disposi- 
tion of Beatrice, that puts the world into her 
person, and so gives me out. Well, I'll be 
revenged as 1 may. 

Re-enter Bon Pedro, Hero, and Leo- 

NAIO. 

D. Pedro. Now, signior, where's the 
count; Did you see him.' 

Bene. Troth, my lord, I have played the 
part of lady Fame. I found him here as me- 
fancholy as a lodge in a warren ; I told him, 
and, I think, I told him true, that your grace 
had got the good will of this young lady ; 
and I olfered him my company to a willow 
tree, either to make him a garland, as being 
forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being 
worthy to be whipped. 

D. Pedro. To be whipped ! What's his 
fault? 

Bene. The flat transgression of a school- 
boy ; who, being overjoy'd with finding a 
bird's nest, shows it his companion, and he 
steals it. 

D. Pedro. W'ilt thou make a trust a trans- 
gression? The transgression is in the stealer. 

Bene. Yet it had not been amiss, the rod 
had been made, and the garland too ; for the 
garland he might have worn himself ; and the 
ro<l he miglit have bestowM on you, who, as 
I take it, have stolen his bird's nest. 

D. Pedro I will but teach them to sing, 
and restore them to the owner. 

Bene. If their singing answer your saying, 
by my faith, you say honestly. 

D. Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quar- 
rel to you ; the gentleman, that danced with 
Ler, told her, she is much wronged by you. 

Bene. O, she misused me past the endu- 
rance of a block ; an oak, but with one green 
leaf on it, would have answered her ; my very 
visor began to assume life, and scold with 
her: She told me, not thinking 1 had b«en 
myself, that I was the prince's jesier; that 1 
was duller than a great thaw ; huddling jest 
upon jest, with such impossible* conveyance, 
upon me, that I stood like a man at a mark, 
with a whole army shooting at me : fcjhe 
speaks poniards, and every word stabs: if 
her breath were as terrible as her termina- 
tions, there were no living near her, she 
wouid infect to the north star. I would not 



marry her, though she were endowed with 
all that Adam had left him before he trans, 
gressed : she would have made Hercules have 
turned spit; yea, and have cleft his club to 
make the tire too. Come, talk not of her ; 
you shall find her the infernal Ate t in good 
apparel. I would to God, some scholar would 
conjure her ; for, certainly, while she is here, 
a man may live as quiet in hell, as in a lanc- 
tuary; and people sin upon purpose, because 
they would go thither; so, indeed, all disquiet, 
horror, and perturbation follow her. 

Re-enter Claudio and Beatrice. 

D. Pedro. Look, here she comes. 

Bene. Will your grace command me any 
service to the world's end ? I will go on the 
slightest errand now to the Antipodes, that 
you can devise to send me on ; I will fetch 
you a toothpicker now from the farthest inch 
of Asia ; bring you the length of Prester John's 
foot ; fetch you a hair otf the great Cham's 
beard; do you any embassage to the Pigmies, 
rather than hold three words' conference with 
this harpy : You have no employment for 
me ? 

D.Pedro. None, but to desire your good 
company. 

Bene. O God, sir, here's a dish I love not; 
I cannot endure my lady Tongue. [E.iit» 

D. Pedro. Come, lady, come ; you have 
lost the heart of signior Benedick. 

Beat. Indeed, my lord, he lent it me 
awhile ; and I gave him use % for it, a double 
heart for his single one : marry, once before, 
he won it of me with false dice, therefore 
your grace may well say, I have lost it. 

D. Pedro. You have put him down, lady, 
you have put him down. 

Beat. ISo 1 would not he should do me, 
my lord, lest 1 should prove the mother of 
fools. I have brought count Claudio, whom 
you sent me to seek. 

D. Pedro. Why, how now, count? where- 
fore are you sad? 

Claud. Not sad, my lord. 

D, Pedro. How then? Sick? 

Claud. Neitlier, my lord. 

Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, 
nor merry, nor well : but civil, count ; civil 
as an orange, and something of that jealous 
complexion. 

D. Pedro. I'faith, lady, I think your bla 
zon to be true ; though, Fil be sworn, if he 
be so, his conceit is false. Here, Claudio, I 
have wooed in thy name, and fair Hero is 
won ; I have broke with her father, and his 
good will obtained : name the day of mar 
riage, and God give thee joy ! 

l.evn. Count, take of me my daughter, and 
with her my fortunes : his grace hath made 
the match, and all grace say Amen to it! 

Beat. Speak, count, 'tis your cue§- 

Claud. Silence is the perfectest herald of 
joy : I were but little happy, if I could say 
how much. — Lady, as you are miae, I *«» 



I 



• Incredible. 



t The Godd«ss of Discord. 
Turn: a phrase temong the playcjs. 



X Intercgt. 



132 



SHAKSPEARK. 



[Act It. 



yours : I give away myself for you, and dote 
spon the exchange. 

Beat. Speak, cousin; or, if you cannot, 
Bt(>p his mouth with a kiss, aiid let bira not 
speak, neither. 

£). Pedro, In faith, lady, you have a mer- 
ry heart. 

Beat. Yea, my lord ; I thank it, poor fool, 
it keeps on the windy side of care : — My cou- 
sin tells him in his ear, that he is in her heart. 

Claud. And so she doth, cousin. 

Beat. Good lord, for alliance! — Thus goes 
every one to the world but I, and I am sun- 
burned ; I may sit in a corner, and cry, heigh- 
ho! for a husband. 

D. Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you 
one. 

Beat. I would rather have one of yonr fa- 
ther's getting: Hath your grace ne'er a bro- 
ther like you ? \our father got excellent hus- 
bands, if a maid could come by them. 

v. Pedro. Will you have me, lady ? 

Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have 
another for working-days ; your grace is too 
costly to wear every day : — But, 1 beseech 
your grace, pardon me : 1 was born to speak 
all mirth, and no matter. 

D. Pedro. Your silence most offends me, 
and to be merry best becomes you ; for, out 
of question, you were born in a merry hour. 

Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother 
cry'd ; but then there was a star danced, and 
under that was I born. — Cousins, God give 
you joy ! 

JLeofi. Niece, will you look to those things 
I told you of? 

Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle. — By your 
grace's pardon. [Exit Beatrick. 

V. Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant-spirit- 
ed lady. 

Leon. There's little of the melancholy ele- 
ment in her, my lord: she is never sad, but 
when she sleeps ; and not ever sad then ; for 
I have hea;d my daughter s^y, she hath often 
dreamed of unh.-ppines8, and waked herself 
with laughing. 

D. Pedro. She cannot endure to hear tell 
of a husband. 

Leon. O, by no means; she mocks all her 
wooers out ot suit. 

D. Pedro. She were an excellent wife for 
Benedick. 

Leon. O lord, roy lord, if they were but a 
week married, they would talk themselves 
mad. 

D. Pedro. Count Claudio, when mean you 
o go to church ? 

Claud. Tomorrow, my I'd: Time goes 
on crutches, till love have all tiis rites. | 

Iaoh. Nultill Monday, my I' arson, which , 
is hence a just seven-night; and a lime too 
brief too, to have all things answer my mind. I 

D. Pedro. Come, you shake the head at so 
long a breathing; but, I warrant thee, Clau- 
dio, the time shall not go dully by us ; I will, 
ill tLe interim, undertake one of Hercules' 



labours; which is, to bring signior Benedick, 
and the lady Beatrice into a mountain of af- 
fection, the one with the other. 1 would 
fain have it a match; and I doubt not Liui to 
fashion it, if you three will but minister such 
assistance as 1 shall give you direction. 

Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it 
cost me ten nights* watchings. 

Claud. And I, my lord. 

D. Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero? 

Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord 
to help my cousin toa good husband. 

D. Pedro. And Henedick is not the nu- 
hopefullest husband that I know : thus far 
can I praise him ; he is of a noble strain *, 
of approved val.tur, and confirmed honet^ty. 
I will teach you how to humour your cousin, 
that she shall fall in love with Benedick : — 
and I, with your two helps, will so practise 
on Benedick, that, in despite of his quick wit 
and his queasy t stomach, he shall fall in love 
with Beatrice. If we can do this, Cupid is 
no longer an archer ; his glory shall be ours, 
for we are the only love-gods. Go in with 
me, and I will tell you my drift. [Exeunt, 

SCENE II. 

Another Room in Leonato's ffou^e. 
Enter Don John and Borachio. 

D. John. It is so; the count Claudio shall 
marry the daughter of Leonaio. 

Bora. Yea, my lord; but I can cross it. 

D. John. Any bar, any cross, any impedi- 
ment will be medicinable to me : I am sick in 
displeasure to him ; and whatsoever comes 
athwart his affection, rangesevenly with mine. 
How canst thou cross this marriage? 

Bora. Not honestly, my lord ; but so co- 
vertly that no dishonesty shall appear in me. 

D. John. Show me briefly how. 

Bora. I think, I told your lordship, a year 
since, how much I am in the favour of Mar- 
garet, the waiting-gentlewoman to Hero. 

V. John. I remember. 

Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant 
of the night, appoint her to look out at her 
lady's chamber window. 

jj. Joh)i. What life is in that, to be th« 
death of this marriage? 

Btra. The poison of that lies in you to 
ttmper. Go you to the prince your brother; 
spare not to tell him, that he hath wronged 
his honour in marrying the renowned Clandio 
(whose esiimation do you mightily hold up) 
to a contaminated stale, such a one as Hero. 

D. John. What proof shall I make of that? 

Bora. Pi oof enough to misuse the piince, 
to vex C'audio, to undo Hero, and kill Leo- 
nato : Look you for any other issue? 

TJ. John. Only to despite them, I will en- 
deavour any thing. 

Bora. Go then, find me a meet hour to 
draw Don Pedro and the count Claudio, alone: 
tell them, that you know that Hero loves me; 
intend; a kind of zeal both lo the prince ^nd 
Claudio, as — in love of yonr brother's honour 



• Lineage. 



t Fastidious. 



1 Pretend. 



Scene 12.] 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIIVG. 



13 



who *iath made this match ; and his friend's 
reputation, who is thus like to be cozened 
with the semblance of a maid, — that you have 
discovered thus. They will scarcely believe 
this without trial: otfer them instances ; which 
shall bear no less likelihood, than to see me 
at her chamber-window ; hear me cali Mar- 
garet, Hero; hear Margaret term me Borachio ; 
and bring them to see this, the very night be- 
fore the intended wedding: for, in the mean 
time, I will so fashion the matter, that Hero 
shall be absent ; and there shall appear such 
seemmg truth of Hero's disloyalty, that jea- 
lousy shall be calPd assurance, and all the pre- 
paration overthrown, 

D. John. Grow this to what adverse issue it 
can, I will putitin practice: Be cunning in the 
w<^rking this, and thy fee is a thousand ducats. 

Bora. Be you constant in the accusation, 
and my cunning shall not shame me. 

D. John. I will presently go learn their 
day of marriage. [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. Leonato's Garden, 
jEtiter Benedick and a Boy. 

Be?ie. Boy, — 

£o7/. Signior. 

Be7ie. In my chamber- window lies a book ; 
bring it hither to me in the orchard. 

Boy. I am here already, sir. 

Bene. I know that; — but I would have 
thee hence, and here again. [Exit Boy.] — 1 
do much wonder, that one man, seeing how 
much another man is a fool when he dedicates 
his behaviours to love, will, after he hath 
laughed at such shallow follies in others, be- 
come the argument of his own scorn, by fall- 
ing in love : And such a man is Ciaudio. I 
have known, when there was no music with 
him but the drum and fife; and now had he 
rather hear the tabor and the pipe : I have 
known, when he would have walked ten mile 
afoot, to see a good armour ; and now will he 
lie ten nights awake, carving the fashion of a 
new dou!»et. He was wont to speak plain, 
and to the purpose, like an honest man, and 
a soldier ; and now is he turn'd crihographer ; 
his words are a very fantastical banquet, just 
80 many strange dishes. May I be so con- 
verted, and see with these eyes 1 I cannot 
tell; I think not: I will not be sworn, but 
love may transform me to an oyster; but I'll 
take my oath on it, till he have made an oys- 
ter of me, he shall never m-ake me such a fool. 
One woman is fair ; yet I am well : another 
is wise ; yet I am well : another virtuous ; 
yet I am well : but till all graces be in one 
woman, one woman shall not come in my 
grace. Rich she shall be, that's certain ; wise, 
or I'll none; virtuous, or I'll never cheapen 
her; fair, or I'll never look on her; mild, or 
come not near me ; noble, or not I for an 
angel; of good discourse, an excellent mu- 
sician, and her hair shall be of what colour it 
pleaseGod. Ha! the prince and monsieur Love I 
1 will hide me in the arbour. V/ithdr iws. 

• Yoonf or cub-fox. 



Enter Don Pedro, Leonato, 4 Claudio. 

£). Pedro. Come, shall we hear this music? 

Claud. Yea, my good lord :— How still the 

evening is. 

As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony I 

Z>. Pedro. See you where Benedick hath 

hid himself? 
Clai/d. 0,\ery well,my lord.the music ended. 
We'll fit the kid-fox * with a penny-worth. 
Enter Balthazar, with music. 
D. Pedro. Come, Balthazar, we'll hear 
that song again. [voice 

Balrh. O good my lord, tax not so bad a 
To slander music any more than once. 

D.Pedro. Itis the witness still of excellency. 
To put a strange face on his own perfection : — 
I pray thee, sing, and let me woo no more. 

i^tf/^^. Because you talk of wooiBg,Iwill sing: 
Since many a wooer dolh commence his suit 
To her he thinks not worthy ; yet he wooes ; 
Y«t will he swear, he loves. 

D. Pedro. > ay, pray thee, come : 

Or, if thou wilt hold longer argument. 
Do it in notes. 

Balth. Note this before my notes. 

There's not a note of mine that's worth the 

noting. [that he speaks ; 

D. Pedro. Why these are very crotchets 

Note, notes, forsooth, and noting ! [Music. 

Bene. Now, Diii7ie air ! now is his soul 

ravished ! — Is it not strange, that sheep's guts 

should hale souls out of men's bodies? — Well, 

a horn for my money, when all's done. 

Balthazar sings. 
Balth. Sigh no more, ladies, sigh- no more. 
Men tvere deceivers ever i 
One foot in sea, and one on shore ; 
To one thing constant never: 
Then sigh not so. 
But let them go, 
And be you blithe and bonny ; 
Converting all your sounds of woe 

Into, Hey nonny, nonny. 
S'mg no more ditties, sing no mo t 

O/" dumps so dull and neavy ; 
The fraud of men teas ever so, 
aince summer first was leavy* 
Then sigh not so, &c. 
D. Pedro. By my troth, a good song. 
Balth. And an ill singer, my lord. 
D. Pedro. Ha? no; no, faith; thou slng- 
est well enough for a shift. 

Bene. [Aside.] And he had been a dog, that 
should have howled thus, they would have 
hanged him : and, I pray God, his bad voice 
bode no mischief! 1 had as lief have heard 
the night-raven, come what plague could have 
come after it. 

D. Pedro. Y'ea, marry ; [To Claudio.] — 
Dost thou hear, Balthazar ? I pray thee, get 
us some excellent music ; for to morrow night 
we would have it at the lady Hero's chamber 
window. 
Balth. The best I can, my lord. 
D. Pedro. Do so : farewell, [Exeunt Bal 

t Longer. 

N 



] li 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act It 



TiwzKK and music. \ Come hither, Leonato : 
\V hat was it yon told m* '»f to-day ? that your 
niece Beatrice was in love with signior Bene- 
dick t 

Clfitid. O, ay:— Stalk on, stalk on; the 
fowl sits. [Asirteto Peuro.] I did never think 
that lady would have loved any man. 

Leon. No, nor I neither ; but most won- 
derful, that she should so dote on signior Be- 
nedick, whom she hath in all outward beha- 
viours seemed ever to abhor. 

Bene. Is't possible 1 Sits the wind in that 
corner ? [Aside. 

Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell 
what to think of it ; but that she loves him 
with an enraged affection, — it is past the inh- 
ni*e of thought •. 

D. Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit. 

Clitud. 'Faith, like enough. 

Leon. O God ! counterfeit! There never 
was counterfeit of passion came so near the 
life of passion, as she discovers it. 

D. Pedro. Why, what effects of passion 
shows she? 

Claud. Bait the hook well; this fish will 
bite. [Aside. 

Leon. What effects, my lord! She will sit 
you, — You heard my daughter tell you how. 

Claud. She did, indeed. 

D. Pedro. How, how, I pray you? You 
amaze me : I would have thought her spirit had 
been invincible against all assaults of attection. 

Leon. I would have sworn it had, my lord; 
especially against Benedick. 

Bejip. [Aside.] I should think this a gull, but 
that the wuite-bearded fellow sp^^aks it : knave- 
ry cannot, sure, hide itself in such reverence- 

Claud. He halh ta'en the infection ; hold 
it up. [Aside. 

D. Pedro. Hath she made her atiectiou 
known to Benedick ? 

Leon. No; and swears she never will: 
that's her torment. 

Claud. 'Tis true, indeed ; so your daughter 
says : Shall 1, says she, that hate so oft en- 
counter'd him with scorn, write to him 
that I love him ? 

Leon This says she now when she is be- 
ginning to write to him : for she'll be up 
twenty times a night; and there will she sit 
in her smock, till she have writ a sheet of 
paper:— my daughter tells us all. 

Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I 
remember a pretty jest your daughter told us of. 

Leon. O! — When she had writ it, and was 
reading it over, she found Benedick and Bea- 
trice between the sheet i — 

Claud. That. 

Leon. O ! she tore the letter into a thousand 
halfpence; railed at herself, thjit she should 
be so immodest to write to one that she knew 
would flout her : I fuea^ure him., says she, 
by my own spirit ; for I should Jiout him, if 
he writ to me; yea,t hough I lore himjshould. 

Claud. Then down upon her knee^he fails, 



weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her haii 
prays, curses; — O sweet Bentdick ! — Got 
give me patience! 

Leon. She doth indeed ; my daughter say. 
so : and the ecstasy t hath so much overborn* 
her, that my daughter is sometime afraid sh* 
will do a desperate outrage to herself; It L 
very true. 

D. Pedro. It were good , that Benedick kne\i 
of it by some other, if she will not discover it. 

Claud. To what end f He would but make 2 
sport of it, and torment the poor lady worse 

./>. Prdro. An he should it were an aim. 
to hang him : She's an excellent sweet lady , 
and, out of all suspicion, she is virtuous. 

Claud. And she is exceeding wise. 

D. Pedro. In every thing, but in loving 
Benedick. 

Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood com- 
bating in so tender a body, we have ten proofs 
to one, that blood hath the victory. I am 
sorry for her, as I have just cause, being her 
uncle and her guardian. 

D. Pedro. I would she had bestowed this 
dotage on me ; I would have daff 'd; all other 
respects, and made her half myself : 1 pray you, 
tell Benedick of it, and hear whdt he will say. 

Leon. Were it good, think you? 

Claud. Hero thinks surely, she will die: for 
she says, she will die if he love her not; and 
she will die ere she makes her love known ; and 
she will die if he woo her, rather than she will 
'bate one breath of her accustomed crossness. 

D. Pedro. She doth well : if she should 
make tender of her love, 'tis very possible 
he'il scorn it; for the man, as you know all, 
hath a contemptible § spirit. 

Claud. He is a very proper || man. 

D. Pedro. He'hath, indeed, a good out- 
ward happiness. 

Claua, 'Fore God, and in my mind, very 
wise. 

I). Pfdro. He doth, indeed, show some 
sparks that are like wit. 

Leon. And I take him to be valiant. 

I). Pefiro. As Hector, [ assure yon : and 
in the managing of quarrels you may say he 
is wi.<e; for either he avoids them with great 
discretion, or undertakes them with a most 
christian-like fear. 

Leon. If he do fear God, he mnst necessarily 
keep peace; if he break the peace, he ought to 
enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. 

I). Pedro. And so will he do ; for the man 
doth fear God, howsoever it seems not in him, 
by some large jests he will make. Well, I 
am sorry for your niece : Shall we go see Be 
nedick, and tell him of her love ? 

Claud. Never tell him, my lord ; let her 
weir it out with good counsel. 

Leon. Nay, that's impossible; she may 
wear her heart out first. 

D. Pedro. Well, we'll hear further of ft 
by your daughter ; let it cool the while. I love 
Benedick well ; and I could wish he would 



Pcyond the power of thought to conceive. 
I i ill own «.rt. J Contcnipti'ous. 



\ Alienation of mind. 

II H.Mid^oii.e. 



Scene II I. \ 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIAG. 



135 



modestly examine himself, to see how much 
he is unworthy so good a lady. 

jL^o/?,.My lord,willyouwalk?dinnei is ready. 

Claud. If he do not dote on her upon this, 
I will never trust my expectation. [Aside. 

D. Pedro. Let there be the same net spread 
for her; and that must your daughter and her 
gentlewoman carry. The sport will be, when 
they hold one an opinion of another's dotage, 
and no such matter ; that's the scene that I 
would see, which will be merely a dumb show. 
Let us send her to call him in to dinner. {Aside. 

[fia-eWWif i?07^PEDRO,CLAUD10,4;LEONATO. 

IBkxedick advances from the aroour. 

Bene. This can be no trick : The confer- 
ence was sadly borne*. — They h»ave the truth 
of this from Hero. They seem to pity the 
lady ; it seems, her affections have their full 
bent. Love me! why, it must be requited. 
I hear how I am censured : they say, I will 
bear myself proudly, if I perceive the love 
come from her ; they say, too, that she will 
rather die than give any sign of aff^ection. — 
I did never think to marry :— I must not seem 
proud : — Happy are they that hear their de- 
tractions, and can put them to mending. They 
»*.iy, the lady is fair; 'tis a truth, I can bear 
them witness : and virtuous ; — 'tis so, I cannot 
reprove it; and wise, but for loving me: — 
Fiy my troth, it is no addition to her wit ; — 
nor no great argument of her folly, for I will 
be horribly in love with her. — I may chance 
have 8ome odd qu-irks and remnants of wit i 



broken on me, because I have railed so long 
again;,t marriage :— But doth not the appetite 
alter? A man loves the meat in his vonth, 
that he cannot endure in his age : Shailqnips, 
and sentences, and these paper bullets of the 
brain, awe a man from the career of his Im 
mour ? No : the world must be peopkfl. 
When I said, I would die a bachelor, I did 
not think I should live til' I were married.— 
Here comes Beatrice : By this day, she's a fair 
lady : I do spy some marks of love in her. 
Enter Beatrice. 

Beat. Against my will, I am sent to bid 
you come in to dinner. 

Bene. Fair Beatrice, I thank you for youi 
pains. 

Beat. 1 took no more pains for those thanks, 
than you take pains to thank me ; if it bad 
been painful, I would not have come. 

Bene. You take pleasure in the message ? 

Beat. "Vea, just so much as you may take 
upon a knife's point, and choke a daw withal : 
You have no stomach, si^^nior; fare you well. 

[Exit, 

Bene. Ha ! Af^aiiist my will I am sent 
to bid yon come to dijiner— ihera^s a double 
meaning in that. I took no more pains for 
those thankSy than you took pains to thank 
me — that's as much as to say. Any pains that 
I take for you is as easy as thanks :— If I do 
not take pity of her, I am a villain; if I do 
not love her, 1 am a Jew : I will go get her 
picture. {Exit, 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. Leonato'8 Garden, 

Enter Hero, Margaret, and Ursula. 

Hero. Good Margaret, run thee into the par- 
Tliere shalt thou find mv cousin Beatrice [lour ; 
Proposingt ^viih the Prince and Clandio: 
Whisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula 
\V alk in the orchard, and our whole discourse 
Is ail of her ; say, that thou overheard'st us ; 
And bid her steal into the pleached bower, 
W here honey-suckles, ripen'd by the sun. 
Forbid the sua to enter; — like favourites, 
Made proud by princes,that advance their pride 
Aijainst that pow er that bred it -.—there will she 

hide her. 
To listen our propose: This is thy office, 
lie.ii ihee well in it, and leave us alone. 
iMarg. I'll make her come, I warrant you, 
presently. [Exit. 

i/ero. Now, Ursula,whenBeatrice doth come. 
As we do trace this alley up and down, 
Onr talk must only be of Benedick : 
When I do name him, let it be thy part 
To praise him more than ever man did merit : 
I My talk to thee must be, how Benedick 
I Is sick in love with Beatrice : Of this matter 
1 Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, 
I That only wounds by hearsay. Now begin ; 



Enter Beatrice, behind. 
For look whei e Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs 
Close by the ground, to hear our conference. 

Urs. The pleasant'st angling is to see the fisb 
Cut with her golden oars the silver stream. 
And greedily devour the treacherous bait ; 
So angle we for Beatrice; wiio even now 
Is couched in the woodbine coverture : 
Fear yon not my part of the dialogue, [nothing 

Hero. Then go we near lier, that her ear lose 
Of the false ssveet bait that we lay for it. — 

[Then (tdi ance to the boner. 
No, truly, Ursula, she is too dis<lainfnl ; 
I know her spirits are as coy and wild 
As haggards of the rockt- 

Urs. But are you sure. 

That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely? 

Hero. So says the prince, and my new- 
frothed 1 rd. [njad.im? 

Urs. And did they bid you tell her of it, 

Hero. They did entreat me to acquaint her 
of it : 
But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, 
To wish him wrestle with affection, 
And never to let Beatrice know of it. [man 

Urs. Wh^did you go? Doth not the geutie- 
Deserve as Hfl, as fortunate a bed. 
As ever Beatrice shall couch upon I 



Seriously carried on. 



Discoursing 



:; A sueciij of hawks. 



1:^6 



SllAKSPEAHE. 



[Aci JII. 



Hero. O God of love! I know, he dotli de- 
As much as may be yielded to a man : [serve 
V>{it nature never frara'd a woman's heart 
Of prouder stuff than that of Beatrice: 
Disdain and scorn ride sparkling in her eyes, 
Misprising* what they look on ; and her wit 
Values itself so highly, that to her 
All matter else seems weak : she cannot love, 
Nor take no shape nor project of aflfection, 
She is so self-endeared. 

Urs. Sure, I think so ; 

And therefore, certainly, it were not good 
Slie knew his love, lest she make sport at it. 

Hero. Why you speak truth : 1 never yet 
saw man, [tur'd. 

How wise, how noble, young, how rarely fea- 
But she wouldspell him backward: if fair-faced. 
She'd swear,the gentleman should be her sister; 
If black, why, nature, drawing of an antic. 
Made a foul blot: if tall, a lance ill-headed ; 
If low, an agate very vilely cut : 
J f speaking, why, a vane blown with all winds : 
If silent, why a block moved with none. 
So turns she every man the wrong side out; 
And never gives to truth and virtue, that 
Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. 

Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is nut com- 
mendable, [fashions. 

Hero. No : not to be so odd, and from all 
As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable: 
But who dare tell her so"? If 1 should speak. 
She'' 1 mock me into air ; O, she would laugh me 
Out of myself, press me to death with wit. 
Therefore let Benedick, like cover'd fire, 
Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly : 
It were a better death than die with mocks ; 
Which is as bad as die with tickling. [say. 

Urs. Yet tell her of it; hear what she will 

Hero. No; rather I will go to Benedick, 
And counsel him to fight against his passion : 
And, truly, Pll devise some honest slanders 
To stain my cousin with : One doth not know, 
How much an ill word may empoison liking. 

Urs. 0,do not do your cousin such a wrong. 
She cannot be so much without true judgment, 
(Having so swift t and excellent a wit. 
As she is priz'd to have,) as to refuse 
So rare a gentleman as signior Benedick. 

Hero. He is the only man of Italy, 
Always excepted my dear Claudio. [madam, 

Ui's. I pray you, be not angry with me, 
Speaking my fancy ; signior Benedick, 
For shape, for bearing, argument J, and valour, 
Goes foremost in report through Italy, [name. 

Hero. Indeed, he hath an excellent good 

Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. 
When are vou married, madam? [go in; 

Hero. Why,every day; — to-morrow: Come, 
I'll show thee some attires ; and have thy coun- 
Which is the best to furnish me to-morrow, [sel, 

Urs. She's lim'd$ I warrant you; we have 
caught her, madam. [haps : 

Hn'o. If it prove so, then loving goes by 

Some Cupid kills with arrov^s,sa|»j with traps. 

[Exeunt Hkko fmd Ursula. 



Beatrice advances. 

Beat. What fire is in mine ears 1 Can this 

be true 1 [much ? 

Stand I condcmn'd for pride and scorn so 

Contempt, farewell! and niaiden pride, adieu! 

No glory lives behind the back of such. 
And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee ; 

Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand ; 
If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee 

To bind Our loves up in a holy band: 
For others say, thou dost deserve; and I 
Believe it better than reportiugly. [Exit, 

SCENE II. A Room in Leoaato's House, 

Enter Don Pedro, Claudio, Bjsnedick 

and Leonato. 

D. Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage 
be consummate, and then I go toward Arragon. 

Claud. I'll bring you thither, my lord, if 
you'll vouchsafe me. 

D. Pedro. Nay , that would be as great a 
soil in the new gloss of your marriage, as to 
show a child his new coat, and forbid him to 
wear it. I will only be bold with Benedick 
for his company ; for, from the crowai of his 
head to the sole of his foot, he is all mirth ; 
he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow-string, 
and the little hangman dare not shoot at him: 
he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his 
tongue is the clapper; for what his heart 
thinks, his tongue speaks. 

Bene. Gallants, 1 am not as I have been. 

Leon. So say I; methinks, you are sadder. 

Claud. I hope, he be in love. 

D. Pedro. Hang him, truant ; there's no 
true drop of blood in him, to be truly touch'd 
with love : if he be sad, he wants money. 

Bene. I have the tooth-ach. 

D. Pedro. Draw it. 

Bene. Hang it ! 

Claud. You must hang it first, ani draw 
it afterwards. 

H. Pedro. What ? sigh for the tooth-ach ? 

Leon. Where is but a humour, or a worm ? 

Bene. Well, every one can master a grief 
but he that has it. 

Claud. Yet say I, he is in love. 

D. Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy 
in him, unless it be a fancy that he hath to 
strange disguises; as, to be a Dutchman to- 
day ; a Frenchman to-morrow; or in the 
shape of two countries at once, as, a German 
from the waist downward, all slops 11; and a 
Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet : 
Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, a* it 
appears he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as 
you would have it appear he is. 

Claud. If he be not in love with some woman 
there is no believing old signs: he brushes hi» 
hat o' mornings ; What should that bode ? 

D. Pedro. Hath any man seen him at th« 
barber's 1 

Claud. No, but the barber's man hath b%9. 
seen with him; and the old ornamcnL oi:^^ 
cheek hath already stuflFed tennis-bai't. 



Undervaluing. 



t Ready. + Conversati.>n. § Insnarcd with I ii^ilua*. 
I Large loose breeches. 



Scene II,] 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 



157 



Leon. Indeed, he looks younger thaa he 
did, by the loss of a beard. 

D. Pedro. Nay, he rubs himself with civet : 
Can you smell him out by that ? 

Claud. That's as much as to say, The sweet 
youth's in love. 

V. Pedro. The greatest note of it is his 
melancholy. 

Claud. And when was he wont to wash his 
face? 

D. Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the 
which, I hear what they say of him. 

Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit ; which 
is now crept into a lute-string, and now go- 
verned by stops. 

D. Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale 
for him: (Jonclude, conclude, he is in love. 

Claud. Nay, but I know who loves him. 

D. Pedro. That would I know too ; I war- 
rant, one that knows him not. 

Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions ; and, in 
despite of all, dies for him. 

I). Pedro. She shall be buried with her 
face upwards. 

Be7ie. Yet is this no charm for the tooth- 

ach. — Old signior, walk aside with me : I 

have studied eight or nine wise words to speak 

to yon,which these hobby-horses must not hear. 

[Exeunt Benedick and Leonato. 

D. Pedro. For my life, to break with him 
about Beatrice. 

Claud. 'Tis even so : Hero and Margaret 
have by this played their parts with Beatrice ; 
and then the two bears will not bite one ano- 
ther, when they meet. 

Enter Don John. 

D. John, My lord and brother, God save 
you, 

D. Pedro. Good den, brother. 

D. John. If your leisure served, I would 
speak with you. 

D. Pedro. In private? 

D. John. If it please you ; — yet count 
Claudio may hear; for what I would speak 
of, concerns him. 

D, Pedro. What's the matter? 

D.John. Means your lordship to be mar- 
ried to-morrow t [To Claudio. 

D. Pedro. You know, he does. 

D. John. I know not that, when he knows 
what I know. 

Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray 
you, discover it. 

D. John. You may think, I love you not ; 
let that appear hereafter, and aim better at me 
by that I now viill manifest : For my brother, 
I think, he holds you well ; and in dearness 
of heart hath holp to effect your ensuing mar- i 
riage : surely, suit ill spent, and labour ill i 
bestowed ! 

D. Pedro. Why, what's the matter? 

D. John. I came hither to tell you ; and, j 
circumstances shortened, (for she hath been j 
too long a talking of,) the lady is disloyal. 

Claud. Who? Hero? | 

D: John. Even she ; Leonato's Hero, your ; 
Hero, every man's Hero. i 

Claud, Disloyal? j 



D. John. The word is too good to paint out 
her wickedness ; I could say, she were wors-^ ; 
think you of a worse title, and I will fit her 
to it. Wonder not till further warrant: go 
but with me to-night, you shall see her cliani- 
ber-window entered ; even the night before 
her wedding-day : if you love her then, to 
morrow wed her; but it would better fit your 
honour to change your mind. 

Claud. May this be so ? 

D. Pedro. I will not think it. 

D, John, If you dare not trust that yon 
see, confess not that you know: if you will 
follow me, I will show you enough ; and when 
you have seen more, and heard more, proceed 
accordingly. 

Claud. If I see any thing to-night why I 
should not marry her to-morrow; in the con- 
gregation, where I should wed, there will I 
shame her. 

D. Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to ob- 
tain her, I will join with thee to disgrace het . 

D. John. I will disparage her no farther, 
till you are my witnesses: bear it coldly but 
till midnight, and let the issue show itself. 

D. Pedro. O day untowardly turned 1 

Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting I 

D.John. O plague right well prevented! 
So will you say, when you have seen the 
sequel. {Exeunt, 

SCENE III. A Street, 

Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the 
Watch. 

Dogb. Are you good men and true? 

Verg. Yea, or else it were pity but they 
should suffer salvation, body and soul. 

Dogb. Nay, that were a punishment too 
good for them, if they should have any aJle- 
giance in them, being chosen for the prince's 
watch. 

Verg. Well, give them their charge, neigh- 
bour Dogberry. 

Dogb. First, who think you the most de- 
sartless man to be constable ? 

1 Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George 
Seacoal; for they can write and read. 

Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal. — 
God hath blessed you with a good name: lo 
be a well-favoured man is the gift of fortune ; 
but to write and read comes by nature. 

2 Watch. Both which, master constable,— 
Dogb. You have; I knew it would be your 

answer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give 
God thanks, and make no boast of it; and for 
your writing and reading, let that appear when 
there is no need of such vanity. You are 
thought here to be the most senseless and fit 
man for the constable of the watch ; therefore 
bear you the lantern : This is your charge ; 
You shall comprehend all vagrom men ; you 
are to bid any man stand, in the prince's name 

2 Watcw, How if he will not stand ? 

Dogb. Why then, take no note of him, but 
let him go ; and presently call the rest of the 
watch together, and thank God voa are rid 
of a knave. 

N J 



38 



SUAKSPEARE. 



[Alt III. 



Vera. h'\\e will not slaiul when he is bid 
den, he is none of the prince's subjects. 

Uogh. 'J rue., and tliey are to ujcddle with 
none but the prince'" subjects: — You shall 
also make no noise in tlie streeJs; for, for the 
watch to babble and talk, is most tolerable 
and not to be endured. 

2 IKatch. We will rather sleep than talk; 
we know what belongs to a watch. 

Dogh. Why, you speak like an ancient and 
rnost quiet watchman; for 1 cannot see how 
pleeping should ottend: only, have a care that 
your bills* be not stolen : — Well, you are to 
call at all the ale-houses, and bid those that 
are drunk get them to bed. 

2 Hatch. How if they will not? 

Dogb. Why then, let them alone till they are 
sober ; if they make you not then the better 
answer, you may say, they arc not the men 
you took them lor. 

2 H afc/i. VV^ei', sir. 

Dogb. If you meet a thief, you may suspect 
him, by virtue of your ottice, to be no true 
man : and, for such kind of men, the less you 
meddle or make with them, why, the more is 
for your honesty. 

2 W atch. If we know him to be a thief, 
shall we not lay hands on him ? 

Dogb. Truly, by your office, you may; but, 
I think, they that touch pitch will be defiled ; 
the most peaceable way for you, if you do take 
a thief, is, to let him show himself what he is, 
and steal out of your company. 

Vet g. You have been always called a mer- 
ciful man, partner. 

Dogh. Truly, I would not hang a dog by 
my will; much more a man who hath any 
honesty in him. 

Vtrg. If you hear a child cry in the night, 
you must call to the nurse, and bid her stili it. 

2 H fitch. How if the uur^e be asleep, and 
will not hear us. 

Dogh. \\ ny then, depart in peace, and let 
the child wake l»cr with crying : foi the ewe 
that will not hear her lamb when it baes, will 
uever answer a calf when he bleats. 

Ferg. *Tis very true. 

Doob. This is the end of the charge. Y'ou, 
constable, are to present the prince's own per- 
son ; if you meet the prince in the night, you 
may titay him. 

yerg. Nay, byV lady, that, I think, he cannot. 

Dogh. Five shillings to one on't, with any 
man that knows the statues, he may stay him: 
mairy, not without the prince be willing: 
for, indeed, the watch ou-ht to offend no 
man ; and it is an offence to stay a man 
against his will. 

kfrg. By'r lady, I think, it be so. 

Dogh. Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good 
night : an there be any matt<r of weight 
chances, call up me : keep your fellows' coun- 
sels and your own, and good night. — Come, 
ueighbour. -^ 

2 Match. Well, masters, we hear ourcharge : 

• Weapon^i of the watchmen. t 

; Sujoked. 



let us go sit here upon the church-bench till 
two, and then all to-bed. 

Dogh. One word more, honest neighbour?: 
I pray you, watch about signior I eon ito's 
door; for the wedding being there to-morro-.^, 
there is a great coil to-night : Adieu, be vigi- 
tant, 1 beseech you. 

{Exeunt Dogberry and Vekges. 
Enter Borachio and Conrade. 

Bora. What! Conrade, — 

Watch. Peace, stir not. {Aside. 

Bora. Conrade, I say! 

Con. Here, man, I am at thy elbow. 

Bora. Mass, and my elbow itched ; I 
thought, there would a scab follow. 

Con. I will owe thee an answer for that ; 
and now forward with thy tale. 

Bera. Stand thee close then under this pent- 
house, for it drizzles rain; and I will, like a 
true drunkard, utter all to thee. 

Watch. {Aside.'] Some treason, masters ; 
yet stand close. 

Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of 
Don John a thousand ducats. 

Con. Is it possible that any villany should 
be so dear 1 

Bora. Thou shouldst rather ask, if it were 
possible any villany should be so rich; for 
when rich villains have need of poor ones, 
poor ones may make what price they will. 

Con. I wonder at it. 

Bora. That shows, thou art unconfirmed + : 
Thou knowest, that the fashion of a doublet, 
or a hat, or a cloak, is nothing to a man. 

Con. Yes, it is apparel. 

Bora. I mean, the fashion. 

Con. Yes, the fashion is the fashion. 

Bora. Tush ! I may as well say, the fool's 
the fool. But see*st thou not what a deformed 
thief this fashion is? 

IVatch, I know that Deformed ; he has 
been a vile thief this seven year; he goes up 
and down like a gentleman: 1 remember his 
name. 

Bora. Didst thou not hear somebody? 

Con, No; 'twas the vane on the house. 

Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deform- 
ed thief this fashion is? how giddily he turiis 
about all the hot bloods, between fourteen and 
five and thiity? sometime, fashioning them 
like Pharaoh'-s soldiers in the reerhyl paint 
ing; sometime, like god Bel's priests in the 
old church window; sometime, like theshavm 
Hercules in the smirched 5 worm-eaten tapt?- 
try, where his cod-piece seems as massy as Lis 
club? 

Con. All this I see ; and see, that the fashion 
wears out more apparel than the man : But 
art not thou thyself giddy with the fashion 
too, that thou hast shifted out of thy tale iiiio 
telling me of the fashion ? 

Bora. Not so neither: but know, that 1 
have to-night wooed Margaret, the lady Hero's 
gentlewoman, by the name of Hero; she leans 
me out at her mistress* chamber-window, bid 

Unpracti!»«'d in the wayfc of the world. 

^ Soiled. 



&-e^ie 11/.] 



MLCH ADO ABOUT J\OTHK\G. 



139 



me a thousand limes good uiglit, — 1 tell this 
tnle vilely: — I should first tell thee, how the 
Prince, Clandio, and my master, planted, and 
placed, and possessed by my master, Don 
John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable 
encounter. 

Con. And thought they, Margaret was Hero? 

Bora. Two of them did, the Prince and 
Claudio ; but the devil my master knew she was 
Margaret; and partly by his oaths, which first 
possessed them, partly by the dark night, 
which did deceive them, but chiefly by my 
villany, which did confirm any slander that 
Don John had made, away went Claudio en- 
raged ; swore he would meet her as he was 
appointed, next morning at the temple, and 
there, before the whoje congregation, shame 
her with what he saw over night, and send 
her Lome again without a husband. 

1 Wutcti. We charge you in the prince's 
name, stand. 

2 Watch. Call up the right master consta- 
ble : We have here recovered the most dan- 
gerous piece of lechery that ever was known 
in the commonwealth. 

1 Watc?i. And one Deformed is one of them ; 
I know him, he wears a lock. 

Con. Masters, masters. 

2 IVatch, You'll be made bring Deformed 
forth, I warrant you. 

'*Jo7i. Masters, — 

1 JVatch. Never speak : we charge you^ let 
us obey you to go with us. 

Bora. We are like to prove a goodly com- 
modity, being taken up of these men's bills. 

Con. A commodity in question, I warrant 
you. Come, we'll obey you. {Exeunt. 

SC ENE IV. A Room in Leonato's House. 
£wrerHtRO, Margaret, and Ursula. 

Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Bea- 
trce, and desire her to rise. 

Urs. I will lady. 

Hero. An-l bid her come hither. 

L'rs. Weil. {Exit Ursula. 

Marg. Troth, I think, your other rabato * 
r/cre better. 

Hero. N '>, pray thee,good Meg,Pll wear this. 

Marg. By my troth, it's not so good ; and 
1 warrant, yonr cousin will say so. 

Hero. My cousin's a fool, and thou art ano- 
ther; I'll wear none but this. 

Marg. I like the new tiret within excel- 
lently, if the hair were a thought browner: 
and your gown's a mo?t rare fashion, i'faith. 
I saw the duchess of Milan's gown, that they 
praise so. 

Hero. O, that exceeds, they say. 

Murg. By my troth it's but a night gown in 
respect of yours: Cloth of gold, and cuts, and 
laced with siKicrr ; set with pearls, down 
sleeves, side-sleeves t, and skirts round, under- 
borne with a bluish tinsel : but for a fine, 
quaint, graceful, and excellent fashion, yours 
U worth ten ou't. 



Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my 
heart is exceeding heavy! 

Marg. 'Twill be heavier soon, by the weight 
of a man. 

Hero. Fye upon thee! art not ashamed ? 

Marg. Of what, lady 1 of speaking honour- 
ably 1 Is not marriage honourable in a beg- 
gar? Is not your lord honourable without 
marriage? I think, you would have me say, 
saving your reverence, — a husband: an bad 
thinking do not wrest true speaking, I'll offend 
nobody : Is there any harm in — che heavier 
for a husband? None, I think, an it be the 
right husband, and the right wife ; otherwise 
'tis light, and not heavy : Ask my lady Bea- 
trice else, here she conies. 

Enter Beatrice. 

Hero. Good morrow, coz. 

Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero, 

Hero. Why, how now! do you speak in 
the sick tune ? 

Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. 

Marg. Clap us into — Light o' lore; that 
goes without burden ; do you sing it, and I'll 
dance it. 

Beat. Yea, Light o* love, with your heels! 
— then if your husband have stables enough, 
yoi'll see he shall lack no barns. 

Marg. O illegitimate construction! I scorn 
that with my heek. 

Beat. *Tis almost five o'clock, coasia ; 'tis 
time you were ready. By my troth I am ex- 
ceeding ill: — hey ho! 

Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? 

Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H 5. 

Marg. Well, an you be net turned Turk, 
there's no more sailing by the star. 

Beat. What means the fool, trow? 

Marg. Nothing I; but Goisend every one 
their heart's desire! 

Hero. These gloves the count sent aie, they 
are an excellent perfume. 

Beat. I am stuffed cousin, I cannot smell. 

Marg. A maid, and stuffed! there's goodly 
catching of cold. 

Beat. O, God help me! God help me! how 
long have you profess'd apprehension? 

Marg. Ever since you left it : doth not my 
wit become me rarely? 

Beat. It is not seen enough, you should 
wear it in your cap.— By my troth, I am sick. 

Marg. Get you some of this distilled Car- 
duns Benedictus, and lay it to your heart ; it 
is the only thing for a qualm. 

Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle. 

Beat. Benedictus! why Benedictus? you 
have some moral II in this Benedictus. 

Marg. Moral? no, by my troth, I have no 
moral meaning; 1 meant, plain holy-thistle. 
You may think, perchance, that I think you 
are in love : nay, by'r lady, I am not juch a 
fool to think what I list ; nor I list not to 
think what I can ; nor, indeed, I cannot think, 
if I would think my heart out of thinking, 
that you are in love, or that you will be in 
love, or that you can be in love ; yet Bene- 



A kind of ruff. + H'^ad-dress. t Long-sleeve*. 

i. e., I^or aa ache or p;im. y Hidden ineaiiiu;; 



140 



SilAKSPEAKE. 



[Act IV. 



dick was such another, and now is he become 
a man : he swore he would never marry ; and 
yet now, in despite of his heart, he eats his 
meat without grud^int;: and how you may be 
c.nverted, I know not; but methinks, you 
ook with your eyes as other women do. 

Beat. What pace is this that thy tongue 
keeps? 

Marg. Not a false gallop. 

Re-enter Ursula. 

IJrs. Madam, withdraw ; the prince, the 
count, signior Benedick, Don John, and all 
ihe gallants of the town, are come to fetch 
you to ohurch. 

Hero, Help to dress me, good coz, good 
Meg, good Ursula. {Exeunt, 

SCENE V. 

Another Room in Leonato*s /Tow^e. 

Enter Leonato, with Dogberry and 

Vergls. 

Leon. What would you with me, honest 
neighbour? 

Vogh. Marry, sir, I would have some confi- 
dence with you, that decerns you nearly. 

Leon. Brief, I pray you ; for you see, 'tis 
a busy time with me. 

Dogb. Marry, this it is, sir. 

V(rg. Yes, in truth it is, sir. 

Leon. What is it, my good friends? 

Dogb. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little 
off the matter: an old man, sir, and his wits 
are not so blunt, as, God help, I would desire 
they were; but, in faith, honest, as the skin 
between his brows. 

Verg. Yes, I thank Go<l, I am as honest as 
any man living, that is an oW man, and no 
honester than I. 

Dogb. Comparisons are odorous : palabras, 
neighbour Verges. 

Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. 

Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, 
but we are the poor duke's officers ; but, truly, 
for mine own part, if I were as tedious as a 
King, I could find in my heart to bestow it all 
of your worship. 

Leon. All thy tediousness on me ! ha ! 

Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times 



more than 'tis : for I hear as good exclamation 
on your worship, as of any man in the city; 
and though I be but a poor man, I am glad 
to hear it. 

Verg. And so am I. 

Leon. I would fain know what you have 
to say. 

Verg. Man-y, sir, our watch to-night, ex- 
cepting your worship's presence, have ta*en a 
couple of as arrant knaves as any in Messina. 

Do^b. A good old man, sir ; he will be talk- 
ing; as they say, When the age is in, the wit 
is out ; God help us ! it is a world to see *! — 
Well said, i'faith, neighbour Verges : — well, 
God's a good man ; an two men ride of a 
horse, one naistride behind: — An honest soul, 
i'faith, jiir : by my troth he is, as ever broke 
bread: but, God is to be worshipped : All ineo 
are not alike; alas, good neighbour! 

Leon. Indeed, neighbour, he comes too 
short ot you. 

Dogb. Gifts, that God gives. 

Leon. I must leave you. 

Dogb. One word, sir: our watch, sir, have, 
indeed, comprehended two aspicious person*, 
and we would have them this morning ex- 
amined before your worship. 

Ijcon. Take thtir examination yourself, 
and bring it me ; I am now in great haste, as 
it may appear unto you. 

Dogb. It shall be sutfigance. 

Leon. Drink some wine ere you go : fare 
you well. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give 
your daughter to her husband. 

Leon. I will wait upon them; I am ready. 
{Exeunt Leonato ffwd Messenuer. 

Dogb. Go, good partner, go, get yon to 
Francis Seacoal, bid him bring his pen and 
inkhorn to the gaol; we are now to examin- 
ation these men. 

Verg. And we must do it wisely. 

Doab. We will spare for no wit, I warrant 
you ; ^ here's that [Touching his J'oj'eheaa.} 
shall drive some of them to a non com: only 
get the learned writer to set down our exconi- 
munication, and meet me atthegaoi. [Exeunt. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. The Inside of a Church, 

Enter Don Pidro, Don John, Leonato, 

Friar, Claudio, Benedick, Hero, and 

Beatrice, S^c. 

Leon. Gome, friar Francis, be brief; only 
to the plain form of marriage, and you shall 
recount their paiticular duties afterwards. 

Friar. You come hither, m> lord, to mar- 
ry his lady? 

Claud. No. 



Leon, To be married to her, friar ; yo» 
come to marry her. 

Friar. Lidy, you come hither to be mar- 
ried to this count? 

Hero. I do. 

Friar, If either of yon know any inward 
impediment why you should not beconjuiiicd, 
I charge you, on your souls, to utter it. 

Claud. |iiu)W \ouany, Hero? 

Hero. None, my lord. 

Friar. Know you any,countl 



It is worth seeing. 



Scejie /.J 



MUCH ADO A30LT NOTHING. 



141 



Leon. I dare make his answer, none. 

Claud, O, what men dare do ! what men 
may do ! what men daily do I not knowing 
what they do ! 

Bent. How how! Interjections? Why, 
then some be of laughing, as, ha! ha! he ! 

Claud. Stand thee by, friar :— Father, by 
your leave ! 
Will you with free and unconstrained soul 
Give me this maid, your daughter ? 

Leon. As freely, son, as God did give her 
me. [whose worth 

Claud. And what have F to give you back. 
May counterpoise this rich and piecious gift. 

D. Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her 
again. [thankfulness. — 

Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble 
There, Leonato, take her back again ; 
Give not this rotten orange to your friend ; 
She's but the sign and semblance of her ho- 
nour : — 
Behold, how like a maid she blushes here: 

what authority and show of truth 

an cunning sin cover itself withal ! 
Comes not that blood, as modest evidence, 
To witness simple virtue? Would you not 

swear. 
All you that see her, that she were a maid. 
By these exterior shovk's? But she is none : 
She knows the heat of a luxurious * bed : 
Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. 

Leon. What do you mean, my lord 1 

Claud. Not to be married. 

Not knit my soul to an approved wanton. 

Lton. Dear my lord, if you, in your own 
proof 
Have vanquishM the resistance of her youth. 
And made defeat of her virginity, 

Claud. 1 know what you would say ; If I 
have known her, 
You'll say, she did embrace me as a husband, 
And so extenuate the 'forehand sin : 
No, Leonato, 

I never tempted her with word too large +; 
But, as a brother to his sister, showM 
Bashful sincerity, and comely love. 

Hero. And «eem'd I ever otherwise to you ? 

Claud. Out on thy seeming I I will write 
against it : 
You seem to me as Dian in her orb ; 
As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown ; 
But you are more intemperate in your blood 
Than Venus, or those pamper'd animals 
That lage in savage sensuality. [so wide|? 

Hero. Is my lord well, that he doth speak 

Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you I 
D. Pedro, What should I speak? 

Is and dishonourM, that have gone about 
'Jo link my dear friend to a common stale. 

Leon. Are these things spoken? or do I 
but dream.' [things are true. 

D. John. Sir, they are sp(^ken, and these 
Bene. This looks not like a nupiial. 

Hero, True, O God! 

Claud, Leonato, stand I here? 



• Lasc 



t Licentious, 
I T.>v; tVrr ,}. tongue. 



Is this the prince ? Is this the prince's brother 1 
Is this face Hero's? Are our eyes our own •? 
Leon. All this is so; But what of this, my 
lord ? [your dau^iuor ; 

Claud. Let me but mov<> one question to 
And, by that fatherly and kindly power 
That you have in her, bid her answer truly. 
Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art iny 
child. [set! — 

Hero. O God defend me! how am I be- 
What kind of catechizing call you this ? 
Claud. To make you answer truly to your 
name. [name 

Hero. Is it not Hero? Who can blot that 
With any just reproach ? 

Claud. Marry, that can Hero ; 

Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. 
What man was he talk'd with you yester- 
night [one ? 
Out at your window, betwixt tw^elve and 
Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. 
Hero. I talk'd with no man at that hour, 
my lord. [Leonat»>, 
D. Pfdro. Why, then are you no maiden. — 
I am sorry you must hear; Upon mine ho- 
nour. 
Myself, my brother, and this grieved count. 
Did see her, hear her, at that hour last night. 
Talk with a ruffian at her chamber-window ; 
Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal^ villain, 
Confess'd the vile encounters they have had 
A thousand times in secret. 

£>. John. Fye, fye ! they are 

Not to be nam'd, my lord, not to be spoke of; 
There is not chastity enough in language. 
Without ottence, to uiter them : Thus, pretty 

lady, 
I am serry for thy much misgovernment. 
Claud. O Hero ! what a Hero hadst thou 
bten, 
If half thy outward graces had been placed 
About thy thoughts, and counsels of thy heart f 
But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair ! fare- 
well. 
Thou pure impiety, and impious purity ! 
For thee 1*11 lock up ill the gates of love. 
And on my eye-lids shall conjecture hang. 
To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm. 
And never shall it more be gracious ||. 
Leon. Hath no man's dagger here a point 
for me? [Hero suoons. 

Beat. Why, how now, cousin? wherefore 

sink you down ? 
D, John. Come, let us go : these things- 
come thus to light, 
Smother her spirits up. 

[Exeunt Hon Pedro, Hon JoEi%, 
and Ci..\uDio. 
Bene. How doth the lady ? 
Beat, Dead, I think ;— help, uncle; — 

Hero ! why. Hero ! —Uncle ! — Signior Bene- 
dick ! — friar! 
Leon. O fate, take not away thy heavy 
hand! 
Death is the fairest cover for her shame, 

X Hemote from the business in hand. 
li Attractive. 



U2 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Ait IV, 



That may be wish'd for. 

Beat, How now, cousin Hero ? 

Friar. Have comfort, lady. 

Leon, Dost thou look up? 

Friar. Yea ; Wherefore should she not ? 

Ltton. Wherefore? Why, doth not every 
earthly thing 
Cry shame upon her? Could she here deny 
The story that is printed in her blood ? — 
Do not live, Hero: do not ope thine eyes: 
For did I think thou wouldst not quickly die, 
f bought I thy spirits were stronger than thy 

shames. 
Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches. 
Strike at thy life. Griev'd I, 1 had but one ? 
Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame*? 
O, one too much by thee! Why had I one? 
Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes? 
Why had I not, with charitable hand. 
Took up a beggar's issue at my gates ; 
Who smirched t thus, and mired with infamy, 
I might have said. No 'part of it is m'me^ 
This shame derives itself from unknmvn 
loins? [prais'd, 

But mine, and mine I lov'd, and mine I 
And mine that I was" proud on; mine so 

much. 
That I myself was to myself not mine. 
Valuing of her; why, she — O, she is fallen 
Into a pit of ink ! that the wide sea 
Halh drops too few to wash her clean again ; 
And salt too little, which may season give 
To her foul tainted flesh 1 

Bene. Sir, sir, be patient : 

For my part, I am so attir*d in wonder, 
I know not what to say. 

Beat. O, on my soul, iny cousin is belied ! 

Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last 
nights ["iiiht, 

Beat. No, truly, not : although, until last 
I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. 

Leon, ConQrm'd, confirmM ! O, that is 
stronger made. 
Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron! 
Would the two princes lie? and Claudio lie? 
Who lov'd her so, that, speaking of her foul- 
ness, [<lie. 
Wash'd it with tears ? Hence from her ; let her 

Friar. Hear me a little ; 
For I have only been silent so long, 
And t^iven way unto this course of fortune. 
By noting of the lady: I have mark'd 
A thousand blushing appititions htart 
Into her face; a thousand inno ent shames 
In angel whiteness bear away those blushes; 
And in her eye there hath appear'd a tire, 
To burn the errors that the>e princes hold 
Against her maiden truth :— Call me a fool ; 
Tru!^tnotmy reading, nor my ob.-ervations, 
Which with experimental seal doth warrant 
The tenour of my book ; trust not my age, 
My reverence, calling, nor divinity. 
If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here 
Under some biting error. 

L.eon. Friar, it cannot be: 

• Disposition of things. t Sullied. 

[I Over x\V7 



Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath 

left. 
Is, that she will not add to' her damnation 
A ain of perjury ; she not denies it: 
Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse 
That which appears in proper nakedness ? 

Friar. Lady, what man is he you are ac- 
cus'd of? [know none : 

Hero. They know, that do accuse me; I 
If I know more of any man alive, [r^nt. 

Than that which maiden modesty doth war- 
Let all my sins lack mercy ! — O my father, 
Prove you that any man with me convers'd 
At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight [tu; e, 
Maintain'd the change of words with any crea- 
Refuse me, hate me, torture me to death. 

Friar. There is some strange misprision ;): 
in the princes. [honour ; 

Bene. Two of them have the very bent of 
And if their wisdoms be misled in this, 
The practice of it lives in John the bastard, 
Whose spirits toil in frame of villanies. 

Leon. I know not ; If they speak but 
truth of her, [honvuir. 

These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her 
The proudest of them shall well hear of it. 
Time hath not yet so dried this blood of mine, 
Nor age so eat up my invention. 
Nor fortune made such havock of my means. 
Nor my bad life reft me so much of friends. 
Bur they shall find, awak'd in such a kind. 
Both strength of limb, and policy of mind. 
Ability in means, and choice of friends. 
To quit me of them throughly. 

Friar. Pause a while, 

And let my counsel sway you inthi? case. 
"^ onr daughter here the princes left for dead ; 
Let her awhile be secretly kept in. 
And publish it, that she is dead indeed: 
Maintain a mourning ostentation ; 
And on your family's old monument 
Hang mournful epitaphsi, and do all rites 
That appertain unto a burial. 

Leon. What shall become of this? What 
will this do? 

Friar. Marry, this, well carried, shall on 

her behalf [goo«l : 

Change slander to remorse ; that is some 

But not for that, dream I on this strange 

course, 
Btit on this travail look for greater birth. 
She dying, as it must be so maintain'd. 
Upon the instant that she was accus'd. 
Shall be lamented, pitied and excus'd. 
Of every hearer: For it so falls out, 
That what we have we prize not to the wovlli. 
Whiles^ we enjoy it; but being lack'd and 

lost. 
Why, then we rack lithe value ; then we find 
The virtue, that possession would not show 
us [Claudio : 

Whiles it was ours :— So will it fare with 
When lie shall hear she died upon If his word-:. 
The idea of her life shall sweetly crec^ 
Into his study of imagination ; 



t Misconception - 
f l)y. 



$ While. 



Scene /.] 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 



M.3 



And evtry lovely organ of her life 

Shall come apparell'd in more precious habit, 

More moving-delicate, and full of life. 

Into the eye and prospect of his soul, 

Than when she liv'd indeed: — theu shall he 

mourn, 
(If ever love had interest in his liver,) 
And vi'ish he had not so accused her; 
No, though he thought his accusation true. 
Let this be 80, and doubt not but success 
Will fashion the event in better shape 
Than I can lay it down in likelihood. 
But if all aim but this be levell'd false. 
The supposition of the lady's death 
Will quench the wonder of her infamy: 
And, if it sort not well, you may conceal her 
(^s best befits her wounded reputation,) 
In some reclusive and religious life, 
Out of all eyes, tongues, minds, and injuries. 

Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise 
you: [love 

And though, you know, my inwardness* and 
Is very much unto the prince and Claudio, 
Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this 
As secretly, and justly, as your soul 
Should with your body. 

Leon. Being that I flow in grief. 

The smallest twine may lead me. 

Friar. *Tis well consented ; presently 

away ; [cure. — 

For to strange sores strangely they strain the 

Come, lady, die to live: this wedding day, 

Perhaps, is but prolong'd ; have patience, and 

endure. 

[Exeunt Friar, Hero, and Leonato. 

Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all 
this while! 

Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. 

Bene. -1 will not desire that. 

Beat, You have no reason, I do it freely. 

Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin 
is wrong'd. 

Beat. Ah, how much might the man deserve 
of me, that would right her ! 

Bene. Is there any way to show such 
friendship 1 

Beat. A very even way, but no such friend. 

Bene. May a man do it? 

Beat. It is a man's office, but not yours. 

Bene. I do love nothing in the worhl so 
well as you ; Is not that strange? 

Beat. As strange as the thing I know not: 
It were as possible for me to say, I loved no- 
thing so well as you : but believe me not; 
and yet I lie not ; I confess nothing, nor 1 
deny nothing: — 1 am sorry for my cousin. 

Bene. By my sword, Beatr\ce,thou lovestme. 

Beat. Do not swear by it, and eat it. 

Bene. I will swear by it, that you love me ; 
and I will make him eat it, that says, I love 
not you. 

Beat. Will you not eat your word? 

Bene. With no sauce that can be devised to 
it: I protest, I love thee. 

Beat, Why then, God forgive me ! 



Bene. Whatottence, sweet Beatrice ? 

Beat. You have staid me in a happy hour; 
I was about to protest, I loved you. 

Bene. And do it with all thy heart. 

Beat. I love you with so much of my 
heart, that none is left to protest. 

Bene. Come, bid me do any thing for thee 

Beat. Kill Clandio. 

Bene. Ha! not for the wide world. 

Beat. You kill me to deny it: Farewell. 

Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. 

Beat. I am gone, though I am here;— 
There is no love in you: — Nay, I pray you, 
let me go. 

Bene. Beatrice, — 

Beat. In faith, I will go. 

Bene. We'll be friends first. 

Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, 
than fight with mine enemy. 

Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy? 

Beat. Is he not approved in the hei<{ht a 
villain, that hath slandered, scoined, disho- 
noured my kinswoman i — O, that I were 
a man! — What I bear her in haiidt until 
they come to take hands; and then with 
public accusation, uncovered slander, unmi- 
tigated rancour, — O God, that 1 were a nun I 
I would eat his heart in the market-place. 

Bene. Hear me, Beatrice; — 

Beat. Talk with a man out at a window ?— 
a proper saying! 

Bene. Nay but, Beatrice ; — 

Beat. Sweet Hero! — she is wronged, she 
is slandered, she is undone. 

Bene. Beat— 

Beat. Princes, and counties J ! Surtly, a 
princely testimony, a goodly count-confe« t ^ ; 
a sweet gallant, surely! O that I were a man 
for his sake ! or that 1 had any friend would 
be a man for my sake ! But manhood is 
melted into courtesies 11, valour into compli- 
ment, and men are only turned into tungue, 
and trim ones too : he is now as valiant as 
Hercules, tha,t only tells a lie, and swears it : — 
I cannot be a man with wishing, therefore I 
will die a woman with grieving. 

Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice : By this hand, 
I love thee. 

Beat. Use it for my love some other way 
than swea-riBg by it. 

Bene. Think you in your soul the coun 
Claudio hath wronged Hero ? 

Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought, or 
a soul. 

Bene. Enough, I am engaged, I will chal- 
lenge him ; I will kiss your liand, and so leave 
you : By this hand, Claudio shall render me 
a dear account : As you hear of me, so think 
of me. Go, comfort your cousin : I must say, 
she is dead ; and so, farewell. [Exeunt, 

SCENE II. A Prison. 
Enter Dogberry, Verges, w/irf Sexton in 

gouns; and the Watch, tvith Conradk 

and BoRACHio. 

D(gb. Is our whole dissembly appeared ? 



Intimacy, t Delude her with hopes, t Nob'.mien. 

il Ceretnon). 



$ A nobleman mide ovjt ot sugar 



144 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act V, 



^^erg. Of a stool and a cushion for thesextou ! 

SextOfi. Which be the malefactors? 

JJogb. Marry, that am I and my partner. 

Verg. May, that's certain; we have the 
exhibition to examine. 

Sexton. But which are the oflfenders that 
are to be examined 1 let them come before 
master constable. 

Dogb. Yea, marry, let them come before 
me. — What is your name, friend? 

Bora, Borachio. 

Dogb. Pray write down — Borachio. 

Yonrs, sirrah ? 

Con. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name 
is Conrade. 

Dogb, Write down — master gentleman Con- 
rade. — Masters, do you serve Uodt 

Con. Bora, Yea, sir, we hope. 

Dogb, Write down — that they hope they 
serve God : — and write God tirst ; for God de- 
fend but God should go before such villains ! — 
Masters, it is proved already that you arc 
little better than false knaves ; and it will go 
near to be tlionght so shortly. How answer 
yon for yourselves ? 

Con, Marry, sir, we say we are none. 

Dogb. A marvellous witty fellow, I assure 
you ; but I will go about with him. — Come 
vou hither, sirrah; a word in your ear, sir; 
I say to yon, it is thought you are false knaves. 

Bora. Sir, I say to you, we are none. 

Dogb. Weil, stand aside. — 'Fore God,they 
are both in a tale : Have you writ down — 
that they are none ? 

Sexton, Master constable, you go not the 
way to examine ; you must call forth the 
watch that are their accusers. 

Dogb, Yea, marry, that's the efteit way : — 
Let the watch come forth : — Masters, I charge 
you, in the prince's name, accuse these men. 

1 IVatch, This man said, sir, that Don John, 
the prince's brother, was a villain. 

£>/i(^. Write down— prince John a villain : — 
W ,y this is flat perjury, to call a prince's 
brother— villain. 

Bora, Master constable, — 

Dogb. Pray thee, fellow, peace ; I do not 
like thy look, I promise thee. 



Sexton. What heard you him say else ? 

2 IVntch. Marry, that he had received a 
thousand ducats of Don John, for accusing the 
lady Hero wrongfully. 

Dogb, Flat burglary, as ever was committed. 

Verg, Yea, by the mass, that it is. 

Sexton. What else, fellow? 

1 Watch. And that count Claudio did 
mean, upon his words, to disgrace Hero befort 
the whole assembly, and not marry her. 

Dogb. O villain! thon wilt be condemned 
into everlasting redemption for this. 
Sexton. What else? 

2 Watch. This is all. 

Sextun. And this is more, masters, than 
you can deny. Priijce John is this morning 
secretly stolen away; Hero was in this mS'j- 
ncr accused, in this very manner refused, and 
upon the grief of this, suddenly died. — 
Master constable, let these men be bound, 
and brought to Leonato's ; I will go before, 
and show him their examination. \^Exit, 

Dogb. Come, let them be opinioned. 

Verg. Let them be in band*. 

Con. Oflf, coxcomb! 

Dogb, God's my life I where's the sexton T 
let him write down — the prince's officer, cox 

comb. — Gome, bind them : Thou naughty 

varlet! 

Con. Away ! you are an ass, you are an ass. 

Dogb. Dost thou not suspect my place? 
Dost thou not suspect my years? — O that he 
were here to write nie down — an ass! — but, 
masters, remember, that I am an ass ; though 
it be not written down, yet forget not that I 
am an ass : — No, thou villain, thou art full of 
piery, as shall be proved upon tl?ee by good 
witness. lam a wise fellow ; and, which is 
more, an ofticer ; and, which is more, a house- 
holder ; and, which is more, as pretty a piece 
of flesh as any is in Messina ; and one that 
knows the law, go to; and a rich felh>w 
enough, go to ; and a fellow that hath had 
losses; and one that hath two gownsi and 
every thing handsome about him : — Bring 
him away. O, that 1 had been writ down — 
an ass. [Exeunt, 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. Before Leonato's House, 
Enter Leonato and Antonio. 

Ant. If yon go on thus, you will kill yourself ; 
And 'tis not wisdom, thus to second grief 
Against yourself. 

I A on. 1 pray thee, cease thy counsel, 
A\ liich falls into mine ear* as protitless 
As water in a j^ieve : give not me counsel ; 
Nor h't no comforter delight mine ear. 
But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. 
\\\'\\\% me a father, that so lov'd his child, 
V\ hose joy of her is overwhelm'd like mine. 



And bid him speak of patience ; [mine. 

Measure his woe the length and breadth of 
And let X answer every strain for strain ; 
As thus for thus, and such a grief for such. 
In eveiy lineanient, bianch, shape, and form: 
If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard ; 
Cry — sorrow, wag ! and hem, when he should 
groan ; [drunk 

i'atch grief with proverbs ; make misfortune 
With candle- wasters ; bring him yet to me, 
And I of him will gather patience. 
Bat there is no such man : For, brother, mo^ 
Can counsel, aua speak comfort lo ibat giiwf 



Bond. 



^ccne /.] 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING 



145 



Which they themselves not feel ; but, tasting it, 
Their counsel turns to passion, which before, 
Would give preceptial medicine to rage, 
Fetter strong madness in a silken thread. 
Charm ache with air, and agony with words : 
No, no; *tis all men's office to speak patience 
To those that wring under the load of sorrow; 
But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency. 
To be so moral, when he shall endure 
The like himself: therefore aive me no counsel : 
My griefs cry louder than advertisement *. 

Ant. Therein do men from children nothing 
diflfer. [and blood ; 

Leon. I pray thee, peace : I will be flesh 
For there was never yet philosopher, 
That could endure the tooth-ach patiently ; 
However they have writ the style of gods. 
And made a pish at chance and sufferance. 

Ant.Y^t bend not all the barm upon yourself; 
Make those, that dc ottend you, sutier too. 

Leon- There thou speak'st reason : nay, I will 
My £Oul doth tell me, Hero is belied ; [do so : 
And that shall Claudio know, so shall the 

prince, 
And all of them, that thus dishonour her. 
Enter Don Pedro and Claudio. 

Ant. Here comes the prince, and Claudio, 

D. Pedro. Good den, good den. [hastily. 

Claud. Good day to both of you. 

Leon. Hear you, my lords, — 

V. Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato. 

Leon. Some haste, my lord ! — well, fare 
you well, my lord : — 
Are you so hasty now 1 — well, all is one. 

D. Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, 
good old man. [relling. 

Ant'. If he could right himself with quar- 
Some of us would lie low. 

Claud, Who wrongs him ? 

Leon. Marry, 

Thou, thou dost wrong me ; thou dissembler, 

thou : — 
Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, 
Ifear thee not. 

Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand. 

If it should give your age such cause of fear: 
In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. 

Leon. Tush, lush, man, never fleer and jest 
I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool ; [at me : 
As, under privilege of age, to brag [do, 

Wliat I have done beingyonng, or what would 
Were I not old : Know, Claudio, to thy head, 
Thou hast so wrong'd mine innocent child and 
That 1 am forc'd to lay my reverence by ; [me, 
And, with iiray hairs, and bruise of many days, 
Do challenge thee to trial of a man. 
1 say, thou hast btlied mine innocent child ; 
Ihy sland-er hath gone through and through 

her heart. 
And she lies buried with her ancestors : 
Ol in a tomb where never scandal slept, 
Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villanj-. 

Claud. My villany ! 

Leon. Thine, Claudio ; thine I say. 

D. Pedro. You aay not right, old man. 

Lti-n, My lord, my lord, 



I'll prove it on his body, if he dare ; 

Despite his nice fence, and his active practicet. 

His May of youth, and bloom of lustihood. 

Cloud. Awav, I will not have to do with you. 

Leon. Canst thou so daff me? Thou hast 
kill*d my child ; 
If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shaltkill a man. 

Ant. He shall kill two of us, and men indeed: 
But that's no matter ; let him kill one first; — 
W in me and wear me, — let him answei me,— 
Come, follow me, boy ; come, boy, follow me: 
Sir boy, I'll whip you from your foining Jfence; 
Nay, as I am a gentleman, I will. 

Leon. Brother, — 

Ant, Content yourself : God knows, I lov'd 
my niece ; 
And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains ; 
That dare as well answer a man, indeed, 
As I dare take a serpent by the tongue : 
Boys, apes, braggarts. Jacks, milksops! — 

Leon. Brother Antony, — 

Ant. Hold you content; What, man! I 
know them, yea, [scruple: 

And what they weigh, even to the utmost 
Scambling, out-facing, fashion-mong'ringboys. 
That lie.and cog,and flout,deprave and slander. 
Go anticly, and show outward hideousness. 
And speak off half a dozen dangerous words. 
How they might hurt their enemies, if they 
And this is all. [durst, 

Leon, But, brother Antony, — 

Ant. Come, *tis no matter ; 

Do not you meddle, let me deal in this. 

J). Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not 
wake your patience. 
My heart is sorry for your daughter's death ; 
But, on my honour, she was chaig'd with 

nothing 
But what was true, and very full of proof. 

Leon. My lord, my lord, — 

/>. Pedro. I will not hear you. 

Leon. No? 

Brother, away : — I will be heard ; — 

Ant. And shall. 

Or some of us will smart for it. 

[Exetint Leonato uwrf Antonio. 
Enter B en i dick. 

D. Pedro. See, see ; here comes the man 
we went to seek. 

Claud. Now, sjgnior! what news ! 

Bene. Good day, my lord. 

D. Pedro. Welcome, signior : You are 
almost come to part almost a fray- 

Claud. We had like to have had our two 
noses snapped off with two old men without 
teeth. 

D. Pedro. Leonato and his brother : What 
think'st thou? Had we fought, I doubt, we 
should have been too young for them. 

Bt7ie. In a false quarrel there is no tiue 
valour. I came to seek you both. 

(land. We have been up and down to 
seek thee ; for we are high-proof melancho!> , 
and would fain have it beaten away : Wilt 
thou use thy wit? 

Btnc. It is in my scabbard ; Shall I draw it? 



Admonitirn. + FV?!! in f-'n.-ij'!?'. + Thrvs 



145 



SfiAKSPEAUli. 



\A<f V, 



D. Fidro. Do?ttl>ou wear ihy wit by thy .<ide^ 

CldUd. Never any did so. thoisuii very 

many have been beside their wit.— 1 will bid 

liieo draw, as we do the minstrels ; draw, to 

pleasure lis. 

D. Pedro, As I am an honest man, he 
lor.ks pale : — A« t thou sick, or an;y;ry l 

Claud. What! courage, man ! What though 
care k'lled a cat, thou hast mettle enough in 
thee to kill care. 

Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the 
career, an you charge it against me : — I pray 
yon, choose anotiier subject. 

Claud. Isay, then give him another staff ; 
this last was broke cross. 

D.Pedro. By this li<4ht, he changes more 
and more ; I think he be angry indeed. 

Claud. If he be, he knows how to turn his 
girdle •. 

Bene. Shall I speak a word in yonr ear ? 
Claud. r,od bless me from a challeuiic ! 
Bene. You are a villain ; — I jest not: — I 
will make it good how you dare, with what 
>ou dare and when you dare: — Do me 
right, or I will protest your cowardice. You 
hhve killed a sweet lady, and her death shall 
fail heavy on you : Lei me hear from you. 

Claud. Weil, I \\\\\ meet you, so I may 
have good cheer. 

I). ^ Pedro. What, a feast ? a feast ? 
Claud. I'faith, I thank him ; he hath bid t 
inc to a cali's-head and a capon ; the which if 
1 do not carve most curicusiy, say, nsy knife's 
naught. — Shall I not find a woodcock too? 

Bene. Sir, your wit ajnbles well ; it goes 
easily. 

IJ. Pedro. I'll tell thee how Beatrice 
praised thy wit the oiher tlay : 1 said, thou 
hmht a fine wii ; True, says she, o Ji^/e little 
one: JVdy said 1, a threat wit ; Bight, says 
she, a great gross one : Nay, said 1, a ^ood 
"idt.; Jn.st^SAxd she, /7 hurts nobody: Nay, 
said I, the ge).tlevian is wise ; Certain, said 
she, « wise g( ntleman : Nay, sd\'. \, he ha Ik 
the tongues ; 'J hat 1 believe, said s,\ e, for 
he sivoie a thmg to me on Monday night, 
which he forsicof e on Tuesday morning ; 
there's a double tonuve ; there*^ two tongxes, 
'J'lius <lid she, an hour together, transshapc 
Ih) particular virtues ; yet, at last, she con- 
clud« d with a sigh, thou wast the pi operest 
m;in in Italy. 

Claud. Tor the which she wept heartily, 
and said, she cared not. 

I). Pedro, "lea, that she did ; but yet, for 
all that, an if she did not hate him deadly, 
Blic would love him dearly: the old man's 
d.iiighter told us ail. 

Claud. All, all ; and moreover, God saw 
h m when he nas hid in the ardeti. 

D. Pedro. But when shall we set the sa- 
V ge bull's horns on the sensible Benedi«k's 
head ? 

('laud. Yea, and text underneath, Here 
d ells Benedick the married man 'f 
Bene. Fare you well, boy ; you know my 



mind ; 1 will leave you now to your gosHip- 
like luiinonr : you break jt-sts as braggarts do 
their blades, which, God be thanked, hurt 
not. — My lord, for your many ct urtesies 1 
I thank you : 1 must discontinue your company : 
your brother, the bastard, is tied from Mes- 
sina : you have, among you, killed a sweet 
and innocent lady : For my lord Lack-beard, 
there, he and 1 shall meet ; and till tijen, 
peace be with him. [Exit Benedick. 

D. Pedro. He is in earnest. 
Claud. In most profound earnest; and 
I'll warrant you, for the love of Beatrice. 
D. Ptdro. And hath challenged thee? 
Claud. Most sincerely. 
D. Pedro. What a pretty thing mg.n is, 
when he goes in his doublet and hose, and 
leaves oft his wit! 

Enter Dogberry, VF.RCEs,awrf theWalch, 
tvith Con r a u k aiid Bo R a c h i o. 
Claud. He is then a giant to an ape: but 
then is an ape a doctor to such a man. 

D. Pedro. But, soft you, let be ; pluck 
up, my heart, and be sadj! Did he not say, 
my brother was fled? 

JJogb. Come, you, sir ; if justice cannot 
tame you, she shall ne'er weigli more reasons 
in her balance : nay, an you be a cursing 
hypocrite once, you must be looked to. 

JJ. Pedro. How now, two of my brother's 
men bound ! Borachio, one ! 

Claud. Hearken alter their offence, my lord ! 
1). Pedro. Otficers, w hat ofience have thes« 
men done ? 

Dogh. Marry, sir, they have committed 
false report; moreover, they have spoken 
untruths ; secondarily, they are slanders ; sixth 
and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, 
they have verified unjust things : and, to con- 
clude, they are lying knaves. 

D. lUaro. Fust, 1 ask thee what they 
have d*.»ne ; thirdly, I ask tlsee what's their 
cftence ; sivth and lastly, why they are com- 
mitted ; and, to conclude, what you lay to 
their charge. 

r/'/?a/. Rightly reasoned, and in his own 
division; and, by my troth, there's one mean- 
ing well suited. 

D. Pedro. Whom have you offended, 
masters, that you aie thus bound to your 
answer? this learned constable is too cunning 
to be understood : \\ hat's yonr ottence i 

Bora. Sweet prince, lei me go no tnrther 
to niinc answer; do you hear me, anil let 
this count kill me. 1 have deceived even 
your very eyes: what your \\isdonis could 
not discover, these shallow fools have brought 
to light; who, in the night, over-he<ird me 
confessing to this man, how Don John youi 
brotlier incensed^ me to slander the lady 
hero ; how you were brought into th* 
orchard, and saw me court Margaret in Hero'f 
garnicnls ; how you disgraced her, when you 
should marry her : my villany they have 
upon record ; which 1 had rather seal with 
my death, than repeat over to my shame : ih« 



+ Iiuilcd. 



1 Serioi 



liicilci. 



•Scene I.] 



MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 



147 



iady is d*;ad upon mine and my master's false 
iiccusation; and, brietly, I desire notliing but 
the reward of a villain. 

JJ. Pi dio. Runs not this speech like iron 
through your blood? 

Claud, I have drunk poison, whiles he 
ntter'd it. 

D. Pedro, But did my brother set thee on 
Jo this? 

£o7'u. Yea, and paid me richly for the 
practice of it. 

D, Pedro. He is compos'd and fram'd oi 
And lied he is upon this villany . [treachery : — 

Claud. Sweet Hero! now thy image doth 
appear 
In the rare semblance that I loved it first. 

Uogb. (ome, bring away the plaintiffs; 
by this time our sexton hath reformed signior 
Leonato of the matter : And masters, <lo not 
forget to specify, when time and place shall 
serve, that I am an ass. 

Ferg. Here, here comes master signior 
Leonato, and the Sexton too. 
Re-enter Leonato and Antonio, with the 
Sexton. 

Leon. Which is the villain 1 Let me see 
his eyes ; 
That when 1 note another man like him, 
1 may avoid him : Which of these is he i 

Bora. If you would know your wron2:er, 
look on me. [breath hast kili'd 

Leon. Art thou the slave, that with thy 
Mine innocent child 1 

B-ra. Yea, even I alone. 

Leon. No,not so, villain; thou belie-t thyself; 
Here s and a pair of honourable men, 
A third is fled, that had a hand in it : — 
1 thank you, princes, for my daughter's death ; 
i^ecord it with your high and worthy deeds ; 
*Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. 

Claud. I know not how to pi ay your 
patience, [yourself ; 

Yet I must speak : Choose your revenge 
Impose* me to what penance your invention 
Can lay upon my sin: yet sinn'd I not, 
Eiit in mistaking. 

D. Pedro. By my soul, nor I ; 

And yet, to satisfy this good old man, 
I would bend under any heavy weight 
That he'll enjoin me to. [live, 

Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daughter 
That were inipossible; but, I pray you both. 
Possess t the people in Messina here 
How innocent she died : and, if your love 
Can labour aught in sad invention. 
Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb. 
And sing it to her bones ; sing it to-night : — 
To-morrow morning come you to my house ; 
And since you could not be my sou-in law. 
Be yet my nephew: my brother hath a daughter 
Almost the copy of my child that's dead. 
And she alone is heir to both of us ; 
Give her the right you should have given her 
And so dies my revenge. [cousin, 

Claud. O, noble sir, 

Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me ! 



I do embrace your otier ; and dispose 

For henceforth of po( r Claudio. [coming 

Leon. To-morrow then I will expect your 
To-night 1 take my leave.— This naughty man 
Sh-ill face to face be brought to Mari^aret, 
Who, I believe, was pack'd ; in ail this wrong, 
Hir'd to it by your brother. 

Bora. ]So, by my soul, she was not ; 

Nor knew not what she did, when she spoke to 
But always hath been just and virtuous, [me; 
In any thing that I do know by her. 

Dogb. Moreover, sir, (which, indeed, is not 
under white and black,) this plaintiti here, 
the offender, did call me ass: 1 beseech you, 
let it be remembered in his punishment : 
And also, the watih heard them talk of one 
Deformed : they say, he wears a key in hi.% 
ear, and a lock hanging by it ; and borrows 
money in God's name; the which he hath 
used so long, and never paid, that now men 
erow hard-hearted, and will lend nothing for 
God's sake : Pray you, examine him upon 
that point. 

Liron. I thank thee for thy care and honest 
pains. 

Dogh. Your worship speaks like a most 
thankiul and reverend youth ; and I praise 
God for yon 

Leon. There's for thy pains. 

Dogb. God save the foundation ! 

Lio . Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, 
and I thank thee. 

Dogb. 1 leave an arrant knave with your 
•worship ; which, I beseech your worship, to 
correct yourself, for the example of others. 
God k^ep your worship ; I wish your woiship 
well; God restore you to health: 1 humbly 
give you leave to depart ; and if a merry 
metting may be wished, God prohibit it.— 
Come, neighbour. 

\^ExeunilJoG Bi;RRY,VEKGEs,ff?7rf Watch. 

Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, 
farewell. [to-morrow. 

A>!t. Farewell, my lords; we look for you 

D. Pedro. VV e will not fail. 

Claud. To-night I'll mourn with Hero. 

[Exeunt Don Pi^dko and Claudio. 

Leon. Bring you these fellows on ; we'll 

talk with Margaret, [fellow. 

How her acquaintance grew with this lewd 5 

[Exeunt . 

SCENE II. Leonato's Garden. 

Enter Benedick a wd M a r g a r e r , meeting. 

Bene. Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, 
deserve well at my hands, by helping me to 
the speech of Beatrice. 

Marg. Will you then write me a sennet in 
praise of my beauty '.' . 

Bene. In so high a style, Margaret, that no 
man living shall come over it ; for, in most 
comely truth, thou deservest it. 

Mui g. To have no man come over me? 
why, shall I always keep below stairs i 

Bene. Iby wit is as quick as the grey 
hound's mouth, it catches. 



(^ml•^u^!ld. 



+ A 



rr|ii \iiif. 



Combined. 



fL'no.;-nt. 



us 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r. 



Marg. And yours as blunt as the fencer's 
foiiS, which hit, but hurt not. 

Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will 
not hurt a woman ; and so, 1 pray thee, call 
Beatrice : 1 ^ive thee the bucklers. 

Marg. Give us the swords, we have bucklers 
of ( ur own. 

Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must 
put in the pikes with a vice \ and they are 
dangerous weapons for maids, 

Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, 
who, I think, hath \e%s. [Erit Margaret. 
Bene, And therefore will come. 

The god of love, [Singing.] 

Tkai sits above. 
And knows 7ne, and knozvs me, 
Hoiv pitiful I deserve, 
I mean, in singing ; but in loving, — Leander 
the good swiranacr, Troilus the first employer 
of panders, and a whole book full of these 
quondam carpet-mongers, whose names yet 
run smoothly in the even road of a blank 
verse, vvhy, they were never so truly turned 
over and over as my poor self, in love : Mar- 
ry, I cannot show it in rhyme ; I have tried ; 
1 can find out no rhyme to lady but babi/, an 
innocent rhyme ; for scorn, horn, a hard 
rhyme; for school, fool, a babbling rhyme; 
very onunous endings : No, I was not born 
under a rhyming planet, nor I cannot woo in 
festival terms*.— 

Enter Beatrice. 
Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I 
called thee ? 

Beat. Yea, signior, and depart when you 
bid me. 
Bene. O, stay but till then! 
Beat. T'ten, is spoken ; fare you well 
now :— and yet, ere I go, let me go with that 
1 came for, which is, with knowing what hath 
passed between you and Claudio. 

Bfne. Only foul words; and thereupon I 
vsill kiss thee. 

Beat. Foul words is but foul wind, and 
foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is 
noisome; therefore 1 will depart unkissed. 

Bene. Thou hast frighted the word out of 
his right sense, so forcible is thy wit: But, 1 
lausilell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes ^ my 
challenge; and eiiher I must shortly hear 
from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. 
And, I pray thee now, tell me, for which of 
i!iy bad parts didst thou first fall in love with 
me? 

Beat. For them all together : which mam- 
tained so politic a state of evil, that they 
will not admit any good part to intermingle 
with them. But for which of my good parts 
tiid yon first suiter love for me? 

Bene. Su£erlovv; a good epithet ! I do 
suffer love, indeed, for 1 love thee against my 
will. 

Bfuf. In spite of your heart, I think ; alas ! 
poor heart ! It you spite it for my sake, 1 will 
6;)ite it for yours ; for 1 will never love that 
whith my friend hates. 



Bene. Thou and I arc too wise to woo 
peaceably. 

Beat. It appears not in this confession : 
there's not one wise man among twenty that 
will praise himself. 

Bene. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, 
that lived in the time of good neighbours : if 
a man do not erect in this age his own tomb 
ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monu- 
ment, than the bell rings, and the widow 
weeps. 

Br'dt. And how long is that, think you? 

Bene, Question ?— Why, an hour in cla- 
m.our, and a quarter in rheum: Therefore it 
is most expedient for the wise, (if Don Worm 
bis conscience, tind no impediment to the 
contrary,) to be the trumpet of his own vir- 
tues, as I am to myself: So much for praising 
myself, (who, I myself will bear witness, is 
praise-worthy,) and now tell me, How doth 
^our cousin ? 

Beat. Very ill. 

Bene. And how do you. 

Beat. Very ill too. 

Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend: 
there will I leave you too, for here comes one 
in haste. 

Enter Ursula. 

Urs. Madam, you must come to your un- 
cle ; yonder's old coil j at home: it is proved, 
my lady Hero hath been falsely accused, the 
Prince and Claudio mightily abused ; and Don 
John is the author of all, who is tied and gone; 
will you cotne presently ? 

Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior? 

Bene. I will live in thy heart, die in thy 
lap, and be buried in thy eyes; and, more- 
over, 1 will go with thee to thy uncle's. 

^Exeunt. 

SCENE III. 
The hiside of a Church. 
Enter Don Vedro, Claudio, and Attend- 
ants, ivith music and tapers. 

Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato? 

Atten. It Is, my lord. 

Claud. [Heads from a scroll.] 

Done to death by slanderous tongues 
Was the Hero that here lies : 

Death, in guerdon § of her tvrongs 
Gives her fame which never dies : 

So the life, that died with shame, 

Lives in deatli with glorious fume. 

Hang thou there upon the tomb, [affix- 
ing it. 
Praising her when I am dumb,-^ 
Now, music, sound, and sing your solemu 
hymn. 

SONG. 
Pardon, Goddess of the night. 
Those that slew thy virgin knight i 
For the uhich, with songs of uoe. 
Round about her tomb they go. 



Holidav phrases. 



f Is subject to. 



t Stir. 



ene III.], MUCH ADO ABOUT i\011ili\Q. 



149 



Midnight f assist our moan ; 
Help us to sigh and groan, 

Heavily, heavily : 
Graves, yaivn, and yield your dead. 
Till death be uttered. 
Heavily, heavily. 
Claud. Now, unto thy bones s;ood night! 

Yearlywill I dothis rite. 
V.Pedro. Good morrow, masters; put 
your torches out : [tie day, 

The wiilves have prey'd; and look, the gen- 
Before the wheels of Phoebus, round about 
Dapples the drowsy east with spots of gray : 
Thauks to you all, and leave us ; fare you 
well. [several way. 

Claud. Good morrow, masters ; each his 
D. Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on 
other weeds ; 
And then to Leonato's we will go. 

Claud. And, Hymen, now with luckier is- 
sue speeds, 
Than this, for whom werender'dup this woe! 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. 

A Room in Leonato's House. 

Enter Leonato, Antonio, Benedick, 

Ekatrice, Ursula, Friar, and Hero. 

Friar. Did I not tell you she was inno- 

Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who 
accus'd her. 
Upon the error that you heard debated : 
But Margaret was in some fault for this ; 
Although against her will, as it appears 
In the true course of all the question. 
Aiit. Well, I am glad that all things sort 
so well. • [enforced 

Bene. And so am I, being else by taith 
To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. 
Leo?i. Well, daughter, and you gentlewo- 
men all, 
Withdraw into a chamber by yourselves; 
And, when I send for you, come hither mask d : 
The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour 
To visit me: — You know your otfice, brother; 
You must befathertoyourbrother'sdaughter, 
And give her to young Claudio. 

^ [Exeunt Ladies. 

Ant. Which I will do with confirm'd coun- 
tenance, [think. 
Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pauis, I 
Friar. To do what, signior ? [them.— 
Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of 
Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior, 
Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. 
Leon. That eye my daughter lent her ; 'Tis 
most true. [q"»te her. 
Beve. And I do with an eye of love re- 
Leon. The sight whereof, I think, you had 
from me. 
From Claudio, and the prince; But what's 
your will? 
Beiie. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical : 
But, for my will, my will is, your good will 
May stand with ours, this day to be conjom'd 
liHhe estate of honourable marriage;— 



In which, good friar, I shall desire your help, 
Leon. My heart is with your liking. 
Friar. And my help. 

Here comes the prince, and Claudio. 
Enter Don Pedro and Clauuio, with 
Attendants. 
D. Pedro. Good morrow to this fair as- 
sembly, [row, Claudio; 
Leon. Good morrow, prince ; good mor- 
We here attend you ; are you yet determin'd 
To-day to marry with my brother's daughter ? 
Claiid. PU hold my mind, were she au 
Ethiope. [friar ready. 
Leon. Call her forth, brother, here's the 
[Exit Antonio. 
D.Pedro. Good morrow. Benedick; Why, 
what's the matter. 
That you have such a February face. 
So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness ? 
Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage 
bull :— [gold. 
Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns with 
And all Europa shall rejoice at thee ; 
As once Europa did at lusty Jove, 
W^hen he would play the noble beast in love. 
Bene. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low ; 
And some such strange bull leap'd your fa- 
ther's cow. 
And got a calf in that same noble feat. 
Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. 
Re-(Mter Antonio, with the Ladies masked. 
Claud. For this I owe you : here come 
other reckonings. 
W^hich is the lady 1 must seize upon? [her. 
Ant. This same is siie, and I do give'yoa 
Claud. Why, then she's mine : Sweet, let 
me see your face. [her hand 
Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take 
Before this friar, and swear to marry her. 
Claud. Give me your hand before this holy 
friar ; 
I am your husband,ifyouldke of me. 
Hero. And when I lived, I was your other 
wife : [Unmasking, 
And when you loved, you were my other 
husband. 
Claud. Another Hero ? 
Hero. Nothing certainer : 
One Hero (lied defil'd; but I do live. 
And, surely as I live, I am a maid. [dead I 
D. Pedro. The former Hero ! Hero that ia 
Leon. She died, my lord, but whiles her 

slander lived. 
Friar. All this amazement can I qualify; 
When, after that the holy rites are ended, 
Pll tell you largely of fair Hero's deatL : 
Mean time, let wonder seem familiar. 
And to the chapel let us presently. ^ 
Bene. Soft and fair, friar.— Which is Bea- 
trice? 
Beat. I answer to that name ; [Unmask^ 
What is your will ? [ing. 

Bene. Do not you love me ? 
Beat. No, no more than reason. 

Bene. Why, then your uncle, and the 
prince, and Claudio, 
Have been deceived; for they swore you did 
O 3 



150 



SHAKSPlwlilE. 



[.4c/ r. 



Beat. Do not you love me ? 
Bene, No, no more than reason. 

Beat. Why, then my cousin, Margaret, ami 
Tirsula, j.iid. 

Are much deceiv'd ; for they did swear you 
Bene. They swore that you were almost 

sick for me. 
Beat. They swore that you were well-niejh 
dead for me. [not love me ? 

Be.ie. 'iis no such matter: — Then, you do 
Beat. No, truly, but in Iriendly recompense. 
Ijeon. Come, cousin, I am sure you love 

the gentleman. 
Claud. And I'll be sworn upon't, that he 
loves her ; 
For here's a paper, written in his hand, 
A halting sonnet of his own pure brain, 
FashionM to Beatrice. 

Hero. And here's another. 

Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her 

pocket, 
Containing her aflfection unto Benedick. 

Bene. A miracle! here's our own hands 
against our hearts ! — Come, I will have thee ; 
but, by this light, I take thee for pity. 

Be-it. I would not deny yon ; but, by this 
good day, I yield upon great persuasion; and, 
partly, to save your life, for I was told you 
were in a consumption. 
Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth. — 

\^Kissinei her."] 
D. Pedro. How dost thou. Benedick the 

married man? 
Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince; a college 
of wit-crackers cannot flout me oat of my hu- 



mour : Dost thou think, I care for a satire, or 
an epigram ? No : if a man will be beaten 
with brains, he shall wear nothing handsome 
about him: In brief, since I do propose to 
marry, 1 will think nothing to any purpose 
that the world can say against it; and there- 
fore never flout at nie for what I have said 
against it; for man is a giddy thing, and this 
is my conclusion.— For thy part, Claudio, I 
did think to have beaten thee ; but in that • 
thou art like to be my kinsman, live unbruised, 
and love my cousin. 

Claud. I had well hoped, thou wouldst 
have denied Beatrice, that I might have 
cudgelled thee out of thy single life, to make 
thee a double dealer; which, out of question, 
thou wilt be, if my cousin do not look ex- 
ceeding narrowly to thee. 

Bene. Come, come, we are friends :— let's 
have a dance ere we are married, that we 
may lighten our own hearts, and our wives*' 
heels. 

J^eon. We'll have dancing afterwards. 

Bene. First, o' my word ; therefore, play, 
music. — 
Prince, thoii art sad ; get thee a wife, get thee 
a wife : there is no staff more reverend than 
one tipped with hori- 

Enttr a Messenger. 

Me'S. My lord, your brother John is ta'eo 
in flight, 
And brought with armed men back to Messina. 

Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow, 
I'll devise thee brave punishments for him. — 
Strike up, pipers. ^ Dance, Exewii. 



• Because. 



This play may be justly said to contain two of the most sprightly characters that Shakspearc 
ever drew. The wit, the humourist, thr; gentleman, and the soldier, are combined in Bene- 
dick. It is to be lamented, indeed, that the tirsl, and most splendid of these distinctions, is 
disgi aced by unnecessary profanenrsr ; for the goodness of his heart is hardly siifticient to 
atone for the license of his tongue. The too sa castic levity, which flashes out in the conver- 
tation of Beatrice, may be excused on account of the steadiness and friendship s() apparent 
in her behaviour, when she urges her lover to risque his life by a challenue to Claudio. In 
the conduct of the fable, however, there is an imperfection similar to that which Dr. Johnson 
has pointed out in 'Hie Merry Wives of' l-Vhidsr/r: — the second contrivance is less ingenious 
than ihetirat: — or, to speak more plainly, the same incident is become stale by repetition. I 
wish some other method had been found to enrrap Beatrice, than that very one which before 
bad been successfully practised on Heiiedick. 

MacK Ado about J\otliiiig (as I under'^tand from one of Mr. Vertue's MSS.) formerly 
passed under the title of Benedick and Beatrix. Heming the player received, on the 20ih of 
Alay, 1GI3, the sum of forty pounds, and twenty pounds more as his Majesty's gratuity, for 
e&hiUiting six plays at Hampton Court, among which was this comedy. — Stekvens. 



MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM* 



^cr?5ong tcpregentcti. 



Thkseus, Duke of Athens, 
Eg BUS, Father to Hermia, 

lY^"E^Zl•s} '■» '«"« «-«* Hermia. 

Philostratk, Master of the Revels to 
Theseus. 

Quince, the Carpenter, 

Snug, the Joiner. 

Bottom, the Weaver. 

Flute, the Bellows mender. 

Snout, the Tinker. 

Starveling, tlie Tailor. 

HrppoLYTA, Queen of the AmazonSy be- 
trothed to Theseus, 



Hermia, Daughter to Egeus,in Ivvt. with 

Ly Sander. 
Helena, iw love with Demetrius, 
Oberon, King of t lie Fairies. 
Titan I a, Qiieen of the Fairies. 
Puck, or Robin goodfellow, a Fairy. 
Peas-blossom, ^ 
Cobweb, I t:t . . 

Moth, ' > Fairies. 

Mustard-seed, ^ 

Pyramus, "^ 

This BE, ! Characters in the In- 

Wall, > terlude performed bj 

Moonshine, the Clowns. 

Lion, J 



Other Fairies attending their King and Queen. 
Attendants on Theseus and Hippolyta. 

Scene, — Athens, and a Wood not far from it. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. 



Athens, A Room in the Palace of Theseus. 

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philo- 

strate, and Attendants. 

7%e. Now, fair Hippolyta, our nuptial hoar 
Draws on apace; four happy days bring in 
Another moon : but, oh, methinks, how slow 
This old moon wanes ! she lingers my desires, 
Like to a step-dame, or a dowager. 
Long withering out a young man's revenue. 

Hip. Four days will quickly steep them- 
selves in nights; 
Four nights will quickly dream away the time ; 
And tfien the moon, like to a silver bow 
New bent in heaven, shall behold the night 
Of our solemnities. 

The. Go, Philostrate, 

Stir up the Athenian youth to merriments ; 
Awake the pert and nimble spirit of mirth ; 
Turn melancholy forth to funerals. 
The pale companion is not for our pomp. — 

{Exit Philostrate. 
Hippolyta, I woo'd thee with my sword, 
Anfl won thy love, doing thee injuries ; 
But I will wed thee in another key. 
With pomp, wiih triumph *, and with revelling- 
Enter Egbus, Hermia, Lysander, and 
Demetrius. 

Ege. Happy be Theseus, our renowned duke ! 

The. Thanks, good Egeus : What's the news 
with thee 1 



Ege. Full of vexation come I,with complamt 
Against my child, my daughter Hermia. — 
Stand forth, Demetrius ; — My noble lord. 
This man hath my consent to marry her : — 
Stand forth, Lysander; — and,my gracious duke. 
This hath bewitch'd the bosom of my child : 
Thou, thou, Lysander, thou hast given lier 

rhymes. 
And interchang'd love-tokens with my cliild : 
Thou hast by moon-light at her window sung, 
With feigning voice, verses of feigning love ; 
And stol'n the impression of her fantasy 
With bracelets of thy hair, rings, gawds ^, 

conceits, [seng.-rs 

Knacks, trifles, nosegays, sweet-meats ; invs- 
Of strong prevailment in unharden'd yonih : 
With cunning hast thou lilch'd my daughter 

heart ; 
Turn'd her obedience, which is due to me. 
To stubborn harshness :-And,my gracious dii Ue 
Be it so she will not here before your grace 
Consent to marry with Demetrius, 
I beg the ancient privilege of Athens ; 
As she is mine, I may dispose of her : 
Which shall be either to this gentleman. 
Or to her death; according to our law, 
Lnmediately provided in that case. [mnid : 
The. \\ hatsay you, Hermia? beadvis'(l,f.iir 
To you your father should be as a god; 
One thatcompos'd your beauties; yea, and one 
To whom yon are but as a form iu wax. 
By him imprinted, and within his power 



• Shows. 



i Baublci. 



152 



SilAKSPEAHE. 



Ari /. 



To leave the figure, or nisfigMre it. 
Demetrius is u worlhy gei)tlein;tn. 
Her. So is Lysander. 

7Vie. In himsL'lf he is-: 

But, in this kind, vviintingyour father's voice, 
The oilier nui?t be hfld tlie worthier, [my eyes. 

Htr. I would, my father Kiok"d but with 

The. Rasher your ejes must with his judg- 
ment iook. 

Her. I do wntreat your grace to pardon me. 
I know not by what power 1 am made bold; 
Nor liow it may concern my modesty. 
In such a presence here, to plead my thoughts : 
But [ beseech your grace that I may know 
The worst that m«y befal me in this case. 
If I refuse to wed Demetiius. 

T/te. Either to die the death, or to abjure 
For ever the society of men. 
Therefore, fair Mermia, question your desires, 
Know of your youth, examine well your blood, 
Whether, if you yield not &o your father's 
You can endure the livery of a nun; [choice, 
For aye* to be in shady cloister mew'd, 
To live a barren sister all your life, [moon. 
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless 
1 hrice blessed they, that master so their blood. 
To undergo such maiden pilgrimage : 
But earthiier happy ij the rose distilPd, 
Than that, which, withering on the virgin thorn, 
(iri)ws, lives, a«<l diei, in single blessedness. 

//' r, So will I grow, so live, so die, my lord. 
Ere I will yield my virgin patent up 
IJnio his lordship, whose unwished yoke 
My soul consents not to give sovereignty- 

'J'he. Take time to pause : and, by the next 
new moim, 
(The seaiing-day betwixt my love and me. 
For everlasting bond of fellowship,) 
I'poJi that day either prepare to die. 
For disobedience to your father's will ; 
Or else, to wed Demetrius, as he would , 
Or on Diana'? altar to protest. 
For aye, austerity anil single life, [sander, yield 

/Jem. Kelent, sweet Hennia; — And, Ly- j 
Thy crazed title to my certain right. | 

J.ys. \ ou have her father's love, Demetrius ; ' 
Let me have Hermia's: do >ou marry him. i 

l!^ge. Scornful Lysander! true, he haih my : 
love ; ^ I 

And what is mine my love shall render him; 
And she is mine ; and all my right of her " 
i do estate unto Demetrius. 

Jj's. I am, my lord, as well deriv'd as he, \ 
As well possess'd ; my love is more than his ; j 
]\Ty fortunes every way as fairly rank'd. 
If not with vant.jge, as Demetruis* ; 
And, which is more than all these boasts can be, 
1 am belov'd of beautei-us Hermia: 
Why should not I then prosecute my right? 
Demetrius, I'll avouch it to his head. 
Made love to Nedai's daughter, Helena, 
And won her soul; and she, sweet lady, dotes. 
Devoutly dotes, dotes in idolatry, 
Upon this spotted t and inconstant man. 

7Vie. I must c^oofess, that i have heard so 
much. 



And with Demetrius thought to have, poke 
I But, being over full of self-attairs, [theieof; 
j My mind did lose it. — But, Demetrius, come; 
I And come, Egeus ; you shall go with me, 
' I have some private schooling for you both — 
For you, fair Hermia, look you arm jouisetf 
To fit your fancies to your father's will ; 
Or else the law of Athens yields yon up 
I (Which by no means we may extenuate,) 
' To death, or to a vow of single life. — 
, Come, my Hippolyta; VV^hat cheer, my love?— 

Demetrius, and Egeus, go alont: : 
; I must employ you in some business 
Against our nuptial ; and confer with 3'on 
Of something nearly that concerns yourselves 
Eiif. VV ith duty, and desire we follow you. 
[^je«/?/THKs.'HiP.EGF. Di.M.a7tdtra/n. 
Lys. How now, my love? Why is your 
cheek so pale? 
How chance the roses there do fade so fast ? 
Her. Belike, for want of rain ; which I 
could well 
Betecm them j from the tempest of mine eyes. 
Lys. Ah me! for aught that ever I coidrl 
Could ever hear by tale or history, [read. 

The course of true love never did run smooth : 
But, either it was different in blood ; — [low ! 
Her. O cross ! too high to be inthrall'd to 
/yj/v. Or else misgrarte(l,in resiiect of years ; 
Her. O spite ! too old to be engagM to yousig ! 
y-y.V-s.Orelse it stood u ponthe choice offriends: 
Ihr. O hell! to choose love by another's 

eye ! 
Lys. Or, if there were a sympathy in choice, 
War, dertth, or sickness, did lay siege to it ; 
Making it momentany 55 as a sound, 
^witt as a shadow, short as any dream ; 
Brief as the lightning in the colliedH night. 
That, in a spleen, unfolds both heaven and earth, 
And ere a man hath power to say, — Behold 1 
The jaws of darkness do devour it up : 
So quick bright things come to confusion. ^ 

Her. If then true lovers have been eve? 
It stands as an edict in destiny : [crossM, 

Then let us teach our trial patience, 
Because it is a customary cross ; [sighs, 

As due to love, as thoughts, and dreams, and 
Wishes, and tears, poor fancy'sf followers. 

Lys. A good persuasion ; therefore, hear me, 
I have a widow aunt, a dowager [Hermia. . 
Of great revenue, and she hath no child : 
From Athens is herhouse remoteseven leagues ; 
And she respects me as her only son. 
There, gentle Hermia, may 1 marry thee ; 
And to that place the sharp Athenian law 
Cannot pursue us : If thou lov'st me then, 
Steal ibrth thy father's house to-morrow nighty 
And in the wood, a league without the town, 
Wiiere I did meet thee once with Helena, 
To do observance to a morn of May, 
There will 1 stay for tliee. 

Her. My good Lysander 1 

I swear to thee, by Cupid's strongest bow ; 
By his best arrow with the golden head; 
By the simplicity of Venus* doves ; [loves ; 
By that which knitleth souls, and prosiu-ra 



Ever. 



WicVfcd. t Give, bestow. § Momentary. 



II Bl.ic.k 



^ Love's. 



Scent /.] 



MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DBEAM. 



153 



A-iid by that fire which burn'd the Carthage 

queen, 
When the false Trojan under sail was seen ; 
By all the vows that ever men have broke, 
In number more than ever women spoke ; — 
In that same place thou hast appointed me. 
To-morrow truly will I meet with thee. 
Lys. Keep promise, love : Look, here comes 
Helena. 

Enter Helena. 
Her. God speedj fair Helena! Whither away? 
Hel. Call you me fair ? that fair again unsay. 
Demetrius loves your fair: O happy fair! 
Your eyes are lode-stars* ; and your tongue's 

sweet air 
More tuneable than lark to shepherd's ear. 
When wheat is green, when hawthorn buds 

appear. 
Sickness is catching ; O, were favour t so! 
Yours would I catch, fair Hermia, ere I go ; 
My «ar should catch your voice, my eye youi 
eye, [melody. 

My tongue should catch your tongue's sweet 
Were the world mine, Demetrius being bated. 
The rest I'll give to be to you translated. 
O, teach me how you look ; and with what art 
You sway the motion of Demetrius' heart. 
Her. I frown upon him, yet he loves me still. 
Hel. O, that your frowns would teach my 

smiles such skill! 
Her. I give him curses, yet he gives me love. 
Hel. O, that my prayers could such affection 
move ! • [me. 

Her. The more I hate, the more he follows 
Hel. The more I love, the more he hateth me. 
Her. His folly, Helena, is no fault of mine. 
Hel. None but your beauty ; 'Would that 
fault were mine ! [my face ; 

Her. Take comfort ; he no more shall see 
Lysander and myself will fly this place. — 
Before the time I did Lysander see, 
Seem'd Athens as a paradise to me: 
O then, what graces in my love do dwell, 
That he hath turn'd a heaven unto hell! [fold : 
Lys. Helen, to you our minds we will un- 
To-morrow-night, when Phcebe doth behold 
Her silver visage in the wat'ry glass, 
Decking with liquid pearl the bladed grass, 
(A time that lovers' flights doth still conceal,) 
Through Athens' gates have we devis'dto steal. 
Her. A.nd in the wood, where often you aud I 
Upon faint primrose-beds were wont to lie, 
Emptying our bosoms of their counsel sweet: 
' There my Lysander and myself shall meet : 
And thence, from Athens, turn away our eyes. 
To seek new friends and stranger companies. 
Farewell, sweet playfellow ; pray thou for us, 
And good luck grant thee thy Demetrius ! 
Keep word, Lysander: w^emuststarveour sight 
From lover's food, till morrow deep midnight. 
\Exit Herm. 
Ijys. I will, my Hermia. — Helena, adieu : 
As you on him, Demetrius dote on you. 

\^Exit Lys. 
^ Hel. Howhappy some, orother some can be! 
Through Athens 1 am thought as fair as she. 



But what of that? Demetrius thinks not so; 
He will not know what all but he do know. 
And as he errs, doting on Hermia's eyes. 
So I, admiring of his qualities. 
Things base and vile, holding no quantity. 
Love can transpose to form and dignity. 
Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind; 
And therefore is wing'd Cupid painted blind : 
Nor hath love's mind of any judgment taste ; 
Wings, and no eyes, figure unheedy haste: 
And therefore is love said to be a child. 
Because in choice he is so oft beguii'd. 
As waggish bo> sin game j themselves forswear. 
So the boy love is perjur'd every where : 
For ere Demetrius look'd on Hermia's eyne$, 
He hail'd down oaths, that he was only mine; 
And when this hail some heat from Hermia felt, 
So he dissolv'd, and showers of oaths did melt. 
I will go tell him of fair Hermia's flight : 
Then to the wood will he, to-morrow night. 
Pursue her; and for this intelligence 
If I have thanks, it is a dear expense: 
But herein mean I to enrich my pain. 
To have his sight thither, and back again. 

\^ExiU 
SCENE IL 
The same. A Room in a Cottage, 
Enter Snug, Bottom, Flute, Snout, 
Quince, and Starveling. 
Quin. Is all our company here? 
Bot. You were best to call them generally, 
man by man, according to the scrip. 

Qiiin. Here is the scroll of every man's 
name, which is thought fit, through all Athens, 
to play in our interlude before the duke and 
duchess, on his weddintj day at night. 

Bot. First, good Peter Quince say what 
the play treats on; then read the names of 
the actors; and so grow to a point. 

Qiiln. Marry, our play is — The most lament- 
able comedy, and most cruel de ith of Pyra- 
mus and Thisby. 

Bot. A very good piece of vvork, I assure 
you, and a merry. — Now, good Peter Quince, 
call forth your actors by the scroll : Masters, 
spread yourselves. 

Quin. Answer, as I call you. — Nick Bot- 
tom, the weaver. 

Bot. Ready : Name what part I am for, 
and proceed. 

Quin. You, Nick Bottom, are set down for 
Pyramus. 
Bot. What is Pyramus ? a lover, or a tyrant 1 
Quin. A lover, that kills himself most gal- 
lantly for love. 

Bot. That will ask some tears in the true 
performing; of it : If I do it, let the audience 
look to their eyes ; I will move storms, I will 
condole in some measure. To the rest: — Yet 
my c!\ief humour is for a tyrant: I could play 
Ercles rarely, or a part to tear a cat in, tc 
make all split. 

" The raging rocks, 

" With shivering shocks, 

'' Shall break the locks 



♦ Pole-stars. 



t Couulenance. 



* Sport. 



jEyei 



154 



SHAKSPKARK. 



{Act IL 



** Of prison-gates: 
" And Phibbus' car 
" Shall shine from far, 
" And make and mar 
** The foolish fates." 
This was lofty ! — Now name the rest of the 
players. — This is Ercles' vein, a tyrant's vein; 
a lover is more condoling. 

Quin. Francis Flute, the bellows-mender. 

f'.lu. Here, Feter Quince. 

Quin. You must take Thisby on you. 

Flu. What is Thisby? a wandering knight? 

Quin. It is the lady that Pyramus must love. 

Flu. Nay, faith, let me not play a woman ; 
I have a beard coming. 

Quin. That'«« all one ; you shall play it in a 
mask, and you may speak as small as you 
wii4. 

Bot. An I may hide my face, let me play 
Thisby too: Pll speak in a monstrous little 
voice ; — Thisiie, Tliisne. — Ah^ PyramuSy my 
lover dear ; thy Thisby dear ! and lady dear! 

Quin. No, no; you must play Pyramus, 
and. Flute, you Thisby. 

Bot. Well, proceed. 

Quin. Robin Starveling, the tailor. 

Star. Here, Peter Quince. 

Quin. Robin Starveling, you must play 
Thisby's mother. — 1 om Snout, the tinker. 

Snout. Here, Peter Quince. 

Quin. You, Pyramus's father; myself, This- 
by's father ; Snug, the joiner, you, the lion's 
part: — and, I hope, here is a play fitted. 

Snug. Have you the lion's part written? 
pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow 
of study. 

Quin. You may do it extempore, for it is 
nothing but roaring. 

Bof. Let me piny the lion too: I will roar, 
that I will do any man's heart good to hear 
me ; I will roar, that I will make th« duke 
»ay, Lei him roar again. Let him roar 
again. 



Quin. An you should do it too terribly, you 
would fright the duchess and the ladies, that 
they would shriek : and that were enough lo 
hang us all. 

All. That would hang us every mother's 
son. 

Bot. I grant you, friends, if that you should 
fright the ladies out of their wits, thoy would 
have no more discretion but to hang us : but 
I will aggravate my voice so, that I will roar 
you as gently as any sucking dove ; I will roar 
you an * 'twere any nightingale. 

Quin. You can play no part but Pyramus : 
for Pyramus is a sweet-faced man ; a propei 
man, as one shall see in a summer's day ; a 
most lovely, gentleman-like man; therefore 
you must needs play Pyramus. 

Bot. Well, I will undertake it. What beard 
were I best to play it in? 

Quin. Why, what you will. 

Bot. I will discharge it in either your straw- 
coloured beard, your orange-tawny beard, 
your purple-in-grain-beard, or your French- 
crown-colour beard, your perfect yellow. 

Quin. Some of your French crowns have no 
hair at all, and then you will play bare faced. 
— But, masters, here are your parts: and I 
am to entreat you, request you, and desire you, 
to con them by to-morrow night ; and meet 
me in the palace wood, a mile without the 
town, by moon-light ; there will we rehearse : 
for if we meet in the city, we shall be dog*d 
with company, aad our devices known. In 
the mean time I will draw a bill of proper- 
ties t, such as our play wants. I pray you, 
fail me not. 

Bot. We will meet ; and there we may 
rehearse more obscenely, and courageously. 
Take pains ; be perfect; adieu. 

Quin. At the duke's oak we meet. 

Bot. Enough; Holdj or cut bow-strings t. 
[Exeunt, 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. A Wood near Athens. 

Enter a Fairy at one door, and Puck at 
another, 

PMcA:.Hownow,8pirit! whither wanderyou? 
Fui. Over hill, over dale, 

Thorough bush, thorough brier, 
Over park, over pale. 

Thorough flood, thorough fire, 
I do wantier every where. 
Swifter than the moones sphere; 
And 1 serve the f.iiry queen, 
To dew her orbs§ upon the green : 
'i he cowslips tall her pensioners be; 
In their gold coats spots you see ; 
Those be rubies, fairy favours, 
lu those freckles live their savours : 



I must go seek some dew-drops here, 
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. 
Farewell, thou lobjl of spirits, I'll be gone; 
Oar queen and all her elves come here 

anon. 
Puck. The king doth keep his revels here 

to-night ; 
Take heed, the queen come not within his sight. 
For Oberon is passing fell and wrath. 
Because that she, as her attendant, hath 
A lovely boy, stol'nfrom an Indian king; 
She never had so sweet a chansjeling: 
And jealous Oberon would have the child 
Knight of his train, to trace the forests wild : 
But she, perforce, withholds the loved boy. 
Crowns him with flowers, and makes him ail 

her joy : 



.Uif. 



t Articles required in performing a play. 
$ Circles. || A term of contempt. 



X At all events. 



Scfjie /.] 



MlDSUMJMER-WIGIiT'iS DREAM. 



And now they never meet in grove, or green, 
By fountain clear, or spangled star-light sheen*, 
J>ut they do squaret ; that all their elves,tor fear, 
Creep into acorn cnps, and hide them there. 
Fai. Either I mistake your shape and mak- 
ing quite. 
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite, 
Cali'd Robin Good-fellow : are yon not he, 
That fright the maidens of the villagery ; 
Skim milk; and sometimes labour in the 
quern t, [churn; 

And bootless make the breathless housewife 
And sometime make the drink to bear no 
barnnS; [l.-irm? 

Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their 
1 hose that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, 
You do their work, and they shall have good 
Are not you he ? [luck : 

Puck. Thou speak'st aright ; 

i am that merry wanderer of the night. 
I jest to Oberou, and make him smile, 
VV 1 en la fat and bean-fed horse beguile. 
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal : 
And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl, 
Jn very likeness of a roasted crab II ; 
And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob, 
And on her wither*d dew-lap pour the ale. 
*) he wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale, 
Somefime for three-foot stool mistaketh me; 
*J hen slip 1 from her bum, down topples she. 
And tailor cries, and falls into a cough; 
And then the whole quire hold their hips, and 

loffe; 
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze, and swear 
A merrier hour was never wasted there. — 
Jjut room. Faery, here comes Oberon. 

Fai. And here my mistress: — 'Would that 
he were gone! 

SCENE II. 

/i'//^fr Oberon, at one door, wi^h his train, 

and Titan 1 A, at another, with hers. 

Obe. Ill met by moon-light, proud Titania. 

Tita. What, jealous Obeion? Fairy, skip 
hence ; 
{ have forsworn his bed and company. 

Obe. Tarry, rash wanton ; Am not I thy lord ? 

Tita. Then I must be thy lady : But I know 
When thou hast stol'n away from fairy land. 
And in the shape of Corin sat all day. 
Playing on pipes of corn, and versing love 
To amorous Fhillida. Why art thou here, 
Come from the farthest steep of India? 
But that, forsooth, the bouncing Amazon, 
Your buskin'd mistress, and your warrior love, 
To Theseus must be wedded ; and you come 
T(> give their bed joy and prosperity. 

()be. How canst thou thus, for shame,Titania, 
Clance at my credit with Hippolyta, 
hiiowing I know thy love to 'Iheseust 
J idst thou not lead him through the glimmering 
From Perigeoia, whom he ravished? [night 
Aiid make him with fair ^gle break his faith, 
V\ ith Ariadne, and Antiopat 



Tita. These are the forgeries of jealousy r 
And never, since the middle summer's spring, 
Met we on hill, in dale, forest, or mead. 
By paved fountain, or by rushy brook. 
Or on the beached margent of the sea. 
To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind. 
But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our 

sport. 
Therefore the winds, piping to us in vain. 
As in revenge, have snck'd up from the sea 
Contagious fogs; which, falling in the land. 
Have every pelting H river made so proud, 
Thnt they have overborne their continents**: 
The ox liath theretore stretch'd his yoke m 
vain, [corn 

The ploiighman lost his sweat; and the green 
Hath rotted, ere his youth attain'd a beard: 
The fold stands empty in the drowned field. 
And crows are faited with the murrain flock; 
The nine men's morris+t is fill'd up with mud ; 
And the quaint mazes in the wanton green. 
For lack of tread, are undistinguishable : 
The human mortals want their winter here; 
No nie^ht is now with hynm or carol blest:— 
Theretore the moon, the governess of floods. 
Pale in her anger, washes all the air, 
That rheumatic diseases do abound : 
And thorough this distemperature, we see 
The seasons alter : hoary-headed frosts 
Fall in the fresh lap of the crimson rose ; 
Ai-d on old Ilyems'chin, and icy crown, 
An odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds 
Is, as in mockery, set; The spring, the summer, 
Thf^ childing Jj autumn, angry winter, change 
Their wonted liveries; and the 'mazed world 
By their increase §^, now knows not which is 
And this same progeny of evils comes [which ; 
From our debate, from our dissension ; 
We are their parents and original. 

Obe. Do you amend it then ; it lies in yon: 
Why should 1 itania cross her Oberon? 
I do but beg a little changeling boy. 
To be my henchman lj||. 

Ttta. Set your heart at rest. 

The fairy land buys not the child of me. 
His mother was a vot'ress of my order : 
And, in the spiced Indian air, by night. 
Full often hath she gossip'd by my side; 
And set with me on Neptune's yellow sanda 
Marking the embarked traders on the flood; 
When we have laugh'd to see the sails conceive 
And grow big-bellied, with the wanton wind: 
Which she, with pretty and with swimming 
gait, ['squire,) 

(Following her womb, then rich with my young 
Would imitate; and sail upon the land. 
To fetch me trifles, and return again. 
As from a voyage, rich uith merchandise. 
But she, being mortal, of that boy did die ; 
And, for her sake, I do rear up her boy : 
And, for her sake, I will not part with him. 

Obe. How long within this wood intend 
you stay 1 [day. 

Tita. Perchance, till after Theseua' wedding. 



• Shining. t Quarrel. J Mill. $ Yeast. II Wild Apple. H Petty. 

** Banks which contain them. tt A game played by boys. 

;J Autumn producing flowers unseasonably. $$ Produce. Hn Page 



156 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[4ct II 



If yon will patiently dance in our round. 
And see our moon-light revels, go with ns ; 
If not, shun me, and I will spare your haunts. 

Obe. Give me that boy, and I will go with 
thee. 

THta. Not for thy kingdom. — Fairies, away : 
We shall chide downright, if I longer slay. 
{Exeunt Titan ia, and her train. 

Obe. Well, go thy way : thou ahalt not 
from this grove, 
TMl 1 torment thee for this injury. — [ber*st 
Wy gentle Puck, come hither: Thou remem- 
Siiice once I sat upon a promontory. 
And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, 
Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, 
That the rude sea grew civil at her song ; 
And certain stars shot madly from their 
To hear the sea-maid*s music. [spheres. 

Puck. I remember, [not,) 

Obe. That very time I saw, (but thou couldst 
Flying between the cold moon and the earth, 
Cupid all arm'd: a certain aim he took 
At a fair vestal, throned by the west ; 
And loosM hislove-shaft smartly from his bow, 
As it should pierce a hundred thousand hearts: 
But I might see young Cupid's fiery shaft 
Quench'd in the chaste beams of the watVy 
And the imperial vot'ress passed on [moon ; 
In maiden meditation, fancy-free *. 
Yet mark'd I where the bolt of Cupid fell: 
It fell upon a little western flower, — 
Before, milk-white; now purple with love's 

wound, — 
And maidens call it, love-in-idleness, [once : 
Fetch me that flower; the herb I show'd thee 
The juice of it on sleeping eye-lids laid. 
Will make or man or woman madly dote 
Upon the next live creature that it sees. 
Fetch me this herb : and be thou here again, 
lire the leviathan can swim a league. 

Puck. I'll put a girdle round about the earth 
In forty minutes. [jEhit Puck. 

Obe. Having once this juice, 

I'll watch Titania when she is asleep, 
And drop the liquor of it in her eyes: 
The next thing then she waking looks upon, 
(Be it on lion, bear, or wolf, or bull, 
On meddling monkey, or on busy ape,) 
She shall pursue it with the soul of love. 
And ere I take this charm ott from her sight; 
(As I can take it, with another herb,) 
I'll make her render up her page to rae. 
But who comes here? I am invisible; 
And I will over-hear their conference, 
jfi"// /€r D E M KT R 1 L s , H E L E N A foUotvifig him . 

De7n. I love thee not, Uierefore pursue me 
Where is Lysander, and fair Hermia? [not. 
The one Pll slay, the other slayeth me. 
Thoutold'stme,they were stol'n into this wood. 
And here am I, and wood t within this wood, 
Because I cannot meet witn Hermia. 
Hence, get thee gone, and lollow me no more. 

Hel. You draw me, you hard hearted ada- 
mant ; 
But yet you draw not iron, for my heart 



Is true as steel : Leave you your power to draw. 
And I shall have no power to follow you. 

Dem. Do I entice you? Do I speak you fairt 
Or, rather, do I not in plainest truth 
Tell you — I do not, nor I cannot love you? 

Hel. And even for that do I love >ou the 
I am your spaniel ; and, Demetrius, [more. 
The more you beat me, I will fawn on you : 
Use me but as your spaniel, spurn me, strike 
Neglect me, lose me; only give me leave, [me. 
Unworthy as I am, to follow you. 
What worser place can I beg in your love, 
(And yet a place of high respect with uie,) 
Than to be used as yon use your dog? [spirit; 

Dem. Tempt not too much the hatred of my 
For I am sick, when I do look on thee. 

Hel. And I am sick,when 1 look not on yor. 

D^m. You do impeach j your modesty too 
To leavethecity, and commit joursclf [much. 
Into the hands of one that loves you not; 
To trust the opportunity of night, 
And the ill counsel of a desert place. 
With the rich worth of your virginity. 

Hel. Your virtue is my privilege for that. 
It is not night, when I do see your face, 
Therefore 1 think 1 am not in the night; 
Nor doth this wood lack worlds of company; 
For you, in my respect, are all the world ; 
Then how can it be said, I am alone. 
When all the world is here to look on me? 

Dim. Pll run from thee, and hide me in 
the brakes. 
And leave thee to the mercy of wild beasts. 

Hel. The wildest hath not such a heart iis you. 
Run when you will, the story shall be changM ; 
Apollo flics, and Daphne holds the chase : 
The dove pursues the griftin ; the mild hind 
Makes speed to catch the tiger : Booile.>^s speed ! 
When cowardice pursues, and valour flies. 

Dem. I will not stay thy questions ; let me 
Or, if thou follow nie, do not believe [go: 
But 1 shall do thee mischief in the wood. 

Hel. Ay, in the temple, in the town, the 
You do me mischief. Fie, Demetrius! [field. 
Your wrongs do set a scandal on my sex: 
We cannot fight for love, as men may do ; 
We should be\NOoM,and were not made to woo. 
I'll follow thee, and make a heaven of hell. 
To die upon§ the hand 1 love so well. 

[Exeunt Dem. and Hel. 

Obe. Fare thee well, njmph : ere he do leave 

this grove, [love. — 

Thou shalt fly him, and he shall seek thy 

Re-enter Puck. 
Hast thou the flower there? Welcome, wan- 

Puck. Ay, there it is. [derer. 

Obe. I pray thee, give it me. 

I know a bank whereon the wild thyme blows, 
Where ox-lips u and the notlding violet grows; 
Quite over-canopied with lushli woodbine. 
With sweet musk roses, and with eglantine: 
1 here sleeps litania, some time of the night, 
Loll'd in these flowers with dances and delight; 
And there the snake throws her enamell'dftkiik^ 
Weed wide enough to wrap a fairy in : 



Exempt from love. + Mi^d. raving. 

\x 'ihe j^realci ev»vvglip. 



t Brin? in question. 



§By. 



^cene 11.] 



MIDSUM:.iER-NIGliT*S DKEAM. 



157 



And with the juice of this I'll streak her eyes, 
And make her full of hateful fantasies. 
Take thou some of it, and seek through this 
A sweet Athenian lady is in love [grove : 

With a disdainful youth: anoint his eyes; 
But do it, when the next thing he espies 
May be the lady : Thou shalt know the man 
By the Athenian garments he hath on. 
Effect it with some care ; that he may prove 
More fond on her, than she upon her love : 
And look thou meet me ere the tirstcock crow. 
Puck. Fear not, my lord, your servant shall 
do 80. [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. Another fart of the Wood. 

Enter Titania, with her train. 
Ti}^a.Come,'now a roundel*, and a fairy song; 
Then, for the third part of a minute, hence ; 
Some, to kill cankers in the musk-ro.se buds; 
Some, war with rear-mice t for their leathern 
wings, [back 

To make my small elves coats ; and some, keep 
The clamorous owl, that nightly hoots, and 

wonders 
At onr quaint spirits! : Sing me now asleep ; 
JThen to your offices, and let me rtst. 

SONG. 

1 Fai. You spotfed snakes, U'ith double 

tongue, 
Thorny hedge-hogs, be not .sec7i ; 
Newts^ , and dlind-w rms \\, ao no ivrong ; 
Come not near otir fuiry queen: 
Chorus. Philomel, with melody. 

Sing in our street lullaby ; 
Lulla, lulla, lullaby ; lulla, lulla, lullaby: 
Never harm, nor spt tl, noi- charm, 
Come our lovely lady nigh; 
So, good night, with lidlahy. 

2 Fai. Weaving sjjiders, come not here; 

Hence, you long-l^gg^i spinntrs, hence: 
Beetles black, approach not near; 
Worm, nor snail, do no o£ence. 
Chorus. Philomel, with melody, 4c. 

1 Fai. Hence, away; now all is well: 
One, aloof, stand sentinel. 

[Exeunt Fairies. Titania sleeps. 
Enter Oberon. 
0/>e. What thou seest, when thou dost wake, 
[Squeezrs thejiower owTitama's eye-lids. 
Do it for thy true love take ; 
Love and languish for his sake: 
Ee it ounce H, or cat, or bear, 
Pard, or boar with bristled hair. 
In thy eye that shall appear .j 

When thou wak'sl, it is thy dear; C 
, Wake, when soroe vile thing is n«ar. 3 Exit. 
Enter Lysanudr and Hermia. 
Liys. Fair love, you faint with wandering 

in the wood ; 
And to speak troth, 1 have forgot our way ; 
We'll rest us, Hermia, if you think it good. 
And tarry for the comfort of ihe day. 
Htr. Be it so, Lysander: find you out a bed. 
For I upon this bank wil rest my head. 



Lys. One turf shall serve as pillow forus both; 
One heart, one bed, twobo«oms, and one troth. 
Her^ Nay, good Lysander ; for my sake. 
Lie further off yet,donotliesonear. [my dear, 
Lys.O,\.<ikki the sense,sweet,ofmy innocence; 
Love takes the meaning, in love's conference. 
1 mean, that my heart unto yours is knit ; 
So that but one heart we can make of it: 
Two bosoms interchained with ;in oath; 
So then, two bosoms, and a single tiolh. 
Then, by your side no bed-room me deny; 
For, lying so, Hermia, I do not lie. 

Her. Lysander riddles very preitily : — 
Now much beshrewmy manners and my pride. 
If Hermia meant to say, Lysander lied. 
But, gentle friend, for love and courtesy 
Lie further ofl"; in human modesty 
Such separation, as, may well be s lid. 
Becomes a virtuous bachelor and a maid ; 
So far be distant; and goodnight, sweet fiieud: 
Thy love ne'er alter, till thy sweet life end ! 

Eys. Amen, amen, to that fair prayer, say I ; 
And then end life, wlien I end loyalty! 
Here is my bed : Sleep give thee all his rest ! 
Her. With half that wish the wisher's eyes 
be pi ess'd ! [They sleep. 

Enter Puck. 
Puck, Through the forest have 1 gone, 
But Athenian found I none. 
On w>iose eyes I might approve 
This flower's force in stirring love. 
Night and silence! Mho is here? 
Weeds of Athens he doth wear: 
This is he, my master said. 
Despised the Athenian maid ; 
And here the mai({on, sleepinL^ sound, 
( n the dank and dirty ground. 
Pretiy soul ! she duist not lie 
Near this lack-love, kill-courtesy. 
Churl, upon thy eyes I throw 
All the power this charm doth owt ** : 
When thou wak*st, let love forbid 
Sleep his seat on thy eye-lid. 
So awake, when I am gone; 
For 1 must now to Oberon. [Exit, 
Enter Hhi&i.YKw?, and }li.LKS\,ru7ining. 
Hel. Stay, though thou kill me, sv eet De- 
metrius, [haunt me thus. 
Dcm. I charge thee, hence, and do not 
Hel. O, wilt thou darkling IT leave me? do 

not so. 
Dem. Stay, on thy peril ; I alone will go. 
[Exit Demetrius. 
Hel. O, I am out of breath in this fond chase i 
The more my prayer, the lesser is my grace. 
Happy is Hermia, wheresoever she lies ; 
For she hath blessed and attractive eyes, [tears g 
How came her eyes so bright i Not with salt 
If so, my eyes are oftener washM ihaa hers. 
No, no, I am as ugly as a beai ; 
For beasts ihal meet me, run away for fear: 
Therefore, no marvel, though Demetrius 
10, as a monster, fly my presence thus. 
What wicked and dissembling glass of mine 
Made me compare withHermia'sspheiy e>nei- 



• A kind of dance. t Uatj, 

^ The smal tiger. 



t Sports. i Eits. II Slow-worms. 

*♦ Possess. 11 In the dark. 

P 



158 



ailAKJSPEARK. 



[Act III, 



Rut who is here? — Lysander ! on «he ground! 
iJead ? or asleep? 1 set; no bloof!, no wound: — 
Lysnnder, if you live, good sir, awake. 

Lys. And run thioui^h fire I will, for thy 

swet^l sake, [Uaking. 

Transparent Helena! Nature here shows art, 
That ihrouiih thy bosom makes me see thy heart. 
Wliere is Demetrius Y O, how tit a word 
Is that vile name, to perish on my sword ! 

JJel. Do not say so, Lysander; say not so: 
What though he love your Hermia? Lord, 

what though i 
Yet Hermia still loves yea: then be content. 
Lys. Content with Kcrmia? ISo: i do repent 
The tedious minutes I with her have spent. 
Not Hermia, but Helena I love: 
V\ ho will not change a raven for a dove ? 
The will of man is by his reason sway'd ; 
And reason says you are the worthier maid. 
Things growing are not ripe until their se^^son : 
So 1, being young, till now ripe not to reason ; 
And touching now the point of human skill. 
Reason becomes the marshal to my will. 
And leads me to your eyes«; where 1 o'erlook 
Love's stories written in love's richest book. 
Hel W herefore was I to this keen mockery 

born ? 
When, at your hands, did I deserve this scorn ? 
Is't not enough, is*t not enough, young man, 
1 hat I did never, no, nor never can, 
Deserve a sweet look from Demetrius' eye. 



But you must lloul my insufficieocy ? [<io. 

Good troth, you do me wrong, good sooth, you 

In such disdainful manner me to woo. 

But fare you well : pei force I must confess, 

I thought you lord of more true gentleness. 

(), that a lady, ot one man refns'd, 

Should, of another, therefore beabus*d ! [J^dit. 

Lys. wShe sees not Hermia : — Hermia, sleep 
thou there ; 
And never mayst thou come Lysander near 1 
For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things 
The deepest loathing to the stomach brings ; 
Or, as the heresies, that men do leave. 
Are hated most of those they did deceive; 
So thon, my surfeit, and my heresy, 
Of all be hated; butthe most of me! [might, 
And all my powers, address your love and 
To honour Helen, and to be her knight! [£lii/. 

Her. [starting.] Help me, Lysander, help 
me ! do thy best. 
To pluck this crawling serpent from my breast! 
Ah me, for pity! — what a dream was here 'f 
Lysander, look, how 1 do quake with fear: 
Methonght a serpent eat my heart away. 
And you sat smiling at his cruel prey : — 
Lvsanfler! what, remov'd? Lysander! lord! 
VV hat , out of hearing ( gone? no sound, no word? 
Alack, where are you .' speak, an if you hear; 
Speak, of all loves ♦ ; I swoon almost with fear. 
No!— then 1 well perceive you are not nigh : 
fiitherdeath, or you,rii find immediately. [iii/f. 



ACT III. 



SCENE L TTie same. The Queen of 
Fai7'ies lying asleep. 

Enter Quince, Snug, Bottom, Flute, 
Snout, a/id Starveling. 

Bot, Are we all met ? 

Quin. Pat, pat ; and here's a marvellous 
convenient place for our rehearsal : This green 
plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn brake 
our tyring-house ; and we will do it in action, 
?j we will do it before the duke. 

Bot. I'eter Quince, — 

Quin. What sayst thou, bully Bottom? 

Bot. There are things in this comedy of 
Pyriimus and Thi'>by, that will never please 
First, Pyramus must draw a sword to kill 
himself ; which the ladies cannot abide. How 
answer you that ? 

Snout. By'riakint a parlous t fear. 

Star. I believe, we must leave the killing 
out, when all is done. 

Hot. Not a whit ; I have a device to make 
all well. Write me a prologue: and let the 
prologue seem to say, we will do no harm 
with our swords; and that Pyraiims is not 
killed indeed: and, for the moie better assur- 
ance, tell them, that 1 Pyiamus am not Pyra- 
mus, but Bottom the weaver: This will put 
them out of fear. 

Quin. Well, we will have such a prologue ; 
and it shall be written in eight and six. — 



Bot. No, make it two more , let it be 
written in eight and eight. 

Snout. Will not the ladies be afeard of the 
lion ? 

Star. I fear it, I promise you. 

Bot. Masters, you ought to consider with 
yourselves : to bring in, God shield us ! a lion 
among ladies, is a most dreadful thing; for 
there is not a more fearful 51 wild-fowl than 
your lion, living; and we ought to look to it. 

Snout. Therefore, another prologue must 
tell, he is not a lion. 

Bot. Nay, you must name his name, and 
half his face must be seen through tlie lion's 
neck ; and he himself must speak through, 
saying thus, or to the same defect, — Ladies, or 
fair ladies, I would wish you, or, I would re- 
quest you, or, I would entieat you, not to fear, 
not to tr(?mble: my life for yours. If you 
think 1 come hither as a lion, it were pity of 
my lite : No, I am no such thing : 1 am a man 
as other men are: — and there, indeed, let him 
name his name; and tell them plainly, he is 
Sung the joiner. 

Quin. Well, it shall be so. But there is 
two hard things; thai is, to bring the moon- 
light into a chamber: for you know, Pyramu* 
ami 'I'hisby meet by moun-lii:ht. 

Snug. Doth the moon shine, that night we 
play our play ? 

Bot. A calendar, a calendar ! look in the 



• By all that ij rltar. t By our ladykin. 



Dangerout*. § Terrible. 



Sreae I.] 



MlDSUMMER-MlGIiT'S DKEAM. 



159 



Himanack ; find out moun-ghine, tind outmoon- 
shitie. 

Quin. Yes, it doth shine that night. 

hot. Why, then you may leave a casement 
of the great chamber window, where we play, 
open; and the moon may shine in at the 
cai«ement. 

Quin. Ay ; or else one must come in with 
a bush of thorns and a lantern, and say, he 
comes to disfigure, or to present, the person 
of moon-shine. 1 hen, there is another thing : 
we must have a wall in the great chamber; 
for Pyramus and Thisby, says the story, did 
talk through the chink of a wall. 

Snug. You never can bring in a wall. — 
What say you. Bottom ? 

Bot. Some man or other must present wall : 
and let him have some plaster, or some lome, 
or some rough-cast about him, to signify wall ; 
or let him hold his fingers thus, and through 
that cranny shall Pyramus and Thisby whisper. 

Qum. If that may be, then all is well. 
Come, sit down, every mother's son, and re- 
heaiseyour parts. Pyramus, you begin : when 
>ou have spoken your speech, enter into that 
brake * and so every one according to his cue. 
bhiter Puck behind. 

Puck. What hempen home-spuns have we 
swaggering here, 
So near the cradle of the fairy queen ? 
What, a play toward? PU be an auditor; 
An actor too, perhaps, if I see cause. 

^Miw. Speak, Pyramus: — Thisby, stand forth. 

Pyr. Thisby, tkejiotvers of odious savours 

Quin, Odours, odours. [sweety — 

Pyr. odours savours siveet : 

So doth thy hreat/tyjtiy deurestThisby dear. — 
But,hark,a voice! stay thou but here a whi e, 
Ann by and by 1 will to thee appear, [t'xit. 

Puck. A stranger Pyramus than e'er play*d 
here! ^Aside. — Exit. 

This. Must I speak now ? 

Quin. Ay, marry, must you : for you must 
understand, he goes but to see a noise that he 
heard, and is to come again. 

This. Most radiant Pyramus, most lily- 
ivhite of hue, [brier, 

Of colour like the red rose on triumphant 

Most briskly Juvenali, and eke most Lovtly 

Jetv, [never tire, 

As true as truest horse, that yet would 
PU meet thee, Pyramus, at Ninny's turfib. 

Quin. Ninus' tomb, man ; Why you must 
not speak that yet ; that you answer lo Pyra- 
mus: you speak all your part at once, cues j, 
and all. — Pyramus enter; your cue is past; 
it is, never tire. 

Jtie-enter Puck, and Bottom with an ass*s 
head. 

This. O, — As true as truest horse, that 
yet would nerer tire. [thine : — 

Pyr. If I were fair, Thisby, I we^e only 

(^wi7».Omonstrous! Ostrange! we are haunted. 
Pray, masters! fly, masters! help! 

, Exeunt Clowns. 



Puck. PU follow you, Pil lead you about 

a round, [through brier; 

Through bog, through bush, through brake. 

Sometime a horse PU be, sometime a hound, 

A hog, a headless bear sometime a tire ; 
And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and 

burn. 
Like horse, hound, hog, bear, fire, at every turn. 

[Exit, 
Pot. Why do they run away? this is a 
knavery of them, to m-ike me afeard j. 
Re-c?iter -Snout. 
Snout. O Bottom, thou art changed 1 what 
do I sec on thee ? 

Pot. What do you see? you see an ass's 
head of your own ; Do you ? 

Be -enter Quince. 

Quin. Bless thee. Bottom! bless thee! thou 

art translated. [Ea.it, 

Bot, I see their knavery : this is to make 

an ass of me ; to fright me, if they could. Bm 

I will not stir from this place, do what they 

can : I will walk up and down here, and I will 

sing,that they shall hear I am not afraid. [^i//^i. 

The ousel-cock, so black of hue, 

With ora/ige-tawm y bill. 
The throstle with his note so true, 
The wren with little quill ; — 
Tit a. What angel wakes me from my 
flowery bed? [Waking, 

Bot. The finch, the sparrow^ and the lark. 
The pluin-^ong cuckoo\\ gray. 
Whose note full many a man doth mark. 
And dares fiot answer, nay , — 
for, indeed, who would set his wit to so foolish 
a bird? who would give a bird the lie, though 
he cry, cuckao, never so I 

Tita. I pray thee, gentle mortal, sing again: 
Mine ear is much enamour'd of thy note. 
So is mine eye iuthralled to thy shape ; [me. 
And thy fair virtue's force perforce doth move 
On the first view, to say, to swear, I love thee. 
Bot. Methinks, mistress, you should have 
little reason for that : And yet, to say the 
truth, reason and love keep little company to- 
gether now-a-days : The more the pity, that 
some honest neighbours will not make them 
friends. Nay, 1 can gleekH upon occasiou- 
Tita. Thou art as wise as thou art beautiful. 
Bot. Not so, neither: but if I had wit 
enough to get out of this wood, I have enough 
to serve mine own turn. 

Tit a. Out of this wood do not desire to go ; 
Thou shalt remain here,w hether thou wilt or no. 
I am a spirit, of no common rate ; 
The summer still doth tend upon my state, 
And I do love thee : therefore, go with me ; , 
PU give thee fairies to attend on thee ; 
And they shall teich thee jewels from the deep: 
And sing, while thou on pressed flowers dost 

sleep : 
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so. 
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go. [seed I 
Peas blossom ! Cobweb! Moth! and Musiard- 



* Thicket. t Young man. X The last words of the preceding speech, which sei ve a? a 
hint to him who is to j^peak next. $ Afraid. U The cuckoo with his uuiionu uote. ^i JoK.e 



160 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act in 



Enter four Fairies. 

1 FaL Ready. 

2 Fai. And I. 

3 FaL And I. 

4 Fai. Where shall we go? 
l^ita. Bekind and courteous to this gentleman; 

Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes; 
Feed him with apricocks and dewberrit-s *, 
With purple grapes, green figs, and mulberries; 
The honey-bags steal from the huinble-bees, 
And, for night tapers, crop their waxen thighs, 
And light them at the fiery glow-worm's eyes, 
To have my love to bed, and to arise; 
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies, 
To fan the moon-beams from his sleeping eyes : 
Mod to him, elves, and do him courtesies. 

1 FaL Hail, mortal! 

2 FaL Hail 1 

3 FaL Hail 

4 FaL Hail I 

Bot. I cry your worship's mercy, heartily. 
— I beseech, your worship's name. 

Coh. Cobweb. 

Bot. I shall desire yon of more acquaint- 
ance, good master Cobweb : I-f 1 cut my fin- 
ger, I shall make bold with you. — Your name, 
honest gentleman ? 

Peas. Peas-blossom. 

Bot. I pray you, commend me to mistress 
Squash, your mother, and to master Peascod, 
your father. Good master Peas-blossom, I 
shall desire you of more acquaintance too. — 
Your name, I beseech you, sir? 

Mus. Mustard-seed. 

Bot, Good master Mustard-seed, I know 
your patience well: that same cowardly, giant- 
like ox-beef hath devoured many a gentleman 
of your house: 1 promise you, your kindred 
hath made my eyes water ere now. I desire you 
more acquaintance, good master Mustard-seed. 

Tita. Come, wait upon him ; lead him to 
my bower. [eye ; 

The moon, methinks, looks with a watery 
And when she weepg, weeps every little flower, 

Lamenting some enforced chastity. 

Tie up my love's tongue, bring him silently. 
[Exeu/it, 

SCENE II, Another part of the Wood, 
Enter Oberon. 

Ohe. I wonder, if Titania be awak'd ; 
Then, what it was that next came in her eye. 
Which she must dote on in extremity. 

Enter Puck. [spirit? 

Here comes my messenger. — How now, mad 
What iiight-rnletnowabont this haunted grove? 

Pack. My mistress with a monster is in love. 
Near to her close and con-ecrated bower, 
VV hile slie was in her dull and sleeping hour, 
A crew of patches J, rude mechanicals, 
That work for bread upon Athenian stalls. 
Were met together to rehearse a play. 
Intended for great Theseus' nuptial day. 
The shallowest thick skin of that barren sort§, 
Who P> ramus presented, in their sport 



Forsook hig scene, and entei-'d in a brake: 
When I did him at this advantage take, 
An ass's nowl|| I fixed on his head ; 
Anon, his Thisbe must be answered, [him spy 
And forth my mimicU conns: When they 
As wild geese that the creeping fowler eye, 
Or russet-pated choughs, many in sort. 
Rising and cawing at the gun's report, 
Sever themselves, and madly sweep the sky; 
So, at his sight, away his fellows fly : 
And, at our stamp, here o'er and o'er one falls ; 
He murder cries, and help from Athens calls. 
Their sense, thus weak, lost with their fears, 

thus strong. 
Made senseless things begin to do them wrong ; 
For briers and thorns at their apparel snatch ; 
Some, sleeves ; some, hats; from yielders all 

things catch. 
I led them on in this distracted fear, 
And left sweet Py ramus translated there : 
V\ hen in that moment (so it came to pass,) 
Titania wak'd, and straightway lov'd an a«s. 

Obe. Thisfallsout better than I could devise. 
But hast thou yet latch'd ** the Athenian's eyes 
With the love-juice, as I did bid thee do 1 

Puck. I took him sleeping, — that is finish'd 
And the Athenian woman by his side ; [too, — 
That, when he wak'd, of force she must be ey'd. 
Enter Demetrius and Hermia. 

Obe. Stand clo.se ; this is the same Athenian. 

Puck.This, is the woman,but not this the man. 

Dem. (), why rebuke you him that loves you 
Lay breath so bitter on your bitter foe. [so? 

Her. Now I but chide, but I should use 
thee worse ; 
For thou, 1 fear, hast given me cause to curse. 
If thou hast slain Lysander in his sleep. 
Being o'er shoes in blood, plunge in the deep. 
And kili me too. 

The sun was not so true unto the day, 
As he to me : Would he have stol'n away 
From sleeping Hermia? I'll believe as soon, 
This whole earth may be bor'd; and that the 

moon 
May through the centre creep, and so displease 
Her brother's noon-tide with the Antipodes. 
It cannot be, but thou hast murder'd him ; 
So should a nmrderer look ; so dead, so grira. 

Dem. So should the murder'd look ; and i » 

should I, [elty 

Pierc'd through the heart with your stern cr* 

Yet you, the murderer, look as bright, as cleai 

As yonder Venus in her glimmering sphere. 

//er.What'sthisto my Lysander? where is he. 
Ah, good Deraetrins, wilt tht)u give him me? 

Dem. I had rather give his carcase to mj 
hounds. [past the bounda 

Her. Out, dog! out, cur! thou driv'st me 
Of maiden's patience. Hast, thou slain him then? 
Henceforth be never number'd among men! 
O! once tell true, tell true, even for my sake; 
Durst thou have look'd upon him, being awake. 
And h^it thou kill'd him sleeping? O brave 

touch tt! 
Could not a worm, an adder, do so much t ' 



' Goosttbenies. f Revelry. X Simple fellows. i Stupid company. 
^ Actor. •• Infected tt Exph.it. 



II Head. 



Scene II.] 



MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS DREAM. 



161 



All adder did it ; for with doubier tongue 
Than thine, thou serpent, never adder stung. 
Dem. You spend your passion on a mis- 
prisM * mood : 
I am not guilty of Lysander's blood; 
Nor is he dead, for au^ht that I can tell. 
IIe7\ 1 pray thee, tell me then that he is 
well. [therefore ? 

Vem. And if I could, what should I get 
Her. A privilege, never to see me more. — 
And from thy hated presence part I so : 
See me no more, whether he be dead or no. [/w. 
Dem. There is no following her in this fierce 
Here,therefore,for a while I will remain, [vein; 
So sorrow's heaviness doth heavier grow 
For debt that bankrupt sleep doth sorrow owe; 
Which now, in some slight measure it will 
If for his tender here I make some stay, [pay, 
[Lies down. 
Obe. What hast thou done? thou hast mis- 
taken quite, [sight : 
And laid the love juice on some true-love's 
Of thy misprision must perforce ensue [true. 
Some true-love turn'd, and not a false luni'd 
Puck. Then fate o'er-rules ; that, one man 
holding troth, 
A million fail, confounding oath on oath. 

0!>e. About the wood go swifter than the 
And Helena of Athens look thou find : [wind, 
All fancy sickT she is, and pale of cheer j 
With sighs of love, that cost the fresh blood 
By some illusion see thou bring her here ; [dear: 
Pll charm his eyes, against she do appear. 

Puck. I go, I go ; look, how I go ; 
Swifterthan arrow from theTartar's how.lExit. 
Obe. Flower of this purple die, 
Hit with Cupid's archery. 
Sink in apple of his eye ! 
When his love he doth espy, 
Let her shine as gloriously 
As the Venus of the sky. — 
When thou w ak'st, if she be by. 
Beg of her for remedy. 

Re-enter Puck. 
Puck. Captam of our fairy band, 
Helena is here at hand ; 
And the youth, mistook by me. 
Pleading for a lovei's fee ; 
Shall we their fond pageant sec? 
Lord, what tools these mortals be ! 

Obe. IStand aside: the noise they make, 
Will cause Demetrius to awake. 

Puck, i hen will two at once, woo one ; 
That must nee 's be sport alone; 
And those things do best please me. 
That, befal preposterously. 
Enter Lys\n;vER <ind Hef-kna. 
Lys. Why should you think, that I should 

woo in scorn 1 
Scorn and derision never come in tears : 
Look, whrri I vow, I weep ; and vows so born, 

In their nativity all truth appears. 
How can these things in me seem scorn to you, 
Bearing the badge of faith, to prove tliem true? 
Hel. You (U) advance your cunning more 
and more. 



When truth kills truth, O devilish holy fray ' 

These vows are Heimi.t's; Will you give her 

o'er ? [weigh : 

Weigh oath with oath, and you will m.lhing 

Your vows, to her and me, put in two scales. 

Will even weigh, and both as light as tales. 

Lys. I had no judgment, when to her I 

swore. [her o'er. 

Hel. Nor none, in my mind, now you give 

Liys. Demetrius loves her, and he loves not 

you. [perfect, divine ! 

D(in. {aivakiiigJ] O Helen, goddess, nymph. 

To what, my love, shall I compare thine eyne? 

Crystal is muddy. O, how ripe in show 

Thy lips, those kissing cherries, tempting grow I 

That pure congealed white, high Taurus' snow, 

Fann'd with the eastern wind turns to a crow. 

When thou hold'st up thy hand: O let me kiss 

This princess of pure white, this seal of bliss I 

Ilet. O spite! O hell! 1 see you all are bent 
To set against me, for your merriment. 
If you \^ ere civil, and knew courtesy, 
You would not do me thus much injury. 
Can you not hate me, as I know you do, 
But you must join, in souls §, to mock me too? 
If you were men, as men you are in show. 
You would not use a gentle lady so ; 
To vow, and swear, and superpraise my parts. 
When, I am sure, you hate me with your hearts. 
You both are rivals, and love Hermia ; 
And now both rivals, to mock Helena : 
A trim exploit, a manly enterp se. 
To conjure tears up in a poor maid's eyes, 
With your derision 1 none, of noble sortfj. 
Would so offend a viigin; and extort 
A poor soul's patience, all to make you sport. 
Lys. You are unkind, Demetrius; be not so; 
Foryou love Hermia! this, you know, I know: 
And here, with all good will, with all my heart. 
In Hermia's love I yield you up my part; 
And yours of Helena to me bequeath. 
Whom I do love, and will do to my death. 
Hel. Never did mockers waste more idle 
breath. [none; 

Dem. Lysander, keep thy Hermia; [ will 
If e'er I lov'd her, all that love is gone. 
My heart with her but, as guest-wise, sojourn'd; 
And now to Helen is it home returned. 
There to remain. 

Lys. Helen, it is not so. 

Dem. Disparage not the faith thou dost not 
Lest, to thy peril, thou aby it dearU. [know, 
LookjWherethy lovecomes ;yonderisthy dear. 
Enter Hermia. [tion takes. 

Her. Dark night, that from the eye his func- 
The ear more quick of apprehension makes; 
Wherein it doth impair the seeing sense. 
It pays the hearing double recompense ; — 
Thou art not by mine eye, Lysander, found ; 
Mine ear, 1 thank it, brought me to thy sound. 
Bat why unkindly didst thou leave me so I 
Lys. Why should he stay, whom love doth 
press to go? [my side.' 

Her. What love could press Lysander fronr* 
Lys. Lysander's love, that would not let him 
bide. 



* Mistaken, t L'.>ve-sick. % Countenance. § Heartily. 



I Degree, f Pay dearly for it. 
P3 



132 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act III. 



Fair Helena; who more engilds the nis^ht 
I'han all you fiery oes * and eyes of litiht. 
Why seek'stihou mei could not this make thee 

knoNV, 
The hate 1 bear thee made me leave thee so ? 

Her. You speak not as you think ; it cannot 

Ilel. Lo, she is one of this confederacy ! [be. 
Now I perceive they have conjoined, all three, 
To fashion this talse sport in spite of me. 
Injurious Hermia 1 must ungrateful maid! 
Have you conspir'd, have you with these con- 
To bait «ne with this foul derision ? [triy'd 
Is all the counsel that we two have shar'd, 
The sisters' vows, the hours that we have spent, 
When we have chid the hasty-f30ted time 
For parting us, — O, and is all forgot? 
All school-days' friendship, childhood inno- 
cence I 
We, Hermia. like two artificial t gods, 
Have withourneeldsj created both one flower, 
Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion, 
Both warbling of one song, b th in one key ; 
As if our hands, our sides, voices, and minds, 
Had been incorporate. So we grew together, 
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted ; 
But yet a union in partition. 
Two lovely berries moulded on one stem : 
So, with two seeming bodies, but one heart ; 
Two of the first, like coiits in heraldry. 
Due but to one, and crowned with one crest. 
And will you rent our ancient love asunder, 
To join with men in scorning your poor friend? 
Jt is not fiiendiy, 'tis not maidenly : 
Oar sex, as wtll as I, may chide you for it; 
Though 1 alone <lo feel the injury. 

JJer. I am amazed at your passionate words : 
I scorn you not ; it seems that you scorn me. 

Hel. Have you not set Lysander.asinscorn, 
To follow me, and praise my eyes and face? 
And made your other love, Demetrius, 
( VVhoeven but now did spurn me with his foot,) 
To call me goddess, nyinpli, divine, and rare, 
Precious, cel»-siial i VVheiefore speaks he this 
To her he hates I and wherefore doth Lysander 
De'iy your love, so rich within his soul. 
And tender me, forsooth, atfection; 
Btil by your sntiiig on, by your consent? 
What ihoui^h I be not so in urace as you. 
So hung upon with love, .so fortunate; 
But miserable most, to love unlov'd ? 
This >ou should pity, rather than despise. 

yi»r. I understand not whatyou mean by this. 

/let. Ay, do, pcrsever, counterfeit sad looks. 
Make mows) upon me when I turn my back; 
Wink at each other ; hold the sweet jest up: 
This sport, well carried, shall be chronicled. 
If you have any pity, grace, or manners. 
You would not make me such an argument. 
But, tare ye well : 'tis partly mine own taiilt ; 
Which death, or absence, soon shall remedy. 

/>?/.?. Stay, gentle Helena ; hear my excuse ; 
My love, niy life, my soul, fair Helena! 

Hel. O excellent ! 

Jler, Sweet, do not scorn her io^ 

JJeni. If she cannot entreat, I can compel. 



Lys. Thou canst compel no nK>re than sue 
entreat; [weak prayers. — • 

Thy threats have no more strength, than her 
Helen, I love thee ; by my life, I do ; 
1 swear by that which 1 will lose for thee, 
To prove him false, that says I love thee not. 

Dem. I say, I love thee more than he can do. 

J^ys. If thou say so, withdraw, and prove 

Dem, Quick, come, — [it too. 

Her. Lysander, whereto tends all this? 

Lys. Away, you Ethiop ! 

Dem, No, no, sir: — he will 

Seem to break loose; take on, as you would 

follow ; 
But yet come not: You are a tame man, go I 

Lys. Hang otf, thou cat, thou burr: vile 
thing let loose ; 
Or I will shake theie from me, like a serpent. 

Her. Why are you grown *o rude? what 
Sweet love? [change is this, 

Ijys. Thy love ? out, tawny Tartar, out ! 
Out, loathed medicine ! hated potion, hence ! 

Her. Do you not jest? 

Hel. Yes, 'sooth ; and so do you. 

Lys. Demetrius, I will keep my word with 
thee. [ceive, 

Dem. I would, I had your bond; for, I per- 

A weak bond holds you; I'll not trust your 

word. [kill her dead? 

Lys. What should I hurt her, strike her, 
Although I hate her, I'll not harm her so. 

Her. What, can you do me greater harm, 
than hate? [love? 

Hate me! wherefore? O me! what news, my 
Am not I Hermia? Are not you Lysander? 
I am as fair now, as I was erewhile. [left me : 
Since night, you lov'd n;e; yet, since night you 
Why, then you left me,— O, the gods forbid ! — 
In earnest, shall I say? 

Lys. Ay, by my life ; 

And never did desire to see tiiee more. 
Therefore, be out of hope, of question, doubt, 
Be certain, nothing truer; 'tis no jest. 
That I do hate thee, and love Helena. [som[I! 

Her. O me! you juggler' you canker-blos- 
You thief of love! what, have you come by 
And stolen my love's heart from him? [night. 

Hi t. Fine, i'raiili I 

Have you no modesty, no maiden shame, 
No touch of bashfulness? What, will you tear 
Impatient answers from my gentle tongue? 
Fie, fie ! you counterfeit,you pu ppel you! [game. 

Her. Puppet! why so i Ay, that way goes the 
Now I perceive that she hath made coinpaie 
Hetween ourstaturtis, she hath urg'd her hei-ht ; 
And with her personage, her tall personage. 
Her height, forsooth, she hath prevail'd with 

him. — 
And are you grown so high in his esteem, 
Because I am so dwarfish, and so low ? 
How Uiwam 1 I thou painted maypole? speak ; 
How low an» I ? I am not yet so low, 
Bot that my nails can reach unto thine eyes. 

Hel. I pray you, though you mock me, geiiti e- 
Let her not hurt me: I was never curst 1i ; [men, 



• Circle*. t Ingenious. J Needles. $ Wry faces. y A worm that prey? on 
buds of flowers. IF Shrewish or mischievoui. 



Scene II.] 



IVIIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S due a 31. 



153 



■ have no gift at all in shrewishness ; 
1 am a right mail for my cowardice ; [think, 
Ltt her not strike me : You, perhaps, may 
Bei aiise she's something lower than myself. 
That I can match her. 

Her. Lower ! hark, again. 

Hel. Good Hermia, do not be so bitter with 
I evermore did love you, Hermia, [me, 

Did ever keep your counsels, never wrong'd 
^ ave, that, in iove unto Demetrius, [you; 
I told him of your stealth unto this wood : 
He foUow'd yon ; for love, I follow'd him. 
But he hath chid me hence ; and threaten'd me 
To strike me, spurn me, nay, to kill me too : 
And now, so you will let me quiet go. 
To Athens will I bear my folly back. 
And follow you no further : Let me go : 
You see how simple and how fond* I am. 
JIe7'. Why, get you gone: Who is't that 
hinders you? [hind. 

Hel. A foolish heart, that I leave here be- 
Her. What, with Lysander? 
Hel. With Demetrius. 

Lys. Be not afraid : she shall not harm thee, 
Helena. [take her part. 

Dent. No, sir; she shall not, though you 
Hel. O, when she's angry, she is keen and 
shrewd : 
She was a vixen, when she went to school ; 
And, though she be but little, she is fierce. 

Her. Little again? nothing but low and little? — 
Why will you suffer her to flout me thus? 
Let me come to her. 

Lys. Get you gone, you dwarf; 

You minimus, of hindering knot-grasst made; 
You bead, you acorn. 

Hem. You are too officious. 

In her behalf that scorns your services. 
Let her alone ; speak not of Helena ; 
Take not her part : for if thou dost intend J 
Never so little show of love to her. 
Thou shalt aby it. 

Li/s. Now she holds me not ; 

Now follow, if thou dar'st, to try whose right, 
Or thine or mine, is most in Helena. 
Dem. Follow? nay I'll go with thee, cheek 
byjole. [Ezeu/U liYs. andDEM. 

T^fr.You. mistress, all this coil is *long of you : 
^ay, go not back. 

^Jel. I will not trust you, I ; 

Nor longer stay in your curst company. 
Your hands, than mine, are quicker for a fray ; 
My legs are longer though, to run away. [Exit. 
Her. 1 am amaz'd, and know not what to say. 
[Exit, pursuing Helena. 
Obe. This is thy negligence : still thou 
mistak'si. 
Or else committ'st thy knaveries wilfully. 
Puck. Believe me, king of shadows, I 
mistook. 
Did not you tell me, I should know the man 
By the Athenian garments he had on? 
And so far blameless proves my enterprise. 
That I have'nointed an Athenian's eyes: 



And so far am I glad it so did sort$. 
As this their jangling I esteem a sport. 

Obe. Thou seest, theae lovers seek a plact 
to fight : 
Hie therefore, Robin, overcast the night; 
The starry welkin cover thou anon 
With drooping fog, as bla<:k as Acheron ; 
And lead these testy rivals so astray. 
As one come not within another's way. 
Like to Lysander sometime frame thy tongue. 
Then stir Demetrius up with bitter wrong ; 
And sometime rail thou like Demetrius ; 
And from each other look thou lead them thus, 
Till o'er their brows death-counterfeiting sleep 
W'th leaden legs and batty wings doth creep': 
Then crush this herb into Lysander's eye; 
Whose liquor hath this virtuous property li. 
To take from thence all error, with his might. 
And make his eye-balls roll with wonted sight. 
When they next wake, all this derision 
Shall seem a dream, and fruitless vision ; 
And back to Athens shall the lovers wend IT, 
With league, whose date till death shall never 
Whiles 1 in this atfair do thee employ, [end, 
I'll to my queen, and beg her Indian boy ; 
And then I will her charmed eye release 
From monster's view, and all things shall be 
peace. [haste ; 

Puck. My fairy lord, this must be done with 
For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full 
And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger; [fast. 
At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here 

and there. 
Troop home to church-yards: damned spirits 
That in cross-ways and floods have burial, [all. 
Already to tiieir wormy beds ai'e gone; 
For fear lest day should look their shames upon. 
They wilfully themselves exile from light. 
And must for aye consort with biack-brow'd 
nii,ht. 
Obe. But we are spirits of anothersort : 
I with the Morning's Love** have oft made 

sport; 
And, like a forester, the groves may tread. 
Even till the eastern gate, all fiery red. 
Opening on Neptune with fair blessed beams. 
Turns into yellow gold his salt-green streams. 
But, notwitlistanding, haste ; make no delay : 
We may effect this business yet ere day. 

[Edit Oberon. 
Puck. Up and down, up and down ; 

I will lead them up and down : 
I am fear'd in field and town ; 
Goblin, lead them up and down. 
Here comes one. 

Enter Lysander. 
Lys, Where art thou, proud Demetrius? 
speak thou now. [Where art thou ? 

Puck. Here, villain ; drawn and ready. 
Lys. 1 will be with thee straight. 
Puck. Follow me then 

To plainer ground. 

{Exit Lys. as following the voice. 



Foolish. t Anciently, knot-grass was believed to prevent the growth of cliildreu. 

X Pretend. § Happen. t| Medicinal efficacy. H Go 

•• Cephalus, the paramour of Aurora. 



154 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV. 



Enter Dkmitrius. 

Dem. Lysander! speak agam. 

Thou runaway, thou coward, art thou fled { 
Soeak In some bush % Where dost thou hide 
^ th> head^ [t.estai^, 

Pmc/c. Thou coward, art thou bragging to 
Telling the bushes that thou look'st for wars, 
And wilt not corned Conie, recreant; come, 

thou child ; , „ • ^ cxja 

I'll whip thee with a rod : He is defil a, 
Th^t^d^raws a sword on thee. ^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^^, 

Puck. Follow my voice; we'll ^ry no 

manhood here. {ILxcuni. 

Be-enter Lysander. 

/ W9 He goes before me,and still dares me on ; 

When 1 come where he calls, then he is 

The viflafn is much lighter heelM than I : 
1 foUow'd fast, but faster he did fly ; 
That fallen am I in dark uneven way, 
And here will re.t me. Come, thou gentle day ! 

For if but once thou show me thy gray light, 
I'll tind Demetrius, and revenge this spue^ ^ 

/?e-fw«er Puck awd Demetrius. 
Puck. Ho,ho! ho,hol Coward, why com st 
thou not ? , . ^ 11 

Vem. Abide me, if thou dar'st ; for well 

Thou run'Ii'^st* before me, shifting every place ; 
And dar'st not stand, nor iook me in the tace. 
Where art thou i _ , 

Pnck, Come hither ; I am here. 

Dem. Nay, then thou mock'st me. Ihou 
Shalt buy this dear. 
If ever I thy face by day light see : 
Now, go thy way. FHintnessconstramethme 
To measure out my length on this cold bed.- 
Bv day's approach look to be visited. 



Enter H plena. 
Hcl O weary night,0 long and tedious night. 
Abate thy hours: shine, comlorts, Horn 
the east ; j i- i * 

That I may back to Athens, by day-light 

From thesethat my poor company detest .- 
And sleep, that sometimes shuts up sorrow s 



Steal me'awhile from mine own ^^^P^.^^y^^^ [ 

Puck. Yet but three 1 Come one more ; 

Two of both kinds makes up tour. 
Here she comes, curst and sad: — 
Cupid is a knavish lad, 
Thus to make poor females mad. 
Enter Her mi a. 
Her. Never so weary, never sol n woe. 
Bedabbled with the dew, and torn with 
briers ; , ., ^ . 

I can no further crawl, no further go , 

Mv legs can keep no pace with my desires. 
Here willl rest me, till the break of day. 
lleaveTis shie'd Lysander, it they mean a tray I 
uea\enssuicAx j [Lies down. 

Puck. On the ground 

Sleep sound : 

I'll apply 

To your eye. 
Gentle lover, remedy. 
{Squeezini^ tliejuiceon Lysander s eye. 

When thou wak'st, 

Thou tak'st 

True delight 

In the sight 
Of thy former lady's eye : 
And the country P'-^yf ^^"°.^''"'„„ 
That every man should take his own. 
In your waking shall be shown: 

Jack shall have Jill; 

Nought shall go ill; l^^,7"- 

The man shall have his -^-^iXlCtc sletv 
[Exit Puck.— Dem. Hel. ^c siecy 



ACT IV. 



SCENE L The same. | 

Enter Tifania atid Bottom, Fairies at-\ 
tending ; Oberon behmd unseen. 
Tit a. Come, sit thee down u pon this flowery 
l^ed, , ^ 

While I thy amiable cheeks do coy •, 
Amlslickmu k-roi<esiu thy sleek smooth head. 
And kiss thy tair large ear8,n.y gentlejoy. 
Bill. V\ here's Teas-blossoin f 
Peas. Ready. _ 

not. Scratch my head, Peas-blossom.— 
Where's monsieur Cobweb t 

Ba'. ^Monsieur Cobweb; good monsieur 
let your weapons in your hand, and kill me 
i red-hipped humble-bee on the top of«^'"«^'«' 
«nd, trood monsieur, bring me the honc>-bag. 
Do not fret yourself too much m the action 
monsieur ; and, good monsieur, have a care 

# Strtike. 



the honey-bag break not ; I would be loth 
to have Nou overflown with a honey^g. 
si^^nior.-Where's monsieur Mustard-seed J 

l/oTGi^emeyourneif+.monsie«rMust.rd. 
.ec^l P.ay you, leave your courteey. good 
monsieur. , 

,i///w/ What's your will i 

io/ Nolldnii. »ood monsieur, but to help 
cavitrocibw-^b^o scratch. I must to the 
barber's, nK>nsienr ; for, methinks, 1 am mar 
vellons hairy about the face : and 1 am sucn 
a tender a.s! if my hair do but tickle me, I 

"'TLa^'whit, wilt thou hear some music, my 

^o/Tliavrl reasonable good ear in 
nu^ic • let as have the tongs and the bones 
tL*. Or,8ay, sweet love, what thou dcsn |t 
I to eat. 



t FUt 



S'-ene /.] 



MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DREAM. 



165 



Bot. Truly, a peck of provender ; I could 
munch your good dry oats. Melhinks,! have 
a great desire to a bottle of hay: good hay, 
sweet hay, hath no fellow. 

Tita. I have a venturous f dry that shall seek 
The squirrel's hoards and fetch thee nevjr nuts. 

Bot. I had rather have a handful, or two, 
of dried peas. But, I pray you, let none of 
your people stir me; I have an exposition of 
sleep come upun me. [my arms. 

Tita. Sleep thou, and I will wind thee in 
Fairies, be gone, and be all ways away. 
So doth the woodbine, the sweet honeysuckle, 
t-ently entwist, — the female ivy so 
Enritigs the barky fingers of the elm. 
O, how 1 love thee ! how I dote on thee ! 

[They sleep. 
Oberon advances. Enter Pock. 

Obe. Welcoine, good Robin. See'st thou 
this sweet si^ht '? 
Her dotage now 1 do begin to pity. 
For meeting her of late, behind the wood, 
Seeking sweet savours for this hateful fool, 
I did upbraid her, and fall out with her : 
For she his hairy temples then had rounded 
With coronet of fresh and fragrant flowers ; 
And thnt same deWjWhich sometime on the buds. 
Was wont to swell, like round and orient 

pearls. 
Stood now within the pretty fiow'ret's eyes. 
Like tears, that did their own disgrace bewail. 
When I had, at ray pleasure, taunted her, 
And she, in mild terms, begg'd niy patience, 
I then did ask of her her chant;eling child ; 
Which straight she gave me, and her fairy sent 
To bear him to my bower in fairy land. 
And now I have the boy, I will undo 
This hateful ii".perfection of her eyes. 
And, gentle Puck, take this transformed scalp 
From off the head of this Athenian swain; 
Ihat he awaking when the other do, 
May all to Athens back again repair; 
And think no more of this night's accidents, 
But as the fierce vexation of a dream. 
But fit st I will release the fairy queen. 
Be, as thou wast wout to be ; 

[Touching her eyes with an herb. 
See, as thou wast wont to see: 
Dian's bud o'er Cupid's flower 
Hath such force and blessed power. 
Now, my Titauia ; wake you, my sweet queen. 

Tita. My Oberon! what visions have I seen I 
Methought, I was enamour'd of an ass. 

Obe. There lies your love. 

Tita, How came these things to pass 1 

O, how mine eyes do loath his visage now ! 

Obe. Silence, awhile. — Robin, take off this 
head. — 
Titania, music call ; and strike more dead 
Than common sleep, of ail these five the sense. 

Tita. Ai usic, ho ! music; sucii as charineth 
sleep. [own fool's eyes peep. 

Pack. i\ow, when thou wak'st, with ihiiic 

Obe, Sound, music. [Still music.\ Come, my 

queen, take hands with me, [be. 

And rock the ground whereon these sleepers 



Now thou and I are new in amity ; 

And will, to-morrow midnight, solemnly. 

Dance in duke Theseus* house triumphantly. 

And bless it to all fair posterity: 

There shall the pairs of faithful lovers be 

Wedded, with Theseus, all in jollity. 

Puck. Fairy king, attend and mark; 

I do hear the morning lark. 

Obe. Then, my queen, in silence sad. 

Trip we after the night's shade : 

We the globe can compass soon, 

Swifter than the wand'ring moon. 
Tita. Come, my lord ; and in our flight. 

Tell me how it came this night. 

That I sleeping here was found, 

With these mortals, on the ground. \Exeunt, 
[Horns sound tvithUu 

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Egeus, 
and train. 

The. Go, one of you, find out the forester ;— 
For now our observation is perform'd: 
And since we have the vaward * of the day, 
My love shall hear the music of my hounds. — 
Uncouple in the western valley ; go : 
Despatch, I say, and find the forester. — 
We will, fair queen, up to the mountain's top, 
And mark the musical confusion 
Ot hounds and echo in conjunction. 

Hip. I was with Hercules, and Cadmug, once, 
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the bear 
With hounds of Sparta : never did I hear 
Such gallant chiding t ; for, besides the groves. 
The skies, the fountains, every region near 
Seem'd all one mutual cry : 1 never heard 
So musical a discord, such sw eet thunder. 

'ihe. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan 
kind, [hung 

So fiew'dj, so sanded; and their heads are 
With ears that sweep away the morning dew; 
Crook-knee'd, and dew lapp'd like Thessalian 
bulls; [bells, 

Slow in pursuit, but match'd in mouth like 
Each under each. A cry more tuneable 
Was never holla'd to, nor cheer'd with horn. 
In Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly : 
Judge, when you hear. — But, soft; what 
nymphs are these? 

Ege. My lord, this is my daughter here asleep: 
And this, Lysander; this Demetrius is; 
This Helena, old Nedar's Helena: 
I wonder of their being here together. 

The. No doubt, they rose up early, to observe 
The rite of May ; and, hearing our intent, 
Came here in grace of our solemnity. — 
But, speak, i-geus ; is not this the day 
That Hermia should give answer of her choice? 

Ege, It is, my lo) d. [tneir horns. 

The. Go, bid the huntsmen wake them with 
HoniSy and shout uithin. Demejrius, 

Lysandkr, Hekmia, and Helena, ivuke 

and start up. 

The. Good -morrow, friends. Saint Valen- 
tine is past ; 
Begin these wood birds but to couple now? 

Lys. Pardon, my lord. 

{Fie and the rest kneel *o Theseus. 



• Forepait. 



+ Sound. 



t The flues are the large chaps of a hound. 



i66 



8HAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV 



The. I pray you all, stand up. 

I kaovT, you are two rival enemies ; 
tlow conies this gentle concord in the world, 
Tbat hatred is so far from jealousy, 
To sleep by hate, and fear no enmity ? 

J^ys. My lord, I shall reply aniazedly. 
Half 'sleep, half waking: But, as yet, I swear, 
T cannot truly say how I came here : 
iiut. as I think, (for truly would I speak, — 
Ana now I do bethink me, so it is;) 
1 came with Herniia hither: our intent 
Was, to be gone from Athens, where we might 
Without the peril of the Athenian law. [be 

Ji^ge. Enough, enough, my lord ; you have 
enough : 
I beg the law, the law, upon his head. — 
They would have stolen away, they would, 

Demetrius, 
Thereby to have defeated yon and me : 
You, of your wife ; and me, of my consent ; 
Of my consent that she should be your wife. 

Jhm. My lord, fair Helen told me of their 
stealth. 
Of this their purpose hither, to this wood ; 
And I in fury hither follow'd them; 
Fair Helena in fancy* following me. 
But my good lord, 1 wot not by what power, 
(But by some power it is,) my love to Her- 

mia. 
Melted as doth the snow, seems to me now 
As the remembrance of an idle gawd t, 
Which in my childhood 1 did dole upon : 
And all the faith, the virtue of my heart. 
The object, and the pleasure of mine eye, 
Is only Helena. To her, my lord. 
Was 1 betroth'd ere 1 saw Hermia: 
But, like in sickness, did I loath this food: 
But, as in health, come to my natural taste, 
Now do I wish it, love it, long for it. 
And will for evermore be nue to it. 

The. Fair lovers, you are fortunately met: 
Of tt\is discourse we more will hear anon. — 
Egeus, 1 will overbear your will ; 
For in the temple, by and by with us. 
These couples shall eternally be knit. 
And, for the morning now is soniething worn. 
Our purpos'd hunting shall be set aside.— 
Away, with us, to Athens : Three and three. 
We'll hold a feast in great solemnity. — 
Come, Hippolyta. 

. [Exeunt The. Hip. Ege. anri train. 

Dem. These things seem small, and undis- 
tinguishable, 
Like far o!f mountains turned into clouds. 

Her> Methinks, I see thest- things with parted 
When every thing seems double. L<?ye, 

Ilel. So methinks: 

And 1 have found Demetrius like a jewel, 
Mine own, and not mine own. 

Dem. It seems to me. 

That yet we sleep, we dream. — Do not you 

think, 
The duke was here, and bid ns follow him? 

Her. Yea ; and my father. 

Hel. And Hippolyta. 

Lys. And he did bid us follow to the temple. 

• Lovo. 



Dem. Why then, we are awake ; let's foi 
low him ; 
And, by the way, let us recount our dreams. 

{Exeunt, 
As they go ovt. Bottom awakes. 

Bot. When my cue comes, call me, and 1 
will answer : — my next is. Most fair Fyra- 
mus. — Hey, ho ! — Peter Quince! Flute, the 
bellows-mender! Snout, the tinker! Starve- 
ling! God's my life! stolen hence, and left me 
asleep! I have had a most rare vision. 1 have 
had a dream, — past the wit of man to say 
what dream it was : Man is but an ass, if he 
go about to expound this dream. Methought 
I was — there is no man can tell what. Me- 
thought I was, and methought I had, — But, 
man is but a patched fool, if he will offer to 
say what methought I had. The eye of man 
hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen ; 
man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to 
conceive, nor his heart to report, what my 
dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write 
a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bot- 
tom's Dream, because it hath no bottom ; and 
I will sing it in the latter end of a play, before 
the duke : Peradventure, to make it the more 
gracious, 1 shall sing it after death. [Elxit. 

SCENE TL 
Athens. A Room in Quince's House. 

Enter Quince, Flute, Snout, and 
Starveling. 

Quin, Have you sent to Bottom's house? ia 
he come home yet? 

Star. He cannot be heard of. Out of doubt, 
he is transported. 

Flu. If he come not, then the play is mar 
red ; It goes not forward, doth it? 

Quifi. It is not possible : you have not a 
man in all Athens, able to discharge P> ramus, 
but he. 

Flu. No ; he hath simply the best wit of 
any handicraft man in Athens. 

Quin. Yea, and the best person too: and he 
is a very paramour, for a sweet voice. 

Flu. \o\x must say, paragon: a paramour 
is, God bless us, a thing of nought. 
Enter Snug. 

Snug. Masters, the duke is coming from the 
temple, and there is two or three lords and 
ladies more married: if our sport had gone 
forward, we had all heen made men. 

Flu. O sweet bully Bottom ! Thus hath he 
lost sixpence a-(lay during his life; he couid 
not have 'scaped sixpence a-<lay : an the duke 
had not given him sixpence a-day for playing 
Pyramus, I'll be hanged; he would have de- 
served it: sixpence a-day, in Pyramus, of 
nothing. 

Enter Bottom. 

Bot. Where are these lads? where are these 
hearts? 

Quin, Bottom !— O most courageous day 1 
O most happy hour! 

Bot. Mrt^tels, 1 am to discourse wondero; 
but ask me not what ; for, if 1 tcU yoo, 1 aw 

t Toy. 



MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S DRKAM. 



167 



no true Athenian. I will tell you every thing, 
right as it fell out. 

Quin. Let us hear, sweet Bottom. 

Bot. Not a word of me. All that I will 
tell yon, is, that the duke hath dined: Get 
your apparel together; good strings to >our 
beards, new ribbons to your pumps ; meet 
presently at the palace ; every man look o*er 
his part ; for, the short and the long is, our 



play is preferred. In any case, let Thisby 
have clean linen; and let not him, that plays 
the lion, pare his nails, for they shall hang; out 
for the lion's claws. And, most dear actors, 
eat no onions, nor garlick, for we are to uiier 
sweet breath ; and I do not doubt, but to hear 
them say, it is a sweet comedy. No more 
words ; away ; go, away. 

{Exeunt* 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. The same. An Apartment in 
the Palace of Theseus. 

Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Philo- 
STRATE, Lords, and Attendants. 

Hif. 'Tis strange, my Theseus, that these 
lovers speak of. [believe 

The. More strange than true. I never may 
These antique fables, nor these fairy toys. 
Lovers, and madmen, have such seething brains. 
Such shaping fantasies, that apprthend 
More than cool reason ever comprehends. 
The hmatiC; the lover, and the poet. 
Are of imagination all compact * : 
One sees more devils than vast hell can hold ; 
*1 hat is, the madman : the lover, ail as frantic. 
Sees Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt: 
1 he poet's eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, 
L«»th glance from heaven to earth, from earth 
A nd. as imagination bodies forth [to heaven ; 
1 he forms of things unknown, the poet's pen 
Turns them to shapes, and gives to airy nothing 
A local habitation, and a name, 
.■^nch tricks hath strong imagination ; 
Y\\aX, if it would but apprthend some joy, 
l\ coinprt-hends some brin^er of that joy ; 
Or, in the night, imagining some fear. 
How easy is a bush suppos'd a bear.' [over. 

Hip. But all the story of the night told 
And all their minds transfigur'd so together, 
Mt»re vvitnesseth than fancy's images, 
A nd grov. s to something of great constancy t ; 
tiU, howsoever, stran.e, and admirable. 
Biitir Lysander, Demetrius, Hl.rmia, 
and Helena. 

'J he. Here come the lovers, full of joy and 
mirth. — 
loy . gentle friends ! joy, and fresh days of love, 
Aci ompany your hearts ! 

/.//.s. More than to us 

M ait on your royal walks, your board, your 
bed ! [shall we have. 

The. Come now ; what masks, what dances 
To wear away this long age of three hours. 
Between our after-supper, and bed-time i 
\V here is our usual manager of mirth? 
What revels are in hand? Is there no play, 
To ense the anguish of a torturing hour I 
Call Philostrate. 

Fhiloat, Here, mighty Theseus. 

• Are made of mere imagination. 
% Short account. 



The. Say, what abridgment J have you for 
this evening ? [guile 

What mask? what music? How shall we be- 
The lazy time, if not with some delight? 

thilos. There is a brief j, how many sports 
are ripe; 
Make choice of which your highness will see 
tirst. {Giving a paper. 

The. 7-eads.] The battle ivith. ihe Cenfaurs, 
to ' e \ii7tg 

By an Athenian eunuch to the harp. 
We'll none of that: that 1 have told my lc<;. 
In glory of my kinsman Hercules. 

The riot of the tipsy Bacchanals, 

Teariiig the Thracian si?iger in their rage. 
That is an old device ; and it w^as playM 
When I from Thebes came last a conqueror. 

The thrice three Muses mourning for the 
death 

Of learning, late drceas*d in begi ary. 
That is some saiire, keen, and critical, 
Not sorting v^ith a nuptial ceremony. 

A ttd-uus brief scene (f young Pyramus^ 

And his lore Thi.sbe ; very tragical mirth. 
Merry and tragical? Tedious and brief? 
That is, hot ice, and wonderous strange snow. 
How shall we find the concord uf this discord? 

Philost. A piny there is, my lord, some ten 
words long; 
W hich is as brief as I have known a play ; 
But by ten words, my lord, it is too long; 
Which makes it tedious: for in all the play 
I'here is noi one word apt, one player titled. 
And tragic.il, my noble Uird, it is ; 
For Pyranius therein doth Uiil himself. 
Which, when I saw rehears'd, 1 must confess, 
Made mine eyes water; bat more merry teara 
The pa.^sion of loud laughter never shed. 

The. What are they, lliat do play it? 

Philost. Hard-handed men, that work iia 
Athens here, 
Which never labourM in their niinds till now ; 
And now have toil'd their unbrealh'd|| me- 
mories 
With this same play, against your nuptial. 

Tne. And we wiii hear it. 

Philos. No, my noble lord. 

It is not for you : I have heard it over. 
And it is nothing, nothing in the world ; 
Unless you can find sport in their intents, 



t Stability. 
\ tutxcicjsed. 



X Pastime. 



1G8 



SUAKSPEARE. 



[Act V 



Extremely stretch'd, and conn'd with cruel 
To (\o you service. [p^i»V 

The. I will hear that play ; 

For never any thing can be ami*s, 
When simpleness and duly tender it. 
Go, bring them in; — and take your places, 
ladies. [Exit Philostrate. 

Hip. I love not to see wretchedness o'er- 
And duty in his service perishing. [charg'd, 

The. Why, gentle sweet, you shall gee no 
such thing. [kind. 

Hip. He says, they can do nothing in this 

The. The kinder we, to give them thanks 
for nothing. 
Our sport shall be, to take what they mistake : 
And what poor duty cannot do. 
Noble respect takes it in might, not merit. 
Where I have come, great cl rks have purposed 
To greet me with premeditated welcomes; 
Where I have seen them shiver and look pale. 
Make periods in the midst of sentences, 
Thr<)ttie their practised accent in their fears. 
And, in conclusion, dumbly have broke off, 
Not paying me a welcome: Trust me, sweet. 
Out of this silence, yet, I pickM a welcome; 
And in the modesty of fearful duly 
1 read as much, as from the rattling tongue 
Of saucy and audacious eloquence. 
Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity, 
In least, speak most, to my capjiciiy. 

Enter Philostkate. 
Philost. So please your grace, the prologue 
is addrest ♦. [pets. 

The, Let him approach. [Flourish of trum- 
Entcr Prologue. 
Pro. If we offend, it is with our good will. 
That you should think, we come not to 
oj^end. 
But uir.h good will. To shew our simple skill , 

That is the true bf ginning of ovr md. 
Consider tlien^ we come but in despite. 
^ fi e do 7iot come as minding to content you^ 
Our true intent is. All for your delight. 
We are not here. That you should here 
repent you. 
The actors are at hand; and, by J heir show. 
You shall know all, that you are like to know. 
The. This fellow doth not stand upon points. 
Lys. He hath rid his prologue, like a rougii 
colt, he knows nut the stop. A good moral, 
my lord : It is not enough to speak, but to 
speak true. 

Hip. Indeed he hath played on this pro- 
logue, like a child on a recorder t ; a sound, 
but not in government. 

7V/e. His speech was like a tangled diain ; 
nothing impaired, but all disordered. Who 
is next? 

tlniir Pyramus rtwrfTHisBE, Wall, Moon- 
shine, and Lion, us in dumb show. 
Frol. '* Seniles, perchance, you wonder at 
this show; ' [plain. 

• Bnt wonder on, till trnth make all things 

* 1 his man is Pyramus, if you would know ; 
'* Ihis be.u>tet»us lady Thistjy is, certain. 



" This man, with lime and rough-cast, doth 
present [lovers sunder : 

" Wall, that vile wall which did these 
" And through wall's chink, poor souls, t'ey 
are content [wonder. 

" To whisper ; at the which let no man 
" This man, with lantern, dog, and bush of 
thorn, [know, 

" Presenteth moon shine: for, if you will 
" By moon shine did these lovers think no 
scorn [woo. 

" To meet at Ninns' tomb, there, there to 
" This grisly beast, which by name lion hightj, 
" The trusty Thisby, coming first by night, 
" Did scare away, or rather did affright: 
*' And, as she fled, her mantle she did fall ; 
** Which lion vile with bloody mouth did 
stain : [tall, 

" Anon comes Pyramus, sweet youth, and 
" And tinds his trusty Thisby's mantle 
slain : [blade, 

" Whereat with blade, with bloody blameful 
** He bravely broach'd his boiling bloody 
breast ; 
" And, Thisby tarrying in mulberry shade, 
" His dagger drew, and died. For all the 
rest, [twain, 

" Let lion, moon-shine, wall, and lovers 
" At large discourse, while here they do re- 
main." 
[Exeunt Prol.THisBE,Lion,a«rf Moonshine. 
The. I wonder, if the lion be to speak. 
Dem. No wonder, my lord: one lion may, 
when many asses do. 

Wall. " In this same interlude, it doth be- 

fal, [wall : 

" That I, one Snout by name, present a 

** And such a wall, as 1 would have you 

think, 
" That had in it a cranny'd hole, or chink, 
" Through which the lovers, Pyramus and 

Thisby, 
" Did whisper often very secretly. 
" This loam, this rough-cast, and this stone, 

doth show 
" That I am that same wall; the truth is so : 
** And this the cranny is, right and sinister, 
" Through which the fearful lovers are to 
whisper." 
The. Would yon desire lime and hair to 

speak better? 
Defn. It is the wittiest partition that ever I 
heard discouise, my lord. 

The. Pyramnsdrawsnear the wall : silencel 

Enter Pyramus. 
Pyr. " O grim-look'd night ! O night with 

hue so i)lack ! 
" O night, which ever art, when day is not! 
** O night, U night, alick, alack, alack, 

" I fear my Tiiisl))'* promise is forgot! — 

'* And ihou, 6 wall, O sweet, O lovely wall, 

" That stand'st between her father's gr ound 

and mine ; [wall, 

" Thou wall, O wall, O sweet and lovely 

" Show mc thy chink, to blink through with 

mine ejne. [Wall holds up his Jin^trs 



• lUady. 



t A inu.-lcal instrument. 



Called. 



Sreve /.J 



MlDSUMMER-MGHl S BREiiM. 



169 



" Thanks, courteous wall: Jove shield thee 
well for this ! 
" But what see I? No Thisby do I see. 
** O wicked wall, through whom I see no 
bliss; [me!" 

** Curst be thy stones for thus deceiving 
The. The wall, melhinks, being sensible, 
should curse again. 

Pyr. No, in truth, sir, he should not. De- 
ceiiitig me, is Thisby 's cue : she is to enter 
now, and I am to spy her through the wall. 
You shall see, it will fall pat a.s I told you: — 
Yonder she comes. 

Enter' Thisbe. 
This. *' O wall, full often hast thou heard 

my moans, 
" For parting my fair Pyramus and me,: 
'' My. cherry lips have often kiss'd thy 
stones ; 
** Thy stones with lime and hair knit up 

in thee." 
Pyr. " I see a voice : now will I to the 

chink, 
" To spy an I can hear my Thisby's face. 
'• Thisby V* 

This. " My love ! thou art my love, I 

think." 
Pyr. " Think what thou wilt, I am thy 
lover's grace ; 
** And like Limander am I trusty still." 
This. " And I like Helen, till the fates me 
kill." [true." 

Pyr. '* Not Shafalus to Procrus was so 
This. " As Shafalus to Procrus I to yuu." 
Pyr. ** O, kiss me through the hole of this 

vile wall." 
This. " 1 kiss ihe wall's hole, not your lips 

at all." 
Pyr, " Wilt thou at Ninny's tomb meet me 

straightway ^" 
Tills. " tide life, tide death, I come without 

delay." 
Wall. " Thus have I, wall, my part dis- 
charged so ; [co.'* 
** And, being done, thus wall away doth 
{Exeunt Wall, Pyramus, </;/d Thisek. 
The. Now is the mural down between the 
two neighbours. 

Dern. No remedy, my lord, when walls are 
»o wilful to hear without warning. 

Hip. This is the silliest stutt that ever I 
heard. 

The. The best in tlds kind are but sha- 
dows: and the worst are no wi;rse, if imagin- 
ation amend them. 

Hip. It must beyourimagination then, and 
not theirs. 

The. If we imagine no worse of them, than 
they of themselves, they may pa?s for excel- 
lent men. Here come two noble beasts in, a 
moon and a lion. 

Enter Lion nnd Moonshine. 
Lion; *' You, ladies, >ou, whose gentle 

hearts do fear 
" The smallest monstrous muuselhat creeps 
on floor. 



" May now, perchance, both quake and trem- 
ble here, 

" When lion rough in wildest rage doth 
roar. [am 

" Then know, that I, one Snug the joiner, 
** A lion fell, nor else no lion's dam ; 
" For if I should as lion come in strife 
" Into this place, 'twere pity on my life.*' 

The. A very gentle beast and of a good 
conscience. 

Dem. The very best at a beast, my lord, 
that e'er I saw. 

Lys. This lion is a very fox for his valour. 

The. True; and a goose for his discretion. 

Dem. Not so, my lord : for his valour can- 
not carry his discretion ; and the fox carries 
the goose. 

The. His discretion, I am sure, cannot car- 
ry his valour; for the goose carries not the 
fox. It is well : leave it to his discretioii, 
and let us listen to the moon. 

Moon. " This lantern doth the horned moon 
present :" 

Dem. He should have worn the horns on 
his head. 

The. He is no crescent, and his horns are 
invisible within the circumference. 

Moon. " This lantern doth the horned 
moon present; 
" Myself the man i'the moon do seem to be " 

Ttie. This is the greatest error of all the 
rest : the man should be put into the lantern : 
How is it else the man i' the moon? 

Dem. He dares not come there for the can- 
dle : for, you see, it is already in snuff*. 

Hij). I am aweary of this moon: Would, 
he would change! 

l*lte. It appears, by his small light of dis- 
cretion, that he is in the. wane: but yet, in 
courtesy, ii> all reason, we must stay the tinu , 

J^ys. Proceed, moon. 

Moon. All that I have to say, is, to tell 
you, that the lanteri. is the moon; I,theniarj 
in the moon ; this thorn-bush, my thoru-bu^h 
and this dog, my dog. 

Dtm. Why, all these should be in the lan- 
tern; forthey are in the moon, But,silence 
here comes Thisbe. 

Enter Thisbe. 

This. " This is old Ninny's tomb: Wheixj 
is my love? 

Lion. *' Oh—" 

[TLe Lion roars. — Thisbe runs oj/'. 

Dem. Well roared, lion. 

T/ie. Well iun,Thii-be. 

Hip. Well shone, moon. — Truly, the moou 
shines with a good grace. 

The. Well moused, lion. 
[T/u: Lion teetr^ Thisbe's mantle, and exit, 

Dem. And so come.<^ Py ramus. 

Lys. And then the moon vanishes. 
Enter PvRAMt's. 

Pyr. " Sweet moon, 1 thank thee for thy 
sunny beams ; 

** I thank thee, moon, for shining now so 
bright. 



• In anger; a quibble. 



170 



SllAKSPEARE. 



[Act V. 



** For, by thy gracious, goldew, glillering 
streams, 
" I trust to ta&te of truest Thisby's sight. 
" But stay ;— O spite ! 
" But mark ; — Poor knight, 
" What dreadful dole is here? 
" Eyes, do you see? 
" How cAfl it be? 
" O dainty duck ! O <Iear ! 
" Thy mantle good, 
" What, stain'd with blood ? 
** Approach, ye furies fell! 

*' O fates! come, come ; 
" Cut thread and thrum •; 
" Quail, crush, conclude, and quell t !»* 
The, This passion, and the death of a dear 
friend, would ^jo near lo make a man look 
•ad. [man. 

Hip, Beshrew my heart, but I pity the 
Pyr, " O, wherefore, nature, didst thou 
.ions frame? [dear. 

* Since lion vile hath here deflower'd my 
" Which is — no, no — which was the fairest 

dame, [look'd with cheer t . 

" That liv'd, that lov'd, that lik'd, that 
*' Come, tears, confound ; 
" Out, sword, and wound 
" The pap of PyramuR : 

" Ay, that left pap, 
*' Where heart doth hop : 
•* Thus die l,thus, thus, thus. 
** Now am I dead, 
" Now am I fled ; 
" My 8oul is in the sky : 

" Tongue, lose thy light I 
" Moon, take thy flight I 
'* Now die, die, die, die, die.'* 

{Uits. — t^iit Moonshine. 
Dem, No die, but an ace, for him; for he 
is but one. 

Lys. Less than an ace, man ; for he is 
dead : he is nothing. 

The. With the help of a surgeon, he might 
yet recover, and prove an ass. 

IJip. How chance Moon^^hine is gone, be- 
fore Thisbe conies back and finds her lover? 
The, She will find him by star light.— Here 
•he coines ; and her p tssioit ends ihe play. 
Enitr This BE. 
Hip. Methinks, she should not use a long 
one, for such a Pyramus : I hope, she will be 
brief. 

IJcm. A mote will turn the balance, which 
Pyramus, which Thisbe, is the belter. 

Lys. She hath spied him already with 
laose sweet eyes. 

JJem. And thus she moans, videlicet. 

'J his. ** Ashep, my love? 
*' What, dead, my dove! 
•* O Pyramus, arise, 

" Speak, spe.k. Quite dumb t 
" Dead, dead? A tomb 

* Must cover thy sweet e>e8. 

** '1 hese lily brows, 

** This chiiry nose, 

" These yellow cowslip cheeks, 



" Are gone, are gone : 
" Lovers, make moan! 
" His eyes were gteen as leeks. 
" O sisters three, 
** Come, come, to me, 
'* With hands as pale as milk; 
** Lay them in gore, 
" Since you have shore 
" With shears his thread of silk. 
" Tongue, not a word: — 
" Come, trusty sword ; 
" Come, blade, my breast imbrue : 
" And farewell, friends ; — 
'* Thus Thisby ends : 
" Adieu, adieu, adieu." [Dies. 

The. Moonshine, and lion are left to bury 
the»dead. 
JJem. Ay, and wall too. 
Bot. No, I assure you; the wall is down 
that parted their fathers. Will it please you 
to see the epilogue, or to hear a Bergomask 
dance, between two of our company ? 

The. No epilogue, I pray you ; for your 
play needs no excuse. Never excuse; for 
when the players are all dead, there need none 
to be blamed. Marry, if he that writ it, had 
play'd Pyramus, and hanged himself in This- 
be's garter, it would have been a fine tragedy : 
and so it is, truly; and very notably dis- 
charged. But come, your Bergomask : let 
your epilogue alone. 

[Here a fiance of ('lowns. 
The iron tongue of midnight hath told 

twelve : — 
Lovers, to bed ; *tis almost fairy time. 
I fear we shall out-sleep the coming morn, 
As much as we this night have overwatch'd. 
This palpable gross play hath well beguil'd 
The heavy gait j of night. — Sweet friends, to 

bed.— 
A fortnight hold we this solemnity, 
In nightly revels, and new jollity. [Exeunt, 

SCENE IL 

Enter Puck. 

Puck, Now the hungry lion roars. 

And the wolf behowis the moon; 
Whilst the heavy ploughman snores. 

All v\ith weary task fordone n. 
Now the wasted brands do glow. 

Whilst ihe scriuh owl, scriiching loud, 
Puts the wrcicli, that lies in woe, 

in remenibrance of a shroud. 
Now it is the lin)e of nighi. 

That the graves, all gaping wide, 
Every one lets, forth his sprite, 

In the church-way paths to glide 
And we fairies, that do run 

By the triple Hecal's team. 
From the presence of the sun. 

Following darkntss like a dream. 
Now are frolic; not a mouse 
Shall disturb this hallow'd house : 
1 anj sent, with broom, before. 
To sweep the dust behind the door. 



Coarse >arn. tDcstioy. t Coui.tenance. $ P.o-re>^, fi Ovorcome. 



Scene Tl] 



MTDSTMVIMER- NIGHT'S DREA31. 



171 



Enter ObtsRcn and Tit ki>i\K,tvitb, their 

Trains 
Obe. Through this house give glimmering 
light, 

By the dead and drowsy fire : 
Every elf, and fairy sprite, 

Hop as light as bird from brier; 
And this ditty, after me, 
Sing, anvl dance it trippingly. 

Tita. First, rehearse this song hy rote : 
To each word a warbling note. 
Hand in hand, wiih fairy grace. 
Will we sing, and bless this place. 

SONG, AND DANCE. 

Ohe. Now, nntil the break of day. 
Through this house each fairy stray. 
To the best bride-bed will we. 
Which by us shall blessed be; 
And the is%ue, there create, 
Ever shall be fortunate. 
So shall all the couples three 
Ever true in loving be : 
And the blots of nature's hand 
Shall not in their issue stand ; 
Never mole,hare lip, nor scar. 
Nor mark prodigious* such as are 
Despised in nativity^ 



Shall upon their children be. — 

With this field dew consecrate. 

Every fairy take his gait t ; 

And each several chamber bless. 

Through this palace with sweet peace : 

E'er shall it in safety rest. 

And the owner of it blest. 
Trip away ; 
Make no stay ; 

Meet me all by break of day. 

[Exeunt Oberon, Titania, and Train, 
Puck. //"we shadows have o_ffendedj 

Think but this, ( and all is mended,) 

That you hare but slumber' d here. 

While these visions did appear. 

And this weak and idle theme. 

No more yielding but a dream. 

Gentles, do not reprehend ; 

If you pardon, we will mend. 

And, as Ptn an honest Puck, 

Jf we ha ve unearned luck 

Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue. 

We will make amends, ere long : 

Else the Puck a liar call, 

So, good-night unto you all. 

Give me your hands, if ive befriends. 

And Robin skull restore amends. 

[Exit. 



• Portentous, 



t Way. 



Wild and fantastical a« this play is, all the parts in their varioas modes we well written, 
and give the kind of pleasure which the author designed. Fairies in his time were miich in 
fashion ; cormmon tradition had made them famiiiar, aud Spenser's poem had made theiv 
gr€at.— JOHWSOW. 



LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 



^cr^DU^ represented. 



Ferdinand, Kitig of Navarre. 

l^noaVille, V^;:f ' ^^^^"^'''- ^" ^^'' 

DUMAIN, / ^"'^^ 

Mercadk,/ cess of France 

Don Adriano de Armado, a fantastical 

Spaniard. 
Sir Nathaniel, a Curate. 
HoLUFERNES, a Schoolmaster. 



Dull, a Constable, 
CosTARD, a Clown. 
Moth, Page to Armado. 
A Forester. 



Princess of France. 

mT',,\V^^' \Ladies, attending on tH 
MARIA, ? Princess, 

Katharine, ■> 
Jaquenktta, a country Wench. 

Officers and others, Attefidants on the King and Princess, 

Scene, — Na varre. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. 

Navarre. A Park, with a Palace in it. 

Enter the King, BiRON,LoNGAriLLE, a»rf 

DU'MAIN. 

King. Let fame, that all hunt after in their 
lives, 
liive registerM upon our brazen tombs. 
And then grace us in the disgrace of death ; 
When, spite of cormorant-devouring time, 
The endeavour of this present breath may buy 
That honour, which shall bate his scythe's keen 
And make us heirs of all eternity. [edge, 

Therefore, brave conquerors! — for so you are. 
That war against your own affections, 
And the huge army of the world's desires, — 
Our late edict shall strongly stand in force : 
Navarre shall be the wonder of the world ; 
Our court shall be a little Academe, 
Still and contemplative in living art. 
You three, Biron.Dumiin, and Longaville, [me. 
Have sworn for three yearsf term to live with 
My fellow-scholars, and to keep those statutes. 
That are recorded in this schedule here: names; 
Your oaths are past, and now subscribe your 
That his own hand may Jtrike his honour down. 
That violates the smallest branch herein : 
If you are arm'd to do, as sworn to do, 
Subscribe lo your deep oath, and keep it too. 

Loii^.l-Axn resol vM; 'tis but a three yrars' fust; 
The mind shall banquet, though the body pine : 
Fat paunches have lean pates; and dainty bits 
Make rich the ribs, but bank'rout quite the wits. 

Dum. My loving lord, Dumain is mortified ; 
The grosser manner of these world's delights 
ile throws upon the gross world's baser slaves : 
To love, to wealth, to pomp, I pine and die ; 
With all these living in philosophy. 

Biron. I can but say their protestation over. 
So much, dear liege, I have alre;idy sworn. 
That i*, To live and study here tliree years. 
\ttul Uiere are other strict observances: 



As, not to see a woman in that term ; 
Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there : 
AiKl, one day in a week to touch no food ; 
And but one meal on every day beside; 
The which, 1 hope, 13 not enrolled there: 
And then, to sleep but three hours in the nighty 
And not be seen to wink of ali the day ; 
(When I was wont t© think no harm all night, 
And make a dark night too of half the day ;) 
Which, I hope well, is not enrolled there: 
O, these are barren tasks, too hard to keep ; 
Not to see ladies, study, fast, not sleep, [these. 

King. Your oath is pass'd to pass away from 

Biron. Let me say no, my liege, an if you 

I only swore, to study with your grace, [please ; 

And stay here in your court for three years' 

space. [rest. 

Long. You swore to that, Biron, and to the 

Biron. By yea and nay, sir, then I swore in 
What is the endof study ? let me know. [jest. — 

King. Why, that to know, which else we 
should not know. [common sense? 

Binyn.TXxmg'i hid and barr'd, you mean,from 

A'i/frt Ay , that is study's god-like recompense. 

Biron. Come on then, 1 will swear to study 
To know the thing I am forbid to know : [so> 
As thus — To study where I well may dine. 

When I to feast expressly am forbid; 
Or, study where to meet some mistress fine. 

When mistresses from common sense are hid: 
Or, having sworn too haid-a-keeping oath. 
Study to break it, and not break my troth. 
If study's gain be thus, and this be sO, ^ 

Study knows that,which yet it doth not know; \ 
Swear me to this, and 1 will ne'er say, no. ' 

King. These be the stops that hinder study 
And I rain our intellects to vain delight, [qiite, 

Biron. Why, all delights are vain.; but llial 
most vain, 
Which, with pain purchased, doth inherit p ii?i : 
As, painfully to pote upon a book, uvliile 

To seek the light of truth ; wiuie truth the 



_k» 



Scents f.] 



LOVE S LABOUR S LOST. 



17.3 



Doth falsely • blind the eyesight of his look : 

Light.seeking light, doth light of light beguile: 
So, ere you find where light in darkness lies. 
Your light grows dark by losing of your eyes. 
Study me how to please the eye indeed, 

By fixing it upon a fairer eye ; 
Who dazzling so, tiiat eye shall be his heed, 

And give him light that was it blinded by. 
Study is like tlie heaven's glorious sun, [looks ; 

That will not be deep searchM with saucy 
Small have continual plodders ever won. 

Save base authority from others' books. 
These earthly godf-Uhers of heaven's lights. 

That give a name to evfiry fixed star. 
Have no more profit of their shining nights, 

Than those that walk, and wot not what they 

are. [fame ; 

Too much to know, is, to know nought but 

And every godfather can give a name, [reading! 

King. How well he's read, to reason against 

Dam. Proceeded well, to stop all good pro- 
ceeding ! [grow the weeding. 

hong. He weeds the corn, and still lets 

Biron. The spring is near, when green geese 

Dum. How follows that? [are a breeding. 

Biron, Fit in his place and time. 

Dum. In reason nothing. 

Biron. Something then in rhyme. 

Long. Biron is like an envious sneapingt 
iVost, [spring. 

That bites the first-born infants of the 

Biron. \V ell, say I am ; why should proud 
summer boast. 

Before the birds have any cause to sing? 
Why should I joy in an abortive birth? 
At Christmas I no more desire a rose '\ 

Than wish a snow iu May's new-fangled f 
shows j; j' 

But like of each thing, that in season grows. J 
So you, to study now it is too late, 
Glimb o'er the house to unlock the little gate. 

King, v'v ell, sit you out : go home, Biron ; 
adieu ! [to stay with you : 

Bir n. No, my good lord ; I have sworn 
And, though I have for barbarism spoke more, 

Than for that angel knowledge you can say, 
Yet confident I'll keep what 1 have swore. 

And bide the penance of each three y ears'day. 
Give me the paper, let me read the same ; \ 
And to the strict'st decreesl'll write my name, f 

Kinii. How well this yielding rescues thee(" 
from shame! J 

Biron. [Hfad.'>.] Item, That no woman 
sk'iU come with hi a mile of my court, — 
And hath this beon proclaim'd I 

Jjorni. Four days ago. 

Biron. Let's see the penalty. 
[Redds.]— Oti yiin of losing her t07igue. — 
Who devis'd this ? 

l^ong. Marry, that did I. 

Bifon. Swee! lord, and why ? [penalty. 

Long. To friuht them hetice with that dicao 

Biron, A dangerous law ag.tiiisi geniility. 

{Read.'!.] Itnm, Ij any man be seen to 
j talk with a uoman ivithin the term of three 



Dishonest ly tre icherously . 
\ Lively, spi Iwhii^. 



t Nipping. 
♦• V aded. 



years, he shall endure such public shame as 
the rest of the court can possibly derise,-^ 
This article, my liege, yourself must break ; 

For, well you know, here comes in embussy 
The French King's daughter, with yourself to 
speak, — 

A maid of grace, and c6mplete majesty, — 
About surrender-up of Aquitain 

To her decrepit, sick, and bed-rid father: 
Therefore this article is made in vain. 

Or vainly comes the admired princess hither. 

King. What say you, lords? why, this was 
quite forgot. ' 

Biron. So study evermore is overshot; 
While it doth study to have what it would. 
It doth forget to do the thing it should: 
And when it hath the thing it huntelh most, 
'Tis won, as towns with fire; so won, so lost. 

Kin>2_. We must, of force, dispense with this 
She must lie $ here on mere necessity, [decree ; 

Biron, Necessity will make us all forsworn 

Three thousand times within this three years' 
For every man with his affects is born ; [space: 
Not by might master'd, but by special grace: 
If I break faith, this word shall speak for n-.e, 
I am forsworn on mere necessity. — 
So to the laws at large I write my name ; 

\^Sabscrihe':, 

And he, that breaks them in the least degree. 
Stands in attainder of eternal shame : 

Suggestions II are to others, as to me ; 
But, I believe, although I seem so loth, 
I am the last that will last keep his oath. 
Hut is there no quick U recreation granted? 

King. Ay, that thipre is : our court, yoo 
know, is haunted 

With a refined traveller of Spain ; 
A man in all the world's new fashion planted. 

That hath a mint of phrases in his brain: 
One, whom the music of his own vain tongue 

Doth ravish, like enchanting harmony ; 
A man of complements, whom right and wrong 

Have chose as umpire of their mutiny : 
This child of fancy, that Armado hight**. 

For interim to our studies, shall relate. 
In high-born words, the worth of many a knight 

From tawny Spain, lost in the world's debate. 
How you delight, my lords, I knv)w not, 1 j 
But, I protest, i love to hear him lie. 
And 1 will use him for my minstrelsy. 

Biron. Armado is a most illustrious wighr, 
A man of fire-new words, fashion's own knight. 

Long. Costard, the swain, and he, shall be 
our sport ; 
And, so to study, three years is but <^hort. 
Enter Dull, with a Letter, and CosrARD. 

Dull. Which is the duke's own person ? 

Biron. This fellow; What wouldst? 

Dull. I myself reprehend his own person, 
for I am his grace's tharboroui^h+t : but I 
would see his own person in flesh and blood. 

Bir- 71. This is he. 

Dull. Siguior Arme — Arme — eonmaeiuls 
you. There's villany abroad; this letter will 
tell you more. 

1 r.ames, sports. § Reside. |{ Tempt. itioua 
tt I. f., third-borough, a peace-olhc.r. 



174. 



SriAKSPEARE. 



[Act J. 



Cost. Sir, the contempts thereof are as touch- 
ing me. 

A'/Wjg^. A letter from the magniflcent Armado. 
Biron. How lov» soever the matter, I hope 
ID God for high words. 

Long. A high hope for a low having: God 
grant us patience ! 

Biron. To hear? or forbear hearing? 
Long. To hear meekly, sir, and to laugh 
moderately ; < r to forbear both. 

Biron. Well, sir, be it as the style shall 
give us cause to climb in the merriness. 

Cofit, Tlie matter i!> to me, sir, as concern- 
ing Jaquenetta. The manner of it is, I was 
taken Mith the manner*. 
Biron. In wh«t manner? 
Cost. In manner and form following, sir ; 
all those three : I vras seen with her in the 
manor house, sitting with her upon the form, 
and taken following her into the p.irk; which, 
put together, is, in manner and form follow- 
ing. Now, sir, for the manner,— it is the 
manner of a man to speak to a woman: for 
the form, — in some form. 

Biron. For the following, sir? 
Cost. As it shall follow in my correction; 
And God defend the right! 
King.\\i\Lyo\\ hear this letter with attention? 
Biro7i, As we would, hear an oracle. 
Cost. Such ia the simplicity of man to 
hearken after the flesh. 

King. [Reads.] Great deputy, the tvelkin*s 
vicegerent , and sole dominator of Nauarre, 
my soul*s earth's God, and body's fostering 
yatrou, — 

Cost. Not a word of Coktard yet. 
King. >So it is, — 

Cost. It may be so: but if he say it is 30, 
is, ia telling true, but so, so. 
King. Peace. 

Dost. — be to me, and every man that dares 
H>t fight! 
King. No words. 

Cost. — of other men's secrets, I beseech you . 
King. So it is hesiegedwith sable-coloured 
melancholy, I did commend the blfick-op- 
pressing- humour to the most wholesome 
physic of thy health-giving air ; and, as 1 
am a gentleman, betook myself to walk. 
The time when? About the sixth hour; 
when beasts most graze, birds be "it peck, 
and men sit down to that nourishment 
which is called supper. So much for the 
time when: Now for the ground which ; 
which, I mean, I walked upon : it is ycleped 
thy park. Then for the place where ; where, 
I mean, I did encounter that obscene and 
most preposterous event , that drawcthfrom 
my S7iow-white pen the ebon-coloured ink, 
which here thou vieivest, beholdest, survey- 
est, or seest : But to the place, where, — It 
standeth north-north-east and by east from 
the west corner of thy curious-knotted 
garden. There did I see that low-spirited 
swain, that base minnow of thy mirth. 
Cost. Me. 



King, —that uuletter'd imail-knoiving 
soul. 
Cost. Me. 

King, —that shallow vassal. 

Cost. Still me. 

King, —which, as 1 remember, hight 
Costard, 

Cost. O me ! 

King. — sorted and consorted, contrary 
to thy established proclaimed edict and 
continent canon, with — loith, — O with — but 
with this I passion to say wherewith, 

Cost. With a wench. 

King. — with a child of our grandmother 
Eve, a female ; or, for thy more sweet un- 
derstanding, a woman. Him I (as my ever- 
esteemed duty pricks me on) have sent ttf 
thee, to receive the meed of punishment, by 
thy sweet grace's officer, Antony Dull ; a 
man qf good repute, carriage, bearing, and 
estimation. 

Dull. Me, an't shall please you ; I am 
Antony Dull. 

King. For Jaquenetta, (so is the weaker 
vessel called, wh>ch I apprehended with 
the aforesaid swain,) I keep her as a vessel 
of thy law's fury ; and shnll, at the least 
of thy sweet notice, bring her to trial. 
Thine, in all compliments of devoted and 
heart-burning heat of duty, 

UoN AuRiANO DE Armado. 

Biron. This is not so well as I looked for, 
but the best that ever I heard. 

King. Ay, the best for the worst. But, 
sirrah, what say you to this ? 

Cost. Sir, I confess the wench. 

King. Did yon hear the proclamation? 

Cost. I do confess much of the hearing it, 
but little of the marking of it. 

King. It was proclaimed a year's imprison- 
ment, to be taken with a wench. 

Cost. 1 was taken with none, sir, I was 
taken with a damosel. 

King. Well, it was proclaimed damosel. 

Cost. This was no damosel neither, sir ; she 
was a virgin. 

King. It is 80 varied too; for it was pro- 
claimed, virgin. 

Cost. If it were, I deny her virginity ; I 
was taken with a maid. 

King. This maid will not serve your turn, sir. 

Cost. This maid will serve my turn, sir. 

King. Sir, 1 will pronounce your sentence; 
You shall fast a week with bran and water. ^ 

Cost. I had rather pray a mouth with mm 
ton and porridge. j 

King.kniX Don Armadoshall be your keeper. 
— My lord Biron see him deliver'd o'er. — ^ 
And go we, lords, to put in practice that 

VV hich each to other hath so strongly sworn .- ^ 
[Exeunt King, Long, and Du \i. 

Biron.l'U lay my head to any good man's h it 

These oaths and laws will prove an idle 
Sirrah, come on. [scorn. — 

Cost. I sutTer for the truth, sir : for true it is 
I was taken with Jaquenetta, and Jaqueueu«i 



• In the fact. 



LOYE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 



175 



Ls a true girl ; and therefore, Welcome the 
sour cup of prosperity ! Affliction may one 
ttay smile again, and till then, Sit thee down 
sorrow I {Exeunt. 

SCENE IL 

Afiotherpart of the same. Armado's House. 

Enter Armado and Moth. 

Arm. Boy, what sign is it, when a man of 
great spirit grows melancholy 1 

Moth. A great sign, sir, that he will look sad. 

Arm. Why, sadness is on.e and the self- 
same thing, dear imp. 

Moth. No, no ; O lord, sir, no. 

Arm. How canst thou part sadness and 
melancholy, my tender juvenal * ? 

Moth. Hy a familiar demonstration of the 
working, my tough senior. 

Arm. Why tough senior 1 why tough senior? 

Moth. Why tender juvenal? why tender 
javenal ? 

Arm. I spoke it, tender juvenal, as a con- 
gruent epitheton, appertaining to thy young 
days, which we may nominate tender. 

Moth. And I, tough senior, as an apper- 
tinent title to your old time, which we may 
name tough. 

Arm. Pretty, and apt. 

Moth. How mean you, sir ? I pretty, and 
my saying apt? or I apt, and my saying 
pretty ?, 

Arm. Thou pretty, because little. 

Moth. Little pretty, because little : Where- 
fore apt ? 

Arm. And therefore apt, because quick. 

Moth. Speak you this in my praise, master ? 

Arm. In thy condign praise. 

Moth. 1 will praise an eel with the same 
praise. 

Arm. What? that an eel is ingenious 1 

Moth. That an eel is quick. 

Arm. I do say, thou art quick in answers : 
Thou heatest my blood. 

Moth. I am answered, sir. 

Arm. I love not to be crossed. 

Moth. He speaks the mere contrary, 
crosses t love not him. [Aside. 

Arm. I have promised to study three 
years with the duke. 

Moth. You may do it in an hour, sir. 

Arm. Impossible. 

Moth. How many is one thrice told ? 

Arm, I am ill at reckoning, it fitteth the 
spirit of a tapster. 

Moth. You are a gentleman, and a game- 
ster, sir. 

Arm. I confess both; they are both th« 
varnish of a complete man. 

Moth. Then, I am sure, you know how 
much the gross sum of deuce-ace amounts to. 

Arm. It doth amount to one more than two. 

Moth. Which the base vulgar do call, three. 

Arm. True. 

Moth. Why, sir, is this such a piece of 

Hudy ? Now here ie three studied, ere you'll 

I lirice wink : and how easy it is to put years 



to the word three, and study three years in 
two words, the dancing horse will tell you. 

Arm. A most fine figure ! 

Moth, To prove you a cipher. [Aside, 

Arm. I will hereupon confess, I am in 
love: and, as it is base for a soldier to love, 
so am I in love with a base wench. If 
drawing my sword against the humour of 
aflfection would deliver me from the reprobate 
thought of it, I would take desire prisoner, 
and ransom him to any French courtier for a 
new devised courtesy. I think scorn to sigh ; 
methinks, I should out-swear Cupid. Comfort 
me, boy : What great men have been in love ? 

Moth. Hercules, master. 

Arm. Most sweet Hercules ! — More autho- 
rity, dear boy, name more; and, sweet my 
child, let them be men of good repute and 
carriage. 

Moth. Sampson, master : he was a man of 
good carriage, ^reat carriage ; for he carried 
the town-gates on his back, like a porter : and 
he was in love. 

Arm. O well-knit Sampson ! strong jointed 
Sampson ! I do excel thee in my rapier, as 
much as thou didst me in carrying gates. I 
am in love too, — Who was Sampson's love, 
my dear Moth ? 

Moth. A woman, master. 

Arm. Of what complexion ? 

Moth. Of all the four, or the three, or the. 
two ; or one of the four. 

Arm. Tell me precisely of what complexion ? 

Aloth. Of the sea-water green, sir. 

Arm. Is that one of the four complexions f 

Moth. As I have read, sir ; and the best o 
them too. 

Arm. Green, indeed, is the colour of lovers : 
but to have a love of that colour, methinks, 
Sampson had small reason for it. He, surely, 
affected her for her wit 

Moth. It was so, sir ; for she had a green wit. 

Arm. My love is most immaculate white 
and red. 

Moth. Most maculate thoughts, master, are 
masked under such colours. 

Arm. Define, define, well-educated infant. 

Moth. My father's wit, and my mother's 
tongue, assist me ! 

Arm. Sweet invocation of a child; most 
pretty, and pathetical! 

Moth. If she be made of white and red. 
Her faults will ne'er be known ; 
For blushing cheeks by faults are bred. 

And fears by pale-white shown : 
Then, if she fear, or be to blame. 

By this you shall not know ; 
For still her cheeks possess the same. 
Which native she doth owej. 
A dangerous rhyme, master, against the reason 
of white and red. 

Arm. Is there not a ballad, boy, of the 
King and the Beggar? 

Moth. The world was very guilty of such 
a ballad some three ages since ; but, I think, 
now 'lis not to be found ; or, if it were, it 



• Young man. t The name of a coin once current, t Of which she is naturally possessed. 



173 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Arf IL 



would neither serve for the writing, nor the 
tune. 

Arm, I will have the subject newly writ 
o'er, that 1 may example my digression • hy 
some miwhiy precedent. iJoy, 1 do love that 
country girl, tliat 1 look in ttie park with the 
rational hincl Costard ; she deserves well. 

Moth. Vo be whipped ; and yet a better 
*iove than my n»aster. [Aside. 

Arm. Sing, boy ; my spirit grows heavy 
in love. 

^ Moth, And that's great marvel, loving a 
light wench. 

Arm. I say, sing. 

Moth. Forbear till this company be past. 
Enter Dull, Costard, a7ir/ Jaquenetta. 

Dull. Sir, the duke's pleasure is, that you 
keep Costard safe : and you must let him 
take no delight, nor no penance; but a* must 
fast three days a-week : For this damsel, I 
must keep her at the park ; she is allowed for 
the day-woman t. Fare you well. 

Arm. I do betray myself with blushing. — 
Maid. 

Jaq. Man. 

Arm. I will visit thee at the lodge. 

Juq. That's hereby. 

Arm. I know where it is situate. 

Jaq. Lord, how wise you are! 

Arm. 1 will tell thee wonders. 

Juq. With that face? 

Arm. I love thee. 

Jaq. So I heard you say. 

Arm. And so farewell. 

Joq. Fair weather after yon ! 

Dull. Come, Jaqueneita, away. 

[E-ieunt Dull urnt Jaquenetta. 

Arm. Villain, thou shalt fast for thy of- 
*«nces, ere thou be pardoned. 

Cost. Well, sir, 1 hope, when I do it, I 
ihall do it on a full stomach. 



Arm,. Thou shalt be heavily punished. 

Cost. I am more bound to you, than your 
fellows, for they are but lightly rewarded. 

Arm. Take away this villain ; shut him up. 

Moth. Come, you transgressing slave ; away 

Cost. Let me not be pent up, sir ; I will 
fast, being loose. 

Moth. No, sir; that were fast and loose: 
thou shalt to prison. 

Cost. Well, if ever I do see the merry days 
of desolation that I have seen, some shall see— 

Moth. What shall some see? 

Cost. Nay, nothing, master Moth, but whit 
they look upon. It is not for prisoners to be 
too silent in their words ; and, therefore, I 
will say nothing : I thank God, I have as 
little patience as another man; and, thereiore, 
I can be quiet. 

[Exeurit Moth and Cost.krv, 

Arm. 1 do affect; the very ground, which 
is base, where her shoe, which is baser, 'fjuided 
by her foot, which is basest, doth tread. 1 
shall be forsworn, (which is a great argument 
of Falsehood,) if I love : And how can that 
be true love, which is falsely attempted? 
Love is a familiar ; love is a devil : there is 
no evil angel but love. Yet Sampson was ?o 
tempted : and he had an excellent strength : 
yet was Solomon so seduced ; and he had a 
very good wit. Cupid's butt-shaft^ is too 
hard for Hercules' club, and therefore toe 
much odds for a Spaniard's rapier. The first 
and second cause will not serve my turn ; tht 
passado he respects not, the duello he regard? 
not : his disgrace is to be called boy ; but hia 
glory is, to siibd»ie men. Adieu, valour f 
rnst, rapier! be still, drum ! for your manairer 
is in love ; yea, he loveih. Assist me some 
extemporal god of rhyme, for, I am sure, f 
phall turn soimeteer. Devise wit ; write pen r. 
for I am for whole volumes in folio. [Euit. 



ACT II. 



SCENE L 



Another part of the same. A Pavilion 

and Ttnls at a distance. 
Enter the Princess of France, Rosaline, 

Maria, Katharine, Boyet, Lords, a/i(/ 

other Attendants. 

Boyet. Now, madam, summon up your 
flearesl I spirits : 
Consider who the king your father sends ; 
Ti.» whom he sends ; and what's his embassy : 
Youi self, held precious in the world's esteem ; 
To pirley with the sole inheritor 
Of all perfections that a man may owe, 
jNiaichltss Navarre ; the plea of no less weight 
Than Aquitaln ; a dowry for a queen, 
lie now as prodii^al of all dear grace, 
As nature was in making graces dear, 
VV hen she did starve the general world beside, 



And prodigally gave them all to you. 

trin. Good lord Boyet, my beauty, thouuh 
but mean, 
Needs not the painted flourish of your prai>ej 
Beauty is bought by judgment of the e>e, 
Not uiter'd by base sale of chapmen's tonjiues: 
1 am (ess proud to hear you tell my worth, 
Than you much willing to be counted wise 
In spending your wit in the praise of mine. 
Hut now to task the lasker, — <.oo(l Boyet, 
You are not ii!noraiit,ail-;eiling fame 
Doth noij«e abroad, Navarre hath made a vow 
Till paintul study shall out wear three years. 
No woman may approach his silent court: 
Therefore to ns seemeth it a needful course. 
Before we enter his forbidden gates, 
To know his pleasure; and in that behalf. 
Bold of your worthiness, we single you 
As our best-moving fair solicitor : 



Transgression. 



t Dairy-woman. % Love. 
»| Best. 



$ Arrow to shoot at butts with. 



Sre 



n 



LOVE'S LAliOLR'.S j.oST, 



177 



Tc.l hiui, the dauiihter of the king of France, 
On serious business, craving quick despatch, 
Importunes personal conference with his grace. 
Haste, signify so much ; while we attend, 
Like hunible-visag'd suitors, his high will. 
£01/, Proud of employment, willingly I go. 

" Prin» All pride is willing pride, and yours 

is so. — 
Who are the votaries, my loving lords, 
That are vow-fellows with this virtuous duke? 

1 Lord. Longaville is one. 

Prin. Know you the man ? 

Mar. I know him, madam; at a marriage 
feast, 
Between lord Perigort and the beauteous heir 
Of Jaques Falconbridge solemnized. 
In Normandy saw I this Longaville : 
A man of sovereign parts he is esteem*d ; 
Well fitted in the arts, glorious in arms : 
Nothing becomes him ill, that he would well. 
The only soil of his fair virtue's gloss, 
. If virtue's gloss will stain with any soil,) 
Is a sharp wit matched with too blunt a will ; 
Whose edge hath power to cut, whose will 

still wiUs 
It should none spare that come within his 
power. [is't so 1 

Prin. Some merry mocking lord, belike ; 

Mar. They say so most, that most his hu- 
mours know. [they grow. 

Prin. Such short-liv'd wits do wither as 
Who are the rest ? [plish'd youth, 

Kath. The young Dumain, a well accom- 
Of all that virtue love for virtue lovM : [ill ; 
Most power to do most harm, least knowing 
For he hath wit to make an ill shape good, 
And shape to win grace though he had no wit. 
I saw him at the duke Alenyon's once ; 
And much too little of that good I saw, 
Is my report, to his great worthiness. 

Ros. Another of these students at that time 
Was there with him : if I have heard a truth, 
Birou they call him ; but a merrier man 
Within the limit of becoming mirth, 
1 never spent an hour's talk withal : 
His eye begets occasion for his wit ; 
For every object that the one doth catch, 
Tlie other turns to a mirth-moving jest ; 
Which his fair tongue (conceit's expositor,) 
Delivers in such apt and gracious words. 
That aged ears play truant at his tales. 
And yonnger hearings are quite ravished ; 
t.o sweet and voluble is his discourse. 

Prin. God bless my ladies! are they all in 
That every one her own hath garnished [love ; 
With such bedecking ornaments of praise \ 

Mar. Here comes Boyet. 

Re-enter Boyet. 

Prin. Now, what admittance, lord ? 

Boyet. Navarre had notice of your fair 
approach ; 
Vnd he, and his competitors* in oath, 
Were all address'dt to meet you, gentle lady. 
Before I came Marry , thus much I have learnt, 
He rather means to lodge you in the field, 



(Like one that comes here tobeaiege his court,) 
Than seek a dispensation for his oath, 
To let you enter his unpeopled house. 
Here comes Navarre. [The ladies mask. 

Enter King, Longaville, Dumain, 
BiRON, and Attendants. 

King. Fair princess, welcome to the court 
of Navarre. 

Prin. Fair, I give you back again ; and, 
welcome I have not yet : the roof of this 
court is too high to be yours ; and welcome 
to the wild fields too base to be mine. 

King. You shall be welcome, madam, to 
my court. [me thither. 

Prin. I will be welcome then ; conduct 

King. Hear me, dear lady ; I have sworn 
an oath. [forsworn. 

Prin, Our Lady help my lord I he'll be 

King. Not for the world, fair madam, by 
my will. [nothing else. 

Prin. Why, will shall break it ; will, and 

King. Your ladyship is ignorant what it is. 

Prin. Were my lord so, his ignorance were 
wise. [norance 

Where i now his knowledge must prove ig- 
I hear, your grace hath sworn-out house- 
keeping : 
*Tis deadly sin to keep that oath, my lord. 
And sin to break it : 
But pardon me, 1 am too sudden-bold ; 
To teach a teacher ill beseemeth me. 
Vouchsafe to read the purpose of my coming. 
And suddenly resolve me in i/iy suit. 

[Glres a 'paper. 

King. Madam, I will, if suddenly I may. 

Prin. You will the sooner, that I were 
away ; 
For you'll prove perjur'd,ifyou make me stay. 

Biroii. Did not I dance with you in Brabant 
once? [once? 

Ros. Did not I dance with you in Brabant 

Biron. I know you did. 

Ros. How needless was it then 

To ask the question l 

Bron. You must not be so quick. 

Ros. 'Tis 'long of you that spur me with 
such questions. ['twill tire. 

Biron. Your wit's too hot, it speeds too fast, 

Ros. Not till it leave the rider in the mire. 

Biron. W hat time o' day ? 

Ros. The hour that fools should ask. 

Biron. Now fair befal your mask I 

Ros. Fair fall the face it covers! 

Biron. And send you many lovers ! 

Ros. Amen, so you be none. 

Biron. Nay, then will I be gone. [mate 

King. Madam, your father here doth inti- 
The payment of a hundred thousand crowns ; 
Being but the one half of an entire sum. 
Disbursed by my father in his wars. 
But say, that he, or we, (as neither have,) 
Receiv'd that sum ; yet there remains unpaid 
A hundred thousand more ; in surety of the 
One part of Aquitain is bound to us, [wh.ich, 
Although not valued to the money's worth. 
If then the king your father will restore 



• Confederates. t Prepared. 



+ Whereas. 



178 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IT. 



Bat that one half which is unsatisfied. 
We will give up our right in Aquitain, 
And hold fair friendship with his majesty. 
But that, it seems, he little purposeth. 
For here he doth demand to have repaid 
An hundred thousand crowLs ; and not de 

mands. 
On payment of a hundred thousand crowns. 
To have his title live in Aquitain ; 
\\ hich we much rather had depart* withal. 
And have the money by our father lent. 
Than Aquitain so gelded as it is. 
Dear princess, were not his requests so far 
From reason's yielding, your fair self should 

make 
A yielding, 'gainst some reason, in my breast, 
And go well satisfied to France again, [wrong, 

Prin, You do the king my father too much 
And wrong the reputation of your name. 
In so unseeming to confess receipt 
Of that which hath so faithfully been paid. 

Kmg. I do protest, I never heard of it; 
And, if you prove it, I'll repay it back. 
Or yield up Aquitain. 

Prin. We arrest your word : — 

Boyet, you can produce acquittances. 
For such a sum, from special ofiicers 
Of Charles his father. 

Kmg. Satisfy me so. [come, 

/»<'i/e/. So please your grace, the packet is not 
Where that and other specialties are bound ; 
To-morrow you shall have a sight of them. 

King. It shall sutfice me : at which inter- 
All liberal reason I will yield unto. [view, 
Mean time, n ceive such welcome at my hand, 
As honour, without breach of honoor, may 
Make tender of to thy true worthiness: 
Yon may not come, fair princess, in my gatet ; 
But here without you shall be so receiv'd. 
As you shall deem yourself lodg'd in my heart, 
Thou'^h 80 denied fair harbour in my house. 
Your own good thoughts excuse me, and fare- 
To-morrow shall we visit you again. [well : 

Prin. Sweet health and fair desires consort 
your grace I 

King. Thy own wish wish I thee in every 
place! [Exeunt KisG and his Train. 

Biron. Lady, I will commend you to my 
own heart. 

Ro.s. 'Pray you, do my commendations ; I 
Would be glad to see it. 

Biron. 1 would, you heard it groan. 

Hos. Is the fool sick? 

Biron. Sick at heart. 

Bos. Alack, let it blood. 
I Biron. Would that do it good ? 
■ Hos. My physic says. It . 

Biron. Will you prick't with your eye? 

Bos No poyjitl, with my knife. 

Biron. Now, G(»d save thy life! 

Bos, And yours from long living I 

Biron- 1 cannot stay thanksgiving. [/2€^tWw^. 

Dum. Sir, 1 pray you, a word : What lady 
is that same? [name. 

Boytt. The heir of Alen9on, Rosaline her 



Dum. A gallant lady I Monsieur, fare you 
well. [Exit. 

Long. 1 beseech you a word ; What is she 
in the white? [in the light. 

Boyet. A woman sometimes, an you saw her 

Long. Perchance, ligiit in the light : I desire 
her name. [that, were a shame. 

Boyet. She hath but one for herself; to desire 

Long. Pray you, sir, whose daughter? 

Boyet. Her mother's, I have heard. 

Long. God's blessing on your beard! 

Boyet. Good sir, be not offended: 
She is an heir of Falconbridge. 

Long. Nay, my choler is ended. 
She is a most sweet lady. 

Boyet. Not unlike, sir; that may be. 

[Exit TjONG. 

Biron. What's her name, in the cap? 

Boyet. Katharine, by good hap, 

Biron. Is she wedded, or no? 

Boyet. To her will, sir, or so. 

Biron. You are welcome, sir; adieu! 

Boyet. Farewell to me, sir, and welcome 
to you. [Exit BiR. — Ladies unmask. 

Mar. That last is Biron, the merry mad-cap 
Not a word with him but a jest. [lord ; 

Boyet. And every jest but a word. 

Prin, It was well done of you to take him 
at his word. [to board. 

Boyet. I was as willing to grapple, as he was 

Alar. Two hot sheeps, marry! 

Boyet. And wherefore not ships? 

No sheep, sweet lamb, unless we feed on your 

lips. [finish the jest*? 

Afar. You sheep, and I pasture; Shall that 

Boyet. So you grant pasture tor me. 

[Ojjering to kiss her. ' 

Afar. Not so, gentle beast ; 

My lips are no common, thoujjh several j they 

Boyet. Belonging to whom? [be. 

Alar. To my fortunes and me. 

Prin. Good wits will be jangling; but, gen- 
tles agree : 
The civil war of wits were much better used 
On Navarre and his b<iok-men; for here 'tis ^ 
abused. 

Boyet. If my observation, (which very sel- 
dom lies,) [eyes. 
By the heart's still rhetoric, disclosed with , 
Deceive me not now, Navarre is infected. i 

Prin. With what? ' 

Boyet. With that which we lovers entitle, ' 

Prin. Your reason? [attected. \ 

Boyet. Why all his behaviours did make , 
their retire [sire : , 

To the court of his eye, peeping thorough dc- ,| 
His heart, like an agate, with your print im- 
pressed, \ 
Proud with his form, in his eye pride expressed: j 
His tongue, all impatient to speak and not ee, j 
Did stumble with haste in his eye-sight to Le; 
All senses to that sense did make thtir repair, r 
To feel only looking on fairest of fair : [eye, 
Methought, all his senses were lock'd in his 
As jewels in crystal for some prince to buy ; 



►Part. 



t Ay, yes. % A French particle of negation. 

$ A quibble, several signified unenclosed lands. 



LOVE S LABOUR S LOST. 



170 



Who, ten-i'ring their own worth, from where 

they were glass'd, [pass'd. 

])id point you to buy them, along as you 
His face's own margent did quote such amazes, 
That all eyes saw his eyes enchanted with 

gazes : 
rii give you Aquitain, and all that is his. 
And you give him for my sake but one loving 

kiss. 
Prin. Come, to our pavilion : Boyet is dis 

pos'd — 
Boyet. But to speak that in word8,wh!ch his 

eye hath disclo&'d ; 



I only have made a mouth of his eye. 

By adding a tongue which 1 know will uot lie. 

Ros. Thou art an old love-monge^ , and 

speak'st skilfully. [hews of him. 

l^ur. He is Cupid's grandfather, and learns 

Ros. Then was Venus like her mother ; for 

her father is but gi im. 
Boyet. Do you hear, my mad wenches? 
Mar. No. 

Boyet. What then, do you see % 

Ros. Ay, ouj: way to be gone. 
Boyet* Your are too hard for me. 

lExeunt 



ACT III. 



SCENE L Another part of the same. 
JEnter Arm ADO and Moth. 

Arm. Warble, child ; make passionate my 
sense of hearing. 

Moth. Concolinet ■ {Singing. 

A> m. Sweet air ! — Go, tenderness of yeai s ; 
take Jhis key, give enlargement to the swain, 
bring him tesiinately * hither ; I must employ 
him in a letter to my love. 

Moth. Master, will you win your love with 
a French brawl \ 1 

Arm. How meanest thou? brawling in 
French '{ 

Moth. No, my complete master ; but to 
jiu otf a tune at the tongue's end, canary j to 
it with your feet, humour it with turning up 
your eyelids; sigh a note, and sing a note; 
sometime through the throat, as if you swal- 
lowed love with singing love ; sometime 
through the nose, as if you snuifed up love by 
smelling love; with ^ our hat penthouse-like, 
o'er the shop of your eyes ; with your arms 
crossed on your thin belly-doublet, hke a rab- 
bit on a spit ; or your hands in your pocket, 
like a man after the old painting ; and keep 
not too long in one tune, but a snip and away : 
These are complements, these are humours ; 
these betray nice wenches — that would be be- 
trayed wiihout these ; and make them men of 
note, (do you note, men?) that most are af- 
i fected to these. 

Arm. How hast thou purchased this expe- 
i.rience? 

Moth. By my penny of observation. 

Arm. But 0,— but O,— 
1 Moth. — the hobby-horse is forgot. 
I Arm. Callest thou my love, hobby-horse? 
I Moth. No, master; the hobby-horse is but 
'» colt, and your love, perhaps, a hackney. 
But have you forgot your love? 
j Arm. Almost 1 had. 

I Moth. Negligent student ! learn her by heart. 
\ Arm. By heart, and in heart, boy. 
! Moth. And out of he^rt, master : all those 
three I will prove? 



Arm. What wilt thou prove ? 

Moth. A man, if I live; and this, by, in, 
and without, upon the instant : By heart you 
love her, because your heart cannot come by 
her : in heart you love her, because your 
heart is in love with her; and out of heart 
you love her, being out of heart that you can- 
not enjoy her. 

Arm. I am all these three. 

Moth. And three times as much more, ana 
yet nothing at all. 

Arm. Fetch hither the swain; he must car- 
ry me a letter. 

Moth. A message well sympathized ; a 
horse to be ambassador for an ass ! 

Arm. Ha, ha! what sayest thou? 

Moth. Marry, sir, you must send the ass 
upon the horse, for he is very siow-gaited : 
But I go. 

Arm. The way is but short ; away. 

Moth. As swift as lead, sir. 

Ai'm. Thy meaning, pretty ingenious ? 
Is uot lead a nsetal heavy, dull, and slow? 

Moth. Minimi, honest master; or rather, 
master, no. 

Arm. 1 say, lead is slow. 

Moth. You are too swift §, sir, io say so: 
Is that lead slow which is fir'd from a gun? 

Arm. Sweet smoke of rhetoric! 
He reputes me a cannon; and the bullet, that's 
I shoot thee at the swain. [he : — 

Moth. Thump then, and I flee. [Exit. 

Arm. A most acute juvenal; voluble and 

free of grace! [thy face: 

By thy favour, sweet welkin, I must sigh in 

Most rude melancholy, valour gives thee place. 

My herald is return'd. 

Re-enter Moth and Costard. 

Moth. A wonder, master ; here's a Cos- 
tard II broken in a shin. 

Arm, Some enigma, some riddle: come, — 
thy i 'envoy U ; — begin. 

Cost. No egma, no riddle, no I'envoy ; no 
salve in the mail, sir : O, sir, plantain, a plain 
plantain; no I'enioy, no I'enioy, no salve, 
sir, but a plantain I 

* Hastily. t A. kind of dance. t Canary was the name of a sprightly dance. 
i Quick, ready. || A head. ^1 An old French term for concludinii verses, which served 
eitlier to convey the inornl, or to address the poem to some person. 



180 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act 111, 



Arm. By virtue, thou enforcest laughter; 
thy silly tlionght, my spleen; the heaving of 
my lungs provokes me to ridiculous smiling: 

0, paidon me, my stars! Doth the inconsi- 
derate take salve for l'e7ivoy, and the word, 
I'envoy, for a salve? 

Moth. Do the wise think them other? is 
act I 'envoy a salve? 

Arm. No, page: it is an epilogue or dis- 
course, to make plain 
Some obscure precedence that hath tofore 
I will example it : [been sain. 

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee. 

Were still at odds, being but three. 
There's the moral : Now the I'envoy. 

Moth. 1 will add the Venvoy : Say the 
moral again. 

Arm. The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee, 
Were still at odds, being but three : 

Moth. Until the goose came out of door. 
And stay'd the odds by adding four. 
Now will I begin your moral, and da you 
follow with my I'emoy. 

The fox, the ape, and the humble-bee. 

Were still at odds, being but three: 
Arm. Until the goose came out of door. 

Staying the odds by adding four. 

Moth. A good l*e/t(oy, ending in the goose; 
Would you desire more? 

Cost. The boy hath sold him a bargain, a 

goose, that's flat :— [be fat.— 

Sir, your pennyworth is good, an your goose 

To sell a bargain well, is as cunning as fast 

and loose : 
Let me see a fat I 'envoy ; ay, that's a fat goose. 

Ari/i. Come hither, come hither: How did 
this argument begin? [in a sliin. 

Moth. By saying that a Costard was broken 
Then call'd you for the l*envoy. 

Cost. True, and 1 for a plantain; Thus 
came your argument in ; 
Then the boy's fat I'envoy , {.he goose that you 
And he ende<l the market. [bought; 

Arm. But tell me ; how was there a Costard 
broken in a shin? 

Moth. I will tell you sensibly. 

Cost, Thou hast no feeling of it. Moth ; I 
will speak that I'etivoy: 

1, Costard, running out, that was safely within, 
Fell over the threshold, and broke my shin. 

Arm. We will talk no more of this matter. 

Cost. Till there be more matter in the shin. 

A rm. Sirrah Costard, 1 will enfranchise thee. 

Cost. O, marry me to one Frances: — I 
•njell some I'eyivoy, some goose, in this. 

Arm. By my sweet soul, I mean, setting 
thee at liberty, ehfreedoming thy person; thou 
wert immured, restrained, ca) tivaled, bound. 

Cost. True, true; and now you will be my 
purgation, and let me loose. 

Arm. I give thee thy liberty, set thee from 
durance; and, in lieu thereof, impose on thee 
nothing but this : Bear this signilicant to the 
Country maid Jaquenetta : there is renumera- 
tion ; [Giving him tnoney,] for the best ward 



of mine honour, is, rewarding my dependants. 
Moth, follow." [Ejit, 

Moth. Like the sequel, I. — Signior Costard, 
adieu. 

Cost. My sweet ounce of man's flesh ! my 
incony*Jew! — [Exit Moth. 

Now will I look to his remuneration. Remu- 
neration! O, that's the Latin word for three 
farthings : three farthings — remuneration. — 
What's the price of this inkle? a 'penny: — 
No, 1*11 give you a remuneration : why, it 
carries it.— Remuneration ! — why, it is a 
fairer name than French crown. I will never 
buy and sell out of this word. 
Enter Biron. 

Biron. O, my good knave Costard ! exceed 
ingly well met. 

Cost. Pray you, sir, how much carnation 
ribbon may a man buy for a remuneration? 

Biron. What is a remuneration ? 

Cost. Marry, sir, half-penny farthing. 

Biron, O, why then, three-farlhings'-worth 
of silk. 

Cost. I thank your worship : Cod be with yon! 

Biron. O, stay, slave, 1 must employ thee : 
As thou wilt win my favour, good my knave. 
Do one thing for liie that I shall entreat. 

Cost. When would you have it done, sir? 

Biron. O, this afternoon. 

Cost. Well, I will do it, sir: Fare you well. 

Biron. 0,thou knowest not what it is. 

Cost. I shall know, sir, when I have done it. 

Biron. Why, villain, thou must know first. 

Cost. 1 will come to your worship to mor- 
row morning. 

Biron. It must be done this afternoon. 
Hark, slave, it is but this; — 
'J he princess comes to hunt here in the park, 
And in her train there is a gentle lady; 
When tongues speak sweetly, then they name 

her name, 
And Rosaline they call her: ask for her; 
And to her white hand see thou do commend 
Th»s 82ard-up counsel. There's thy guerdon + ; 
go. [Gives him money. 

Cost. Guerdon, — O sweet guerdon ! better 
than remuneration; eleven-pence farthing bet- 
ter: Most sweet guerdon : — 1 will do it, sir, 
in print j. — Guerdon — remuneration. [Exit 

Biron. O ! — And I, forsooth, in love! I, that 
have been love's whip ; 
A very beadle to a humorous sigh; 
A critic; nay, a night-watch constable; 
A domineering pedant o'erthe boy, 
Than whom no mortal so magnificent! [boy; 
This wimpled j , whining, purblind, wayward 
This senior-jimior, giant-dwarf, Dan Cupid; 
Regent of love-rhymes, lord of folded arms. 
The anointed sovereign of sighs and groans, 
Liege of all loiterers .ind malcontents, 
Dread prince of plackets j, king of codpiecet. 
Sole imperaior, and great general 
Of trotting paritorsll,— O my little heart! — 
And I to be a corporal of his field. 
And wear his colours like a tumbler's hoop J 



' Delightful. t Reward. t With the utmost exactness. ^ Hooded, veiled. 

. Fciiicoats. 11 Ti.e officers of the spiiilual courts who serve cilalions. 



Sceue /.] 



What? 1 ! 1 love! I sue! I seek a wife! 
A woman, that is like a German clock. 
Still a repairing; ever out of frame; 
Aiul never goinii aright, being a watch. 
But being watch'd that it may still go right? 
Nay, to be perjur'd, which is worst of all ; 
And, among three, to love the worst of all ; 
A whitely wanton with a velvet brow, [eyes; 
With two pitch balls stnck in her face for 



LOVE'S LABOUR S LOST. 



181 



Ay, and, by heaven, one that will do the deed. 
Though Argus were her eunuch and her guard: 
And 1 to sigh for her! to watch for her I 
To pray for her! Go to ; it is a plague 
That Cupid will impose for my u'^'glect 
Of his almighty dreadful little might [groan; 
Well, I will love, write, sigh, pray, sue, and 
Some men must love my lady, and some Joan. 

{Exit. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE L 

Another fart of the same. 
Enter the Princess, Rosaline, Maria, 
Katharine, Boyet, Lords, Attendants, 
and a Forester. 

Prirt. Was that the king, that spurr'd his 
horse so hard 
As?ainsl the steep uprising of the hill ? 

Boyet. 1 know not; but, I think, it was 
not he. [ing mind. 

Prifi. W* hoe'er he was, he show*d a mount- 
Well, lords, to-day we shall have our des- 
patch ; 
On Saturday we will return to France. — 
Then, forester, my friend, where is the bush. 
That we must stand and play the murderer in? 
For. Here by, upon the edge of yonder 
coppice ; [shoot. 

A stand where you may make the fairest 
Prin. I thank my beauty, I am fair that 
shoot, [shoot. 

And thereupon thou spealc'st, the fairest 
For. Pardon me, madam, for I meant 

not so. 
Prill. What, what? first praise me, and 
again say, no l 
O short-liv*d pride ! Not fair? alack for woe! 
For. Yes, n»adam,fair. 
Prin. Nay, never paint me now; 

Where fair is not, praise cannot mend the 
brow. [true ; 

Here, good my glass, take this for telling 
[Giving him money. 
Fair payment for foul words is more than 
due. [inherit. 

^or. Nothing but fair is that which you 
Prin. See, see, my beauty will be sav'd 
by merit. 
O heresy in fair, fit for these days ! 
A giving hand, though foul, shall have fair 
praise. — [kill, 

But come, the bow : — Now mercy goes to 
And shooting well is then accounted ill. 
Thus will I save my credit in the shoot: 
Not wounding, pity would not let me do't; 
If wounding, then it was to shew my skill. 
That more for praise, than purpose,* meant to 

kill. 
And, out of question, so it issometimeg ; 
Glory grows guilty of detested crimes ; 



When, for fame's sake, for pi Js^, an outwaic 

part. 
We bend to that the working of the heart: 
As I, for praise alone, now seek to spill 
The poor deer's blood, that my heart means 
no ill. [sovereignty 

Boyet. 1 o not curst wives hold that self- 
Only for praise' sake, when they strive to be 
Lords o'er their lords? [afford 

Prin. Only for praise : and praise we may 
To any lady that subdues a lord. 
Efiter Costaro. 

Prin. Here comes a member of the com> 
mon-wealth. 

Cost. God dig-you-den* all I Pray you, 
which is the head lady ? 

Fri7i. Thou shah know her, fellow, by the 
rest that have no heads. 

Cost. W hich is the greatest lady, the high- 

Prin. The thickest, and the tallest, [est? 

Cost. The thickest, and the tallest! it ij 

so ; truth is truth. 

An your waist, mistress, were as slender as 

my wit, [should he fit. 

One of these maids' girdles for your waist 

Are not you the chief woman? you are the 

thickest here. 

Prin. What's your will, sir ? what's yo'ir 
will? [to one lady Rosaline. 

Cost. I have a letter from monsieur Biron, 

Prin. O, thy letter, thy letter; he's a good 
friend of mine : [carve; 

Stand aside, good bearer. — Boyet, you can 
Break up this capon t. 

Boyet. I am bound to serve — 

This letter is mistook, it importeth none 
It is writ to Jaqueneita. [here; 

Prin. We will read it, I swear : 

Break the neck of the wax, and every one 
give ear. 

Boyet. [Reads.] By heaven, that thou 
art fair, is most infallible ; true, that thou 
art beauteous ; truth, itself, tliat thou art 
lovely: More fairer than fair ^ beautiful 
than beauteous ; truer than truth itself, 
have commiseration on. thy heroical va^- 
sail The magnanimous and most illus- 
trate X king Cophetua set eye upon the per- 
nicious and inaubitate ^egg^^r Zenelophon ; 
and he it was that might rightly say, veni, 
vidi, vici ; which to anatomize in the vui- 



9 God give you good even. 



1 Open this letter. 



t Illustrious* 



182 



SHAKS) EAllE. 



[Art n 



gar, (O base aiid obscure vulgar ! J vide- 
licet, he came, saw, and overcame : he came, 
Oi e ; fitiv\ iuo; overcame, three. fVho 
<•' vie/ thf king ; li hu did he come? to see ; 
h i.y did h' Ml ? to overcome : To uhem 
c m he/ to the bfggar : H hat saw he? 
th- b g^ar ; M hoo- crcame he ? the beggar: 
'i h* touvLi(sion is vutory ; On whose side ? 
tie ki//g'^: I he captive is enrlch'd ; On 
trh Kfe side / the begsar's j The ca tost r off he 
fs a hvptiul ; On tihose side? the king's? — 
wo, i>n hoth in one, or O'tf in bofh. J am the 
k ug ; Jor so >tnud\ the comi-arison : thou 
th b ^iis r /or >o ut'e^seth thy lowii' 
net>s. SUnll I cvmmw d thy lnvt? J may : 
S all le.j< rce thy lo*e ? Jcmld: Shalt I 
ei'treut t'hi^ L ve f livilt. l\ hut shait thou 
tjch .gt jor rugs? * obes ; For tittles, ti- 
tle ^ ; Tor tliys" lj\ me. Thus, eiyecting 
thy reply, 1 proj ne my lips on thy foot, 
my eyes on thy picture, and my heart on 
thy every part. 

Thine, in the dearest design of industry, 
Don Adrianc de A.kmado. 

Thn?dost thou hear the Neniean lion roar 
'Gaihst thee, ihou lamb, ihul standesi as 
l)is prey ; 
Snbniissise tall his princrly feet before, 

Aiiti he from ft>rage will incline to play : 
Bnt if thou strive, poor soul, what art thou 

then i 
Food for his r«ge, repastuhc for his den. 
Prin. What plume oi featliers is he, that 
indited this letter? 
What vane? what weather-cock? did yon 
tvei near Deiter t 
Boyet . I am much deceived, hut I remem- 
ber the style, [it erewhile •. 
Prin. Elsf your memory is bad, ^oingo'er 
Boyet. I'his Armado is a Spaniard, that 
keeps here in conit ; [sport 
A phaMtasni a Mnnarcho, and one that makes 
To the prince, and his bo<>k-mate>. 

Priu. Thou, ft^llow, a word : 

\Vh'> gave thee this letter ? 

Vo^t. I told you ; my loid. 

Prin. To whom sbonldst thou give it / 
Co^t. From my lord to m> lady. 

Pi in. From which lord, to which laly? 
(Jost. FrHjm my lord iiiron, a good master 
t)f mine, 
To a lady ot 1 ranee, that he callM Rosaline. 
Pi in. 1 hou hast mistaken his ittter. Come, 
lords, away. 
Here, sweet, put up this ; 'twill be thin? ano- 
thtrday. \t.jrit Vnncv&s and Train. 
Boyet. U ho is the suitor ^ whois the suitor? 
Bos. Shall 1 leach you to know? 

Bojut. Ay, my continent of beauty. 
Bos. Why, she that bears the bow. 

Finely put otf I 

Boijtt My lady goes to kill horns; but, if 
thou marry, 
' «Dg me by the neck, if horns th vt y''.ar mit- 



Finely put o»i ! 
Bos. Well then, I am the shootor. 
Bo-yet. And who is \ our deer 

Ros. If we choose by the Iw^rns, youis-elf : 
come near. 
Finely put on, indeed ! — 

Mar. You still wrangle with her, Boycl 

and she strikes at the brow. 
Boytt. But she herselt is hit lower: Have 1 

hit her now ? 
7?ov. Shall I come upon thee with an oli 
saying, that was a man when king Pepin ^it 
France was a little boy, as touching the hit ii I 
hiron. So I may answer thee with one as 
old, that WHS a woman when queen Guinever 
ot Britain was a little wench, as touching the 
hit it. 
Ros. Thou canst not hit it, hit it, hit if, 
[Singinii. 
Thou canst not hit it, my good man. 
Boyet. An J cannot, cannot, cannot. 
An I cannot, an< ther can, 

{Exeunt Ros. and Kath. 
Cost. By mj' tr()th, most pleasant! how 

both did fit it! 
Mar. A mark marvellous well shot ; for 

they both did hit it. 

Boyet. A mark! O, mark but that mark; 

A mark, says my la«ly ! 

Let the mark have a |)4 ick in't, to mete at, if 

it may be. [hand is o\n. 

Mar. \S ide o* the bow hand! i'faith your 

<'ost. Indeed, a' must shoot nearei, or he'll 

ne'er hit the clout. [your hand is in. 

Boyet, An it my hand be out, then, belike 

Cost. Then will she get the upshot by 

cleavnig the pin. 
Mar. Come, com«, you talk greasily, your 

lips yrovv foul. 
Cost. She's too hard for you at pricks. 

sir; challenge her to bowl. 
Boyet. 1 fear too much rubbing; C"0(1 
night, my gO(»d owl. 

[tUeu/it Boyet and Mari \. 

Cost. By my soul, a swain! a most sipi(>ie 

clown ! [him dow n ! 

Lord, lord! how the ladies and i have p:it 

O' my troth, most sweet jests! most inciwiy 

vulvar wit I 
When it comes so smoothly off, so obscenely 

as it were, so fit. 
Armatho o* the one side,— O, a most dainty 
man ! [her fan 

To see him walk before a lady, and to hoiw 
To see him kiAS his iiand ! and how most 
sweetly a' will swear! [wit! 

And his page o' t* other side, that handful of 
Ah, heavens, it is a n ost pathetical i>it ! 
Sola, solal [Snouting within. 

[Kvit Costard, running, 

SCENE IL The same. 
Enter Holoffrms, A/r Nathaniei^, 

and Dull. 
Nath. Very reverent sport, truly aD<^ 
done in the testimc ny of a good conscii noo. 



• Jq*t I ')W 



See HP If] 



love's labour's lost. 



1S3 



Hi>L The deer was, as you know, in .san- 
/f?/i.v,— blood ; ripe as a poniewater •, who 
MOW hangetli like a jewel in the ear of coelo, 
— the sky, the welkin, the heaven; and anon 
falleth like a crab, on the face of terra, — the 
ioil, the land, the earth. 

Nath. Truly, master Holofernes, the epi- 
thets are sweetly varied, like a scholar at the 
least : But, sir, I assure ye, it was a buck of 
the first head. 

Hol. Sir Nathaniel, haud credo. 

Dull. Twas not a haud credo, 'twas a 
prii ket. 

Hol. Most barbarous intimation! yet a 
kind of insinuation, as it were, in via, in way, 
of explication ; facere, as it were, replication, 
or, rather, ostenfare, to show, as it were, 
his inclination, — after his undressed, unpo- 
lished, uneducated, unpruned, untrained, or 
rather unlettered, or, ratherest, unconfirmed 
fashion, — to insert a»ain my haud credo for 
a deer. 

Dull. I said, the deer was not a haud cre- 
do ; 'twas a pricket. 

Hot. Twice sod simplicity, bis cactus ! — 
O thou monster ignorance, how deformed 
dost thou look! 

Nath. Sir, he hath never fed of the dain- 
ties that are bred in a book; he bath not eat 
paper, as it were ; he hath not drunk ink ; 
his intellect is not replenished ; he is only an 
animal, only sensible in the duller parts ; 
And such barren plants are set before us, that 

we thankful should be 
(Which we of taste and feeling are) for those 
parts that do fructify in us more than he. 
For as it would ill become me to be vain, in- 
discreet, or a fool, 
So, were there a patch t set on learning, to 

see him in a school: 
But, onme bene, say 1; being of an old fa- 
ther's mind, [the wind. 
Many can brooli the tveather, that love not 

Dull. You two are book-men: Can you 
tell by your wit. 
What was a month old at Cain's birth, that's 
not five weeks old as yet? 

Hol. Dictynna, good man Dull; Dictynna, 
good man Dull. 

Dull. What is Dictynna ? 

Nath. A title to Phoebe, to Luna, to the 
moon. [Adam was no more; 

Hoi. The moon was a month old, when 
And raught "!" not to five weeks, when he came 

to fivescore. 
The allusion holds inthe exchange^ 

Dull. 'Tis true indeed ; the collusion holds 
in the exchange. 

Hol. God comfort thy capacity ! I say, the 
allusion holds in the exchange. 

Dull. And 1 say the pollution holds in the 
exchange ; for the moon is never but a month 
old : and I say beside, th:it 'twas a pricket 
'that the princess kill'd. 

H>1. Sir Nathaniel, will you hear an ex- 
lemporal epitaph on the death of the deer? 



and, to humour the ignorant, I have call'd the 
deer the princess kill'd, a pricket. 

Nath. Perfre, good master Holifernfes, 
verge; so it shall please you to abrogate 
scurrility. 

Hol. I will something affect the letter; for 
it argues facility. 

7%e praiseful princess pierc*d and prick'd 
a pretty pleasing pricket ; 

Some say, a sore ; but not a sore, till 71010 
made sore with shooting. 
The dogs did yell; put L to sore, thensorel 
jumps from thicket ; 

Or pricket, sore, or else sorel; the peOf>le 
fall a hootiiig. 
If sore be sore, then L to sore makes fifty 

sores ; O sore L ! 
Of one sore I an hundred make, by adding 
but one more L. 

Nath. A rare talent ! 

Dull. It a talent be a claw, look how he 
claws him with a talent. 

Hol. This is a gfit that I have, simple, sim- 
ple ; a foolish exfravasiant spirit, full of forms, 
figures, shapes, objects, ideas, apprehensions, 
motions, revolutions : these are begot in the 
ventricle of memory, nourished in the womb 
of pia mater; and deliver'd upon the mel- 
lowing of occasion : But the gill is good in 
those in whom it is acute, and I am thanktui 
for it. 

Nath. Sir, I praise the Lord for you ; and 
so may my parishioners ; for their sons ate 
M'ell tutor'd by you, and their danglters p <>- 
fit very greatly under you : you are a good 
member of the commonwealth. 

Hol. Mehercle, if their sons be ingenious, 
they shall want no instruction : if their daugh- 
ters be capable, I will put it to them : Hut, ir 
snpit, qui pauca loquitur: a soul feminine 
saluteth U9- 

^w/'er Jaquenetta and Costard. 

Jaq, God give you good morrow, master 
person. 

Hol. Master person, — quasi ^er^-on. And 
if one should be pierced, which is the one ? 

Cost. Marry, master schoolmaster, he that 
is likest to a hogshead. 

Hol. Of piercing a hogshead! a good lustre 
of conceit in a turf of earth ; fire enousih for a 
flint, pearl enough for a swine : 'tis pretty ; it 
is well. 

Jaq. Good master parson, be so good as 
read me this letter; it was given me Tiy Cos 
tard, and sent me froHi Don Armatho : I be- 
seech you, read it 

Hol. Fauste,-precor gelidtiquando pecus 

omne sub umbra 

Ruminat,— And so forth. Ah, good old Man- 

tuan ! [nii^e '. 

I may speak of thee as the traveller doth of Ve- 

Vinegia, Vinegia, 

Chi mm te rede, ei non te pregia. 
Old Mriutuan! old Mautuan ! Who under- 
standeth thee not, loves thee not.— t/f, re, sol 
,la, mi, fa. — Under pardon, sir, what are lh« 



• A species of apple. 



t A low fellow. 



\ Reached. 



184 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Act IT. 



contents ? or, ratlier, aa Hornce says in \\\i — 
VVhit, iny s«ml, verses ? 

\ut.i Xy, sir, inti very learned. 

Hit. Let me hoar <t stall, a sujjzi, a verse ; 
Lfiie, domt /e. 

SJath. If love make ine tors worn, how 
^hail 1 swear to love { 

Ah, never raitb could hold, if not to beauty 

vowed ! [prove ; 

Though to myself forsworn, to thee I'll raithml 

Those thOMghts to me were oaks, to thee 
like osiers bowed. 
Study his bias leaves, and makes his book 
tliine eyes : [would comprehend : 

Where all those pleasures live, that art 

If knowlcdi^e be the mark, to know thee shall 

surtice ; [thee commend ; 

Well learned is that tongue, that well can 

All ignorant that soul, that sees thee without 

wonder ; [parts admire;) 

(Which is to me some praise, that I thy 
Thy eye Jove's lightning bears, thy voiL.e 
his dreadful thunder. 

Which, not to auger bent, is music, and 
sweet hre. [wrou^. 

Celestial, as thou art, oh pardon, love, this 

That rtiugs heaven's praise with such an 
earthly tongue! 

Hot. \ou. hud not the apostrophes, and so 
miss the accent: let me supervise the canzo- 
net. Here are only numbers raiihed ; but, 
f»)r the elegancy, facility, and gulden cadence 
of potsy, caret. Ovidius N^so was the man : 
and why, indeed, Naso ; but for smelling nut 
the odoriteroui flower* .>f fancy, the jerks of 
invention? Imifarl, nothing: so di»th the 
h'»uud his master, th/ *je his keeper, the tired 
horse* his rider. 6i$ ''amosella virgin, was 
this directed tuyoi? f 

Jaq. Ay, sir, f: war i.ie Monsieur Biron, one 
of the »trani;e qn eu.'' lords. 

Jloi, I willo»!irg' lUce thesupersoript. To 
the siton-wniti fiend of the mxst beauteous 
Lndy Rosalirn I will look ag.tku on the 
intellect of ihr setter, for the nomination of 
the parly wriiiin( to the person written unto: 

Your Ladysuiy^s in alL desii e>i cmpLoy- 
me«^,linioN Sir Nathaniel, this iiiron is 
one of the votaries with the king ; and here 
he hath framed a letter to a sequent of the 
stranger queen'*, which, accidentally, or by the 
way of projiressiou, hath miscarri d. — Trip 
and go, my sweet; deliver tiiis paper into the 
royal hand of the king ; it may concern much : 
Stay not thy compliment; 1 forgive tny duty; 
adiet\. 

Jaq. Good Costard, go with jne. — Sir, God 
tave your life! 

Coat. Have with thee, my girl. 

[Eieuiit Cost, andikq. 

Nath, Sir, you have done this in the fear 
of God, very religiously ; and, as a certain 
lather sailh 

Hoi. Sir, tell not me of the father, I do 
fear colourable colouis. liut, torelurn to the 
\crse9 ; Did they please you, sir Nathaniel? 

• Hors«» adorned with rib.inds. 



I^i(t'i. Marvellous well for the p^n. 

Hitl. I do dine to-day at the father's of a 
certain pupil of mine; where if, before repast, 
it shall pie^se >oii to gratify the table with a 
yrace, I will, on my privilege 1 have with tiie 
parents of the foresaid child or puj il ujider 
take your ben venuto ; where I will prove 
those verses to be very unlearned, neither 
savouring of poetry, wit, nor iuvenlioa : I 
beseech your society. 

Niith. Aud thank you too : for society, 
(saith the text,) is the happiness of life. 

Hoi. And, certes t, the text most infallibly 
concludes it. — Sir, [To Dull.] I do invite 
you too; you shall not say me, nay : ydUid 
verba. Away ; the gentles are at their game, 
aud we will to our recreation. [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. Another part of the same. 
Enter Biron, w/th a paper. 

Biron. The king he is hunting the deer; I 
am coursing myself: they have pitch'd a toil ; 
I am toiling in a pitch; pitch that deliles; 
deftie! a foul word. Well, Set thee down, 
sorrow ! for so, they say, the fool said, and so 
say 1, ^nd I the tool. Well proved, wit ! By 
the lord, this love is as mad as Ajax : it kills 
sheep; it kills me, I a sheep : Well proved 
again on my side! I will not love; if 1 do. 
hang me; i'faith, 1 will not. O, but her eye, 
— b) this light, but for her eye, I would not 
love her; yes, for her two eyes. Well, 1 do 
nothing ia the world bat li'i, and lie in my 
throat. By heivea, I do love : and it hath 
tauiiht me to rhyme, and to be melancholy ; 
and here is part of my rhyme, and here my 
melancholy. Well, she iMth one o' my son- 
nets already ; the clown bore it, the fool sent 
it, and the lady hath it : sweet clown, sweeter 
fool, sweetest lady ! By the world, I would 
not care a pin if the other three were in: 
Here comes one with a paper ; God give him 
grace to groan i [(rets up into a tree. 

Enter the King, with a paper. 

Kins,. Ah me! 

Biron. [A^ide.'\ Shot, by heaven!— Pro- 
ceed, sweet Cupid; thou hast thump'd hi n 
with thy bird-bolt under the left pap:— rfaith 
secrets. — 

King. [Reads.] So sweet a kiss the golden 
sun gives not 

To those Jrt sh morning drops upon the rose. 

As tliy eye-ben ms, wlit-n tlieir J'resh rafts 

hiive smote [Jinjvs: 

The night of dew that on my cheeks down 
Nor shine ^ the 'silver moon one half so bright 

Throa^k tin trujisyarent bo^om nftht deep, 
A.' doth thy face through tears of mine give 
liglit ; 

Thou shin'st in every tear that J do weep: 
No drop out as a coach doth carry thee. 

So ridest thou tr'iinip/iing in my jvoc ; 
Do' but behold the tears that ^wfU in wf. 

And they t ay glory through thy (^riefml 
show : 

i In tiuth. 



Srenf IIL\ 



LOVE'S labour's LOST, 



IS- 



But do not love thyself; then thou wilt keep 
My tears for glasses, and still . make me 

weep, 
() queen f queens , how far do^t thou excel! 
No tnousiht can think, nor tongue of mortnl 
tell- — [paper; 

How shall she know my griefs 1 I'll drop the 
Sweet leaves, sliade folly. Who is he comes 
here 1 [Steps aside. 

Enter Longavillb, with a paper, 
Wiiat; Longaville! and reading! listen, ear. 
Biron Now, in thy likeness, one more fool, 
appear! [Aside. 

Long. Ah me ! I am forsworn. 
Biron. Why, he comes in like a perj»ire, 
wearing papers. [Aside. 

King. In love, I hope ; Sweet fellowship 
in shame .' [Aside. 

Biron. One drunkard loves another of the 
name. [Aside. 

Long. Am I the first that have been per- 

jur'd so? 
Biron. [Aside.] I conld put thee in comfort ; 
not by two, that I know : 
Thou mak*st the triumviry, the corner cap of 
society, fpliciiy. 

The shape of love's Tyburn that hanes up sim- 
Long. I fear, these stubborn lines lack 
power to move : 
O sweet Maria, empress of my love ! 
Those numbers will I tear, and write in prose, 
Biron. [Aside."] O, rhymes are guards on 
wanton Cupid's hose: 
Disfigure not his slop. 

Long. This same shall go. — 

[He reads the sonnet. 
Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye 
('Gainst whom the world cannot hold ar- 
gument,) 
Persuade my heart to this false perjury ? 
Vows, for thee broke, deserve not punish- 
ment. 
A woman I forswore ; but, I will prove, 

Thou being a goddess, /forswore not thee : 
My vow was earthly, thou a hcai enly love ; 
Thy grace being gain'd, cures all dis- 
grace in me. 
Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is: 
Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth 
dost shine, 
ExhaVst this vapour vow; in thee it is: 
If broken then, it is no fault of mine; 
If by me broke. What fool is not so wise. 
To lose an oath to win a paradise? 

Biron. [Aside.] This is the liver vein, which 
makes flesh a deity; 
A green goose, a goddess : pure, pure idolatry, 
God amend us, God amend! we are much out 
o* the way. 

Enter Dumain, with a paper. 
Long. By whom shall I send this?— Com- 
pany ! stay. [Stepping aside. 
Biron. [Aside.] All hid, all hid, an old infant 
play : 
Like a demigod here sit I in the sky, 
And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'er-eye. 



More sacks to the mill ! O heavens, I have my 

wish; [dis'h! 

Dumain transform'd : four woodcocks in a 

Ditm. O most divine Kate! 

Biron. O most profane coxcomb ! [Aside. 

Dam. By heaven,the wonderof a mortal eye! 

Biron. By earth, she is but corporal ; there 

you lie. [Aside. 

Dnm. Her amber hairs for foul have amber 

coted *. 
Biron. An amber- oolour'd raven was well 
noted. [Aside* 

Dum. As Bpright as the cedar. 
Biron. Stoop, I say; 

Her shoulder is with child. [Aside, 

Dum. As fair as day. 

Biron. Ay, as some days ; but then no sun 
must shioe. [Aside, 

Dum. O that I had my wish ! 
Long. And I had mine ! [Aside. 

King. And I mine too, good Lord! [Aside, 
Biron. Amen, so I had mine : Is not that 
a good word 1 [Aside, 

Dum. I would forget her; but a fever she 
Reigns in my blood, and will remember'd be. 
Biron. A fever in your blood, why, then 
incision [sion. [A'-ide. 

Would let her out in saucers; Sweet mispri- 
Dnm. Once more I'll read the ode that I 

have writ. 
Biron. Once more I'll mark how love can 
vary wit. [il« .e. 

Dum. On a day, f alack the day!) 
Love, whose month is ever May, 
Spied (I blossom, passing fair. 
Playing in the wanton air : 
Through the velvet leaves the wind, 
All unseen, *gan passage find ; 
That the lover, sick to aeath, 
Wish'd himself the heaven's hrenth. 
Air, qnoth he, thy cheeks may blow ; 
Air, would I might triumph so! 
But alack, my hand is sworn, 
Ne*er to pluck thee from thy thorn : 
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet ; 
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet. 
Do not call it sin in me. 
That I ain forsworn for thee: 
Thou for whom even Jove ivould swear 
J%ino but an Ethiop were ; 
And deny himself for Jove, 
Tumi fig mortal for thy love, — 
This will I send ; and something else more plain 
That shall express my true love's fasting pain 
O, would the King, Biron, and Longaville, 
Were lovers too ! Ill, to example iH, 
Would from my forehead wipe a pei iur'd note; 
For none offend, where all alike no dote. 
Long. Dumain, [advancing.] thy love is far 
from charity, 
That in love's grief desir'st society : 
You may look pale, but I should blush, I know. 
To be o'erheard, and taken napping so. 
King. Come, 9,\r,[(idvancing.] yon blush; 
as his your case is such ; 
You chide at him, otfending twice as much: 



• Oiii3tripped, ftorpasaed. 



K3 



SG 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV 



Von do m»t love Maria ; Longaville 
Pid never sonnet for her sake compile; 
Nor never lay his wreathed arms athwart 
His loving bosom, to keep down his heart. 
I have been closely shrouded in this bush, 
And mark'd you both, and for you both did 
blush. [fashion; 

I heard your guilty rhymes, observ'd your 
Saw sighs reek from you, noted well your 

passion : 
Ah me! says one ; O Jove ! the other cries ; 
One, her hairs were gold, crystal the other's 

eyes : 
You would for paradise break faith and troth ; 
[To Lows. 
And Jove, for your love, would infringe an 
oath. \To DuMAiN. 

What will Bir6n say, when that he shall hear 
A faith infringVl, which such a zeal did swear? 
How will he scorn 1 how will he spend his 

wit? 
How will he triumph, leap, and laugh at it? 
For all the wealth that ever I did see, 
1 would not have him know so much by me. 

Biron. Now step I torth to whip hypocrisy. — 
Ah, good my liege, I pray thee pardon me : 

{Descends from the tree. 
Good heart, what grace hast thou, thus to re- 
prove 
These worms for loving, that art most in love? 
Yonr eyes do make no cttaches ; in your tears, 
There is no certain princess that appears : 
"li on'U not be perjur'd, 'lis a hateful thing ; 
Tnsh, none but minstrels like of sonneting. 
Kilt are you not asham'd ? nay, are you not, 
All three of you, to be thus much o'ershot? 
\t)u found his mote ; the king your mote did 
But I a beam do find in each of three, [see; 
(), what a scene of foolery I have seen, 
Of sighs, of aroans, of sorrow, and of teen •! 

me, with what strict patience have I sat, 
'] o see a king transformed to a gnat I 

To see great Hercules whipping a gig, 
And profound Solomon to tune a jig. 
And Nestor play at push-pin with the boys. 
And critic t Timon laui;h at idle toys I 
Where lies thy grief, O tell me, good Domain? 
And, gentle Longaville, where lies thy pain? 
And where my liege's^ all about the breast: — 
A caudle, ho! 

King. Too bitter is thy jest. 

Are we betray '(t thus to thy over-view? 

Biron. Not you by me, but I betray'd to 
I, that am honest; I, that hold it sin [you; 
To break the vow I am engaged in ; 

1 am betra>M, by keeping company 

With moon-like men, of strange inconstancy. 
%v hen shall you see me write a thing in rhyme? 
i/r groan for Joan? or spend a minute's time 
In pruning; me? When shall you hear that 1 
Will praise a hand, a foot, a face, an eye, 
A gait, a state, a brow, a breast, a waistj 
A leg, a limb? — 

King. Soft; Whither away so fast ? 

A true man, or a thief, that gallops so? [go. 

Biron. 1 post from love ; good lover, let me 



Grief. 



t Cynic 



Enter Jaquenetta and Costaru. 

Jaq, God bless the king ! 

King. What present hast thon there f 

Cost. Some certain treason. * 

King. What makes treason here 1 

Cost. Nay, it makes nothing, sir. 

Ki»g. If it mar nothing neither. 

The treason, and you, go in peace away toge- i 
ther. [read ; 

Jaq. I beseech your grace, let this letter be 
Our parson misdoubts it ; 'twas treason, he said. 

King. Biron, read it over. 

[Giving him the letter. 
Where hadst thou it? 

Jaq. Of Costard. 

King, Where hadst thou it ? 

Cost. Of Dun Adramadio, Dun Adramadio. 

King. How now! what is in you? why 
dost thou tear it? [needs not fear it. 

Biron. A toy, my lief^e, a toy; your grace 

Long. It did move him to passion, and 
therefore let's hear it. 

Dum. It is Biron's writing, and here is his 
name. \Picks up the pieces. 

Biron. Ah, you whoreson loggerhead, [To 
Cost.] you were born to do me shame. — 
Guilty, my lord, guilty ; I confess, I confess. 

King. What? [to make up the mess: 

Biron. That you three fools lack'd me fool 
He, he, and you, my liege, and I, 
Are pick-purses in love, and we deserve to die. 
O, dismiss this audience, and I shall tell you 

Dum. Now the number is even. [more. 

Biron. True, true ; we are four : — 

Will these turtles be gone ? 

King. Hence, sirs ; away. 

Cost, Walk aside the true folk, and let the 
traitors stay, [Exeunt Cost. 4 Jaq. 

Biron. Sweet lords, sweet lovers, O let us 
embrace ! 

As true we are, as flesh and blood can be : 
The sea will ebb and flow, heaven show bis face; 

Young blood will not obey an old decree : 
We cannot cross the cause why we were born ; 
Therefore, of all hands must we be forsworn. 

King. What, did these rent lines show some 
love of thine? [t-.eavenly Rosaline, 

Biron. Did they, quoth you? Who sees tke 
That, like a rude and savage man of Inde, 

At the first opening of the gorgeous east. 
Bows not his vassal head ; and^ strucken blind, I 

Kisses the base ground with obedient breast? 
What peremptory eagle sighted eye 

Dares look upon the heaven of her brow. 
That is not blinded by her majesty? [now? 

KiTig.^hixi zeal,whatfury hath inspii-^d thee 
My love, her mistress, is a gracious moon ; 

She, an attending star, scarce seen a light. 

Biron. My eyes are then no eyes, nor i 
Biron : 

O, but for my love, day would turn to night' 
Of all complexions the cull'd sovereignty 

Do meet, as at a fair, in her fair cheek ; 
Where several worthies make one diguiir , 

Where nothing wants, that want itsell dot 
seek. 

In trimming myseii 



Svr»eIIL\ 



LOVE'S LABOUR*S LOST. 



187 



Lend me the flourish of all gentle tongues, — 
Fie, painted rhetoric ! O, she needs it not : 
To things of sale a seller's praise belongs ; 
She passes praise ; then praise too short 
doth blot. 
A withered hermit, five-score winters worn, 
Might shake ott" fitly, looking in her eye : 
Beauty doth varnish age, as if new-born. 

And gives the crotch the cradle's infancy. 
O, 'tis the sun, that maketh all things shine ! 
King. By heaven, thy love is black as ehony. 
Biron. Is ebony like her.' <) wood divine! 
A wife of such wood were felicity. 
O, who can give an oath » wheie is a book ? 

That I may swear, beauty doth beauty lack, 
If that she learn not of her eye to look ; 
No face is fair, that is not full so black. 
K'i> g.O paradox! l^lack is the badj^e of hell, 
The hue of dungeons, and the scowl of nii{ht ; 
And beauty's crest becomes the heavens well. 
s.'»/ro?i. Devils soonest tempt, resembling 
spirits of light. 
O if in black my lady's brows be deckt, 

it mourns, that painting, and usurping hair, 
Should ravish doters with a false aspect ; 

And therefore is she born to make black fair. 
Her favour turns the fashion of the days; 

For native blood is counted painting now ; 
And therefore red, that would avoid dispraise. 
Paints itself black, to imitate her brow. 
Dum. To look like lier, are chimney-sweep- 
ers black. [ed bright. 
/>owg. And, since her time, are colliers count- 
King, And Ethiops of their sweet com- 
plexion craok. [is light. 
Dum. Dark needs no candles now, for dark 
Biron.Yonr mistresses dare never come in 
rain, [away. 
For fear their colours should be wash'd 
King. 'Twere good, yours did; for, sir, to 
tell you plain, 
I'll find a fairer face not wash'd to-day. 
Biron. I'll prove her fair, or talk till dooms- 
day here. [much as she. 
King. No devil will fright thee then so 
Dum. I never knew man hold vile stuff so 
dear, [her face see. [Sioivi/tg his shoe. 
JL,ong, Look, bore's thy love : my foot and 
Diron. O, if the streets were paved with 
thine eyes, [tread! 
Her feet were much too dainty for such 
Dum. O vile! then as she goes, what up- 
ward lies, [head. 
The street should see as she walk'd over 
King. But what of this? Are we not all in 
love ? [forsworn. 
Biron. <>, nothing so sure ; and thereby all 
King Then leave this chat; and, good Biron, 
now prove 
Our loving lawful, and our ffj^th not torn. 
Dum. Ay, marry, there ; — some flattery for 

this evil. 

Lmig. Of some authority how to proceed ; 

Sonie tricks, some quillets*, how to cheat the 

DtiTn. Some salve for perjury. [devil. 

hiron, O 'tis more than need! — 



Have at you then, affection's men at arras : 
Consider, what you first did swear unto; — 
To f >st, — to study,— and to see no woman ;— 
Flat treason 'iiainst the kingly *tHte of youth. 
Say , can yon fast^ > our stomachs are too young; 
And abstinence eng-'uders m tladies. 
And where that you have vow'd to study, lords. 
In that each of you hath forsworn his book : 
Can you still dream, an I pore, and thereon look? 
For when would you, my lord, or jou,or you. 
Have found the ground of study's ex-ellence. 
Without the beauty of a woman's face? 
From women's eyes this doctrine I derive! 
They are the tirou nd, the books, the academes. 
From whence doth spring the true I'romethean 
Why, universal plodding prisons up [fire 
The nimble spirits in the arteries ; 
As motion, and long durinji action, tires 
1 he sinewy vigour of the traveller. 
Now, for not looking on a vvooian's face. 
You have in that forsworn the use of eyes; 
And study too, the causer of your vow : 
For where is any author in the world, 
Teaches such beauty as a woman's eye ? 
Learning; is but an adjunct to ourself. 
And where we are, o«>r learning likewise is. 
Then, when ourselves we see in ladies* eyes 
Do we not likewise see our learning there? 
O, we have matte a vow to study, lords ; 
And in that vow we have forsworn our books ; 
For when would you, my liege, or you, or you. 
In leaden contemplation, have found out 
Such fiery mnnbers, as the prompting eyes 
Of beauteous tutors have enrich'd you with? 
Other slow arts entirely keep the brain ; 
And therefore finding barren practisers. 
Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil: 
But love, first learned in a lady's eyes. 
Lives not alone immured in the brain ; 
But with the motion of all elements. 
Courses as swift as thouuht in every power ; 
And gives to every power a double power. 
Above their functions and their offices. 
It adds a precious seeing to the eye ; 
A lover's eyes will gaze an eagle blind ; 
A lover's ear will hear the lowest sound, 
When the suspicious head of theft is stopp'd 
Love's feeling is more soft, and sensibk. 
Than are the tender horns of cockled snails; 
Love's tongue proves dainty Bacchus gross in 
For valour, is not love a Hercules, [taste : 
Still climbing trees in the Hesperides? 
Subtle as sphinx; as sweet, and musical. 
As bright Apollo's lute, strung with his hair ; 
And, when love speaks, the voice ofall the gods 
Makes heaven drowsy with the harniony. 
Never durst poet touch a pen to write. 
Until his ink were lemper'd with Ijvt's sighs ; 
O, then his lines would ravish savage ears, 
And plant in tyrants mild humilit>. 
Fr. m women's eyes this doctrine I derive : 
They spari le siill tlie nght PionuOiean fire* 
Tliey aie the books, the arts, the a- adf^mes, 
'J'hal^hovv, contain, and nourish all the w«»rid; 
Else, none at all in aught proves excellent : 
Then fools you were theae women to forswear » 



• Law-chicane* 



18S 



SHAKSPEARE. 



A.ct V 



Or,keeping wha* is sworn, you will prove fools. 
For wisdom's sake, a word that all men love ; 
Or for love's sako, a word that loves all men ; 
Or for men's sake, the authors of these v/omen ; 
Or women's sake, by whom we men are men; 
Let us once lose our oaths, to find ourselves, 
Or else we lose ourselves to keep our oaths : 
It is religion to be thus forsworn : 
For charity itself fulfils the law ; 
And who can sever love from charity? 

King. Saint Cupid, then! and, soldiers, to 
the field 1 [them, lords; 

Biron, Advance your standards, and upon 
Pell-mell, down with them ! but be first ad v is'd, 
In conflict that you get the sun of them, [by : 

Long. Now to plain dealing ; lay these glozes 
Shall we resolve to woo these girls of France ? 

King. And win them too : therefore let us 
aevise 



Some entertainment for fhem in their tents, 
Biron. First, from the park let us conduct 
them thither ; 
Then, homeward, every man att ich the hand 
Of his fair mistress: in the afternoon 
We will with some strange pastime solace them, 
Such as the shortness of the time can shape ; 
For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours, 
Fore-run fair Love, strewing her way with 
flowers. [ted. 

King. Away, away ! no time shall be omit- 
That will be time, and may by us be fitted. 
Biron. Allons! Allons! Sow'd cockle 

reap'd no corn ; 
And justice always whirls in equal measure 
Light wenches may prove plagues lo^me* 
forsworn ; 
If so, oar copper buys no better treasure. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. Another fart of the same. 

Enter Holofernes, Sir Nathaniel, and 
Dull. 

Hoi. Satis quod ^mfficit. 

Nath. I praise God for you, sir : your rea- 
sons* at dinner have been sharp and senten- 
tious: pleasant without scurrility, witty with- 
out affection t, audacious without impudency, 
learned without opinion, and strange without 
heresy. I did converse this quondam day 
with a companion of the king's, who is inti- 
k'.led, nominated, or called, Don Adriano de 
Arraado. 

Hoi. Novi hominem tanquam te : His 
humour is lofty, his discourse peremptory, 
his tongue filed, his eye ambitious, his gait 
iiiajestical, and his general behaviour vain, ridi- 
culous, and thrasonical J. He is too picked §, 
too spruce, to« atfectefl, too odd, as it were, 
too perei;rinate, as I may call it. 

Nath. A most singular and choice epithet 
[Takes out his tahlr-book. 

Hoi. He draweth out the threar! of his ver- 
bosity finer than the staple of his argtiraent. 
I abhor such fanatical ph mtasms, such insocia- 
ble and pointdevisejl companions; such rack- 
ers of orthography, as to speak, dout, fine, 
when he should say, doubt ; det, wljen he 
Fhonid pronounce, debt ; d, e, b, t ; not d, e, t : 
he clepeth a calf, cauf ; half, hauf ; neighbour, 
vocatury nebour, neigh, abbreviate<l, ne : This 
is abhominable, (which he would call abomi- 
nable,) it insinuateth me of insanie ; Ne Intel- 
iigis, domine ? to make frantic, lunatic. 

Nath, Laus Deo, bone intelligo. 

Hoi. Bone? bone, for bene: Priscian 

a little 8cratch*d ; 't will serve. 

Enter Armado, Moth, und Costard. 

Nath. Vidisne qnis renit ? 

Hul. Video, 4: gaudeo. 

ilrwi. Chirra! [7b Moth. 



Hoi. Quare Chirra, not sirrah? 

Arm. Men of peace, well encounter'd. 

Hoi. Most military sir, salutation. 

Moth. They have been at a great feast of Ian- 
guages, and stolen the scraps. [To Cost, aside. 

Cost. O, they have lived long in the alms- 
basket of words! I marvel, thy master hath 
not eaten thee for a word ; for thou art not so 
long by the head as honorifi en hiLit. udinitati-. 
bus: thou art easier swallowed than a flap- 
dragon IF. 

Math. Peace; the peal begins. [ter'd? 

Arm. Monsieur, {To Hol.] are you not let 

Moth. Yes, yes, he teaches boys the horn- 
book : — [his head? 
What is a, b, spelt backward with a horn on 

Hoi. Ba, pueritid, with a horn added. 

Moth.^ Ba, most silly sheep, with a horn :— 
You hear his learning. 

Hoi. Q uis, quis, i\\o\\ consonant? 

Moth. The third of the five vowels, if yon 
repeat them ; or the fifth, if I. 

Hoi. I will repeat them, a, c, i, — 

Moth. The sheep : the other two concludes 
it; o, u. 

Arm. Now, by the salt wave of the Medi- 
terraneum,asweet touch**, a quick venew ol 
wit: snip, snap, quick and home; it rejoicetb 
my intellect: true wit. 

Moth. Otfer'd by a child to an old man; 
which is wit-old. 

Hoi. What is the figure? what is the figure? 

Moth. Horns, 

Hoi. Thou disputest like an infant: go, 
whip thy gig. 

Moth. Lend me your horn to make one, 
and I will \\hip about your infamy circiun ' 
circa ; A tiig of a cuckoM's h«rn ! 

f-ost. An I had but one penny in the world, 
thou shouldst have it lo buy ginsri-rbread ; hold, 
there is the very remimeration I had of thy 
master, thou half-penny purse of wit, tho» 



•Discourses. + Affectation. J Roastful. ^Over-dressed. }| Finical exactnesi. 
% A small juflamm ibie t»ub&tauc«, swallowed in a glias of wine. ■•* A iiii. 



Scene /.] 



LOVES LABOUR'S LOST. 



189 



pig€on-egg of discretion. O, an the heavens 
were so pleased, that thou wert but my bas- 
t ird ! what a joyful father wouldst thou make 
me ! Go to ; thou hast it ad dunghUl, at the 
fingers' ends, as they say. 

Ho/. O, I smell false Latin; dunghill for 
unguem. 

Arm. Arts-man, prcBambula ; we will be ; 
singled from the barbarous. Do you not edu- 1 
cate youth at the charge-house* on the top 
of the mountain? 

Hot, Or, mons^ the hill. 

Arm, At your sweet pleasure, for the moun- 
tain. 

Hoi. I do, sans question. 

Arm. Sir, it is the king's most sweet plea- 
sure and affection, to congratulate the princess 
at her pavilion, in the posteriors of this day ; 
which the rude multitude call, the afternoon. 

Hoi. The posterior of the day, most gene- 
rous sir, is liable, congruent, and measurable 
for the afternoon: the worci is well culTd, 
chose; sweet and apt, I do assure you, sir, 
I do assure. 

Arm. Sir, the king is a noble gentleman; 
and my familiar, I do assure you, very good 
friend: — For what is inward t between us, 
let it piss : — £ do beseech thee, remember thy 
courtesy; — I beseech thee, apparel tliy hea 1 ; 
— and among other importunate and most se- 
rious designs, — and of great iinport indeed, 
too; — but let that pass: — for 1 must tell thee, 
it will please his grace (by the world) some- 
time to lean upon my poor shoulder; and 
with his royal finger, thus, dally with my ex- 
crement i, with my mustachio: but sweet 
heart, let that pass. By the world, 1 recount 
no fable ; some certain special honours it pleas- 
eth his greatness to impart to Armado, a sol- 
dier, a man of travel, that hath seen the world : 
but let that pass. — The very all of all is, — but, 
sweetheart, I do implore secrecy, — that the 
king would have me present the princess, 
sweet chuck 5, with some delightful ostenta- 
tion, or show, or pageant, or antic, or fire- 
work. Now, understanding that the curate 
and your sweet self, are good at such erup- 
tions, and sudden breaking out of mirth, as 
it were, I have acquainted you withal, to the 
end to crave your assistance. 

HoL Sir, you shall present before her the 
nine worthies. — Sir Nathaniel, as concerning 
some entertainment of time, some show in the 
posterior of this day, to be rendered by our 
assistance, — the king's command, and this most 
gallant, illustrate, and learned gentleman, — 
before the princess ; I say, none so fit as to 
present the nine worthies. 

Ntitk. Where will you find men worthy 
tjnough to present them ? 

Hot. Joshua, yourself ; myself, or this gal- 
lant gentleman, .Judas Maccabxus ; this swain, 
'because of his great limb or joint, shall pass 
Pompey the great; the page, Hercules. 
Arm. Pardon, sir, error: he is not quan- 



tity enough for that worthy's thumb : he is 
not so big as the end of his club. 

Hoi. Shall I have audience? he shall pre- 
sent Hercules in minority^ his enter and exif 
shall be strangling a snake ; and I will have 
an apoloiiy for that purpose. 

Moth An excellent device! so, if any of 
the audience hiss, you may cry : well do/ie^ 
Hervuies ! mnv thou crushes/: the snake 
that is the way to make an offence gracious ; 
though few have the grace to do it. 

Arm. For the rest of the worthies ?— 

Hoi. I will play three myself. 

Moth. Thrice worthy gentleman ! 

Arm, Shall I tell you a thing i 

Hoi. We attend. 

Arm. We will have, if this fadgelj not, an 
antic. I beseech you, follow. 

Hoi. Fe«ir,goodinan Dull! thou hast spoken 
no word all this while. 

Dull, Nor understood none neither, sir. 

Hoi. Atlons! we will employ thee. 

Dull. I'll make one in a dance, or so ; or 
I will play on the tabor to the worthies, and 
let them dance the hay. 

Hoi. Most dull, honest Dull, to our sport, 
away. [^Exeunt, 

SCENE. IL Another fart of the same. 

Before the Princess's Pavilion. 
Enter the Princess, Katharine, Rosa- 
line, and iMaria, 
Prin. Sweet hearts, we shall be rich ere we 
If fairings come thus plentifully in : [depart, 
A lady wall'd about with diamonds ! — 
Look you, what 1 have from the loving king. 
Ro^. Madana, came nothing else along with 
that l [in rhyme, 

Prin. Nothing but this 1 yes, as much love 
As would be cramm'd up in a sheet of paper. 
Writ on both sides the leaf, margent and all ; 
That he was fain lo seal on Cupid's name. 
Ros. That was the way to make his god- 
head vvxx** ; 
For he hath been five thousand years a boy. 
Kath. Ay, and a shrewd unhappy gallows 
too. [kill'd your sister. 

Ros. You'll ne'er be friends with him ; he 
JCafh. He made her melancholy, sad, and 
heavy ; 
And so she died : had she been light, like you. 
Of such a merry, nimble, Stirling spirit, 
i She might have been a grandam ere she died : 
And so may you ; for a light heart lives long. 
Ro\. What's your dark meaning, mouse tr, 

of ihis light word ? 
Kafh. A light condition in a beauty dark. 
Ros. We need more light to find youi 
meaning out. [in snuff Jj- 

Kath. You'll mar the light, by taking ii 
Therefore, I'll darkly end the argument. 
Ros. Look, what you do, you do it still 

i' the dark. 
Kath. So do not you ; for you are a liglif 
wench. 



Free school. t Confidential. % Beard. § Chick. 

•* Grow. tt Formerly a tt^nn of endearment. 



Ij Suit. IT Courage, 

ft In anger. 



190 



snAiv«Pfc: \Ki:. 



[Act }. 



Ros. Indeed, I weigh not you ; and there- 
fore light. [care not tor nit. 

Kath, You weigh me no — (), that's you 

Ros, Great reason ; for. Past cure is still 
past care. [well play'd. 

Priit. Well bandied both ; n set of wit 
IJut, Rosaline, you have a favour too : 
W ho seat it? and what is it ? 

Rox. I would, you knew : 

An if my face were but as fair as yours, 
My favour were as great; be witness this. 
Kay, I have verses too, I thank Biron : [too. 
The numbers true ; and, were the numbVing 
1 were the fairest goddess on the ground : 
I am compar'd to twenty thousand fairs. 
O, he hath drawn my picture in his letter! 

Prin. Any thing like? [praise. 

Ros. Much, in the letters ; nothing in the 

Prin. Beauteous as ink ; a good conclusion. 

Kutti. Fair as a text B ia a copy book. 

Ros. 'Ware pencils! How? let me cot 
die your debtor. 
My red dominical, my golden letter : 
O, that your face were not so full of O's ! 

Kutli. A pox of that jest I and beshrew ail 
shrows ! 

Prin. But what was sent to you from fair 
Duinain? 

Katli, Madam, this glove. 

Prin. Did he not send you twain? 

Kath. Yes, madam ; and moreover, 
Some thousand verses of a faithful lover: 
A liuge translation of hypocrisy. 
Vilely compii'd, profound simplicity. 

Mar. This, and these pearls, to me sent 
Longaville ; 

The letter is too long by half a mile. 

Prin. 1 think no less : Dost thou not wish 
in heart. 
The chain were longer, and the letter short ? 

Mar. Ay, or 1 would these hands miijht 
never part. [so. 

Prin. We are wise girls, to mock our lovers 

Ros. They are worse fools to purchase 
mocking so. 
That same Biron I'll torture ere I go. 
(), that I knew he were but in by the week ! 
How I would make him fawAi, and beg, 

and seek ; 
And wait the season, and observe the times. 
And spend his prodigal wits in bootless rliymcs; 
A«jd shape his service wholly lo my behests; 
And make him proud to make me proud that 

j. .sts ! 
So poitL-ut-like wor.ld I oVrsway his 8t ite, 
Th'tt he should t)e my fool, and i his fatu. 

Piin. None are so surely caught, when 
the> are calch'd, 
As wit tuin'd lo 1 : lolly, in wisdom hatch'd, 
Haih wisdom's warrant, anl the hel()ot school ; 
And wit's own grate to ;;race a learned fool. 

Ros. Ihe bl(kod ofyouti- burn!* not uith such 
As gravity '>> revolt lo wantonness. [exce>8. 

Mar. Folly in fools beais not so strong 
a note, 
A» foolery in the wi«e, when wit doth dote; 
»^in«•e all the power ilM^reof ii dolh apply, 
I'w ^lovc, by wt(, viuiUi iii .oiiiipii. ity. 



Enter BoVLT. 
Prin. Here comes Boyet, and mirth is in 

his face. [Where's her grace t 

Royet. O, I am stabb'd with laughter! 
Prbi. Thy news, Boyet? 
Royet. Prepare, madam, prepare ! — 

Arn>, wenches, arm ! encounters mounted are 
Against your peace : Love doth approach 

disguis'd. 
Armed in arguments; you'll be surprised : 
Muster your wits , stand in your own defence; 
Or hide your heads like cowartls, and fly hence. 
Prin. Saint Dennis to saint Cupid! What 

are they, [say« 

That charge their breath against us? say, scout. 
Boyet. Under the cool shade of a sycamore^ 
I thought toclose mine eyes some half an hour: 
When, lo ! to interrupt my purpos'd rest, 
Toward that shade 1 might behold addrest 
The king and his companions : wanly 
I stole into a neiuhbour thicket by. 
And overheard what you aluill <tverhear ; 
That, by and by, disguis'd they will be here 
Their herald is a pretty knavish page, 
That well by heart hath conn'd his embassage: 
Action, and accent, did they teach him there ; 
Thus must thou .\peak, and thus thy hoUy 
And ever and anon they made a doubt, {J>eur: 
Presence majestical would put him out ; 
F\)r, quoth the king, <i/i angel shall thou see , 
Yet J'ear not Uiou, but speiik 'tudaciously. 
The boy reply'd, A't angel is not evil ; 
/should h(i cej'ea r*d her, hud sht been a devil. 
With that all laugh'd, and clapp'd him on 

the shoulder; 
Making the bt.hl wag by their praises bolder. 
One rubb'd his elbow, tlfus ; and HeerM, and 

swore, 
A better speech was never spoke before : 
AnotI er, with his finger and hi^ thumb, 
Cry'd, Via! we uill do't, come what will 

come : 
The third he caper*d,and cried. All goes w II : 
The fourth turn'd on the toe, and down he fell. 
With that, they all did tumble on the ground. 
With such a zealous laughter, so profound. 
That in this spleen ridiculous appears, 
To check their folly, passion's sohmnteara. 
Prin. But what, but what, come they to 

visit us? [thus.— 

Boyet. They do, they do ; and areapp irell'd 
Like Muscovites, or Russians: as 1 guess. 
Their purpose is,lo parle.to court, and dance: 
And cvvry one his love-feat will advance 
Unto his several miiitress; which they'll know 
By favours several, which they did bestow. 
Prm. And will ihey so? the gallants sluall 

be task'd : — 
For, ladies, vie will every one be raask'd ; 
And not a man of them shall have the grace;. 
Despite of suit, to see a lady's tace. — 
Hold, Hosaline, tln> favour thou ahalt wear ; 
And then tiie king will court thee for his <lear; 
Hold, lake thou this, my sweet, and give me 
»So shall Biron take me for Rosaline. — [thin*- ; 
And change you favours too ; so shall your 

love» 
Wo - Ci»nir<iry, (kceiv'd by these removes. 



^"ceiie II.] 



LOVE'S LABOUR'S LOST. 



191 



Jios. Come on then ; wear the fnvonrs most 
in sight. [inttnt? 

Koth. Bur, in this changing, what is your 
Pi in. The effect of my intent is, to cross 
theirs : 
They do it but in mocking merriment ; 
And mock tor mock is only my intent. 
Their several counsels they unbosom shall 
To loves mistook ; and so be mock'd wiihal, 
I pon the next occasion that >ve meet. 
With visages displayed, to talk, and ureet. 
JRos. But shall we dance, if they desire us 
to*t ? [a fool : 

Prin. No ; to the death, we will not move 
Nor to their pcnn'd speech render we no i^race ; 
But, while 'tis spoke, each turn away her face. 
Boyet, Why, that contempt will kill the 
speaker's heart. 
And quite divorce his memory from his part. 
Prill. Therefore I do it ; and, I make no 
The restwiilne'er comeiii.if hebeout [doubt. 
There's no such ^port, as sport by sport o'er- 
thrown ; \ [own : 

To make theirs ours, and ours none but our 
So shall we stay, mocking intended game; 
And they, well mock'd, depart away with 
shame. [7^ iimpet.s souna ivifJihi. 

Boyet. The trumpet sounds ; bemask'd,ihe 
maskers come. [The ladits musk. 

£'M/er ^Ae King. Biro N, Longaville, mnl 
1) u M A I N , ' n Russian hahits, n nd masked ; 
Moth, Musicians urd Attendants. 
Moth. All liuily the richest beauties on 

the earth i 
Boyet. Beauties no richer than rich taffaia. 
Moth. A holy parcel of' the faire^f. dame^. 
[The Ladies turn their backs to him. 
That ever turn'd their — backs — to mortal 
views : 
Biron. Their eyes, villain, their eyes. 
Moth. T/iat ever tuin*d their eyes to 

mort' I view^ ! Out — 
Boyet, True; ow/^, indeed. 
Moth. Out of your fat ours ^ heavenly 
spirits, vouchsafe 
Nut to behold. — 
Biron. Once to behold, rogue. 
Moth. Once to behold uith your sun- 
beamed eyes, 

with your sun-beamed eyes — 

Boyet. They will not answ er to that epithet ; 
You were best call it, daughter-berimed eyes. 
Aloth. They do not »nark me,an<' that brings 
me out. [you roguti. 

Biron. Is this your perfectness ? be gone, 
^0*. What would these strangers? knovv 
their minds, Boyet : 
If they do speak our language, 'tis our will 
1 liai some plain man recount their purposes : 
Know what they would. 
Boyet, What would you with the princess ? 
Biron. Nothing but peace, and gentle vibi- 
Bos. Wiiat wouifl they, say they i [tation. 
Boyet. Nothing but peace, and gentle visi- 
tation, [so be gone. 
Pnt. Why, that they have ; and bid them 
hoyet. She says, you have it, and yon may 
ut i;onc. 



King. Say to her, we have measur'd man^ 
miles 
To tread a measuie with her on this grass. 
Boyet I'hty say, that they have measur'd 
many a miie, 
To tread a measure with yon on this grass. 

Bos. It is not so : ask them, how many inches 
Is in one mile : if they have meisui'd many. 
The measure then of one is easily told [miles, 
Boyet. If,to come hither you have measur'd 
And many miles ; the princess bids you tell. 
How many inches do till up one mile, [steps, 
Biron. Tell her, we measuc e them by weary 
Boyet. She hears herself. 
Ros. How many weary steps. 

Of many weary miles yon have o'eiaone. 
Are number'd in the travel of one mile .' 

Biron. W> number nothing that we spend 
Our duty is so rich, so infinite, [for jou ; 

That we may do it still without accompt. 
Vouchsafe to show the sunshine of your face. 
That we, like savaiies, may woiship it. [too. 
Ros. My face is but a mo n. and cloudei! 
Kin^. Hlessed are clouds, to do as such 
clouds do ! [to shine 

Vouchsafe, bright moon, and these diy st^rs, 
(Those clouds remov'd,)upon our wat'i> ryne. 
Ros. O vain petitioner ! beg a greater matter ; 
Thou now request'st but moonshine in the 
water. [safe one change : 

King, 1 hen, in our measure do hut vonrh- 
Thou bid'st me beg; this begging i.< not strange. 
Ros. Play, music, then : nay, >ou must do 
it soon. [.!/'/ -c i-l y . 

Not yi-t ; — no dance: — thus chaniie I like the 
moon. [thus esii anti'd ? 

King. Will you not dance ( How come ^ou 
Rus. You took the moon at full ; but now 
she's chang'd. [man. 

King. Yet still she is the moon, and I the 
The nuisi- pla>s ; vouchsafe some motion to it. 
Ros. Our ears vouchsafe it. 
King. But yoqr legs should do it 

Ro^. Sinre you are strangers, and come 
here by chance, [dance. 

We^ll not be nice : take hands ; - we will not 
Kin^. Why take we hands then ! 
AVv. Only to ptrt friends: — 

Couit'sy, sweet hearts; and so the me isure 
ends. [not nice. 

King. More measure of this measure ; be 
Ros. We can attord no mt-ire at such a price. 
King, l^rize >ou yourselves;* \V h.tt buys 
Ros. Your absence only [\ our company i 
King. That can never be. 

Ros. Then cannot we be bought : and so 
adieu ; 
Twice to >our visor, and half on»:e to yon I 
Aii/ii. If you deny to dance, lets hold inure 
RiS. In private then. [chat. 

King. I am best pleas'd with that. 

[Thf-y ( on> er tu ! art. 
Biron. Wliite-handed mistress, one sweet 
word with thee. [is three. 

Prin. Honey, an<i milk, and sugar ; there 
Biron. Na> then,two treys, (an if you grow 
so nice,) [duel 

^ Methegliu, wort, and inahnse> ;--WeSl ioa 



192 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Aet V 



There's half n 'lozeii sweets. 

Prill. Seventh sweet, adieu ! 

Since you can cog •, I'll play no more with you. 
Bit on. One word in secret. 
Frin. Let it not be sweet. 

Biron* Thou griev'st my gall. 
Prin, Gall? bitter. 

Biron. Therefore meet. 

[They converse apart. 
Dum. Will you vouchsafe with me to 
Alar. Name it. [change a word l 

Dum. Fair lady, — 

Mar. Say you sol Fair lord, — 

fake that for your fair lady. 

Dum. Please it yon. 

As much in private, and 1*11 bid adieu. 

[They converse apart. 

Katk. What, was your visor made without 

a tongue 1 [ask. 

Long, I know the reason, lady, why you 

Kath. O, for your reason ! quickly, sir: 1 

long. [your mask, 

Long. You have a double tongue within 

And woruld afford my speechless visor half, 

Kath. Veal, quoth the Dutchman ; — lb not 

veal a calf? 
Long. A calf, fair lady ? 
Katk. No, a fair lord calf. 

Long. Let's part the word. 
Kath. No, I'll not be your half : 

lake all, and wean it; it may prove an ox. 
Long. Look, how you butt yourself in these 
sharp mocks ! 
Will you give horns, chaste lady ? do not so. 
Kath. Then die a calf, before your horns 
do grow. [I die. 

Long. One word in private with you, ere 
Kath. Bleat softly then, the butcher hears 
you cry. {They converse apart. 

Boyet. The tongues of mocking wenches 
are as keen 
As is the razor's edge invisible, 
Cutting a smaller hair than may be seen ; 
Above the sense of sense: so sensible 
Seemeth their conference ; their conceits have 
wings, [swifter things. 

Fleeter than arrows, bullets, wind, thousjht, 
Ros. Not one word more, my maids ; break 
off, break off. [pure scoff! 

Btron. By heaven, all dry-beaten with 
Ktng. Farewell, mad wenches; you have 
siitipk wits. 

[Extitnt King, Lords, Moth, Music, 
and Att(;ndantB. 
Prin. Twenty adieus, my frozen Musco- 
vites. — 
Are these the breed of wits so wonder'd at ? 
Boyet. Tapers they are, with your sweet 
breaths puff'd out. [gross; fat, fat. 

Ros. Well-liking wits they have ; gross, 
Prin. O poverty in wit, kingly-poor tloul ! 
Will they not, think you, hang themselves to 
nii^ht / 
Or ever, but in visors, show their faces ? 
This pert Biron was out of countenance quite. 



Ros. O ! they were all in lamentable casts J 
The king was weeping-ripe for a good word. 
Prin. Bir6n did swear himself out of all suit. 
Mar* Dumain was at my service, and hb 
sword ; [mute. 

No point f, quoth I ; my servant straight was 
Kath. Lord Longavillesaid, I came o'er his 
And trow you, what he call'd me I [heart ; 
Pi'in. Qualm, perhaps. 

Kath, Yes, in good faith. 
Prin. Go, sickness as thou art ! 

Ros, Well, better wits have worn plain 
statute-caps j. 
But wall you hear? the king is my love 
sworn. 
Prin. And quick Bir6n hath plighted faith 
to me. [born. 

Kath. And Longaville was for my service 
Mar. Dumain is mine, as sure as bark on 
tree. [ear : 

Boyet, Madam, and pretty mistresses, give 
Immediately they will again be here 
In their own shapes; f^r it can never be. 
They will digest this harsh indignity. 
Prin. Will they return 1 
Boyet. They will, they will, God knows; 
And leap for joy, though they are lame with 
blows : [repair. 

Therefore, change favours $; and, when they 
Blow like sweet roses in this summer air. 
Prif, How blow ? how blow ? speak to be 
understood. [their bud : 

Boyet- Fair ladies, mask'd, are roses in 
Dismask'd, their damask sweet commixture 

shovvn. 
Are angels vailing clouds, or roses blown. 

Prin. Avaunt, perplexity ! What shall wedo, 
If they return in their own shapes to woo % 
Ros. Good madam, if by me you'll be 
advis'd, [guis'd : 

Let's mock them still, as well known as dis 
Let us complain to them what fools were here, 
Disguis'd like Muscovites, in shapeless || gear; 
And wonder,what they were ; and to what end 
Their shallow showsj and prologue vilely 

penn'd. 
And their rough carriage so ridiculous. 
Should be presented at our tent to us. 
Boyet. Ladies, withdraw ; the gallants are 
at h and. [land. 

Frin Whip to our tents, as roes run over 
[Exeunt Princess, Ros. Kath. 4 Mar. 
Enter the King, Bikon, LoNOAViLLi-.,ff/i</ 
Dir.MAiN, in tiiiir yroptr habits. 
King. Fail- sir, God save you I Where is 
the princess 1 [majesty, 

Boyet. Gone to her tent : Please it your 
Command me any service to her thither^ 
King, That she vouchsafe me audience for 

one word. 
Boyrt. I will ; and so will she, I know 
my lord. [Ljit, 

Biron. This fellow pecks up wit, as pigeon, 
peas ; 
And utters it again when God doth please : 



Fal>ify dice, lie. t A quibble on the French adverb of negation, 

may be found among cMi/.cii». } I'ratMres, tounteiianccs. 



X I^etfcr Witt 
I Uiouilt. 



Scene 1I.'\ 



LOVE'S labour's LOST. 



193 



He is wils* pedlar ; and retails his wares 
At wakes, and wassels*, meetings, markets, 
fairs ; [know, 

And we that sell by gros^, the Lord doth 
Have not the grace to grace it with such show. 
This gallant pins the wenches on his sleeve ; 
Had he been Adam, he had tempted Eve : 
He can carve too, and lisp : Why, this is he. 
That kiss'd away his hand in courtesy ; 
This is the ape of form, monsieur the nice. 
That, when he plays at tablet, chides the dice 
In honourable terms ; nay, he can sing 
A mean t most meanly ; and, in ushering. 
Mend him who can : the ladies call him, sweet; 
1 he stairs, as he treads on them, kiss his feet t 
This is the flower that smiles on every one, 
To show his teeth as white as whales bone j: 
And consciences, that will not die in debt, 
Pay him the due ot honey-tongued Boyet. 
King. A blister on his sweet tongue, with 
my heart. 
That put Armado's page out of his part ! 
Enter the Princess, usher' d by Boykt ; 
Rosaline, Maria, Katharine, and 
Attendants. 

jBiron. See where it comes ! — Behaviour, 

what wert thou, [now 1 

Fill this man showM thee ? and what art thou 

King. All hail, sweet madam, and fair time 

of day ! 
Prin. Fair, in all hail, is foul, as I conceive. 
King. Construe my speeches better, if you 
may. [leave. 

Prin. Then wish me better, I will give you 
King. We came to visit you ; and purpose 
now 
To lead you to our court : vouchsafe it then. 
Prin. This field shall hold me ; and so hold 
your vow : 
Nor God, nor I, delight in perjurM men. 
Ki7ig. Rebuke me not for that which you 
provoke ; 
The vii tue of your eye must break my oath. 
Prin. \ ou nick-name virtue : vice you 
should have spoke; 
For virtue's oflice never breaks men's troth. 
Now, by my maiden honour, yet as pure 

As the unsullied lily, I protest, 
A world of torments though I should endure, 
I would not yield to be your house's guest : 
So much I hate a breaking-cause to be 
Of heavenly oaths, vow'd with integrity. 
King. O,' you have liv'd in desolation here, 

Unseen, unvisiled, much to our shame. 
Prin. Not so, my lord ; it is not so, I swear; 
We have had pastimes heie, and pleasant 
A mess of Russians lelt us but of late, [game; 
King. How, madam '? Russians? 
Prin. Ay, in truth, my lord; 

Trim gallants, full of courtship, and of state. 

Ros. Madam, speak true :— It is not so, my 
My lady, (to the manner of the days^.) [lord ; 
In courtesj , gives undeserving praise. 
We fouTj indeed, confronted here with four 
In RussiaiL habit : here they siay'd an hour. 



And talk'd apace; and in that hour, n)y lord. 
They did not bless us with one happy word. 
I dare not call them fools ; but this 1 think. 
When they are thirsty, fools would fain have 
drink. 
Biron. This jest is dry to me — Fair, gentle 
sweet, [greet 

Your wit makes wise things foolish ; when we 
With eyes best seeing heaven's fiery eye. 
By light we lose light : Your capacity 
Is of that nature, that to your huge store 
Wise things seem foolish, and rich thmgs but 
poor. [my eye, — 

Ros. This proves you wise and rich ; for m 
Biron. I am a fool, and full of poverty. 
Ros. But that you take w*hat doth to you 
belong. 
It were a fault to snatch words from my tongue. 
Bii 071. O, I am yours, and all that I possess. 
Ros. All the fool mine 1 
Biron. I cannot give you less. 

i?t'^. Which of thevisors wasit,that you wore? 
Biron. Where? when? what visor? why 
demand you this? [case, 

Ros. There, then, that visor; that superfluous 
That hid the worse, and show'd the better face. 
King. We are descried: they'll mock us 

now downright. 
J) urn. Let us confess, and turn it to a jest. 
Prin. Amaz'd, my lord? Why looks your 
highness sad ? [Why look you pale ? — 
i^ov. Help, hold his brows! he'll swooni 
Sea-sick, I think, coming from Muscovy. 
Biron. Thus pour the stars down plagues 

for perjury. 
Can any face of brass hold longer out? — 
Here stand I, lady ; dart thy skill at me ; 
Bruise me with scorn, confound me with a 
flout ; [ranee ; 

Thrust thy sharp wit quite through my igno- 

Cut me to pieces with thy keen conceit ; 
And I will wish thee never more to dance. 
Nor never more in Russian habit wait, 

I never will I trust to speeches penn'd, ^ 
Nor to the motion of a school boy's tongue; 

Nor never come in visor to my friend ||; 

Nor woo in rhyme, like a blind harper's song: 
Tafleta phrases, silken terms precise, 

Three-pil'd hyperboles, spruce affectation. 
Figures pedantical ; these summer-flies 

Have blown me full of maggot ostentation : 

1 do forswear them : and 1 here protest, 

*By this white glove, (how white the hand. 
Cod knows !) 
Henceforth my wooing mind shall beexpress'd 

In russet yeas, and honest kersey noes : 
And, to begin, wench, — so God help me, la! — 
My love to thee is sound, sans crack or flaw. 

Ros. Sans sans, 1 pray you. 

Biron. Yet I have a trick 

Of the old rage: — bear with me, I am sick ; 
I'll leave it by degrees. Soft, let us see ; — 
Write, Lord have mercy on us,ou those three , 
They are infected, in their hearts it lies ; [e^ es : 
They have the plague, and caught it of > our 



Rustic merry meetinss. -f The tenor In music, 

j After the fashion of the times. 



X The tooth of the horse vv hale. 
Ij Mistress. 

a 



194 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r. 



These lords are visited ; yon are not free. 
For the Lord's tokens on you do I see. 

Pnti No, they are free, that gave these 
tokens to ns. [undo u&. 

Biroii. Out slates are forfeit, seek not to 

Jios. It is not so ; For how can this be true, 
That yon stand forfeit, being those that sue i 

Biron. Peace ; for I will not have to do 
with vou. 

Rns. Nor shall not, if I do as I intend, [end. 

Bit: n Speak for yourselves, my wit is at an 

King, Teach us, sweet madam, for our rude 
Some fair excuse. [transgression 

Prin. The fairest is confession. 

Were you not here, but even now, disguis'd? 

King, Madam, I was. 

Prin. And were you well advis*d? 

King, I was, fair madam. 

Prin. When you then were here. 

What did you whisper in your lady's ear 1 

King. That more than all the world I did 
respect her. [will reject her. 

Prin. VVhen &he shall challenge this, you 

King. Upon mine honour, no. 

Prill. Peace, peace, forbear ; 

Your oath once broke, you force* not lo for- 
swear, [of mine. 

King. Despise me, when I break this oath 

Prin. I wiri;andthereforekeepit:-Rosaline, 
W^hnt (lid the Russian whisper in your ear? 

Ro.s. Madam, he swore that he did hold me 
As precious eye-sight; and did value me [dear 
Above this world : adding thereto, moreover, 
That he would wed me, or else die my lover. 

Pi in. C^od give thee joy of him! the noble 
Most honourably doth uphold his word, [lord 

Krng.W hatmeanyou,madam?by mylife.my 
I never swore itiis lady such an oath, [troth, 

Ros. By heaven, you did ; and to confirm it 
You gave ine this: but take it. sir, again [plam, 

King. My faith, and this, the princess I did 
1 knewher by this jewel on hersleeve. [give ; 

Prin. Pardon me,sir, this jewel did she wear; 
And Ford Hiron, I thank him, is my dear : — 
What ; will > oil have me, or your pearl again? 

/i/rrtw.N«iithei oftitlier;lremit both twain. — 
I see the tiick on't;— Here was a consent!, 
(^ Knowing atoreh nd of our merriment,) 
To dash it like a Christmas comedy : [zany +, 
Some carry lale, some please-man, .^omeslight 
Some mumble news, some trencher-knight, 
some Dick, — [the trick 

That smiles his cheek in years ; and knows 
T«» make my lady laugh, when she'sdispos'd, — 
Told our intents before: which once disrlos'd, 
1 be ladies did change favours ; and then we, 
FolU)wing the si^ns, woo'd but the sign of she. 
Now, to our perjury to add more terror. 
We are a^ain forsworn; in will, and error. 
Much upon this it is : — Ami might not you, 

[7'o BOYKT. 
Fort^tal onr sport, to make ns thus untrue ? 
Dc nut > on know my lady's fool by the squire $, 

And taugn upon the apple of her eyef 
And Mand between her back, sir, and the fire. 

Holding a trencher, jesting merrily? 



You put our page out : Go, yon are allow'd ; 
Die when you will, a smock shall be your 

shroud. 
You leer u pon me, do you ? there's an eye. 
Wounds like a leaden sword. 

Boyet. Full merrily 

Hath this brave manage, thfs career, been run, 

Biro7i. Lo, he is tilting straight ! Peace ; I 
have done. 

Enter Costard. 
Welcome, pure wit I thou partest a fair fray. 

Cost. O Lord, sir, they would know. 
Whether the three worthies shall come in,or no. 

Biron. What, are there but three? 

Cost, No, sir; but it is vara fine. 

For every one pursents three. 

Biron. And three times thrice is nine. 

Cost. Not so, sir ; under correction, sir ; I 
hope, it is not so : 
Yon cannot beg us, sir, I can asstire you, sir; 

we know what we know : 
I ope, sir, three times thrice, sir, — 

Biron. Is not nine. 

Cost. Under correction, sir, we know where, 
until it doth amount. [for ninr. 

Biron, By Jove, I always took three threes 

Cost. O Lord ! sir, it were pity you should 
get your living by reckoning, sir. 

Biron. How much is it? 

Cost. O Lord ! sir, the parties themselves, 
the actors, sir, will show whereuntil it doth 
amount : for my own part, I am, as they say, 
but to parfect one man, — e'en one poor man ; 
Pompion the great, sir. 

Biron. Art thou one of the worthies? 

Cost. It pleased them, to think me worthy 
of Pompion the great : for mine own part, I 
know not the degree of the w orthy ; btit 1 am ' 
to stand for him. 

Biron. Go, bid them prepare. 

Cost. We will turn it finely otf, sir; we ^tili 
take some care. [Exit Costard. 

King. Biron, they will bhame us, let them 

not approach. ['tis some policy . 1 

Biron. We are shame-proof, my lord : and 
To have oneshow worse than the king's and his i 

King. I say, they shall not come, [company. 

Prin. Nay, my good lord, let me o'er-rule 
you now ; [how : 

That sport best pleases, that doth least know 
Where zeal strives to content, and the conten'.s 
Die in the zeal of them which it presents, ' 

Their form confounded makes most form in 
mirth; [biith. 

When great things labouring perish in their 

Biran. A right description of our sport, 
my lord. 

Enter An ma do. 

Arm. Anointed, I implore so mnch expense 

of thy royal swiel breath, as will utter a brace 

of words. [Arm. converses with, the King, 

and delivers him a paper, 

Prin. Doth this man serve God ? 

Biron. Why ask you? [making. 

Prin. He speaks not like a man of (iod* 

Arm. That's ail one, my fair, sweet, h«jiiey 



• Make no difficulty. t Conspiracy. 1 Buffoon. § Kule. 



Scene IL^ 



LOVES LABOURS LOST. 



195 



numarch : for, I protest, the school-master is 
exceeding fantastical ; too, too vain ; too, too 
vain : But we will put it, as they say, to J or- 
tuna cteUa guerra. I wish you the peace of 
mind, niost royal conplement! \^F.xit Arm. 
King. Here is like to be a good presence 
of wortliies : He presents Hector of Troy j tiie 
swain, Pouipey the great; the parish curate, 
Alexander; Armado's page, Hercules; the 
pedant, Judas Machabaeus. [thrive, 

And if tliese four worthies in their first show 
These four will change habits, and present the 
other five. 
Biron. There is five in the first show. 
King. You are deceiv'd, 'tis not so. 
Biroji. The pedant, the braiigart, the hedge- 
priest, the tool, and the boy : — [again. 
Abate a throw atnovum*; and the whole world 
Cannot prick t out five such, take each one 
in his vein. [comes amain. 
King. The ship is nnder sail, and here she 
{Seats brought for the King, Prin. S^c. 
Pageant of the Nine Worthies. 
Enter Costard armedyjor Pompey. 
Cost. / Pompey am, — 
Boyet. You lie, yea are not he. 
Cost. 1 Pompey am^ — 
Boyet. With libbard*s head on knee. 
Biron. Well said, old mocker ; I must needs 
be friends with thee. {the big, — 
Cost. / Pompey am, Pompey surnam'd 
Dum. The great. {the great ; 
Cost. It is great, sir ; — Pompey surnam'd 
That oft infield, with targe U7id shield , did 

make my foe to sueat : 
And, travelling along this coast, I here am 

come by chance ; 
And lay my arms before the legs of this 

sueet lass of France. 
If yoar ladyship would say, Thanks, Pom- 
pey, I had done. 
Prin. Great thanks, great Pompey. 
<7c»*^. *Tis not so much worth ; bat, I hope, 
I was perfect : I made a little fault in, great. 

Biron. My hat to a halfpenny, Pompey 

proves the best worthy. 

Enter Nathaniel armed, for Alexander. 

Nath. When in the world 1 liv'd, J was 

the world's commander ; 

By east, west, north, and south, I spread 

my conquering might : {Alisander. 

My *scutcheon plain declares, that I am 

Boyet. Your nose says, no, you are not ; for 

it stands too right. 
Biron. Your nose smells^ no, in this, most 

tender-smelling knight. 
Prin. Thp conqueror is dismay'd : proceed 

good Alexander. 
Nath. When in the world I liv'd, 1 was 

the world's commander ; — 
Boyet. Most true, 'tis right; you were so, 

Biron. Pompey the great, . [Alisander. 

Cost. Your servant, and Costard. 

Biron. Take away the conqueror, take 
•way Alisander. 



Coift, O, sir, {To Nath ] you have over- 
thrown Alisander the conqueror! You will 
be scraped out of the painted cloth for this : 
Vonr lion, that holds his poil-ax sitting on a 
■^lose-stool, will be given to A-jax : he will be 
the ninth worthy. A conqueror, and afeard 
to speak ! run away for shame, Alsander. 
[Na I H. retires.] There, an't shall please you ; 
a foolish mild man ; an honest man, look you, 
; and soon dash'd! He is a marvellous good 
i neighbour, insooth ; and a very good bowler ; 
' but, for Alisander, alas, ytm see, how 'tis ; — a 
littleo'erparted:— But there are worthies a com- 
ing will speak their mind in some other sort. 

Prin. Stand aside, good Pompey. 
Enter Holofernes armed, for Judas, ««</ 
Moth arm*d^or Hercules. 

Hoi. Gt eat Hercules is presenti d by this 
imp, {headed canus 

Whose club kill'd Cerberus, that three^ 
And, tt'heti he was a babe, a child, a shriwp. 

Thus did he strangle serpents in his manus: 
Quoniam, he seemeth in minority,- 
Ergo, J come with this apology. — 
Keep some state in thy exit, and vanish. 

Hoi. Judas 1 am, — {Exit Mgth. 

Dum. A Judas! 

Hoi. Not Iscariot, sir. — 
Judas I um, ycleped Machahaus. 

Dum. Judas Machabsens dipt, is plain Jndas 

Biron. A kissing traitor: — How art thou 

Hoi. Judas I am, — [prov'd Judas? 

Dum. The more shame for you, Judas. 

Hoi, A-V hat mean you, sir? 

Boyet. To make Judas hang himself, . 

Hoi. Begin, sir ; you are my elder. 

Biron. Well followed : Judas was hang'd 
on an elder. 

Hoi. I will not be put out of countenance. 

Biron. Because thoa hast no face. 

Hoi. What is this? 

Boyet. A cittern head. 

Dum. The head of a bodkin. 

Biron. A death's face in a ring. [seen. 

X,o/?^. The face of an old Roman coin, scarce 

Boyet. The pummel of Caesar's falchion. 

Dum. The carv'd-bone face on a flask;;:. 

Biron, St. George's half-cheek in a brooch §. 

Dum. Ay, and in a brooch of lead. 

Biro7i. Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth 

drawer : Lcountenance. 

A.nd now, forward; for we have piU thee in 

Hoi. You have put me t»nt of countenance. 

Biron. False; we have given thee faces. 

Hoi. But you have out fac'd them all. 

Biron. An thou wei t a lion, we would do so. 

Boyet. Therefore, as he is, an ass, let him go. 
And so adieu, sweet Jude ! nay, why dost tlioa 

Dum. For the latter end of his name, [stay? 

Biron. For the ass to the Jude ; give it 
him :—Jud-as, away. [humble. 

Hoi. This is not generous, not gentle, not 

Boyet. A light lor monsieur Judas : it ^rows 
dark, he may stumble. [been baited! 

Prin. Alas, poor Machabaeus, how hatli be 



♦ A game with dice, T Pick out. % A soldier's powder-horn. 

^ An ornamental buckle for fastening hai-bands, tkc. 



196 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Arf r. 



Enter Arm a do armed, for Hector 

Biron. Hide thy head, Achilles : herecoines 
Hector in arms. 

Dum. Though my mocks come home by me, 
I will now be merry. 

King, Hector was but a Trojan in respect 
of this. 

Boyet, But is this Hector ? 

Dum. I think. Hector was not so clean- 
timber'd. 

Long. His leg is too big for Hector. 

Dum. More calf, certain. 

Boyet. No ; he is best indued in the small. 

Biron. This cannot be Hector. 

Dum. He's a god or a painter ; for he 
makes faces. Uhe almighty. 

Arm. The armipotent Mars, of lances* 
Gave Hector a gift,^-^ 

Dum. A gilt nutmeg, 

Biron. A lemon. 

Long. Stuck with cloves. 

Dum. No, cloven. 

Arm, Peace. 
The armipotent Mars, of lances the almighty, 

Gave Hector a gift, the heir of I lion ; 
A man so breath'd, that certain he would 
fight, yea 

From morn till night, out of his pavilion. 
1 am that fio^ver, — 

Dum. That mint. 

Long. That columbine. 

Artn. Sweet lord Longaville,rein thy tongue. 

Long. I must rather give it the rein; for 
It runs against Hector. 

Dum. Ay, and Hector's a greyhound. 

Arm. The sweet war-man is dead and rot- 
ten ; sweet chucks, beat not the bones of the 
buried : when he breathed, he was a man — 
Tiut 1 will forward with my device: Sweet 
loyalty, ito the Prin.J bestow on me the 
sense of hearing. [Biron whispers Cost. 

Prin, Speak, brave Hector; we are much 
delighted. 

^ rm. 1 do adore thy sweet grace's slipper. 

Boyet. Loves her by the foot. 

Dum. He may not by the yard, {nibal, — 

Arm. This Hector far surmounted Han- 
Cost. The p rty is gone, follow Hector, she 
is gone; she is two months on her way. 

Arm. What meanest thou? 

Cost. Faith, unless you play the honest Tro- 
jan, the poor wench is cast away: she'si quick; 
the child brags in her belly already ; 'tis yoTirs. 

Arm. J)o8t thou infamonize me among po- 
tentates? thou slj.'ilt die. 

Cost. Then shall Hector be whipp'd, for 
Jaqnenetta tha^ is quick by hitn; and hang'd, 
for Pompey that is dead by him. 

Dum. MoHl rare Pompey I 

Boyet. Renowned Pompey! 

Biron. Greater than great, great, great, 
great Pompey I Pompey the huge! 

Dum Hector trembles. 

Biron. Pompey is mov'd: — More Ates t, 
more Ates ; stir them on 1 stir them on I 



Dum.. Hector will challenge him. 

Biron. Ay, if he have no more man's blood 
in's belly than will sup a flea. 

Arm. By the north [.ole, I do challenge thee. 

Cost. 1 will not fight with a pole, like a 
northern manj; I'll slash; I'll do it by the sword: 
— I pray you, let me borrow my arms again. 

Dum. Room for the incensed worthies. 

Cost. PU do it in my shirt. 

Dum. Most resolute Pompey! 

Moth, Master, let me take you a button- 
hole lower. Do you not see, Pompey is un- 
casing for the combat? What mean you? you 
will lose your reputation. 

Arm. Gentlemen, and soldiers, pardon me ; 
I will not combat in my shirt. 

Dum. You may not deny it ; Pompey hath 
made the challenge. 

Arm. Sweet bloods, I both may and will. 

Biron. What reason have you for't ? 

Arm. The naked truth of it is, I have no 
shirt ; I go wool ward § for penance. 

Boyet. True, and it was enjoin'd him in 
Rome for want of linen : since when, I'll be 
sworn, he wore none, but a dish-clout of Ja- 
quenetta's ; and that 'a wears next his heart, 
for a favour. 

Enter Mercadk. 

Mer, God save you, madam! 

Prin. Welcome, Mercade; 
But that thou inlerrupt'st our merriment. 

Mer. I am sorry, madam ; for the news I 
bring. 
Is heavy in my tongue. The king your father— 

Prin. Dead, for my life. 

Mer. Even so ; my tale is told. 

Biron. Worthies, away ; the scene begins 
to cloud. 

Arm. For mine own part, I breathe free 
breath : I have seen the day of wrong through 
the little hole of (Hscretion, and 1 will right 
myself like a soldier. lEieunt Worthies, 

King. How fares yom- majesty? 

Prin. Boyet, prepare; I will away to-night. 

King. Madam, not so ; I do beseech you, 
stay. [lords, 

Prin. Prepare, I say. —I thank you, gracious 
For all your fair endeavours ; and entrsat. 
Out of a new-sad soul, that you vouchsafe 
In your rich wisdom, to excuse, or hide. 
The liberalil opposition of our spirits: 
If over boldly we have borne ourselves 
In the converse of bieath, your gentleness 
Was guilty of it. — Farewell, worthy lord I 
A heavy heart bears not an humble tongue : 
Excuse me so, coming so short of thanks 
For my great suit so easily obtairi'd. 

Ki/ig. The extreme parts of time extremely 
All causes to the purpose of his speed ; Iforra 
And often, at his very loose, decides 
That which long process could not arbitrate : 
And though the morning brow of progeny 
Forbid the smiling courtesy of love. 
The holy suit which fain it would convince; 
Yet, since love's argument was first on tool. 



• Lance-men. t Ate was the goddess of discord. J A clown# 

^ Clothed in wool, without linen. tj Fret to excr?; . 



6vrne IL] 



LOVK S LABOURS LOST. 



197 



Let not the cloud of sorrow justle it [lost. 
From what it purpos'd ; since, to wail friends 
Is not by much so wholesome, profitable. 
As to rejoice at friends but newly found. 

\Prin. I understand you not ; my griefs are 
double. [ear ol grief; — 

Blron. Honest plain words best pierce the 
And by these badges understand the king. 
For your fair sakes have we neglected time, 
PlayM foul play with our oaths ; your beauty, 
ladies, [mours 

Hath much deform'd us, fashioning our hu- 
Evvn to the opposed end of our intents : 
And what in us hath seem'd ridiculous, — 
As love is fuil of unbefitting strains ; 
All wanton as a child, skipping, and vain; 
Form*d by the eye, and, therefore, like the eye 
Full of strange shapes, of habits, and of forms. 
Varying in subjects as the eye doth roil 
To every varied object in his glance : 
Which party-coated presence of loose love 
Put on by us, if, in your heavenly eyes. 
Have misbecom'd our oaths and gravities, 
Those heavenly eyes, that look intothese faults, 
Suggested* us to make: Therefore, ladies, 
'« Oin- love being yours, the error that love makes 
Is likewise yours ; we to ourselves i»rove false. 
By being once false for ever to be true 
To those that make us both, — fair ladies, you : 
And even that falsehood, in itself a sin 
Thus purifies itself, and turns to grace, [love ; 

J-'rin. We have receiv'd your letters, full of 
Your favours, the ambassadors of love; 
And, in our maiden council, rated them 
At courtship, pleasant jest, and courtesy. 
As bombast, and as lining to the time : 
But more devout than this, in our respects. 
Have we not been; and therefore met your 
In their, own fashion, like a merriment, [loves 

Dum.Onr letters, madam, show'd much more 

Long. So did our looks. [than jest. 

Hos. We did not quote t them so. 

King. Now, at the latest minute of the hour, 
Grant us your loves. 

Prin. A time, methinks, too short. 

To make a world-wilhout-end bargain in : 
No, no, my lord, your grace is perjur'd much. 
Full of dear guiltiness; and, therefore this, — 
If for my love (as there is no such cause) 
Yon will do aught, this shall you do for me : 
> our oath 1 will not trust; but go with speed 
To some forlorn and naked hermitage. 
Remote from all the pleasures of tlie world ; 
There stay, until the twelve celestial signs 
Have brought about their annual reckoning; 
\\ this austere insociable life 
(Uiange not your offer made in heat of blood ; 
If fro^ts, and fasts, hard lodging, and thin 

weeds j, 
Nip nikl the gaudy blossoms of your love. 
But that it bear this trial, and last love ; 
Then, at the expiration of the year. 
Come challange, challenge me by these deserts, 
And, by this virgin palm, now kissing thine, 
1 will be thine; and, till that instant, siiut 
My woeful self up in a mourning house; 



Raining the te'irs of lamentation. 
For the remembrance of my father's death. 
If this thou do deny, let our hands part ; 
Neither entitled in the other's heart. 

King. If this, or more than this, I would 

deny, [rest. 

To Hatter up these powers of mine with 

The sndden hand of death close up mine eye! 

Hence ever then my heart is in thy breast. 

Biron. And what to me, my love? and what 
tome? [rank 5 

Ros. \ on must be purged too, your sins are 
Yon are attaint wi.h faults and perjury ; 
1 herefore, it you my favour mean to get, 
A twelvemonth shall youspend, and never rest. 
But seek the weary beils of people sick. 

Dum, But what to me, my love? but what 
to me ? [honesty ; 

Kath. A wife!— A beard, fair health, and 
With three-fold love I wish you all these three. 

Dum. O, shall I say, 1 thank you, gentle 
wife? % [and a day 

Kath. Not so, my lord ; — a twelvemonth 
I'll mark no words that smooth-facM wooers say; 
Come whtn the king doth to m> lady come. 
Then, if I have much love, 1*11 give >«)u some. 

Dum. 1*11 serve thee true and faiihtuUv till 
then. [again. 

Kath. Yet swear not, lest you be forsworn 

Long. What says Maria? 

Mar. At the. twelvemonth's end, 

I'll change my black gown for a faithful friend. 

Long V\\ stay with patience ; but the time 
is long. [young. 

Mar. The liker you ; few taller are so 

Biron. Studies my lady ?raistr ess look on me. 
Behold the window^ of my heart, mine eye, 
What humble suit attends thy answer there; 
Impose some service on me for thy love. 

Hjos. Oft have I heard of you, my lord Biron, 
Before I saw you : and the world's large tongue 
Proclaims you for a man replete with mocks; 
Full of comparisons and wounding flouts ; 
Which you on all estates will execute. 
That lie within the mercy of your wit : [brain ; 
I'o weed this wormwood from your fr?iitful 
And, therewithal, to win me, if you please, 
( Without the which 1 am not to be won,) [day 
You shall this twelvemonth lerni from day to 
Visit the speechless sick, and htill converse 
With groaning wretches; and your task shall 
With all the fierce) endeavourof your wit, [be. 
To enforce the pained impotent to smile. 

Biron. To move wild laughter in the throat 
It cannot be ; it is impossible: [of death? 
Mirth cannot move a soul in agony. [spirit, 

Ros. Why, that's the way tochokea gibing 
Whose influence is begot of that loose grace, 
\\ hich shallow laughing hearers give to fools 
A jest's prosperity lies m the ear 
Of him that hears it, never in the tongue 
Of him that makes it : then, it sickly ears, 
Deaf'd with the clamours of their own dear 

groans. 
Will hear your idle scorns, continue then, 
And I will have you, and that fault withril; 



•Tempted + Regard. j Clothing. § Vehement. Hlmmediite. 



r9s 



^jHAKSPEAllE. 



[A-iV 



But if they will not, throw away ihat spirit, 
Anrf I shall find you empty of that fault. 
Eight joyful of your refoiination. 
Biron. A twelvemonth 1 well, befal what 
will befal, 
I'll jest a twelvemonth in an hospital. 

Prin, A.y, sweet my lord ; and so I take 

my leave. [To the King. 

King. No, madam : we will bring you on 

your way. [play ; 

Biron. .Our wooing doth not end like an old 

Jack hath not Jill : these ladies* courtesy 

Alight well have made our sport a comedy. 

King^ Come, sir, it wants a twelvemonth 

And then 'twill end. [and a day, 

Biron, That's too long for a play. 

Enter Armauo. 
Arm. Sweet majesty, vouchsafe me, — 
Prin, Was not that Hector 1 
Dum. The worthy knight of Troy. 
Arm. I will kiss thy royal finger, and take 
leave : I am a votary ; I have vowed to Ja- 
quenetta to nold the plough for her sweet love 
three years. But, most esteemed greatness, 
will you hear the dialogue that the two learn- 
ed men have compiled, in praise of the owl 
and the cuckoo? it should have followed iu 
the end of our show. 

King. Call them forth quickJy, we wiH do so. 
Arm. Holla! approach, 
/i'w^er Hoi OF ERNES, Nathaniel, Moth, 

Costard, and others. 
This side is Hienis, winter; this Ver, the 
spring; the one maintnin'd by the owl, (he 
other by the cuckoo. Ver, begin. 

SONG. 
Spring. When daisies j/icd, and violets blue, 
A/id lady-smocks all .silver-white, 
And cuckoo-buds ofydlow hue. 

Do paint the meadows tvith delight, 

• Cool. 



The cuckoo then, on etery tree. 
Mocks Quarried men, for thus s-ings he. 

Cuckoo ; 
Cuckoo, cuckoo, — O wora of fear, 
Unjfleasing to a married ear J 

11. 
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws, ^f 
And merry larks are ploughmen's clock^ 
When turtles treud, and rooks, and dans. 
And mtiidens bleach their summer 
smocks, 
The cuckoo then, on every tree. 
Mocks married men, far thus sings he, 

Cuckoo; 
Cuckoo, cuckoo, — O word of fear, 
Unpleasing to a married ear! 
III. 
Winter. When icicles hang by the wall. 
And Dick the shepherd blows his nail. 
And Tom bears logs into the hall. 

And m Ik comes frozen hotne in pail, 
Vf hen blood is ni'pp'd, and ways befoul. 
Then nightly si)igs the staring owl, 

To-U'ho ; 
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note, 
W hile greasy Joan doth keel • the pot, 

IV. 
When all aloud the wind doth blow. 

An coughing drowns the parson's saw 
And hires sit brooding in the snow. 

And M^trian's nose looks red and raw, 
W hen roa ted crabs ^ hiss in the howl, 
Then nightly .--ings the staring otvl, 

To-who ; 
Tu-whit, to-who, a merry note, 
W hile gren^y Joan doth keel the pot. 
Arm. The words of Mercury are harsh after 
the songs of Apollo. You, that wav ; we, 
this way. [AaeM/iif. 

t Wild apples. 



In this play, which all the editors have concurred to censure, and some have rejected as 
on worthy of our poet, it must be confessed that there are many passages mean, childigh, and 
vulgar ; and some which ought not to have been exhibited, as we are told they were, to a 
maiden queen. But there are scattered through the wholt? many sparks of genius; nor is 
tSxere any play that has more e\ident marks of the hand of Shak.spe8re. — Jobnson. 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



^cr^onji wpw^enteti* 



Dnke of Venice. 

Prince of Morocco, i , ... * n *- 
Prince of Arragon, } ^"*'^^* '^ ^^^^^«- 
Antonio, the Merehafit of Venice, 
Bassanio, liisj'rieitd. 

S4L\RiNo \/^*^^^ t^ Antonio and B as- 
GratianoJ ''"^^'^• 
Lorenzo, in love with Jessica, 
Shyiock, a Jew. 
Tubal, a Jew, his friend. 



Launcelot Go BBC, a clown, servant to 

Shyiock. 
Old Go ubo, father to Launcelot. 
Salerio, a messenger from Vetiice. 
\it.07iKfi\}0, servant to BassaniO" 

ltiir.To:'}^^rvanU to Portia. 

Portia, a rich heiress . 
Nerissa, her waiting-maid. 
Jessica, daughter to Unylock. 



Mugnificoes of Venice, Queers of the Court of JuMtce, Jailer, Servants, and other 

Attendants, 

Scene,— Partly at Venice, and partly at Belmont, the Seat of Portia, on the Continent,, 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. Venice. A Street, 



Enter Antonio, Salarino, a7id Salanio. 

Ant. In sooth, I know not why I am so sad ; 
It wearies uie ; you say, it wearies yon ; 
I ut how I caught it, found it, or came by it, 
Wliat sinflf 'lis made of, whereof it is born, 
I am to learn ; 

And such a want-wit sadness makes of ine, 
Tiiat I have much ado to know myself. 

Salar. Your mind is tossing on the ocean; 
There, where your argosies * with portly sail, — 
Like signiors and rich burghers of the dood. 
Or, as it were the pageants of the sea, — 
Do overpeerthc petty traffickers, 
That curt'&y to them, do them reverence. 
As they fly by ihem with their woven wings. 

Sulan, Believe me, sir, had I such venture 
The better prti^f my affections wouhl [forth, 
Be with my hopes abroad. 1 should be still 
Plucking the grass, to know where sits the 
wind ; [roads ; 

Peering in maps, for ports, and piers, and 
jiuii every object, that might make me fear 
IVi i-tortune to my ventures, out of doubt, 
\\ oiild make me sad. 

Salar. My wind, cooling my broth, 

Would blow me to an ague, when I thought 
What harm a wind too great might do at sea. 
I should not see the sandy hour-glass run. 
But I should think of shallows and of flats ; 
And see my wealthy Andrew dock'd in sand. 
Vailing t her high-top lower than her ribs, 
To lcX8s lier burial. Shi)uld 1 go to church. 
And see the holy edifice of stone, [rocks? 
...... not bethi.ilv uic siia.^ i ^r < aniici oU3 



Which touching but n.y gentle vessers side. 
Would scatter all her spices on the stream ; 
Enrobe the roaring v^aters with my silks ; 
And, in a word, but even now worth this. 
And now worth nothing? Shall i have the 

thought 
To think on this; and shall I lack the thought. 
That fuch a thing, bechancM would make me 
But, tell not me ; I know, Antonio [sad? 
Is sad to think upon his merchandise, [for it. 
Ant. Believe me, no : I thank my fortune 
My ventures are not in one bottom trusted, 
IS or to one piace ; nor is nty whole estate 
Upon the fortune of thia present year: 
Therefore, my merchandise makes me not sad > 
Salan. Why then you are in love. 
Ant. Fie, fie I 

Salan. Not in love neither? Then let's say, 
you are sad. 
Because you are not merry : and 'twere as easy 
For you, to laugh, and leap, and sa^, yon are 
meny, [Janus, 

Because you are not sal. Now, by two-headed 
Nature hath fram'd strauge fellows in her time: 
Some that will evermote peep through their 
And laugh, like parrots, \i a bag piper ; [eyes. 
And other of auch vine^u* aspect, [smile, 

That they'll not show .Vii! teeth in vny of 
Though Nestor swear the /tsl be laughable. 
Enter Bassanio, Lor£n; v ,t-7i</Grii!iT»«.NO. 
Satan. Here comes B%»%'ri>o, year most 
noble kinsman, 
Gratiano, and Loren/o : Vm • \ •>•• *v^tll. 
We leave you now with b»''»v^f c. r*i.>^ny. 
Salar. 1 would have ataivi Wv\ \ *».q, ^hmXk: yea 
jni:rrv, 



Ships of large burtl-.en. 



, t Lowering. 



300 



SHAKSPKAHE. 



[A:t /. 



If worthier friend? had not prevented nie. 

Ant. Your worth is very dear in iiiy regard. 
I take it, your own business calls on you, 
And yon embrace the occa>ion lo depart. 
Salar. Good-morrow, my good lords. 
Baas. Good signiors both, when shall we 
laugh 1 Say, when i 
You grow exceeding strange : Must it be so? 
Salar. W e'ii make our leisures to attend 
on yours. 

{tjctunt Salarino and Salanio. 
Lor. My lord Bassanio, since you have 
found Antonio, 
We two will leave you : but, at dinner-time, 
J pray you, have in mind where we must meet. 
Jiass. 1 will not fail you. 
Gra. You look not well, signior Antonio ; 
You have loo much respect upon the world : 
They lose it, that do Jauy it with much care. 
Believe me, you are marvellously chang'd. 
Ant. 1 hold the world but as the world, 
Gratiano ; 
A Ptage, where every man must piay a part, 
And mine a sad one- 

Gra» Let me play the fool : 

\\ ith mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come; 
And let my liver rather heat with wine, 
Th Ml my heart cool with mortifying groans. 
W hv should a man, whose blood is warm 
fcit like hisgrandsire cut in alabaster? [within, 
JSieep when he wakes? and creep into the 

jaundice 
Ry being peevish ? I tell thee what, Antonio, — 
I love thee, and it is my love that speaks; — 
There are a sort of men, whose visages 
In) eream and mantle, like a standing pond; 
And do a wilful stillness* entertain, 
W ith purpose to be dress'd in an opinion 
Of wisdom, t,ravity, profound conceit; 
As >\ho should say, 1 am Sir Oracle, 
And, when J ope t/iy lips, let no dog bark ! 
(>, my Antonio, I do know of these. 
That therefore only are reputed wise. 
For saying nothing ; who, I am very sure. 
If they should speak, would almost damn those 
ears, [thers, fools. 

Which, hearing them, would call their bro- 
ril tell thee more of this another time ; 
But fish not, with this melancholy bait. 
For this fool's gudgeon, this opinion. — 
Come, good Lorenzo : — Fareye well, a while; 
IM end my exhortation after dinner, [time: 
Ijor Well, we will leave you then till dinner- 
1 must be one of these same dumb wise men. 
For Gratiano never lets me speak. [more, 
Gra. Well, keep me company but two years 
Thou shalt not know the sound of thine own 
tongue. 
Aut. Farewell: I'll grow a talker for this 
gear. [commendable 

Gra. Thanks, i'faith ; for silence is only 
Li a neat's tongue dried, and a maid not 
vendible. 

[ICieunt Gratiano and Lorekzo. 
Ant. Is that any thing now? 
isa.sA, Gratiano speaks an infinite deal of 



nothing, more than any man in all Venice 
His reasons are as two grains of wheat hid 
in two bushels of cbatf ; you shall seek all 
day ere you lind them ; and when you have 
them, they are not worth the search. 

Ant. W^ell ; tell me now, what lady is thi« 
i To whom you swore a secret pilgrimage, [same 
That you to-day promised to tell me vH 

Bass. 'Tis not unknown to you, Antonio, 
How much 1 have disabled mine estate. 
By something showing a more swelling port 
Than my faint means would grant continuance: 
>«or do 1 now make moan to be abridg'd 
From such a noble rate ; but my chief care 
Is, to come fairly ott from the great debts. 
Wherein my time, something too prodigal. 
Hath left me gaged : ioyou, Antonio, 
I owe the most, in money, and in love ; 
And from your love 1 have a warranty 
To unburthen all my plots, and purposes. 
How to get clear of all the debts I owe. [it ; 
Ant. 1 pray you, gOi (1 Bassanio,iet me know 
And, if it stand, as you yourself ^tilldo, 
W ithin the eye of honour, be assured. 
My purse, my person, my extremest means, 
Lie all unlock'd to your occasions, [one shaft, 
liiiss. In my school-days, when 1 had lost 
I shot his fellow of the self-same flight 
The selt-same way, with more advised watch, 
To find the other forth ; and by advent'ring 

both, 
I oft found both : I urge this childhood proof. 
Because what follows is pure innocence. 
1 owe you much ; and, like a wilful youth. 
That which 1 owe is lost : but if you please 
To shoot another arrow that self way 
Which you did shoot the first, I do not do«bt. 
As I will watch the aim, or to find both. 
Or bring your latter hazard back again. 
And thankfully rest debtor for the first. 
Ant. You know me well ; and herein spend 
but time. 
To wind about my love with circumstance ; 
And, *>ut of doubt, you dome now more 
In making question of my uttermost, [wrong. 
Than if you had made waste of all 1 have : 
Then do but say to me what I should do, 
That in your knowledge may by me be done. 
And I am prestt unto it : therefore, speak. 

Ba^s. In Belmont is a lady richly left, 
And she is fair, and, fairer than that word. 
Of wondrous virtues; sometimes I from her 
I did receive fair speechless messages : [eyes 
Her name is Portia ; nothing undervalued 
To Cato's daughter, Brutus' Portia. 
Nor is the wide world ignorant of her worth ; 
For the four winds blow in from every coast 
Renowned suitors : and her sunny locks 
Hang on her temples like a golden fleece; 
VV hich makes her seat of Belmont, Colchos* 

strand. 
And many Jasons come in quest of her. 

my Antonio, had I but the means 
To hold a rival place with one of them, 

1 have a minri presages me such thrift, 
ILat I shoulvl questionless be foituuaie. 



• I'l'^Unaie 8ileticc. 



f ll'.ady. 



X Formerly. 



Siene, /.] 



MERCHANT OF VEJVICF. 



201 



Ant. Thou know'st, that all my fortunes are 
at sea ; 
Nor have 1 money, nor commodity 
To raise a present sum : therefore go forth, 
Try what my credit can in Venice do ; 
That shall be rack*d, even to the uttermost, 
To furnish thee to Belmont, to fair Portia. 
Go, presently inquire, and so will I, 
Where money is : and 1 no question make. 
To have it of ray trust, or for my sake. 

[Edeutit. 

SCENE II. Belmont. A Room in Portia's 

JHouse. 

Enter Portia and Nerissa. 

For. By my troth, Nerissa, my little body 
is a-weary of this areat world. 

Ner. You would be, sweet madam, if your 
miseries were in the same abundance as your 
good fortunes are : And, yet, for aught I see, 
they are as sick, that surfeit with too much, 
as they that starve wiih nothing : It is no 
mean happiness therefore, to be seated in the 
mran ; superfluity comes sooner by white 
hairs, IhU competency lives longer. 

Por. Good sentences, anu well prononnced. 

Ner. They would be better, if well followed. 

Por, If to do were as easy as to know 
■whai were good to do, chapels had been 
churches, and poor men's cottages, princes* 
palaces. It is a good divine that follows his 
own instructions : I can easier teach tweniy 
what were good to be done, than be one of 
the twenty to follow mine own teaching. 
The brain may devise laws for the blood ; 
but a hot temper leaps over a cold decree: 
such a hare is madness the youth, to skip o'er 
the meshes of good counsel the cripple. But 
this reasonini; is not in the fashion to choose 
me a husband: — O me, the word choose! I 
may neither choose whom I would, nor 
refuse whom I oi»like ; so is the will of a 
living daughter curb'd by the wiil of a dead 
father : — Is it not hard, Nerissa, that I cannot 
choose one, nor refuse none ? 

Ner. Your father was ever virtuous; and 
holy men, at their death, have good inspira- 
tions ; therefore, the lottery, that he bath 
devised in these three chests, of gold, silver, 
and lead, (whereof who chooses his meaning, 
chooses yon,) will, no doubt, never be chosen 
by any rightly, but one who you shall rii^htly 
love. But what warmth is there in your 
affection towards any of these princely suitors 
that are already come ? 

Por. 1 pray thte, over-name them ; and as 
thou namest them, 1 will describe them ; and, 
according to my description, level at my 
affection. 

Nr. First, there is the NeapoUtan prince. 

Por- Ay, that's a colt*, indeed, for he 
doth nothing bet talk of his horse; and he 
makes it a great appropriation to his own 
good parts, that he can shoe him himself: I 
am much afraid, my lady his mother played 
tilse with a smith. 



Ner. Then, is there the county t Palatine. 

Por. He doth nothing but frown ; as who 
should say. An if yeu will not have me, 
choose : he hears merry tales, and smiles not: 
l fear, he will prove the weeping philosopher 
when he grows old, being so full of unman- 
nerly sadness in his youth. I had rather be 
married to a death's head with a bone in his 
mouth, than to eitber of these. God defend 
me from these two 1 

Ner. How say you by the French lord. 
Monsieur Le Bon 1 

Por, God made him, and therefore let him 
pass for a man. In truth, I know it is a sin 
to be a mocker ; But, he ! why, he hath a 
horse better than the Neapolitan's ; a better 
bad habit of frowning than the count Pala- 
tine : he is every man in no mar : if * 
throstle sing, he falls straight a capering ; ht 
will fence with his own shadow : if I shoul>; 
marry him, I should marry twenty husbands . 
If he would despise me, I would forgive him 
for if he love me to madness, I shall nevei 
requite him. 

Ner. What say you then to Faulconbridge, 
the young baron of England ? 

Por. You know, I say nothing to him ; 
for he understands not me, nor I him : he 
hath nei'iher Latin, French, nor Italian ; and 
you will come into the court and swear, that 
I have a poor penny-worth in the English. 
He is a proper man's picture ; But, alas ! 
who can converse wtth a dumb-show? How 
oddly he is suited ! I think, he bought his 
double! in Italy, his round hose in France, 
his bonnet in Germany, and his behaviour 
every where. 

Ner, What think you of the Scottish lord, 
his neighbour? 

Por. That he hath a neighbourly charity in 
him ; for he borrowe<l a box of the ear of the 
Englishnran, and swore he would pay hiin 
again, when he was able : I think, the French- 
nidu became his surety, and sealed under for 
another. 

Ner, How like you the young German, 
the duke of Saxony's nephew ? 

Por. Very vilely in the morning, when he 
is sober ; and most vilely in the afternoon, 
when he is drunk : when he is best, he is a 
little worse than a man ; and when he is 
worst, he is little better than a beast : an the 
worst fall that ever fell, I hope, I shall make 
shift to go without him. 

Ner, If he should offer to choose, and 
choose the right casket, yon should refuse to 
perform your father's will, if you should 
refuse to accept him. 

Por. Therefore, for fear of the worst, I 
pray thee, set a deep glass of Rhenish wine 
on the contrary casket : for, if the devil be 
within, and that temptation without, I know 
he will choose it. I will do any thing, 
Nerissa, ere I will be married to a spunge. 

Ntr. You need not fear, lady, the having 
any of these lords; they have acquair.tcd me 



► A heady, gay youngster. 



t Count. 



212 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act /. 



with their determination ; which is, indeed, 
to return to their home, and to trouble you 
with no more suit ; unless you may be won 
by some other sort than your father's inipo- 
Bition, depending on the caskets. 

Por, If I live to be as old as Sibylla, I will 
die as chaste as Diana, unless I be obtained 
by the manner of my father's will : I am 
glad this parcel of wooers are so reasonable ; 
tor there is not one among them but 1 dote on 
his very absence, and I pray God grant them 
a fair departure. 

Ner. Do you not remember, lady, in your 
father's time, a Venetian, a scholar, and a sol- 
dier, that came hither in company of the 
Marquis of Montferrat ? 

Por. Yes, yes, it was Bassanio; as T think, 
so was he called. 

Ner. True, madam ; he, of all the men that 
ever my foolish eyes looked upon, was the 
best deserving a fair lady. 

Por. I rememi.er him well; and I remem- 
ber him worthy of thy praise. — How now ! 
what news 1 

Enter a Servant. 

Serv. The four strangers seek for you, ma- 
oam, to take their leave : and there is a fore- 
runner come from a fifth, the prince of Mo- 
rocco ; who brings word, thepiince, his mas- 
ter, will be here to-night. 

Por. If I could bid the fifth welcome with 
so good heart as I can bid the other four fare- 
well, I should be glad of his approach: if he 
have the condition* of a saint, and the com- 
plexion of a devil, 1 had rather he should 
shrive me than wive me. Come, Nerissa. — 
Sirrah, go before. — Whiles we shut the gate 
upon one wooer, another knocks at the door. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III. Venice. A public Place. 
Enter Bassanio and Shylock. 

Shy. Three thousand dacats, — well. 

Bass. Ay, sir, for three months. 

Sky. For three months, — well. 

Buss. For the which, as I told you, Anto- 
nio shall be bound. 

Shy. Antonio shall become bound, — well. 

Bass. May you stead me? Will you plea- 
sure me ? Shall I know your answer? 

Shy. Three thousand ducats, for three 
months, and Antonio bound. 

Bass* Your answer to that. 

Suy. Antonio is a good man. 

Bas<i. Have you heard any imputation to 
<he contrary ? 

Sny Ho, no, no, no, no : — ray meaning, in 
paying he is a yood man, is to have you un- 
derstand me, that he is sufficient ; yet his 
means are in supposition: he hath an argosy 
bound to Tripolis, another to the Indies; I 
understand moreover upon the Ria4to, he hath 

a third at Mexico, a fourth for England, 

and other ventures he hath, squander'd 
abroad : But ships are but boards, sailors but 



men : there be land-rats, and water rats, wa- 
ter-thieves, and land-thieves ; I mean, pirates » 
and then, there is the peril of waters, winds, 
and rocks: The man is, notwithstanding, suf- 
ficient ; — three thousand ducats ; — I think, I 
may take his bond. 

Bass. Be assured you may. 

Sky. I will be assured, I may ; and, that I 
may be assured, I will bethink me : May I 
speak with Antonio ? 

liass. If it please you to dine with us. 

Sky. Yes, to smell pork; to eat of the ha- 
bitation which your prophet, the Nazaritt^ 
conjured the devil into: I will buy with you, 
sell with you, talk with you, walk with yon, 
and so following ; but I will not eat with 
you, drink with you, nor pray with you. 
What news on the Rialto?— Who is becomes 
here ? 

Enter Antonio. 

Bass. This is signior Antonio. 

Sky. {Aside.'l How like a fawning publican 
he looks! 
I hate him for he is a christian : 
But more, for that, in low simplicity. 
He lends out money gratis, and brings down 
The rate of usance here with us in Venice. 
If I can catch him once upon the hip, 
1 will feed fat the ancient grudge I bear him. 
He hates our sacred nation; and he rails. 
Even there where merchants most do congre- 
gate, [thrift. 
On me, my bargains, and my well- won 
Which he calls interest : Cursed be my tribe, 
If I forgive him! 

Bass. Shylock, do you hear? 

Sky. I am debating of my present store ; 
And, by the near guess of my memory, 
1 cannot instantly raise up the gross 
Of full three thousand ducats : What of that ? 
Tubal, a wealthy Hebrew of my tribe. 
Will furnish me: But soft; How many 
months [nior ; 

Do you desire? — Rest yon fair, good sig- 
[7l» Antonio. 
Your worship was the last man in our mouths. 

Ant. Shylock, albeit I neither lend nor 
borrow. 
By taking, nor by giving of excess. 
Yet, to supply the ripe wants t of luy friend, 
I'll break a custom : — Is he yet possess'd;, 
How much you would ? 

Shy. Ay, ay, three thousand ducats. 

Ant. And for three months. 

Sky. I had forgot, — three months, you told 
me so. 

Well then, your bond; and, let me seej 

But hear you ; 
Methought, you said^ you neither lend, nor 

borrow, 
Upon advantage. 

Ant. I do never use it. 

Sky. When Jacob graz'd his uncle Laban*! 
sheep, 
This Jacob from our holy Abraham was 



' Temper, qualities. 



t W.ints which admit no longer delay. 
; Informed. 



Sc€7ie UlA 



MERCHArvT OF VEiMCE. 



208 



rAs his wise mother wrought in his belialt",) 
The third possessor ; ay, he was the third. 

Ant. And what of him ^ did he take inte- 
rest? [would say. 

Shy. No, not take interest; not as you 
Directly interest : mark what Jacob did. 
When Laban and himself were compromis'd, 
That all the eanlings which werestreak'd, and 
pied, [rank. 

Should fall as Jacob's hire; the ewes, being 
In the end of autumn turned to the rams : 
And when the work of generation was 
Between these woolly breeders in the act. 
The skilful shepherd peel'd me certain wands, 
And, in the doing of the deed of kind *, 
He stuck them up before the fulsome ewes ; 
Who, then conceiving, did in eauing time 
Fall party-colour'd lambs, and those were 

Jacob's. 
This was a way to thrive, and he was hiest ; 
And thrift is blessing, if men steal it not. 

Ant. This was a venture, sir, that Jacob 
served for; 
A thing not in his power to bring to pass. 
But sway'd, and fashion'd, by the hand of 

heaven. 
Was this inserted to make interest good ? 
Oris your gold and silver, ewes and rams ? 

Sky. I cannot tell ; I make it breed as fast: — 
But note me, signior. 

Ant. Mark you this, Bassanio, 

The devil can cite scripture for his purpose. 
An evil soul, producing holy witness, 
Is like a villain with a smiling cheek ; 
A goodly apple rotten at the heart; 
O, what a goodly outside falsehood hath! 

Shy. Three thousand ducats, — 'tis a good 
round sum. 
Three months from twelve, then let me see the 
rate. [to you. 

Ant. Well, Shylock, shall we be beholden 

Shy. Signior Antonio, many a time and oft. 
In the Rialto you have rated me 
About my monies, and my usances f: 
Still have I borne it with a patient shrug ; 
For sutferance is the badge of all our tribe: 
You call me — misbeliever, cut-throat dog, 
And spit upon my Jewish gaberdine. 
And all for use of that whicli is mine own. 
Well tht'n, it now appears, you need my help : 
Go to then; you come to me, and you say, 
Shylock, we would have monies ; You say so ; 
You, that did void your rheum upon my beard. 
And foot me, as you spurn a stranger ctir 
Over your threshold ; monies is your suit. 
What should I say to you I Should I not say, 
Hath a dog money ? is it possible, 
A cur ca7ilend three thousand ducats? or 
Shall I bend low, and in a bondman's key. 
With 'bated breath, and whispering humble- 
Say this, [ness, 

Fair sir, you syit on me on fVednesday 

last ; 
You spurn'd me such a day ; another time 
You call'd mi — dog ; and for these cour- 
I'll lt7td you thus much monies, Itesies 



Ant. I am as like to call thee so again, 
To spit on thee again, to spurn thee too. 
If thou wilt lend this money, lend it not 
As to thy friends ; (for when did friendship 

take 
A breed for barren metal of his firiend 1) 
But lend it rather to thine enemy ; 
Who if he break, thou may'st with better 
Exact the penalty. [face 

Shy. Why, look you, how you storm! 
I would be friends with you, and have your 
love, [with. 

Forget the shames that you have stain'd me 
Supply your present wants, and take no doit 
Of usance for my monies, and you'll not hear 
This is kind I otter. [me : 

Ant. This were kindness. 

Shy. This kindness will I show: — 

Go with me to a notary, seal me there 
Your single bond ; and, in a merry sport. 
If you repay me not on such a day, 
In such a place, such sum, or sums, as are 
ExpressM in the condition, let the forfeit 
Be nominated for an equal pound 
Of your fair flesh, to be cut otf and taken 
Jn what part of your body pleaseth me. 

Ant. Content, in faith ; I'll seal to such a 
bond. 
And say, there is much kindness in the Jew. 

Bass, You shall not seal to such a bond for 
me, 
I'll rather dwell t in my necessity. 

Ant. Why, fear not, man; I will not for- 
feit it; [before 
Within these two months, that's a month 
This bond expires, I do expect return 
Of thrice three times the value of this bond. 

Shy. O father Abraham, what these Chri»> 
tians are; 
Whose own hard dealings teaches them sus- 
pect [this ; 
The thoughts of others! Pray yon, tell me 
If he should break his day, what should I 
By the exaction of the forfeiture ? [gain 
A pound of man's flesh, taken from a man, 
Is not so estimable, profitable neither. 
As flesh of muttons, beefs, or goats. I say, 
To buy his favour, I extend this friendship : 
If he will take it, so ; if not, adieu ; 
And, for my love, I pray you, wrong me not. 

AnC. "V es, Shylock, I will seal unto this 
bond. [tary's ; 

Shy. Then meet me forthwith at the uo- 
Give him direction for this merry bond. 
And I will go and purse the ducats straight; 
See to my house, left in the fearful guard 
Of an unthrifty knave ; and presently 
1 will be with you. [Exit. 

Ant. Hie thee, gentle Jew. 

This Hebrew will turn Christian ; he grows 
kind. 

Bass. I like not fair terms, and a villain's 
mind. [dismay. 

Ant. Come on : in this there can be ho 

My ships come home a month before the 

day. [Exeunt, 



Nature. 



♦ Intercel. 



t Abide. 



SHAKSPEARE 



Uct //. 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. 

Belmont. A Boom in Portia's Hottse. 
Fhmrish of Cornets. Enter the Prince of 
Morocco, and his Train; Portia, Ne- 
RissA, and other of her Attendants. 
Mor. Mislike me not for my complexion, 
rhe shadow'd livery ot the burnish'd sun, 
r© whom I am a neiglibour, and near bred. 
Bring me the fairest creature northward born. 
W here Phcebus' fire scarce thaws the icicles, 
And let us make incision* tor your love, 
To prove whose blood is reddest, his, or mine. 
I tell thee , lady, this, aspect of mine 
Hath fear'd t the valiant ; by my love, 1 
Thebes'-regarded virgins of our clime [swear, 
Have lov'd it too : 1 would not change this 
hne, [queen. 

Except to steal yonr thoughts, my gentle 
/*or. In terms of choice i am not solely 
By nice direction of a maiden's eyes : [led 
Besides, the lottery of my destiny 
Bars me the ri.ht of voluntary choosing : 
But, if my father had not scanted me, 
A»d htdg'd me hy his wit, to yield myself 
His wife, who wins me by that means 1 told 
yon, [fai'-, 

Yonrself, renowned prince, then stood as 
As any comer I have look'd on yet, 
For my affection. 

Mor. Even for that I thank you ; 

Therefore, I pray you, lead me to the caskets. 
To try my fortune. By this scimitar,— 
That slew the Sophy, and a Persian prince. 
That won three tields of Sultan Solyman,— 
1 would out-stare the sternest eyes that look. 
Out-brave the heart most daring on the earth. 
Pluck the young suckling cubs from the she 

bear, 
Yea, mock the lion when he roars for prey, 
To win thee, lady : Hut, alas the while I 
If Hercules, and Lichas, play at dice 
Which is the better man, the greater throw 
May turn by fortune from the weaker hand : 
So is Alcides beaten by his page; 
And so may I, blind fortune leading me. 
Miss that which one unworthier may attain. 
And die with grieving. 

P(yr. You must take yonr chance; 

And either not attempt (o choose at all. 
Or Bwear, before you choose, — if yon choose 

wrong. 
Never to speak to lady afterward 
In way of marri ige : therefore be advis'd J. 
Mor. Nor will not; come, biing mc unto 

my chance. 

For. First, forward to the temple; after 

Yonr hazard shall be made. [dinner 

Mor, Go(»d fortune then I [Cornets. 

To u)ake me bless'd, or cnrsed'st among men. 

[Eieunt, 



SCENE II. Venice. A Street, 
Enter Launcelot Gob bo. 



Lavn. Certainly my conscience will serve 
me to run from this Jew, my master: Tlie 
fiend is at mine elbow ; and tempts me, say- 
ing to me, GobOo, Launcelot Cohbo, f>uo>J 
Launcilot,or good Gobbo, or good Luuni e- 
lot Gohbo, use your legs, take the star/, 
run away : My conscience says, — no; take 
heerty honest Launcelot; takt heedy honest. 
Gohbo; or, as aforesaid, honest Launril t 
Gobbo ; do not ran ; scorn running ni- h 
thy heels : Well, the most courageous fieufi 
bids me pack ; via! says the fiend ; otvny ! 
sriysthe tiend,jor the heavens; rouse up .: 
brute minOy says the fiend, and run. V\ eii, 
my conscience, hanging about the neck of my 
heart, says very wisely to me,— w/y honest 
frUnd Launetloty being an honest man*.^ 
son, — (»r raiher an honest woman's son; — 
for, indeed, my father did something smack, 
something grow to, he had a kind of taste ;— 
well, my conscience says, Launalot, budge 
not ; budge, says the fiend; budge noty says 
my conscience: Conscience, say 1, you coun- 
sel well; fiend, say I, you counsel well : to 
be ruled by my conscience, I should stay with 
the Jew my master, who, (God bless the 
mark!) is a kind of devil; and, to run away 
from the Jew, 1 should be ruled by the fiend, 
who, saving your reverence, is the devil him- 
self: Certainly, the Jew is the very devil in- 
carnation; an<l, in my conscience, my con- 
science IS but a kind of hard conscience, to 
offer to counsel me to stay with the Jew : 
The fiend gives the more friendly counsel : 1 
w ill run, fiend ; my heels ar« at your com- 
mandment, I will run. 

Enter old Gobbo, with a Basket. 

Gob. Master, young man, you, I pray 
you; which is the way to master Jew's? 

Laun. [Asidt.'\ O heavens, this is my true 
begotten father! who, being more than sand- 
blind, high-grav<^l blind, knows me not:— I 
will try conclusions $ with him. 

Gob. Master young gentleman, I pray yon, 
which is the way to master Jew's? 

Laun. Torn up on your right hand, at th« 
next turning, but, at the next turning of all, on 
your left; marry, at the very next turning, 
turn of no hand, but turn down indirectly to 
the Jew's house. 

Gob By God's sonties, twill be a hard 
way to hit. Can you tell me whether one 
Launcelot, that dwells with him, dwell witki 
him, or no? 

Laun. Talk you of young master Launce-, 
lot?— Mark me now ; \aside.] now will I 
raise the water*:— Talk you of young master 
j Launcelot! i 



• Allusion to the eastern custom for loven to testify their passion bj cutting theT7.s«lves l» I 
their roiPtreises' BighL tTei rifted. J Not preripitrile. j Expe^iuw ul«. | 



S'ctne II. J 



MKRCHAAT OF VKx\.CE. 



205 



Gob, No master, sir, but a poor man's soii ; 
his father, though 1 say it, is an honest ex- 
ceeding poor man, and, God be thanked, well 
to livt. 

Latin. Well, let his father be what he will, 
we talk of young master Lnuncelot. 

Gob, Your worship's friend, and Launcelot, 
sir. 

Laun. But I pray yoo ergo^ old man, 
ergo^ 1 beseech you; Talk you of young mas- 
ter Launcelot I 

Gob. Of Launcelot, an't please yoar master- 
ship. 

Lavn. Ergo, master Launcelot; talk not 
of master Launcelot, father; for the young 
gentieinan (according to fatt*s and destinies, 
and such odd sayings, the sisters three, and 
Buch branches of learning,) is, indeed, deceas- 
ed ; or, as you would say, in plain terms, 
gone lo heaven. 

Gi>b. Marry, God forbid! the boy was the 
very staff of my age, my very prop. 

Laun. Do I look like a cudgel, or a hovel- 
post, a staff, or a prop"? — Do you know me, 
father? 

Gob. Alack the day, I know you not, 
young gentleman: but, I pray you, tell me, 
is my boy, (God rest his soul!) alive, or 
ilead { 

Laun. Do you not know me, father? 

Gob. Alack, sir, I am sand blind, I know 
you not. 

Lavn. Na) , indeed, if you had your eyes, 
you might fail of the knowing me : it is a 
wise father, that knows his own chiM. Well, 
old man, I will tell you news of your son: 
Give me your blessing : truth will come to 
light; murder cannot be hid long, a man*s 
sou may ; but, in the end, truth will out. 

Goh. Pray yon, sir, stand up; 1 am sure, 
you are not Launcelot, my boy. 

Laun. Pray you, let's have no more fool- 
ing about it, but give me your blessing ; I am 
Launcelot, your boy that was, your son that 
is, your child that shall be. 

Gub. I cannot think, you are my son. 

Laun, 1 know not what 1 shall think of 
that: but I am Launcelot, the Jew's man ; 
and, I am sure, Margery, your wife, is my 
niotl'.er. 

Gob. Her name is Margery, indeed : PU be 
sworn, if thou be Launcelot, thou art mine 
own tlesh and blood. Lord, worshipp'd 
might he be! what a beard hast thou got! thou 
hii^t got more hair on thy chin, than Dobbin 
niy thill-liorse* has on his tail. 

Loun. It should seem then, that Dobbin's 
call trows backward; I am sure he had more 
hair on his taii, than 1 have on my face, when 
I last saw liim. 

G'i>. Lord, how art thou changed! How 
">i thou and thy m.is'n r agiee' I have 
tdught him a present; How 'gs te yon now .' 
n:i. VN eii, \M'll ; but, tor tj.ine t>wn 
M lit IS I bave .<el up my rest to run awaj ,^o 
I will not lest till 1 have run son.e ground : 

* Shaft-h<use. 



my master's a very Jew : Give him a present ! 
give him a halter : I am famish'd in his ser- 
vice ; you may tell every finger I have with 
my ribs. Father, I am glad you are come ; 
give me your present to one master Bassanio, 
who, indeed, gives rare new liveries ; if i 
serve not him, I will run as far as (Tod h.^s 
any ground. — O rare forttme! here comes the 
man ; — to him, father; for I am a Jew, if I 
serve the Jew any longer. 

Enter Bassamo, w-i/A Leonardo, and 
other Followers. 

Bass. You may do so ; — but let it be so 
hasted, that supper be ready at the farthest by 
five of the clock : See these letters delivei'd ; 
put the liveries to making; and desire Gra- 
tiano to come anon to my lodging. 

[Exit a Servant, 

Laun. To him, father. 

Gob. God bless your worship! 

Bass, Gramercy ; Wouldst thou aught wih 
me? 

Gob. Here's my son, sir, a poor boy,— — 

Laun. Not a poor boy, sir, but the rich 
Jew's man ; that would, sir, as my father 
shall specify, 

Gob. He hath a great infection, sir, as one 
would say, to serve 

Laun. Indeed, the short and the long is, I 
?erve the Jew, and I have a desire, as my 
father shi 11 specify, 

Gob. His master and he, (saving your wor- 
ship's reverence,) are scarce cater-cousins : 

Laun. To be brief, the very truth is, that 
the Jesv having done me wrong, doth cause 
me, as my father, being I hope an old man, 
shall frutify unto you, 

Gob. I have here a dish of doves, that ! 
would bestow upon year worship; and my 
suit is, 

Laun. In very brief, the suit is impertinent 
to myself, as your worship shall know by this 
honest old man; and, though I say it, though 
old man, yet, poor man, my father. 

Bass. One speak for both; — What would 
you ? 

Laun. Serve you, sir. 

Gob. This is the very defect of the matter, sir. 

Bass. I know thee well, thou hastobtain'd 
thy suit : 
Shylock, thy master, spoke with me this day 
And have preferr'd thee, if it be preferment, 
T<» leave a rich Jew's service,* to become 
The follower of so poor a gentleman. 

Laun The old proverb is very well partetl 
between my master Shylock and you, sir; 
you have the grace of God, sir, and he hath 
enough. 

Buss. Thou speak'st it well: Go, father 
with thy son: — 
Take leave of thy old master, and inquire 
My lodging out: — Give him a liveiy 

[Ta /lis Followers. 
More guarded + than his fellows' : See it done. 

Laun. Father, in: — I cannot get a service 
i no ; — I have ne'er a tongue in my head.^. 

t Oruiix^nteil. 



806 



SilAKSPEARE. 



[Act n 



Well ; [Looking on his palm.] if any man in 
Italy have a fairer table •, which doth offer to 
swear upon a book.— I shall have good fortune ; 
V,o to, here's a simple line of life! here'sasruall 
trifie of wives: Alas, fifteen wives ig nothing;; 
eleven widows, and nine maids, is a simple 
coming-in for one man: and then, to *scape 
drowning thrice; and to be in peril of my 
life with the edge of a feather-bed ;— here are 
simple 'scapes! Well, if fortune be a woman, 
&he*9 a good wench for this gear. — Father, 
come ; I'll take my leave of the Jew in the 
twinkling of an eye. 

[hxeunt Laun. and old Gob bo. 

Buss. I pray thee, good Leonardo, think 

on this ; [stow'd. 

These things being bought, and orderly be- 

Return in haste, for 1 do feast to night 

My best-esteem'd acquaintance ; hie thee, go. 

Leon. My best endeavours shall be done 

herein. 

Enter Gratia no. 
Gra. Where is your master? 
Leon, Yonder, sir, he walks. 

\Exit Leonardo. 

Gra, Signior Bassanio, 

Bass. Gratiano! 
Gra. 1 have a suit to you, 
Bass. You have obtained it. 

Gra. You must not deny me; I must go 
with you to Belmont. 

Bass. Why, then you must : — But hear 
thee, Graiiano ; [voice ; — 

Thou art too wild, too rude, and bold of 
Parts, that become thee happiiy enough. 
And in such eyes as ours appear not faults ; 
But where thon art not known, why, there 

they show 
Something too liberal +; — pray thee, take pain 
To allay with some cold drops of modesty 
Thy skipping spirit; lest, through thy wild 

behaviour 
t be misconstrued in the place I go to. 
And lose my hopes. 

Gra. Signior Bassanio, bear me: 

If I do not put on a sober habit. 
Talk with respect, and swear but now and then. 
Wear prayer-books in my pocket, look de- 
murely ; [eyes 
Nay niore, while grace is saying, hood mine 
Thus with my hat, and sigh, and say, amen ; 
I se all the observance of civility. 
Like »>ne well studied in a sad oslent J 
To please his grandam, never trust me more. 
buAS. Well, we shall see your bearing §. 
Gra. Nay, but 1 bar to-night; you shall not 
By what we do to-night. [g<*ge me 
Bass. No, that were pity ; 
I would entreat yon rather to put on 
Your boldest suit of mirth, for we have friends 
That purpose merriment: But fare you well, 
I have some lusiness. 

Gra. And 1 must to Lorenzo, and the rest ; 
Bat we will visit you at supper-time. 

[Exeunt. 



SCExNE in. The same. A Jioom in 
Shy lock's House. 
Enter Jessica and Launcelot. , 

Je.s. I am sorry, thou wilt leave my father so; 1 
Our house is hell, and thou, a merry devil. 
Didst rob it of some taste of tediousness: 
But fare thee well ; there is a ducat for thee. 
And, Launcelot, soon at supper shalt thou see i 
Lorenzo, who is thy new master's guest : 
Give him this letter ; do it secretly, i 

And so farewell ; I would .not have my father i 
See me talk with thee. i 

Laun. Adieu !— tears exhifcit my tongue.— 
Most beautiful pagan, — most sweet Jew ! If ' 
a Christian do not play the knave, and get 
thee, I am much deceived: But, adieu ! the»^e 
foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly 
spirit ; adieu ! [Exit 

Jes. Farewell, good Launcelot. — i 

Alack, what heinous sin is it in me, 
To be asham'd to be my father's child ! 
But though I am a daughter to his blood, 
I am not to his manners : O Lorenzo, 
If thou keep promise, I shall end this strife; 
Become a Christian, and thy loving wife. [jEUik 

SCENE IV. The same. A Street. 

Enter Gratiano, Lorenzo, Salaring^ 

and Salanio. 

Lor. Nay, we will slink away in supper- 
Disguise us at my lodging, and return [timei 
All in an hour. 

Gra. We have not made good preparation. 

Salar. We have not spoke us yet of tonh- 
bearers. [order'd ; 

Salan. *Tis vile, unless it may be quaintly 
And better, in my mind, not undertook. 

Lor. 'Tis now but four a-clock ; we have 
To furnish us :— [two hours 

Enter Launcelot, with a Utter. 

Friend Launcelot, what's the news? 

Laun. An it shall please yon to break up 
this, it shall seem to signify. 

Lor. I know the hand: in faith, 'tis a fair 
And whiter than the paper it writ on, [hand; 
Is the fair hand that writ. 

Gra. Love-news, in faith. 

Laun. By your leave, sir. 

Lor. Whither goest thou? 

Laun. Marry, sir, to bid my old master 
the Jew to sup to-night with my new master 
the Christian. [Jessica, 

J.or. Hold here, take this :— tell gentle 
1 will not fail her ;— speak it privately ; go. — 
Gentlemen, [Exit Launcelot. 

Will >ou prepare you for this masque to-night? 
1 am provided of a torch-bearer. 

Hulur. Ay, marry, I'll be gone about it 

Satan. And so will I. [straight. 

Lor. Meet me, and Gratiano, 

At Gratiano's lodging si.me hour hence. 

Salar. '1 is good we do so. 

[EifU7it Salar. and Salan. 

Gra. Was not that letter from fair Jessicii % 



• The palm of the hand extended. + Cross, licentious. t Show of staid and 

serious domtauonr. ^ Carriage, flt-portnient. 



Scene IV.] 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



207 



Lor. I must needs tell thee all : She hath 
directed, 

How I shall take her from her father's house ; 
What gold, and jewels, she is furnish'd with^ 
What page's suit she hath in readiness. ^ 

If e'er the Jew her father come to heaven. 
It will be for his gentle daughter's sake : 
And never dare misfortune cross her foot. 
Unless she do it under this excuse, — 
That she is issue to a faithless Jew. 
Come, go with me; peruse this, as thou goest: 
Fair Jessica shall be my torch-bearer. [Ejceunt. 

. SCENE V. The same. Before Shylock's 
House. 

- Enter Shylock and Launcelot. 

Shy. Well, thou shalt sec, thy eyes shall be 
thy judge. 
The diflference of old Shylock and Bassanio :— 
What, Jessica !— thou shalt not gormandize. 
As thou hast done with me ;— What, Jessica!— 
And sleep and snore, and rend apparel out ; — 
Why, Jessica, 1 say 1 

Laun. Why, Jessica! [call. 

Shy. Who bids thee call ? I do not bid thee 

Laun. Your worship was wont to tell me, 
I could do nothing without bidding. 
Enter Jessica. 

Jes. Call you? What is your will? 

Shy. I am bid* forth to supper, Jessica; 
There are my keys : — But wherefore should I 
I am not bid for love ; they flatter me: [go? 
But yet I'll go in hate, to feed upon 
The prodigal Christian.— Jessica, my girl. 
Look to my house : — I am right loth to go ; 
There is some ill a brewing towards my rest, 
For I did dream of money-bags to-night. 

Luun. I beseech you, sir, go; my young 
master doth expect your reproach. 

Shy. So do I his. 

Laun. And they have conspired together,— 
[ will not say, you shall see a masque ; but if 
you do, then it was not for nothing that my 
nose fell a bleeding on Black-Monday last, 
at six o'clock i'the morning, falling out that 
year on Ash-wednesday was four year in the 
afternoon. 

Shy. What! are there masques? Hear you 
me, Jessica: [drum, 

Lock up my doors ; and when you hear the 
And the vile squeaking of the wry-neck'd fife. 
Clamber not you up to the casements then, 
Nor thrust your head into the public street. 
To gaze on Christian fools with varnish'd faces : 
But stop my house's ears, I mean my casements ; 
Let not the sound of shallow foppery enter 
My sober house. — By Jacob's statf, 1 swear, 
I have no mind of feasting forth to night : 
Bui 1 will go.— Go you before me, sirrah; 
Say, I will come. 

Laun. I will go before, sir. — 

Mistress, look out at window, for all this ; 

There will come a Christian by. 

Will be worth a Jewess* eye. [Exit Laun. 

Shy. What says that fool of Hagar's off- 
spring, ha? 



Jes. His words were. Farewell, mistress ; 
nothing else. 

Shy. The patch is kind enough ; but a huge 
feeder. 
Snail-slow in prgfit, and he sleeps by day [me ; 
More than the wild cat ; drones hive nyt with 
Therefore I part with him ; and part with him 
To one that I would have him help to waste 
His borrow'd purse.— Well, Jessica, go in; 
Perhaps, I will return immediately ; 
Do as I bid you, 

Shut doors after you : Fast bind, fast find; 
A proverb never stale in thrifty mind. [Exit. 

Jes. Farewell : and if my fortune be not 
crost, . 

I have a father, you a daughter, lost. lExit. 

SCENE VI. The same. 
Enter Gratiano and Salarino, masked. 

Gra. This is the pent-house, under which 
Desir'd u» to make stand. [Lorenzo 

Salar, His hour is almost past. 

Gra. And it is marvel he out-dwells his 
For lovers ever run before the clock, [hour, 

Salar. O, ten times faster Venus' pigeons fly 
To seal love's bonds new marie, than they are 
To keep obliged faith unforfeited ! [wont, 

Gra. That ever holds : Who riseth from a 
feast, 
With that keen appetite that he sits down? 
Where is the horse that doth untread again 
His tedious measures with the unbated tire 
That he did pace them first? All things that are. 
Are with more spirit chased than enjoy'd. 
How like a younker, or a prodigal, 
The scarfed + bark puts from her native bay, 
Hugg'd and embraced by the strumpet wind ! 
How like the prodigal doth she return, 
With over-weather'd ribs, and ragged sails. 
Lean, rent, and beggar'd by the strumpet wind ! 
Enter Lorenzo. 

iS'aZa'r. Here comes Lorenzo ;— more of this 
hereafter. [long abode ; 

Lor. Sweet friends, your patience for my 
Not I, but my affairs, have made you wail ; 
When you shall please to play the thieves for 

wives, 
I'll watch as long for you then.— Approach ; 
Here dwells my father Jew :— Ho ! who's 
within. 

Enter Jessica above, in hoy's clothes, 

Jes. Who are you ? Tell me, for more cer- 
tainty, 
Albeit I'll sweajf that I do know your tongue. 

Lor. Lorenzo, and thy love. 

Jes. Lorenzo, certain ; and my love, indeed ; 
For who love I so much? And now who knows 
But you, Lorenzo, whether I am yours ? 

Lor. Heaven, and thy thoughts are witnesf 
that thou art. [pains. 

Jes. Here, catch this casket; it is worth the 
I am glad 'tis night, you do not look on me. 
For I am much ashamed of my excha»ge : 
But love is blind, and lovers cannot see 
The pretty follies that themselves commit; ** 



• Invited. 



Decorated with flags. 



208 



SHAKjiPEAHE. 



[Act It 



For if (hey could, Cupid himself would blush 
To see me thus transformed to a boy. 

JLor. Descend, for you must be my torch- 
bearer, [shames? 
Jes. What, must I hold a candle to my 
They in themselves, goixl sot)th, are too too 
Why, 'tis an oihce of «liscovery, love ; [light. 
And I should be obscured. 

Jjtn: So are you, sweet, 

liven in the lovely garnish of a boy. 
But come at once ; 

For the close ni<?ht doth play the run-away. 
And we are staid for at Bassanio's feast. 
Jes. I will make fast the doors, and gild 
myself 
With some more ducats, and be with you 
straight. [E.iit,J'romaf)OLe» 

Gra. Now, by my hood, a Gentile and no 

Jew. 
Lor. Beshrew me, but I love her heartily : 
For she is wise, if I can judge of her ; 
And fair she is, if that mine eyes be true; 
And true she is, as she hath prov'd herself; 
And therefore, like herself, wise, fair, and true. 
Shall she ^ placed in my constant soul. 

Enter Jkssica, hcUnv. 

What, art thou come? — On, gentlemen, away ; 

Our masqiiing mates by this time for us stay. 

\^ExU w!tfi Jessica and Salarino. 

Entf-r Antonio. 

Ant. Who's there? 

Gra, Signior Antonio ? [rest? 

Ant. Fie, fie, Gratiano ! where are all the 
Tis nine o'clock; onr friends all stay for you : — 
No masque to night; the wind is come about, 
Bassanio presently will go aboard : 
1 have sent twenty out to seek for you. 

Gra. I am glad on't ; 1 desire no more 
delight. 
Than to be under sail, and gone to-night. 

[Kieunt. 

SCENE VII. Belmont. A Room in VovtW% 

House. 
Flourish of Cornets. Enter Portia, with 
the Prince of Morocco, and both their 
Trains. 

Par. Go, draw aside the curtains, and disco- 
The several caskets lo this noble prince: — [ver 
Now make your choice. 
Mor. The first, of gold, who this inscription 
bears ; — [desire. 

n ho choose til me y shall sain what many men 
The secortd, silver, which this promise car- 
ries ; — {d( serves. 
IVhn ( hoo^eth me, shall gft as much as he 
This third, dull lead, with warning all as 
blunt ;— [he hath. 
Who chio.seth me, must give and hazard all 
How shall I know if I do choose the ri^ht? 
Por. The one of them contains my picture, 
prince ; 
If you choose that, then I am yours withal. 
Mur. Some god direct my judgment! Let 

me see, 
^ill survey the inscriptions back again: 

• Enclose. 



What says this leaden casket? 
W ho ch osfih me, must give and hazard all 
he hath. [lead! 

Must give — For what? for lead? hazard fori 
This casket threatens: Men, that hazard all. 
Do it in hope of fair advantages: 
A golden mind stoops not to shows of dross ; 
I'll then nor givf, nor hazard, aught for lead. 
What says the silver, with her virgin hue? 
Who chooseth me, shall get as much as he 

deserves. [rocco, \ 

Ag much as he deserves ? — Panse there, Mo 
And vifeigh thy value with an even hand : 
If thou be'st rated by thy estimation. 
Thou dost deserve enoui^h ; and yet enough j 
May not extend so far as to the lady ; 
And yet to be afeard of my deserving. 
Were but a weak disabling of myself. 
As much as I deserve ! — V\ hy, that's the lady* 
I do in birth deserve her, and in fortunes. 
In graces, and in qualities of breeding ; 
Hut more than these, in love I do deserve. 
What if I stray 'd no further, but chose here ?— 
Let's see once more this saying grav'd in goldr 
W ho chooseth me, shall gain what mun^ ' 

men desire. 
Why, that's the lady; all the world desires her. \ 
From the four corners of the earth they come, , 
To kiss this shrine, this mortal breathing saint, > 
The Hyrcanian deserts, and the vasty wilds j 
Of wide Arabia, are as through-fares now, j 
For princes to come view fair Portia : 
The watery kingdom, whose ambitious head 
Spits in the face of heaven, is no bar 
To stop the foreign spirits; but they come, ; 
As o'er a brook, to see fair Portia. i 

One of these three contains her heavenly pic- 
ture, lion, I 
Is't like, that lead contains her? Tweredamna- 
To think so base a thought ; it were too grost 
To rib* her cerecloth in the obscure giave. 
Or shall I think, in silver she's imnim'd. 
Being ten times undervalued to try'd i;ol(l ? ' 
O sinful thought ! Never so rich a gem 
Was set in worse than gold. They have in 

England 
4 coin, that bears the figure of an angel 
Stamped in gold; but tut's insculp'd t upon ; 
But here an angel in a golden bed 
Lies all within.— Deliver me the key; 
Here do I choose, and thrive I as I may ! 
Por. There, take it, prince, and if my form 
lie there, [casket. 

Then I am yours. [He unlorks the goldtn 
Mot . O hell ! what have we herel 

A carrion death, within whose empty eye 
There is a written scroll? 1*11 read the writing 
Alt ttiat glisters is not gold. 
Often have you heard that told: 
Many a man his life hath sold. 
Hut my outside to behold : 
Gilded tombs do worms infold. 
Had you been as wise as bold. 
Young in limbs, in judgment old, 
y'our answer had not been inscroiVd, 
Fare you well ; your suit is cold, 

* Engraveo. 



i\rfi.e yJI.] 



MEHCHAJNT OF VENICE. 



209 



Cold, indeed; and labour lost: 
Then, farewell, heat; and, welcome, frost. — 
Portia, adieu ! 1 have too griev'd a heart 
To take a tedious leave : thus losers p irt- [E^it. 
Por. A gentle riddance: Draw the cur- 
tains, go ; [Exeunt. 

Let all of his com plexion choose me so. 
SCENE Vlil. Venice. A Street, 
Enter Salakino and Salanio. 
Salar. Why, man, I saw Bassanio uiiuer sail; 
With him is Gratiano gone along; 
And in their ship, I am sure, Lorenzo is not. 
Salan. I he villain Jew with outcries rais'd 
the duke ; 
Who went with him to search Bassanio's ship 
Salur, He came too late, the ship was under 
sail : 
But there the duke was given to understand. 
That in a gondola were seen to^eiher 
Lorenzo and his amorous Jessica : 
Besides, Antonio certityM the dul e, 
They were not with Bassanio m his ship. 

A'ali/7i. 1 never heard a passion so coufug'd, 
So strange, outrageous, and so variable, 
As the dog Jew did utter in the streets : 
My ddugliter! — O my ducats !—0 my 
daughter! [ducats! — 

Fled with, a Christian? — O my christian 
Justice! the law! my ducats^ and my 

iiaughter ! 
4 sealed bag, two sealed bags of ducats. 
Of double ducats f stolen from me by my 
(laughter! [cious stones. 

And jewels ; two stones y two rich and pre- 
Stol'n by my daughter ! — Justice!— jind the 

girl! 

Site hath the stones tcpon her^and the ducats! 

'Salar. Why, all the boys in Venice follow 

him, [ducats. 

Crying, — his stones, his daughter, and his 

Salan. Let good Antonio look he keep his 

Or he shall pay for this. [^ay, 

Salar. Marry, well remembei-*d : 

I reasoned* with a Frenchman yesterday ; 
Who told me, — in the narrow seas, that part 
The French and English, there miscarried 
A vessel of our country, richly fraught : 
I thoui^ht upon Antonio, when he told me ; 
And wish'd in silence, that it were not his. 
Salan. You were best to tell Antonio what 
you hear; 
Yet do not suddenly, for it may grieve him. 

SnLar. A kinder gentleman treads not the 
I saw Bassanio and Antonio part : [earth. 

) nssanio told him, he would make some speed 
Of his return ; he answer'd — Do not so. 
Slubber not t business for my sake, Bassanio, 
But stay the very riping of the time ; 
And for the Jtu-'s bond, which he hath of 
Let it not enter in your mind of Lore : [nie. 
Be mcrry;and employ your chief est i/iovghts 
t ocourtship, and sacn fair oslents : oj love 
is shall conieniently become you thire : 
\ud even there, his eje being big with tears, 



Turning his face, he pat his hand behind him. 

And wiih aftection wondrous sensible 

He wrung Ba^saniu*s hand, and so they parted 

Salan. 1 think, he onlj loves the world loi 
I pray thee, let n? go, and hnd him out. [him. 
And quicken his embraced heaviness ^ 
With some delight or other. 

Salar. Do we so.. [ Exeunt. 

SCENE IX. Belmont. A Room in Foni'A*$ 
Bouse, 
Enter Nkrissa, with a Servant. 
Ner. Quick, quick, 1 pray thee, draw the 
curtain straight ; 
The prince of Arragon hath la'en his oath. 
And comes to his election presently. 
Flourish of Cornet . Enter the Prince o/ 
Arragon, Fori ia, and their Trains. 
Por. Behold, there stand the caskets, noble 
prinre : 
If you choose that wherein I am containM, 
Straight shall our nuptial rites be solemnized , 
But if you fail, vviihuui more speech, m> lord, 
\ on must be gone rronj hence innnediately. 

Ar. 1 am enjoin'd hy oilh to observe three 
First, never to untold to an> one [thiniis : 
W hich casket 'twas 1 chose ; next, if I fail 
Of the light casket, never in my life 
To woo a maid in v\ay of marriage; lastly. 
If I do fail in fortune of my choice, 
lmme<iiately to leave you and bey^one. [swear, 
Por. To these injunctions every one doih 
That comes to hazard for my worthless self. 
Ar. And so have I addrefs'd| me: Fortune 
now [leiul. 

To my heart's hope! — Gold, s-'ver, lOvI '?ase 
Who chooeth me, must ire and hazard 

all he hilh: 
You shall look fairer, ere I give, or hazard. 
What says the golden chest? ha! let me see: — 
rVho chooseth me, shall gam what many 

men desire. [meant 

What many men desire. — ^That many may be 
By the fool multitude, that choose by show, 
N ot learning more than the fon.\ eye doth teach ; 
Which pries not to the interior, but, like the 

man let. 
Builds in the weather on the outward wall. 
Even in the force 1i and road of casualty, 
f will not choose what many men desire. 
Because I will not jump** with common 

spirits. 
And rank me with the barbarous multitudes. 
vVliy, then to thee, thou silver treasure-house. 
Tell me once more what title thou dost bear: 
Who chiioseih me, shall get as much as he 

deserves ; 
And well said too : For who shall go about 
to cozen fortune, and be honourable 
^Vithout the stamp of merit ! Let none pre- 
o wear an undesei ved dignity. [sume 

), that estates, degrees, and offices, [honour 
,\ ere n*A deriv'd corruptly ! and that clear 
V ere pnrchas'd by the merit ot Ifie weaier! 
:io A man> then should cover, that stand bare ? 



* Conversed. + To slubber is to do a thing carelessly. 

iho !i<M\i.jc£s he is fond of. jj Prcpaieii. ^ Fower. 



X Showi, tok-rs. 
•• Agice M'it'.i. 



210 



SHAKSP£AB£. 



\Aci 'ff. * 



how many be commanded, that command , 
How niuch low peasantry would then be 
K;lean*d [much honour 

From the true seed of honour 1 and how 
Pick'd from the chaff and ruin of the times, 
To be new varnish'd? Well, but to my choice- 
IP'ho ihooseth, me^ shall get as muck us he 

deserves : 
I will assume desert;— Give me a.key for this, 
And instantly unlock my fortunes here, 
/'or. Too long a pause for that which you 
find there. [idiot, 

Ar. What's here ? the portrait of a blinking 
Presenting me a schedule 1 I will read it. 
How much unlike art thou to Portia ? 
How much unlike my hopes, and iny deserv- 
ings? [deserves, 

fl' ho chooseth me, shall have as much as he 
Did I deserve no more than a fool's head ? 
Is that my prize? are my deserts no better? 
Por/lo offend, and judge, are distinct offices. 
And of opposed natures. 
Ar, What is here? 

The fire seven times ti-ied this ; 
Seven times tried that Judgment is, 
That did never choose amiss : 
Some there 6f , that shadoivs kiss ; 
Such have but a shadow* s bliss : 
There be fools alive, 1 wis •, 
Silver*d o'er ; and so wax this. 
Take what wife you will tu bed, 
I will ever be your head: 
So begone, sir, you are sped. 



Still more ^ool I sftall appear 
By the time I linger here : 
With one fool's head i came to woo 
But I go away with two. — 
Sweet, adieu ! Pll keep my oath. 
Patiently to bear my wroth. 

[Eieu t Arrag<m, and Train* 
Por. Thus hath the candle iinged the moth. 
O these deliberate fools! when they do choose, 
They have the wisdom by their wit to lose. 
Ner. The ancient saying is no heresy ; — 
Hanging and wiving gt)es by destiny. 
Por. Come, draw the curtain, Nerissa. 

Enter a Servant. 
Serv. Where is my lady I 
Por. Here ; what would my lord ? 

Strv. Madam, there is alighted at your gate 
A young Venetian, one that comes before 
To signify the approaching of his lord ; 
From whom he bringeth sensible regreetst; 
To wit,besi{les commends,and courteousbreatl^ 
Gifts of rich value ; yet I have not seen 
So likely an ambassador of love: 
A day in April never came so sweet, 
To show how costly summer was at hand, 
As this fore-spurrer con)es betore his lord. 

Por. No more, 1 pray thee ; I am half afeard^ 
Thou wilt say anon, he is some kin to thee, 
Thou spend'st such high-day wit in praising him 
Come, come, Nerissa ; for I long lo see 
Quick Cupid's p-st, that comes so mannerly 
Fer. Bassanio, lord love, if thy will it be. 
[Exeunt 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. Venice. A Street, 
Enter Salanio and Salarino. 

Salan. Now, what news on the Rialto ? 

iVrt/^/r. Why ,y et it lives there uncheck'd , that 
Antonio hath a ship of rich lading wreck'd on 
the narrow seas; the Goodwins, 1 think they 
call the plHce; a very dangerous flat, and fatal, 
where the carcases of many a tall ship lie 
buried, as tliey say, if my gossip report be an 
honest woman of her word. 

Salan. I would she were as King a gossip 
in that, as ever knnpp'd ginger, or made her 
mighbours believe she wept for the death of 
a third husband : But it is true, — without any 
slips of prolixity, or crossing the plain high- 
way of talk, — that the good Antonio, the ho- 
liest Antonio, O that I had a title good 

enough to keep his name company ! — 

Sttiur, Come, the full stop. 

Satan. H:s— what sayst thou ?— Why the 
end IS, he hrith lost a ship- 

S'llar. 1 would it might prove the end of 
his losses ! 

Salan. Let me say amen betimes, lest the 
devil cross my prayer; for here he comes in 
ti*t likeness of a Jew. — 



Enter Shy lock. 
How now, Shylock ? what news among the 
merchants ? 

S/iy. You knew, none so well, none so well 
as you, of my daii<<hter's flit'.ht. i 

Salar. That's certain ; 1, for my part, knew 
the tailor that made the wings she tiew withal. 

Salan. And Shylock,for his own part, knew 
the bird was fledged ; and then it is the com- i 
plexion of them all to leave the dam. 

Shy. She is damn'd for it. [her judge. 

Salar. That's certain, it the devil may be 

Shy. My own flesh and blood to reb I! 

Sdlan. Out upon it, old carrion! rebels it ' 
at these >ears? [bl(n*d.^ 

Shy. I say, my daughter is my flesh an(i 

Salar. There is more difference between • 
thy flesh and hers, than between jet and ■ 
ivory; more between your bloods, than there I 
is between red wine and rhenish : — But tell t 
us, do you hear whether Antonio have had ' 
any loss at sea or no ? 

Shy, There I have another bad match : a 
bankrupt, a prodigal, who dare scarce show | 
his head on the Rialto ;— a beggar, that used 
to come so smug upon the mart;— let hirn look i 
to his bond : he was wont to call me usurer ; ' 
— let him look to his bond : he was wont to 



• Know. 



t SHlutaUons. 



.ice lie 7.] 



MERCHAiVT OF VENICE. 



2li 



lead money for a Chriscian courtesy; — let him I 
look to his bond. 

Salar. Why, I am sure, if he forfeit, thou I 
w'xh not take his flesh ; What's that good 
Unl I 

Shy. To bait fish withal : if it will feed no- 1 
thing else, it will feed my revenge. He hath 
disgraced me, and hindered me of half a mil- 
lion ; laughed at my losses, mocked at my 
g.iins, scorned my nation, thwarted my bar- 
gains, cooled my friends, heated mine enemies; 
and what's his reason ? I am a Jew : Hath 
not a Jew eyes? hath not a Jew hands, organs, 
dimensions, senses, affections, passioiis ^ fed 
with the same food, hurt with X.\\e same wea- 
pons, subject to the same diseases, healed by 
tlie same means, warmed and cooled by the 
same wint.r and summer, as a Christian is? 
if you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle 
us, do v\e not lau^h? if you poison us, do we 
not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not 
revenge ? if we are like you in the rest, we 
will resemble you in that. If a Jew wrong a 
Christian, what is his humility ? revenge : If 
a Christian wrong a Jew, what should his 
sutffrance be by Christian example? why, 
revenge. The viliany, you teach me, I will 
execute ; and it shall go hard, but 1 will better 
the instruction. 

Enter a Servant. 

Serv. Gentlemen, ray master, Antonio is at 
his house, and desires to speak with you both. 

S liar. We have been up and down to 
seek him. 

Enter Tubal. 

Salon. Here comes another of the tribe; a 
third cannot be matched, unless the devil him- 
self turn Jew. 

[Exeunt Salan. Salar. and Servant. 

Shy. How now. Tubal, what news from 
Genoa? hast thou found my daughter? 

Tub. I often came where I did hear of her, 
but cannot find her. 

Sliy. Why there, there, there, there ! a dia- 
mond gone, cost me two thousand ducats in 
Frankfort! The curse never fell upon our 
nation till now ; I never felt it till now :— 
two thousand ducats in that ; and other, pre- 
cious, precious jewels.— I would, my daughter 
were dead at my foot, and the jewels in her 
ear! 'would she were hearsed at my foot, and 
the ducats in her coflin ! No news of them ? 
—Why, so: — and I know not what's spent in 
the search : Why, thou loss upon loss i the 
tliief gone with so much, and so much to find 
ti:e thief y and no satisfaction^ no revenge : 
nor no ill luck stirring, but what iight^ o' my 
shoulders ; no sighs, but o' my breathing ; no 
tears, but o' my shedding. 

Tub. Yes, other men have ill luck too; 
I A; tonio, as I heard in Genoa,— 
[ Shy. What, what, what? ill luck, iil luck? 
I Tub. — hath an argosy cast aiwa>,, coming 
fiom Tripolis. 

'Shy. I ihank God, i thanu God :— Is it 
tic ] is it tiue i 



Tub. I spoke with some of the sailois tha 
escaped the vvreck. 

Sky. I thank thee, good Tubal ; — Good news 
good news: \\<\\ ha!— Where ? in Genoa? 

Tub. Your daughter spent in Genoa, as 1 
heard, one night, fourscore ducats. 

Shy. Ihou stick'st a dagger in me: 1 

shall nevt-r see niy gold again: Fourscti'e 
ducats at a sitting! fourscore ducats ' 

Tub. There came divers of Antonio's cre- 
ditors in my company to Venice, that swear 
he cannot choose but break. 

Stiy. I am very glad of it : I'll ila,»ue him ; 
I'll torture him ; I am glad of it. 

Tub. One of them showed me « ring, that 
he had of your daughter for a monkey. 

Shy. Out upon her! Thou torturest me. 
Tubal : it was my turquoise * ; I had it ot Leah, 
when I was a bachelor : I would not have 
given it for a wilderness of monkeys. 

Tub. But Antonio is certainly undone. 

Shy, Nay, that's true, that's very true: Go, 
Tubal, fee me an officer, bespeak him a tort- 
night before : I will have the heart of him, if 
he forfeit; for were he out of Venice, I can 
make what merchandise I will : Go, go. Tubal, 
and meet me at our synagogue; go, good 
Tubal; at our synagogue, Tubal. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. Belmont. A Room in Portia's 

Hon e. 
Enter Bassanio, Portia, Gratiano, Nb- 

RissA, a7id Attendants. The Casktts are 

set out. 

Por. I pray you, tan y ; pause a day or two. 
Before you hazard ; for, in choosing wrong, 
I lose your company; therefore,f or bear a while: 
There's something tells me, (but it is not love,) 
I would not lose you ; and you know yourself. 
Hate counsels not in such a quality : 
But lest you should not understand me well, 
(And yet a maiden hath no tongue but thought,) 
I would detain you here some month or two^ 
Before you venture for me. I could teach yon. 
How to choose right, but then I am forsworn ; 
So will I never be : so may you miss me ; 
But if you do, you'll make me wish a sin. 
That I had been forsworn. Beshrew your eyes. 
They have o'er-look'd me, and divided me; 
One'half of me is yours, the other half y onrs, — 
Mine own, I would say ; butif mine, then yours. 
And so ail yours : O ! these naughty times 
Put bars between the owners and their rights; 
And so, though yours, not yours. — Prove it so. 
Let fortune go to hell for it, — not I. 
I speak too long ; but 'tis to peize t the time 
To eke it, and to draw it out in length. 
To stay you from election. 

Baas, Let me choose ; 

For, as I am, I live upon the rack. 

Por. Upon the rack, Bassanio? then confess 
What treason there is mingled with your love. 

^i/^,s.None,but that ugly treason of njistrust. 
Which makes me fear the enjoying of my love. 
There may as well be anjity anvl life 
I 'Tween snow and fire, as treason and my love 



♦ j«,-u 



fcl2 



SU4KSP£AaE. 



[Act Hi 



Par. Ay, but, I fear, you «peaknpon the rnck. 
Where men enforced do speak any thini:. 

Bass. I'rouiise me life, and I'll confess the 

Pi>r. Wellllien, confess, and live. [tmth. 

Ba>-s, Confess, and love^ 

Had been the very sum of my confession : 

hai>py torment, when my torturer 
Dotli leach me answers for deliverance I 
Bui lei me to my fortune an<1 the caskets. 

Por. Away then : 1 am lock'd in one of them ; 
If you do love me, you will find mc out. — 
Nerissu.and the rest, stand all aloof. — [choice; 
Let music sound, while he doth make his 
I'hen, ii he lose, he m.ikes a swan like end, 
Fading in music, that the comparison 
May stand more proper, my eye shall be the 

stream. 
And wat'ry death bed for him : He may win; 
And what is music then f then music is 
Kvtn as the flourish when true suhjects bow 
To a new-crowned monarch : such it is, 
A» are those dulcet sounds in break of day, 
Thai creep intothedreaminu; bridegroom's ear. 
And summon him to marriaiie. Now he goes, 
Willi no less presence*, but with much more 
Ihan yount4 Alcides.when hedid redeem [love, 
The virgin trituiie paid by howling Troy 
To the sea monster : I stand for sacrifice, 
The rest aloof are the Dardan an wives, 
W ith bleared visages, come forth to view 
The issue of the exploit. Go, Hercules I 
Live thou, I live: — With much much more 
dismay [fray. 

1 view the fight, than thou that makest the 
AJusic, whilst Bassaniu comments on the 

caskets to himself, 

SONG. 
1. Tell me, u^iere is fancy ^ bred, 
Or in the heart, or in the head? 
How befiof, how nourished ? 
Reply. 2. It ts engender'd in the tycs^ 

fVth gazing fid; and fancy dies 
In the CI adle w/iere it lies : 
Let us all ring fancy's knell ; 

Vli he gin it, Dingt dong, bell. 

All. Ding^ f^ong, bell, 
Bass. — So may the outward shows be 
least themselves ; 
The world is still deceived with ornament, 
hi law, what plea so tainted and corrupt, 
B'li, being season'd with a gracious! voice, 
f)i)scuies th^•show of evil i In rel'gion, 
What dtnined error, but some sober brow 
Will bless it, and approve it with a text. 
Hiding ihe yro.-sness with fair ornament ? 
There is uo vice so sitnple, but assumes 
.Soiue mark o viitue on his outward parte. 
How inauy cowards, whose he.irlft are all as 

false 
As stairs of sand, wear yet upon their chins 
I h»' leards of Meicules. and frov^ ning Mirs; 
Who, invvaid »earcliM, have livers while as 

milk? 
And the«e assume but valour's excrement. 



To render them redoubterl. Look on beauty. 
And youshall see 'tis purchas'd by the weight; 
\V hich therein works a miracle in nature, 
Making them lightest that wear most of it : 
So are those crisped) snaky golden locks. 
Which make such wanton gambols with the 
I'pon supposed fairness, often known [wind, 
'I'o be the «lowry of a second head. 
The scull that bred them, in the sepulchre. 
Thus ornament is but the guiled|| shore 
To a most dangerous sea ; the beauteous scarf 
Veiling in Indian beauty ; in a word, [on 
The seeming truth which cunning times put 
To entiap the wisest. Therefore, thou gaudy 

gold, 
Hard food for Midas, I will none of thee : 
Nor none oft hee.thou pale and common drudge 
'Tween man and man: but thou, thou meagre 
lead, [aught. 

Which rather threat'nest, than dost promise 
Thy plainness move" me more than eloquence. 
And here choose I; Joy be the consetpience! 
Por. How all the other passions tleel to air. 
As doubtful thoughts, and rash-embraced 

despair. 
And shudd'ring fear and green-eyed jealousy. 
() love, be moderate, allay thy ecstasy. 
In measure rein ihy joy. scani this excess ; 
I feel too much thy blessing, make it less. 
For fear 1 surfeit I 
Bass. What find I hereT 

[Opening the leaden casket. 
Fair Portia's counterfeit^! f What demi god 
Haih come so near creaiiou? Move thes<; eyes » 
Or whether, riding on the balls of mine. 
Seem they in motion i Here are sever'd lips, 
Parted with sugar breath ; so sweet a bar 
Should sunder such sweet friends: Herein 

her hairs 
Ihe painter plays the spider; and hath woven 
A golden mesh to entrap the hearts of. men, 
F.isterlhan gnalb in cobwebs : But her eyi-s,— 
H«»w could he see todo them Hiaving made one, 
Methinks,it should have power tosteal both his, 
And leave itself unfurnish'd : Yet look, how far 
The substance of my praise doih wrong thii 
In underprizing it, so tar this shidoA' [shadow 
Doth limp behind the substance.— Here's th4 

scroll, 
The continent and summary of my fortune. 
You that choose not by t/ie i iew, 
Ch(tnce as fair and choose as trae! 
Since this fort* ne falls to you^ 
Be con fe fit and seek no new. 
Jf you l>€ well pleased with this, 
And hold your fortune for your bliss 
Turn you whrre your lady is. 
And claim her with ./ loving kiss, 
A gentle scroll ; — Fair lady, by your leave: 

[K'ssing her, 
I come by note, to give, and to receive. 
Like one of two coniendim; in a prize, [eyes,. 
That thinks he haih do.ie well in people's 
Heariiiii applause, and univfrs/*! shoiii, 
(jiddy in spirit, still gating, in a doubt 



Ulguiiv of mien. 



t Love. 



J Winning favour. 
Likeiies!*, portrait. 



$ Curie' 



j I'leac herou» 



Scene JI.] 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



Sid 



Whether those peals of praise be his or no ; 
So, thrice fair lady, stand I, even so; 
As doubtful whether what I see be true, 
l/ntil confirrn'd, si^n'd, ratified by yon. [i^fant'i, 

^^or. Y on sfe ine, lord Bassanio, where I 
Such as I am : though, f<»r myself alone, 
I would not be ambitious in my wish, 
To wish mxseir much better; yet, for 3'ou, 
I would be trebled twenty times myself ; 
A thousand times more fair, ten thousand times 
More rich ; 

1 hat only to stand high on your account, 
I migtit in virtues, beauties, livings, friends. 
Exceed account : but the full sum of me 
Is sum of something ; which, to terrji in gross, 
Is an nnlesson'd uirl, nnschojl'd, unpractised : 
Happy in this, she is not yet so old 
But bhe may learn ; and happier than this. 
She is not bred so dull but she can learn ; 
Happiest of all, is, that her gentle spirit 
Commits its-elf to yours to be directed, 
As from her lord, her governor, her king. 
Myself, and what is mine, to you, and yours 
Is now converted : but now I was the lord 
Of this fair mansion, master of my servants, 
Queen o'er myself; and even now, but now, 
'J'his house, these servant8,and this same myself, 
Areyours,my lord ; 1 give them with this ring; 
Which when you part from, lose, or giveaway, 
Let It prej-age the ruin of your love, 
And be m> vantage to exclaim on you. [words, 

Bass. Madam, you have bereft me of all 
Only my blood speaks to you in my veins: 
And there is such confusion in my powers, 
As, after some oration fairly spoke 
By a beloved prince, there doth appear 
Among the bu///ing pleased multitude; 
W here every something, being blent • together. 
Turns to a wild of nothing, save of joy, 
Expres^'d, and not express'd : But when this 
ring [hence ; 

Parts from this finger, then parts life from 
O, then be bold to say, Has'sanio's dead. 

Ne7\ My lord and lady, it is now our time, 

Th:^t have stood by, and seen our wishes 

prosper, [lady ! 

To cry, uood joy ; Good joy, my lord, and 

Gra. My lord IJassaiiio.and my gentle lady, 
1 wisli >ou all the joy that you can wish ; 
For, 1 am sure, you can wish none from me: 
And, wh< n your honours mean to solemtiize 
The bargain of your faith, I do hes»!e(h you, 
Even ai that time I may be married t'.o. 

Bass. With all my heart, so thou canst get 
a wife. [me one. 

Gra. I thank your lordsMp ; you have got 
My eyes, my lord, can look as swift as yours : 
You saw the mistress, 1 beheld the maid; 
You lov<<l, 1 loved ; for intermission t 
No more pertains to me, my lord, than you. 
Your foitune stood upv>n the caskiis there ; 
And so (lid mine too, as the matter falls: 
For wooing here, until 1 sweat again ; 
And swralring, till my very roof was dry 
With oaths of love : at last, — if promise last, — 
1 ^ot a piomise of this fair one here, 

• T4leM(ifd. 



To have her love, provided that yoar fortune 
Achieved her mistress. 

Por. Is this true, Nerissa ? 

Ncr. Madam, it is, so you stand pleas«'d 
withal. [faith? 

Bass. And do you, Cratiano, mean good 

Gra. Yes, 'faith, my lord, [your marnave. 

Ba^s. Onr feast shall be mu h honour'd in 

Gra. We'd play wi'h them, the first boy 
for a thousand ducats. 

Ncr. What, and stake down ? 

Gra. No; we shall ne'er win at that sport, 

and stake down. 

But who comes here? Lorcrzo,and his infidel ? 
What, my old Venetian friend, Salerio? 
Enter Loiievzo, .) fssic \, una SAi-KRto. 

Ba^s. Lorenzo, and Salerio, welcome hither; 
If that the youth of my new iiit«'iest here 
Have power to bid you welcome: — By your 
1 bid mv very friends and countrymen, [leave, 
Sweet Portia, welcome. 

Por. So do I, my lord ; 

They are entirely welcome. [my lord, 

Ia)]. I thank y(»nr honour : — For my part. 
My pinpose was not to have seeji you liere ; 
Hut meeting with Salerio by the way. 
He did entreat me, past all saying nay, 
To come with him along. 

Sale I did, my lord^ 

And I have reason for it. Siguier Antonio 
Commends him to you. 

\Gives Bassamo a letter. 

Buss. Ere I ope his letter, 

I pray yon, tell me how toy good friend doth. 

Sale. Not sick, my lord, unless it be in 
mind ; 
Nor wed, unless in mind : his letter there 
Will show you his estate. 

Gru. Nerissa, cheer yon' stranger ; bid her 
welcome. [Venire ? 

Yotir hand, Salerio ; What's the news Irom 
How doth that royal merchant, good Antonio? 
I know, he will be glad of our success; 
We are I)h> Jasons, we have won the fltcire. 

Sale. 'Would you had won the fleece that 
he hath lost! [yon' same paper, 

Por. There are some shrewd contents in 
That steal the colour from Bassanio's cheek : 
;-U)irie dear friend dead ; el. e nothing in the 
Could turn so much the constitution [world 
Of any constant man. What, worse and worse ?- 
With leave, Hassanio ; 1 am half yourself. 
And 1 must freely have the half of any thing 
Ihat this same paper brings yu. 

liuss. O sweet Portia, 

Here are a few of the nnpleasant'st words. 
That ever l)lotted paper ! Centle lady. 
When 1 did first impart m\ love to you, 
I freely told you, all the wealth I had 
Ran in my veins, 1 was a gentleman ; 
And then I told you true: and ytt,(lear lady. 
Ruing myst II at nothinu, you shall see 
Hovvniuch I was a braggai t: When 1 told you 
My state was nothing, 1 should then have t-dd 

you 
That 1 was worse than nothing ; for, indeed. 

t I'ati?r, delay. 



^14 



SHAKSPEARH. 



[Act Jfl 



I liave engaged myself to a dear friend, 

Engag'd my friend to hii mere enemy, 

To fted my means. Here is a letter, lady ; 

The paper :>s the body of my friend, 

AihI i-very word in it a gaping wound, 

Issnint; liff-bluod, — But is it true, ISalerio? 

Have all his ventures faii'd \ \\ hat,notonelnt? 

From Tripolis, fiom Mexico, and England, 

From Lisbon, l^arhary, and India ? 

And not one vessel 'scape the dreadful touch 

K)i merchant-marring rocks? 

Sale, Not one, my lord. 

Besides, it should appear, that if he had 
Thi- present money to discharee the Jew, 
He would n(»t take it : Never did I know 
A creati.re, that did bear the shape of man. 
So keen and greedy to confound a m;in : 
He plies the duke at morning, arid at wx^X. ; 
And doth impeach the freedom of the state, 
If they deny him justice: twenty merchants, 
i'hednke himself, and the magnibcoes* 
Of greatest port, have all persuaded with him ; 
But none can drive him from the envious plea 
Of forfeiture, of justice, and his bond. 

Jes. VVlien I was vvith him, I have heard 
him swe ir, 
To Tubal, and to Chus, his countrymen. 
That he would rather have Antonio's flesh. 
Than twenty tiines the value of the ^'nm 
That he did owe him : and I know, my lord. 
If law, authority, and power deny not. 
It will go hard witW poor Antonio. 

For. Is it your dear friend, that is thus in 
trouble? [man, 

Bass. The dertrest friend tome, the kindest 
The best condition'd and unwearied spirit 
I)i doing courtesies ; and one in whom 
The ancient Roman honour more appears, 
Than any that draws breath in Italy. 

For. What sum owes he the Jew? 

ViUss, For me, three thousand ducats. 

Por. What, no more? 

Pay him six the nsand, and deface the bond; 
Double six thotisand, and then treble that. 
Before a triend of tliis desciiption 
Shall lose a hair through Bassanio's fault. 
Fir.si,go with me to church, and call me wife : 
And then away to V'^enieeto your friend ; 
For never shall you lie by Portia's side 
With an unquiet soul. Vou shall have gold 
To pay the peity debt twenty times over; 
V\ hen It Is paid, briiii; your true friei'd along : 
M} maid Nei issa, and myself, mean lime, 
Will live as maids and widows. Come away; 
For you shall heme upon your wedding day : 
Bid your friends M'elcome, show a merry 
cheer t; [d'jar. — 

Since you are dear bought, I will love you 
But let me hear the letter of your hitiul. 

Bass. [Reads.] Suu et Bassanio, my ships 
hurt all miscarried^ my cr editors grow 
cruel, m'l estate is very low, my hjiid to 
the Jew is forfeit ; and sincef in ytiyJJig if y 
it is DiijHKSsihle J should lii.e, all debts are 
cletirfd bitwtn yoa and /. //' / mis.nr but 
set you at my death : notJrUhsttinrlmf], use 

• 1 he chief men, t I ai 



your pleasure : if your lore do not per- 
snade you to come, let not my letter. 
Por. O love, despatch all business, and be 
gone. [awa>, 

Bass. Since I have your good leave to l,o 
I will make haste : but, till I come again, 
No hed shall e'er be guilty of my stay, 
No rest be interposer 'twixt us twain. 

\^Exeu7it, 

SCENE III. Venice. A Street. 
Enter Shylock, Salanio, Antonio, oji/I 
Gaoler. 
Shy. Gaoler, look to him ;— Tell not me of 

mercy ; 

This is the fool that lent out money gratis; — 
Gaoler, look to him. 

Ant. Hear me yet, good Shylock. 

Shy. I'll have my bond ;* speak not agamsl 
my bond ; 
I have sworn an oath, that I will have my 
bond : [cause : 

Thou call'dst me dog, before thou hadst a 
But, since I am a dog, beware my fangs : 
The duke shall grant mejustice. — Ido wonde»". 
Thou naughty gaoler, that thou art so fond J 
To come abroad vvith him at his request. 

Ant. I pray thee, hear me speak. 

Shy. I'll have my bond ; I will not hear 
thee speak : [more. 

I'M have my bond; and therefore speak no 
I'll not be made a soft and dull eyed fool. 
To shake the head, relent, and sigh, and yield 
To christian intercessors. Follow not; 
I'll have no speaking ; I will have my bond. 
[Erit Shyi.i CK. 

Salan. It is the most impenetrable cur. 
That ever kept with men. 

Ant, Let him alone ; 

I'll follow him no more with bootless prayers. 
He seeks my life; his reason wdl I know ; 
I ott deliver'd from his forfeitures 
Many that have at times made moan to me; 
Therefore he hates me. 

Salav. I am sure, the duke 

Will never grant this forfeiture to hold, [law ; 

Ant. The duke cannot ileny the course of 
For the commodity that strangers have 
With us in Venice, if it be denied, 
Will much impeach the justice of the state ; 
Since that the tr.ide and profit of the city 
Consisteth of all nations. Therefore, go : 
'ihese liriefs and losses have so 'b;ited me. 
That I bliall hardiy spare a pound of flesh 

To-morrow to my bloody creditor. 

W ell, gaoler, on : — Pray God, Bassanio com^ 
To see me pay his debt, and then 1 care not ! 

{Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. Belmont. ^ /Joom m Portia's 
House. 

JE'«^erPoRTIA,NERl^*^A,LoR^;NZO,J£SSlCA, 

and Balthazar. 
Lor, Madam, although I speak it fn voux 
piesence. 
Yon have a ni'ble and alrne coiwetf 



: 1 ooiifh. 



Scene 1V,\ 



MERCHAKT OF VENICE. 



2^5 



Of godlike amity j which appears most 

strongly 
In bearing thus the absence of your lord. 
But, if you knew to whom you show this ho- 
How true a gentleman you send relief, [nour. 
How dear a lover of my lord your husband, 
I know, you would be prouder of the work. 
Than customary bounty can enforce you. 

Por. I never did repent for doing good. 
Nor shall not now: for in companions 
That (\o conveise and waste the lime together, 
Whose souls do bear an equal yoke of love. 
There must be needs a like proportion 
Of lineaments, of manners, and of spirit; 
Whi< h makes me think, that this Antonio, 
Being ihe bosom lover of my loid. 
Must needs be like my lord : If it be so, 
How little is the cost J have besiow'd. 
In purchasing the semblance of my soul 
From out the state of hellish cruelty? 
This comes too near the praising of myself; 
Tberefore, no more of it : hear other things. — 
Lorenzo, I commit into your hands 
The husbandry and manage of my house. 
Until my lord's return : for mine own part, 
I have toward heaven breathed a secret vow, 
To live in prayer and contemplation. 
Only attended by Nerissa here, 
Until her husband and my lord's return: 
There is a monastery two miles oflf. 
And there we will abide. I do desire you, 
JS'ot to deny this imposition ; 
The which my love, and some necessity. 
Now lays upon you. 

Lor. Madam, with all my heart ; 

I shall obey yoti in all fair commands. 

Por. My people do already know my mind, 
And will acknowledge you and Jessica 
In place of lord Bassanio and myself. 
So fare you well, till we shall meet again. 
Lor. Fair thoughts, and happy hours, attend 

on you. 
Jes. I wish your ladyship all heart's content. 
Por. 1 thank you for your wish, and am well 
pleased 
To wish it back on you : fare yon well, Jes- 
sica. \_Exeunt Jes. and Lor. 
Now, Balthazar, 

As I have ever found thee honest, true. 
So let me find theestiil : Take this same letter. 
And use thou all the endeavour of a man. 
In speed to Padua; see thou render this 
Into my cousin's hand, doctor Bellario ; 
And, look, what notes and garments he doth 

give thee. 
Bring them, I pray thee, with imagined speed 
Unto the traject, to the common ferry 
Which trades to Venice : — waste no time in 

words, 

Bnt get thee gone: I shall be there before thee. 

Balth. Madam, 1 go with all convenient 

speed. {Exit. 

Por. Come on, Nerissa; I have work in 

hand, [bands, 

That you yet know not of: we'll see our has- 

Before they thiuk of us. 

Ner, Sl-aV 'bry see us ? 



Por, They shall, Nerissa ; but in »uch a 
habit. 
That they shall think we are accomplished 
With what we lack. PU hold thte any wager, 
When we are both accoutred like young men, 
I'll prove the prettier fellow of the two, 
And wear my dagger with a braver grace; 
And speak, between the change of man and boy. 
With a reed voire; and turn two mincing steps 
Into a manly stride; and speak ot fiay». 
Like a fine bragging youth : and tell quaint lies. 
How honourable ladies sought my love. 
Which 1 denying, they fell sick and died ; 
I could not do with all: — then I'll repent, 
And wish, for all that, that I had not kill'd 
And twenty of these puny lies 1*11 tell, [tliem : 
That men shall swear, I have disconiimud 
school imind 

Above a twelvemonth : — I have within my 
Athousand raw tricks of these bragging Jacks, 
Which I will practise. 

Ker. Why, shall we turn to men? 

Por. Fie ! what a question 's that, 
If thou wert »ear a lewd interpreter? 
But come, I'll tell thee all my whole device 
When I am in my coach, which stays for us 
At the park gate; and therefore haste away. 
For we must measure twenty miles to day' 

{Exeiuit, 

SCENE V. The same. A Garden. 
Enter Launcelot and Jessica. 

Laun. Yes, truly :— for, look you, the sins 
of the father are to be laid upon the child i en ; 
therefore, I promise you, I fear you. 1 was 
always plain with you, and so now I speak 
my agitation of the matter : Therefore, be of 
good cheer; for, truly, I think, you aredann'd. 
There is but one hope in it that can do ytu 
any good; and that is but a kind of bastasd 
hope neither. 

Jes. And what hope is that, I pray thee ? 

Laun. Marry, you may partly hope ih t 
your father got you not, that you are not the 
Jew's daughter. 

Jes. That were a kind of bastard hope, in- 
deed ; so the sins of my mother should be 
visited upon mc 

Laun. Truly .hen I fear you are damn'd 
both by father and mother: thus when I shun 
Scylla, your father, I fall into Chary bdis, your 
motrier: well, you are gone both ways. 

Jes. I shall be saved by ay husband ; he 
hath made me a Christian. 

Laun. Truly, the more to blame he : we 
were Christians enough before ; e'en as many 
as could well live, one by another : This mak- 
ing of Christians will raise the price of hog^ ; 
if we grow all to be pork-eaters, we shall ii(;t 
shortly have a rasher on the coals for money. 
Enter Lorenzo. 

Jes. I'll tell my husband, Launcelot, what 
you say ; here he comes. 

Lcr. 1 shall grow jealous of yon shorf'y, 
Launcelot,if you thus get my wile intocoiutii. 

Jes. Nay, yow need not fear us, L.oreiiic« ; 
Launcelot and I ate out: he tells uie fi.itly. 



216 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV 



there is no meny for me in heaven, becanse 
I am a Jew's daiighier : and he says, you are 
no good menihei of the comuionvvealth; for, 
in convening Jewg to Christians, you raise 
the price of poi k. 

Lor. I shall answer that bettei to the com- 
monwealth, tlian you can tiie getting up of-the 
netiro's belly: the Moor is with child by you, 
Lanncelot. 

Lann, It is much, t/iat the Moor should be 
more than reason: but if she be less than an 
bo'ifst woman, she is, indeed, more than I 
took her tor. 

Lor. How every fool can play upon the 
word ! I think, the best grace of wit will 
shortly turn into silence; and discourse grow 
comnjendahle in none only but parrots. — Go 
in, sirrah; bid them prepare for dinner. 

Laun. That is done, sir; they have all sto- 
machs. 

Jjor\ Goodly lord, what a wit-snapper are 
you ! then bid them prepare dinner. 

Laun. That is done too, sir ; only, cover 
is the word. 

Lor. Will you cover then, sir? 

Laun. N ot so, sir, neither ; I know my duty. 

Lor. > et nrore quarrelling with occasion! 
Will thou show the whole wealth of thy wit 
in an instant? I pray thee, understand a plain 
man in his plain meaning : go to thy fellows; 
bid them cover the table serve in the meat, 
and we will come in to dinner. 

Laun. For the table, sir it shall be served 
n ; for the meat, sir, it shall be covered; for 



your coming in to dinner, sir, why, let it be 
as humours and conceits shall govern. ♦ 

[Exit L^UN. 

Lor, O dear discretion, how his words art 
The fool hath plantvd in his memory [suited f 
An arniy of good words : And 1 do know 
A many fools, that stand in better place, 
Garnish'd like him, that for a tricksy word 
Defy the matter. How cheer'st th«>u, Jessica? 
And now, good sweet, say thy opinion, 
How dost thou like the lord Bassanio's wife? 

Jis. Past all expressing' : It is very meet. 
The lord Bassanio live an upright life ; 
For, having such a blessing in his lady, 
He finds the joys of heaven here on earth ; 
And, if on earth he do not mean it, it 
Is reason he should never come to heaven. 
Why, if two gods should play some heavenly 

match. 
And on the wager lay two earthly women, 
And Portia one, there must be something else 
Pawn'd with the other ; for the poor ruile 
Hath not her fellow. [vvi»rld 

Lor. Even such a husband 

Hast thou of me, as she is for a wife. 

Jes. Nay, but ask my opinion too of that. 

Lor. I will anon; tirst, let us go to dinntr. 

Jes. Nay, let me praise you, while I have a 
stomach. • [talk; 

Lor, No, pray thee, let it serve for tahle- 
Then, howsce'er thou speak'st, *niong oilier 
I shall digest it. [thii!j;s 

Jes. Well, ru set you forth. 

{Exeunt, 



ACT IV. 



>)CENE I. Venice. A Court of Justice, \ 

Enter the Duke, the Magnificoes ; Antonio, 
J3assanio, Gratiano, Salarino, Sala- 
Nio, and others, 

Duke. What, is Antonio here? 

Ant. Ready, so please your grace. 

Duke. 1 am sorry for thee ; thou art come 
to answer 
A stony adversary, an inhuman wretch 
Unrapable of pity, void and empty 
From any dram of mercy. 

Ant. I have heard. 

Your grace hath ta*en great pains to qualify 
His rigorous course ; but since he stands obdu- 
And that no lawful means can carry me [rate. 
Out of his cnv\'s* reach, I do oppose 
My patience to his fury ; and am arni'd 
To suffer, with a quietness of spirit, 
The very tyranny and rage of his. 

Duke. Go one, and call the Jew into the 
court. [my lord. 

Salan. He's ready at the door : he comes, 
Enter Shyi.wck. 

Duke. Make room, and let him stand before 
our face. — I 

Shylock, the world thinks, and I think so too, [ 



That thou but lead'st this fashion of thy malice 
To the last hour of act ; and then, 'tis tiiougiit, 
Thou'lt show thy mercy, and remorse t, more 

strange 
Than is thy strange apparent t cruelty: 
And where ^ thou now exacl'st the penalty, 
( W hich is a pound of this poor merchant's flesh,) 
Thou wilt not only lose the forfeiture. 
But touch'd with humHn gentleness and love. 
Forgive a moiety of the piincipal ; 
Glancing an eye of pity on his losses, 
That have of late so huddled on his back ; 
Enough to press a royal merchant down. 
And pluck commiseration of his state 
From brassy hos ms. and rough hearts of flint, 
Fi om stubborn i urks,and Tartars, never train'd 
To ofhces of tender courtesy. 
We all expect a gentle answer, Jew. 

Shy. I have possess'd your grace of what 1 
pui pose; 
And by otir holy Sabbath have I sworn, 
To have the due and forfeit of my bond : 
if you deny it, let the danger light 
Upon your charter, and your city's freedom. 
You'll ask me, why I rather choose to have 
A weight of carrion flesh, than to receive 
Ti.ree thousand ducal* : 1*11 not answer that 



• Hatred :i.alic« 



t Pity. 



\ Seeming, 



Whereas. 



S((7ie Aj 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



217 



Pnt, say, it is my humour* ; Is it answered ? 
What if my house be troubled with a rat. 
And I be pleas'd to give ten thousand ducats 
1 ohaveit baned'} What, are you answer'd yet ? 
Some men there are, love not a gaping pig; 
Some, that are mad, if they behold a cat ; 
And others, when the bag pipe sings i'the nose. 
Cannot contain their urine; For affection t, 
Mistress of passion, sways it to the mood 
Of what it likes, or loaths: Now, for your 

answer : 
As there is no firm reason to be rendei'd, 
W hy he cannot abide a gaping j pig ; 
Why he, a harmless necessary cat ; 
A\ Ity he, a swollen bag-pipe ; but of force 
Must yield to such inevitable shame. 
As to offend, himself being offended; 
So can I give no reason, nor I will not, 
More than a lodg'd hate, and a certain loathing, 
1 bear Antonio, that I follow thus 
A losing suit against him. Are you answer'd? 

fi(/*^.Thisis no answer, thou unfeeling man. 
To excuse the current of thy cruelty. 

Shy. 1 am not bound to please thee with my 
answer. [not love 1 

Bass. Do all men kill the things they do 

Shy. Hates any man the thing he would 
not kill 1 

Bass. Every offence is not a hate at first. 

Shy. What, wouldst thou have a sei pent 
sting thee twice ? [the Jew : 

Ant. I pray you, think you question § with 
You. may as well go stand upon the beach, 
And bid the main flood bate his usual height ; 
\o\x may as well use question with the wolf, 
Why he hath made the ewe bleat for the lamb ; 
You may as well forbid the mountain pines 
To wag their high tops, and to make no noise, 
VV hen they are fretted with the gusts of heaven ; 
You may as well do any thing most hard. 
As seek to soften that (than which what's 
harder?) [>'««> 

His Jewish heart: — ^Therefore, I do beseech 
Make no more offers, use no further means. 
But, with all brief and plain conveniency, 
Let me have judgment, and the Jew his will. 

Bass. For thy three thousand ducats here 
fs six. 

Shy. If every ducat in six thousand ducats 
Were in six parts, and every part a ducat, 
I would not draw them, I would have my bond. 

Duke. How shait thou hope for mercy, ren- 
dering none? [wrong? 

Shy. What judgment shall I dread, doing no 
You have among you many a purchased slave. 
Which, like your asses, and your dogs, and 
You use in abject and in slavish parts, [mules, 
Because j ou bought them : — Shall I say to you, 
Let them be free, marry them to your heirs? 
VV hy sweat they under burdens? let iheir beds 
Be made as soft as yours, and let their palates 
Be seasoned with such viands? You Mill answer, 
The slaves are ours: — So do I answer you : 
1 he pound of flesh, which I demandof him, 
I? dearly bought, is mine, and I wild^ave it : 
, if you deny me, fie upon your law I 



There is no force in the decrees of Venice : 
I stand for judgment ; answer; shall I have it? 

Duke. Upon my power, I may dismiss thit 
Unless Bellario, a learned doctor, [court. 

Whom I have sent for to determine this. 
Come here lo-day. 

Salar. My lord, here stays without 

A messenger with letters from the doctor. 
New come from Padua. [ger. 

Duke. Bring us the letters ; Call the messen- 

Bass. Good cheer, Antenio! What, man! 

courage yet! [all. 

The Jew shall have my flesh, blood, bones, and 

Ere thou shalt lose for me one drop of blood. 

Ant. I am a tainted wether of the flock, 
Meetest for death ; the weakest kind of fruit 
Drops earliest to the ground, and so let me: 
You cannot better be employ'd, Bassanio, 
Than to live still, and write mine epitaph. 

Enter Nii-rissa, dressed like a Latvyer's 
clerk. 

Duke. Came you from Padua, fromBellario? 

Ner. From both, my lord : Bellario greets 
your grace. \_Prese?its a letter. 

Bass. Why dost thou whet thy knife so 
earnestly? [rupt there. 

Shy. To cut the forfeiture from that bauk- 

Gra. Not on thy sole, but on thy soul, harsh 
Jew, ' [can. 

Thou mak'st thy knife keen : but no metal 
No, not the hangman's axe, bear half the keen- 
ness [thee? 
Of thy sharp envy ||. Can no prayers pierce 

Sliy. No, none that thou hast wit enough to 
make. 

Gra. O, be thou damn*d, inexorable dog! 
And for thy life let justice be accus'd. 
Thou almost mak'st me waver in my faith 
To hold opinion with Pythagoras, 
That souls of animals infus^e themselves 
Into the trunks of men: thy currish spirit, 
Govern'd a wolf, who, hang'd for huuiati 

slaughter, 
Even from the gallows did his fell soul fleet,- 
And, whilst thou lay'stinthy unhallow'd dam, 
Infused itself in thee ; for thy desires 
Are wolfish, bloody, starved, and ravenous. 

Shy. Till thou canst rail the seal from off 
my bond. 
Thou but offend'st thy lungs to speak so loud : 
Repair thy wit, good youth, or it will fall 
To cureless ruin.— I stand here for law. [mend 

Duke. This letter from Bellario doth com- 
A young and learned doctor to our court: — 
Where is he? 

Ntr. He attendeth here hard by. 

To know your answer, whether you'll admit 
him. [four of you, 

Duke. With all my heart :— some three or 
Go give him courteous conduct to this place. — 
Mean time, the court shall hear Bellario's 
letter. 

[Clerk reads.] Your grace shall uuder 
stand, that, at the reve/pt of your letter 
I am very sick: but in the instant .i>ut 
your mes^eugei couh, iu loi'iug vi^lfuc^on 



Particular fancy. 



t Preiociice. 



; C'ryhig, 



J Coaver.-'e. 



U 



H Aiaiitte* 



S18 



SHAKSPEARE. 



{Act IV. 



tvas with me a young doctor of Eome, his 
name is Balthasar : 1 acquainted him with 
the cause in controversy between the Jew 
and Antonio the merchant : we turned 
o\ r many books together : he is furnished 
with my O'pinion ; tvhichj bettered tvith his 
otvn learningy (the greatness whereof I cun- 
7tot enough commend,) comes n ith him, at 
tny importunity^ to Jill up your grace's re- 
guest in my stead. I beseech you, let his 
lack of years be no impediment to let him 
lack a reverend estimation ; for I never 
linew so young a body with so old a head. 
J leave him to your gracious acceptance, 
whose trial shall better publish his com- 
mendation. 

Dvke. You hear the learn'd Bellario, what 
he writes : 
And here, I take it, is the doctor come. — 
Unter Porti \, dressed like a doctor of laws. 
Give me your hand : Came you from old Bel- 

For. I did, my lord. [lario ? 

Duke. You are welcome : take your place. 
Are you acquainted with the difference 
That holds this present question in the court ? 

Por. I am intormed throughly of the cause. 
Which is the merchant here,aiid which the Jew? 

Duke. Antonio and old Shylock, both stand 

For. Is your name Shylock ? [forth. 

Shy. .Shylock is my name, 

/*<>7'.0f a strange nature is the suit you follow; 
Yet in such rule, that the Venetian law 
Cannot impugn* you, as yoa do proceed. — 
You stand within his danger t, do you not ? 
\To Antonio. 

Ant. Ay, so he says. 

Por. Do you confess the bond? 

Ant. I do. 

Por. Then must the Jew be merciful. 

«SVty.On what compulsion musti? tell ineihat. 

Por. The quality of mercy is not strain'd ; 
Itdroppeih, as the gentle rain from heaven 
Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless'd ; 
It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes: 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes 
1 he throned monarch better than his crown : 
His sceptreshows the force of temporal power. 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
W herein doth sit the dread and fear of kings ; 
But mercy is above this sceptred sway. 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
It is an attribuie to God hiniself ; 
And earthly power doth then show likest God's, 
When mercy seasons justice. Therefore, Jew, 
Though justice be thy plea, consider this, — 
That, in the course of justice, none of us 
iihould see salvation : we do pray for mercy ; 
And that s ime prayer doth teach us all to render 
The deeds of mercy. 1 have spoke thus much. 
To mitigate the justice of thy plea; 
Which if thou follow, this strict court of Venice 
Must needs give sentence 'gainst the merchant 
there. 

iS'%. My deeds u pon my head! Icrave the law, 
Ti**" penalty and forfeit o* ,i;^ bond. 

For. is tic notable to iscfiiirijc the money % . 

• O-^pose, 



I Z?«J.y.Yes,hereI tenderitforhim in the court; 

Yea, twice the sum : if that will not suSice, 
! I will be bound to pay it ten times o'er. 
On forfeit of my hands, my head, my heart : 
If this will not suffice, it must appear [you. 
That malice bears down truth. And I beseech 
Wrest once the law to your authority: 
To do a great right, do a little wrong; 
And curb this cruel devil of his will. 

Por. It must not be; there is no power in 
Can alter a decree established : [Venice 

'Twill be recorded for a precedent ; 
And many an error, by the same example. 
Will rush into the state : it cannot be. 

Shy. A Daniel come to judgment I yea, a 
Daniel — 
O wise young judge, how do I honour thee! 

Por. I pray you, let me look upon the bond. 

iS'^y.Here'tis.most reverend doctor,hereit is. 

Por. Shylock, there's thrice thy money 
offerM thee. [heaven : 

Shy. An oath, an oath, I have an oath in 
Shall I lay perjury upon my soul? 
No, not for Venice. 

Por. Why, this bond is forfeit 

And lawfully by this the Jew may claim 
A pound of flesh, to be by him cut off 
Nearest the m.erchant's heart: — Be merciful; 
Take thrice thy money; bid me tear the bond. 

*y/i2/. When it is paid according to the tenour.- 
It doth appear, you are a worthy judge; 
You know the law, your exposition [law 
Hath been most sound : I charge yor by th« 
Whereof you are a well-deserving pillar. 
Proceed to Judgment: by my soul I swear. 
There is no power in the tongue of man 
To alter me : I stay here on my bond. 

Ant. Most heartily I do beseech the court 
To give the judgment. 

Por, Why then, thus it is. 

You must prepare your bosom for his knife : 

Shy. O noble judge! O excellent young man! 

For. For the intent and purpose of the law 
Hath full relation to the penalty. 
Which here appeareth due upon the bond. 

Shy. Tis very true: O wise and uprightjudge! 
How much more elder art thou than thy looks! 

For. Therefore, lay bare your bosom. 

Shy. Ay, his breast : 

So says the bond ; — Doth it not, noble judge ? — 
Nearest his heart, those are the very words. 

For. It is so. Are there balance here, to 
The flesh, [weigh 

Shy. I have them ready, [your charge. 

For. Have by some surgeon, Shylock, on 
To stop his wounds, lest he do bleed to death. 

Shy. Is it so nominated in the bond ? 

For. Itisnotsoexpress'd; But what ofthat? 
'Twere good you do so much for charity. 

Shy. I cannot find it; 'tis not in the bond. 

For. Come, merchant, have you any thing 
to say? [par'd.— 

Ant. But little; I am arm'd, and well pre- 
Give me your hand, Bassanio j fare you well I 
Griev^fiot that I am fallen to this tor you ; 
For hCTein fortune shtiws herself n;or« kind 

t Reach or control. 



Svene /.] 



MERCHANT OF VENICE. 



219 



Than is her custom : it is still her use, 
1 o let the wretched man out-live his wealth, 
I'o view with hollow eye, and wrinkled brow, 
Au age of poverty ; from which lingering pe- 
()f such a misery doth she cut me otf. [nance 
Commend me to your honourable wife: 
Tell her the process of Antonio's end, 
bay, how I lov*d you, speak me fair in death ; 
And, when the tale is told, bid her be judge, 
Whether Bassanio had not once a love. 
Repent not you that you shall lose your friend. 
And he repents not that he pays your debt ; 
For, if the Jew do cut but deep enough, 
I'll pay it instantly with all my heart. 

Buss, Antonio, I am man ied to a wife, 
Which is as dear to me as life itself ; 
But life itself^ my wife, and all the world. 
Are not with me esteem'd above thy life : 
I would lose all, ay, sacrifice them all 
Here to this devil, to deliver you. [for that, 

Por, Your vvife would give you little thanks 
If she were by, to hear you make the offer. 

Gra. I have a wife, whom, I protest, 1 love ; 
1 would she were in heaven, so she could 
Entreat some power to change this currish Jew. 

]\er. *Tis well you offer it behind her back; 
The wish would make else an unquiet house. 

^hy. These be the christian husbands : 1 
have a daughter ; 
'Would, any of the stock of Barabbas 
Had been her husband rather than a Christian! 

{Aside. 
We trifle time; I pray thee, pursue sentence. 

Por. A pound of that same merchant's 
flesh is thine ; 
The court awards it, and the law doth give it. 

^ky. Most rightful judge I [his breast ; 

Por. And you must cut this flesh from otf 
The law allows it, and the court awards it. 

iShy. Most learned judge I — A sentence ; 
come, prepare. [else. — 

Por, Tarry a little; — there is something 
This bond doth give thee here no jot of blood ; 
I'lie words expressly are, a pound of flesh : 
Take then thy bond, take thou thy pound of 
But, in the cutting it, if thou dost shed [flesh ; 
One drop of Christian blood, thy lands and 
Are, by the laws of Venice, confiscate [goods 
Unto the state of Venice. [learned judge! 

(ira. O upright judge! — Mark, Jew ;— O 

Shy. Is that the law 1 

Por. Thyself shalt see the act : 

For, as thou urgest justice, be assur'd, 
Thou shalt have justice, more than thou de- 
sirest. [learned judge! 

Gra. O learned judge! — Mark, Jew; — a 

Shy. I take this offer then ; — pay the bond 
And let the Christian go. [thrice, 

Bass. Here is the money. 

Por. Soft; [haste;— 

The Jew shall have all justice; — soft! — no 
He shall have nothing bnt the penalty. 

Gra. O Jew! an upright judge, a learned 
jutlge ! [flesh. 

Por. Therefore, prepare thee to cut off the 
Shed thou no blood ; nor cut thou less, nor 

more. 
But, just a pound oi fltsh : if thou takest more, 



Or less, than a just pound, — be it but so machi 

As makes it light or heavy, in the substance. 

Or the division of the twentieth part 

Ot one poor scruple ; n:iy, if the scale do turn 

But ill the estimation of a hair, — 

Thou diest, and all thy goods are confiscate. 

Gra. A second Daniel, a Daniel, Jew I 
Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip. 

Por. Why doth the Jew pause \ take thy 
forfeiture. 

Shy. Give me my principal, and let me go. 

Buss. I have it ready for thee ; here it is. 

Por. He hath refnsM it in the open court; 
He shall have merely justice, and his bond. 

Gra, A Daniel, still say 1 ;asecondDaijielf— 
1 thank thee, Jew, for teaching me that word. 

Shy. Shall I not have barely my principal? 

Por. Thou shalt have nothing but the for- 
To be so taken at thy peril, Jew. [feiture. 

Shy. Why then the devil give him good of 
I'll stay no longer question. [it I 

Por. Tarry, Jew ; 

The law hath yet another hold on you. 
It is enacted in the laws of Vtfiiice, — 
If it be prov'd against an alien, 
That by direct, or indirect attempts, 
He seek the life of any citizen. 
The party, 'gainst the which he doth contrive. 
Shall seize one half his goods ; the other half 
Comes to the privy cotter of the state; 
And the offender's life lies in the mercy 
Of the duke only, 'gainst all other voice. 
In which predicament, 1 say, thou staud'st: 
For it appears by manifest proceeding, 
That, indirectly, and directly too, 
Thou hast ct)ntriv'd against the very life 
Of the defendant ; and thou hast incurr'd 
The danger formerly by me rehears'd. 
Down, therefore, and beg mercy of the dnke. 

Gra. Beg, that thou naay*st have leave to 

hang^ thyself: 

And yet, thy wealth being forfeit to the slate. 

Thou hast not left the value of a cord ; 

Therefore, thou must be hang'd at the state's 

charge. [our spirit, 

Duke. That thou shalt see the difference of 
I pardon thee thy life before thou ask it : 
For half thy wealth, it is Antonio's; 
The other half comes to the general state. 
Which humbleness may drive unto a tine. 

Por. Ay, for the state ; not for Antonio. 

Stiy. Nay, take my life and all, pardon not 

that : [p»op 

You take my house, when you do take tlie 

That doth sustain my house; you take my life. 

When you do take the means whereby 1 live. 

Por. What mercy can you render him. An- 
te nio? 

Gra. A halter gratis ; nothing else ; for God's 
sake. [the court. 

Ant. So please my lord the dnke, and all 
To quit the fine for one half of his goods; 
I am content, so he will let me have 
The other half in use, — to render-'t. 
Upon his death, unto the gentleman 
That lately stole his daughter : [favonr. 

Two things provided more, — That, for thi* 
He presently become a Christian; 



220 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act V. 



The other, that he do record a y,ift, 

Here in the court, of all he dies possessM, 

Unto bis son Lorenzo, and his daughter. 

Duke, He shail do this ; or else l do recant 
The pardon, that I late pronounced here. 

Por, Art thou contented, Jew, what dost 

Shy. I am content. [thou say 1 

Por, Clerk, ^raw a deed of gift 

Shy. I pray you, give nie leave to go from 
I am not well ; send the deed after me, [hence ; 
And I will sign it. 

Duke. Get thee gone, but do it. 

Gra. In christening thou shalt have two 
godfathers ; [more. 

Had I been ji'dge, thou shouldst have had ten 
To bring thee to the gallows, not the font. 

[Exit Shylock. 

Duke. Sir, I entreat ycu home with me to 
dinner. [pardon ; 

Por. 1 humbly do desire your grace of 
I must away this night toward Padua, 
Ai.d it is meet, I presently set forth. 

Duke, I am sorry, that your leisure serves 
Antonio, gratify this gentleman ; [you not. 
Fur, in my mind, y ou are much bound to him. 
[Exeunt Duke, Magni/icoes, and Train. 

Bass. Most worthy gentleman, I and my 
friend. 
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
Of grievous penalties; in lieu whereof, 
Tliree thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
We freely cope your courteous paitjg withal. 

Ayit. And stand indebted, over and above. 
In love and service to you evermore. 

Por. He is well paid, that is well satisfied ; 
And I, delivering you, am satisfied. 
And therein do account myself well paid; 
My mind was never yet more mercenary. 
i pray you, know me, when we meet ugain ; 
1 wish you well, and so I lake my leave. 

Bass. Dear sir, of force I must attempt yoa 
further ; 
Take some remembrance of us, as a tribute, 
Isot as a ft-e : grant me two things, I pray you, 
Not to deny me, and to pardon me. [yield. 

Por. You press me far, and therefore I will 
Give me your gloves, I'll wear them for your 
sake ; [you : — 

And, for your love, I'll take this ring from 
Do not draw back your hand; 1*11 take no more; 
And you in love shall not deny me this. 

Bass. This ring, good sir, — alas, it is a trifle ; 
1 will net shame myself to give you this. 

Por. I will have nothing else but only this; 
And now, methinks, I have a mind to it. 

Buss. There's more depends on this, than 
on the value. 



The dearest ring in Venice will I give you. 
And find it out by proclamation : 
Only for this, I pray you, pardon me. 

pur. I see, sir, you are liberal in offers: 
Yon taught me first to beg ; and now, methinks, 
You teach me how a beggar should be answer'd, 

Bass. Good sir, this ring was given me by 
my wife; 
And, when she put it on, she made me vow. 
That I should neither sell, no< give, nor lose it. 

Por. That 'scuse serves many men to save 
their gifts. 
An if your wife be not a mad woman. 
And know how well I have deserved this ring. 
She would not hold out enemy for ever. 
For giving it to me. Well, peace be with you I 
[Exeunt I'drtm and Nerissa, 

Ant. My lord Baesanio, let him have the ring; 
Let his deservings, and my love withal. 
Be valued *gainst your wife's commandement. 

Bass. Go, Gratiano, run and overtake him. 
Give him the ring ; and bring him, if thou canst. 
Unto Antonio's house: — away, make haste. 

[Eiit Gratiano* 
Come, you and I will thither presently ; 
Ar.d in the morning early will we both 
Fly toward Belmont: Come,Antonio. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. The same. A Street. 
Enter Puiitia and Nerissa. 
Por. Inquire the Jew*8 house out, give 
him this deed. 
And let him sign it ; we'll away to-night. 
And be a day before our husbamis home : 
This deed will be well welcome to Lorenzo. 
Enter Gratia no. 
Gra. Fair sir, you are vvell overtaken; 
My lord Bas»anio, upon moie advice*. 
Hath sent you here this ring ; and doth entreat 
Your company at dinner. 

Por, That cannot be : 

This ring I do accept most ihankfully, 
And so, I pray you, tell him : Furthermore, 
1 prav you, show my youth old Shylock's house* 
Gia, That will 1 do. 

Ner, Sir, I would speak with you : — 

I'll see if I can get my husband's ring, 

[To Portia. 
Which I did make him swear to keep for ever. 
Por. Thou mayst, I warrant: We shall have 
old swearing. 
That they did give the rings away to men ; 
But we'li outface them, and outswear them too. 
Away, make haste ; thou know'st where I 
will tarry. 
Ner, Come, good sir, will you show me to 
this bpuse % {Exeunt, 



SCENE I. 



Belmont. Avenue to 
House. 
Enter Lorenzo and Jessica. 
Lot, The moon shines bright : — In such a 
night as this. 



ACT V 

Portia's 



When the sweet wind did gently kiss the trees. 
And they did make no aoise; in swch anight, 
Troilus, methinks, mounted the Trojan walls. 
And sigh'd his soul toward the Grecian tents. 
Where Cressid lay that night. 



• Reflection. 



iScene I] 



MERCHAxNT OF VENICE. 



221 



Jes. In such a night, 

Did Thisbe fearfully o'ertiip the dew ; 
And saw the lion's shadow ere himself. 
And ran dismayM away. 

Lor. In such a night, 

Stood Dido with a willow in her hand 
Upon the wild sea banks, and wav'd her love 
To come again to Carthage. 

Jes. In such a night, 

Medea gather'd the enchanted herbs 
That did renew old -^son. 

Jjor. In such a night, 

Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew : 
And with an unthrift love did run from Venice, 
As far as Belmont. 

Jes. And in such a nieht, 

Did young Lorenzo swear he lov'd her well ; 
Stealing her soul with many vows of faith, 
A.nd ne'er a true one. 

Lor. And in such a night. 

Did pretty Jessica, like a little shrew, 
Slander her love, and he forgave it her. 

Jes. I would out-night you, did no body come: 
But, hark, I hear the footing of a man. 
Enter Stephano. 

Lor. Who comes so fast in silence of the 

Steph. A friend. [night? 

Lor. A friend.' what friend? your name, I 
pray you, friend ? [word, 

Stefh. Stephlno is my name; and I bring 
My mistress will before the break of day 
Be here at Belmont: she doth stray about 
By holy crosses, where she kneels and prays 
For happy wedlock hours. 

Lor. Who comes vvith her? 

'Steph. None, but a holy hermit, and her 
maid. 
1 pray you, is my master yet returned ? 

Lor. He is not, nor we have not heard 
from him. — 
But go we in, I pray thee, Jessica, 
And ceremoniously let us prepare 
Some welcome for the mistress of the house. 
Enter Launcelot. 

Laun. Sola, sola, wo ha, ho, sola, sola! 

Lor. Who calls? 

Laun. Sola! did you see master Lorenzo, 
and mistress Lorenzo! sola, sola! 

Lor. Leave hollaing, man ; here. 

Laun. Sola! where? where? 

Lor. Here. 

Laun. Tell him, there's a post come from 
my master, with his horn full of good news ; 
luy master will be here ere morning. [Exit. 

Lor. Sweet soul, let's in, and there expect 
their coming. 
And yet no matter; — Why should we go in? 
My friend Stephano, signify, I pray you, 
W ithin the house, your mistress i? at hand; 
And bring your music forth into the air. — 

[Exit Stephano. 

How sweet fhe moon-light sleeps upon this 

bank ! [sic 

Here will we sit, and let the sounds of mu- 

Creep in our ears ; soft stillness, and the 

ai^ht. 



Become the touches of sweet harmony. 
Sit, Jessica: Look, how the floor of heaven 
Is thick inlaid with patines ♦ of bright gold ; 
There's not the smallest orb, which thou be 

hold'st, 
But in his motion like an angel sings, 
Still quiring to the young-ey'd cherubims: 
Such harmony is in immortal souls; 
But, whilst thi^ muddy vesture of decay 
Doth grossly close it in, w^e cannot hear it. — 

Enter Musicians. 
Come, ho, and wake Diana with a hymn ; 
With sweetest touches pierce your mistress' 
And draw her home with music. Lear, 

Jes. I am never merry, when I hear sweet 

music. iM asic. 

Lor. The reason is, your spirits are atten- 
tive : 
For do but note a wild and wanton herd, 
Or race of youthful and unhandled colts 
Fetching mad bounds, bellowing, and neigh 

ing loud. 
Which is the hot condition of their blood ; 
If they but hear perchance a trumpet sound 
Or any air of music touch their earc. 
You shall perceive them make a mutual stana. 
Their savage eyes turn'd to a modest ga/.e, 
By the sueet power of music: Therefore, 

the poet 
Did feign that Orpheus drew trees, stones, 

and floods; ['^ige. 

Since nought so stockish, hard, and full of 
But music for the time doih chaiige his 

nature : 
The man that hath no music in himself. 
Nor is not mov'd with concord of sweet 

sounds. 
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils ; 
The motions of his spirit are dull as night, 
And his affections dark as Erebus: 
Let no such man be trusted. — -Mark the nmsic. 
Ener Portia and Nerissx, at a distance. 
Por. That light we see, is burning in my 

hall. 
How far that little candle throws his beams ! 
So shines a good deed in a naughty world, 
Ner. When the moon shone, we did not 

see the candle. [less : 

Por. So doth the greater glory dim the 
A substitute shines brightly as a king. 
Until a king be by; and then his state 
Empties itself, as doth an inland brook 
Into the main of waters. Music ! hark ! 
Ner. It is your music, madam, of the 

house. 
Por. Nothing is good, I see, without re- 

spect ; [day. 

Methinks, it sounds much sweeter than by 
JSer. Silence bestows that virtue on it, ma- 
dam, [lark, 
Por. The crow doth sing as sweetly as the 
When neither is attended; and, 1 think, 
The nightingale, if she should sing by day. 
When every goose is cackling, would be 

tliouiiht 
No better a musician than the wren. 



* A small flat dish, used in the administration of the Eucharist- 



222 



SHAKSPEARE, 



[Act r. 



How many things by season season'd are 
To their ri<;ht piaise, and true perfection! — 
Peace, hoa ! the moon sleeps with Endymion, 
And would uot be awak'd ! [Music ceases. 

Lor. That is the voice, 

Or I am much deceiv'd, of Portia. 
Por. He knows me, as the blind man knows 
the cuckoo. 
By the bad voice. 
Z/or. Dear lady, welcome home. 

Por. We have been praying for our hus- 
bands' welfare, [words. 
Which speed, we hope, the better for our 
Are tliey return'd 1 

Lor. Madam, they are not yet; 

But there is come a messenger before, 
To signify their coming. 

Por. Go in, Nerissa, 

Give order to my servants, that they take 
No note at all of our being absent hence ; — 
Nor you, Lorenzo ; — Jessica, nor you. 

[.4 tvcket * sounds. 
Lor, Your husband is at hand, I hear his 
trumpet: 
We are no tell-tales, madam; fear you not. 
Por. This night, methink?, is but the day- 
light sick, 
It looks a little paler; 'tis a day. 
Such as the day is when the sun is hid. 
Enter Bassamo, Antonio, Gratiano,^^^ 
their Followers. 
Bass. We should hold day with the Anti- 
podes, 
If you would walk in absence of the sun. 
Por. Let me give li^ht, but let me uot be 
light ; 
For a light wife doth make a heavy husband. 
And never be Bassanio so for me ; 
But God sort all! — You are welcome home, 
my lord. 
Bass. I thank yoa, madam: give welcome 
to my friend. — 
This is the man, this is Antonio, 
To whom I am so infinitely bound. 

Por. You should in all sense be much 
bound to him. 
For, as I hear, he was much bound for you. 
Ant. No more than I am well acquitted of. 
Por. Sir, you are very welcome to our 
house : 
It must appear in other ways than words. 
Therefore, I scant this breathing courtesy t. 
[Gratiano and Nerissa stem to talk 
apart. 
Gra. By yonder moon, I swear, you do 
me wrong ; 
In faith, I gave it to the judge's clerk: 
Would he were gelt that had it, for my 
part, [heart. 

Since you do take it, love, so much at 
Por. A quarrel, ho, alread> ? what's the 

matter? 
Gra. About a hoop of gold, a paltry ring 
Thijt she did give me; whose po^y was 
For all the world, like cutlet's p etry 
I'pon a knife. Love me, and leave mt 7iot. i 



Ncr. What talk you of the posy, or the 
value? 
You swore to me, when I did give it you. 
That yon would wear it till your hour of 
death ; [grave : 

And that it should lie with you in your 
Though not for me, yet for your vehement 
oaths, [kept it. 

You should have been respective t, and hav« 
Gave it a jiulge's clerk ! — but well I know. 
The clerk will ne'er wear hair on his face, 
that had it. 

Gra. He will, an if he live to be a man. 

Ner. Ay, if a woman live to be a man. 

Gra. Now, by this hand, I gave it to a 
youth,— 
A kind of boy; a little gcrubbed boy, 
No higher than thyself, the judge's clerk; 
A prating boy, that begg'd it as a fee; 
I could not for my heart deny it him. 

Por. You were to blame, I must be plain 
with you, 
To part so slightly with your wife's first gift; 
A thing stuck on with oaths upon your finger 
And rivetted so with faith unto your flesh. 
I gave my love a ring, and made him swear 
Never to part with it ; and here he stands ; 
I dare be sworn for him, he would not leave i,, 
Nor pluck it from his finger, for the wealth 
That the world masters. Now, in faith, Gra- 
tiano, [gi'ief; 

You give your wife too unkind a cause or 
An 'twere to me, I should be mad at it. 

Bass. Why, I were best to cut mv left 
hand otf, [Aside, 

And swear, I lost the ring defending it. 

Gra. My lord Bassanio gave his ring away 
Unto the judge that bciig'd it, and, indeed, 
Deserv'd it too; and then the boy, his clerk, 
That took some pains in writing, he begg'd 
mine : [aught 

And neither man, nor master, would take 
But the two rings. 

Por. What ring gave you, my lord % 

Not that, I hope, which you received of me. 

Bass. If I could add a lie unto a fault, 
I would deny it ; but you see, my finger 
Hath not the ring upon it, it is gone. 

Por. Even so void is your false heart of 
truth. 
By heaven, I will ne'er come in your bed 
Until I see the ring. 

Ner. Nor I in yours. 

Till I again see mine. 

Bass, Sweet Portia, 

If you did know to whom I gave the ring. 
If you did know for whom I gave ihe rint;, 
And would conceive for what 1 gave the ring,- 
And how unwillingly I left the ring, 
When nought would be accepted but the ring. 
You would abate the strength of your dis- 
pleasure, [ring, 

Por. If you had known the virtue of the 
Or half her worthiness that gave the ring, 
Or your own honour to contain the ring, 
Yoa would not then have parted with the ring 



I 



A HouriHli on a tjiimpct. 



t Verbal, complimentary form. 



X Regardful. 



J 



Scene /.] 



MERCHAINT OF VENICJD.. 



2^3 



What man is there »o much unreasonable, 
1 f you had pleasM to have defended it 
With any terras of zeal, wanted the modesty 
To urge the thing held as a ceremony ? 
Nerissa teaches me what to believe ; 
ril die for't, but some woman had the ring. 
Bass. No, by mine honour,madam,b> my 
No woman had it, but a civil doctor, [soul, 
Which did refuse three thousand ducr.ts of 

me, [him. 

And be^'d the ring; the which I did deny 
And sutter'd him to go displeas'd away; 
Even he that had held up the very life 
Of my dear friend. What should I say, 

sweet lady ? 
I was enforcM to send it after him ; 
I was beset with shame and courtesy ; 
My honour would not let ingratitude 
So much besmear it: Pardon me, good lady; 
For, by these blessed candles of the night, 
Had you been there, I think, you would have 

begg'd 
The ring of me to give the worthy doctor. 
For. Let not that doctor e'er come near 

my house : 
Smce he hath got the jewel that I lov*d. 
And that which you did swear to keep for me, 
I will become as liberal as you : 
I'll not deny him any thing 1 have, 
No, not my body, nor my husband's bed : 
Know him I shall, I am well sure of it : 
Lie not a night from home ; watch me, like 
If you do not, if I be left alone, [Argus : 

Novv, by mine honour, which is yet my own, 
I'll have that doctor for my bedfellow. 
Ner. And I his clerk ; therefore be well 

advis'd. 
How you do leave me to mine own protection. 
Gru, Well, do you so : let not me take him 

then ; 
For, if I do, I'll mar the young clerk's pen. 
Ant. I am the unhappy subject of these 

quarrels. 
For. Sir, giieve not you ; You are wel- 
come notwithstanding. [wrong ; 
Bass. Portia, forgive me this enforced 
And, in the hearing of these many friends, 
I swear to thee, even by thine own fair eyes, 

\\ herein I see myself, 

Por. Mark you but that ! 

In both my eyes he doubly sees himself: 
1 n each eye one : — swear by your double self. 
And there's an oath of credit. 

Bass, Nay, but hear me: 

Pardon this fault, and by my soul I swear, 
1 never more will break an oath vvith thee. 
Ant. I once did lend my body for his 

wealth * ; 
Which, but for him that had your husband's 

ring, [To Portia. 

Had quite miscarried: I dare be bound again. 
My soul upon the forfeit, that your lord 
Will never more break fdith advisediy. 
Por, Then you shall be his surety: Give 

him this; j 

And bid him keep it better than the other. I 



Ant. Here, lord Bassanio; swear to keep 
this ring. [the doctor] 

Bass. By heaven, it is the same I gave 

Por. I had it of him : pardon nie, Bassanio ; 
For by this ring the doctor lay vvith me. 

Ntr, And pardon me, my gentle Gratiano ; 
For that same scrubbed boy, the doctor's 

clerk, 
In lieu of this, last night did lie with me. 

Gra. Why, this is like the mending of 

highways 

In summer, where the ways are fair enon'j:h : 

What! are we cuckolds, ere we have deserv'd 

it? [amazed: 

Por. Speak not so grossly. You are all 
Here is a letter, read it at your leisure; 
It comes from Padua, from Bellario : [tor ; 
There you shall find, that Portia was the doc- 
Nerissa there, her clerk : Lorenzo here 
Shall witness, I set forth as soon as you. 
And but even now return'd ; I have not yet 
Enter'd my house. — Antonio, you are wel- 

conie; 
And I have better news in store for you 
Than you expect : unseal this letter soon ; 
There you shall find, three of your argosies 
Are richly come to harbour suddenly : 
You shall not know by what strange accident 
I chanced on this letter. 

Ant. I am dumb. 

Bass. Were you the doctor, and I knew 
you not ? 

Gra. Were you the clerk, that is to make 
me cuckold 1 [to do it, 

Ner. Ay ; but the clerk that never means 
Unless he live until he be a man. 

Bass. J^weet doctor, you shall be my bed- 
fellow ; 
When I am absent, then lie with my wife. 

Ant. Sweet lady, you have given me life, 
and living ; 
For here I read for certain, that my ships 
Are safely come to road. 

Pur. How now, Lorenzo? 

My clerk hath some good comforts too for 
you. [a fee. — 

Ner, Ay, and I'll give them him without 
There do 1 give to you, and .Tessica, 
From the rich Jew, a special deed of gift. 
After his death, of all he dies possess'd of. 

Lor. Fair ladies, you drop manna in the way 
Of starved people. 

Por, It is almost morning. 

And yet, I am sure, you are not sntislied 
Of these evems at full : Let us go in ; 
And charge us there upon inter'gatories. 
And we will answer all things faithfully. 

Gra. Let it be so: The first inter'gaiory, 
I'hat my Nerissa shall be sworn on, is. 
Whether till the next night she had rather stay; 
Or go to bed now, being two hours to day : 
But were the day come, I should wish it dark 
That 1 were couching with the doctor'.-> clerk 
Well, while I live, I'll fear no other thing 
So gore, as keeping safe Nerissa's ring. 

{Exeujit 



Advantageo 



AS YOU LIKE IT# 



Pet^on^ reptejsentett. 



Duke, living in exile* 

Frederick, brother to the Duke, and 

usurper of his dominions. 
A.MiENs, 'i lords attending upon the Duke 
Jaqoks, S in his banishment. 
Le Blau, a courtier attending upon 

Frederick. 
Charles, /tw tvrestler. 



Oliver, "| 
Orlando, J 



sons of Sir Rowland de Bois, 



n'ctx/xc \ servants to Oliver, 



Touchstone, a clown. 

Sir Oliver Mar-text, a viear, 

William, a country fellow, i7i love with 

Audrey. 
A Person representing Hymen. 
Rosalind, daughter to the banished Duke. 
Celia, daughter to Frederick, 
Phebe, a shepherdess. 
Audrey, a country wench. 



Lords belonging to the two Dukes ; Pages, Foresters, and other Attendants. 

The Scene lies, first, near Olivet^s House : afterwards, partly in the Usurper's Court, 
ajid partly in the forest of Arden, 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. An Orchard, near Oliver's 
House. 

Enter Orlando and Adam. 

Orl, As I remember, Adam, it was upon 
this fashion bequeathed me : By will, but a 
poor thousand crowns ; and, as thou say'st, 
charged my brother, on his blessing, to breed 
nie well: and there begins my sadness. My 
brother Jaques he keeps at school, and report 
gpeaks goldenly of his profit : for my part, 
he keeps me rustically at home, or, to speak 
more properly, stays me here at home unkept : 
For call you that keeping for a gentleman of 
my birth, that ditfers not from the stalling of 
an ox'l His horses are bred better; for, 
besides that they are fair with their feeding, 
they are taught their manage, and to that eiid 
I i'lers dearly hired: but I, his brother, gain 
nothing under him but growth ; for the which 
liis animals on his dung-hills are as much 
hound to him as I. Besides this nothing that 
Im' so plentifully gives me, the somethiny that 
nature gave me, his countenance seems to 
take from me : he lets me feed with his hinds, 
b irs me the place of a brother, and, as much 
as in him lies, mines my gentility with my 
education. This is it, Adam, that grieves 
me ; and the spirit of my father, which I 
think is within me, begins to mutiny against 
this servitude : I will no longer endure it, 
thotigh yet 1 know no wise remedy how to 
avoid it. 

Enter Oliver. 
Adam, Yonder comes my master, your 
brother. i 



Orl. Go apart, Adam, and thou shalt heai 
how he will shake me up. 

OH. Now, sir! what make yon here*? 

Orl. Nothing: I am not taught to make 
any thing. 

OIL VVhat mar you then, sir ? 

Orl. Marry, sir, I am helping you to mar 
that which God made, a poor unwortlry 
brother of yours, with idleness. 

OH. Marry, sir, be better employ 'd, and 
be naught awhile. 

Orl. Shall I keep your hogs, and eat husks 
with them? What prodigal portion have I 
spent, that 1 should come to such penury i 

OH. Know you where you are, sir? 

Orl. 0,s'r, very well : here in your orchard. 

OH. Know you before whom, sir? 

Orl. Ay, better than he I am before knows 
me. I know, you are my eldest brother ; 
and, in the gentle condition of blood, you 
should so know me : The courtesy of nations 
allows you my better, in that you are the first- 
born ; but the same tradition takes not away 
my blood, were there twenty brothers betwixt 
us : I have as much of my father in me, as 
you; albeit, I confess, your coming before 
me is nearer to his reverence. 

OH. What, boy I 

Orl. Come, come, elder brother, you are 
too young in this. 

OH, Wilt thou lay hands on me, villain ? 

Orl. I am no villain t: I am the youngest 
son of sir Rowland de Bois ; he was my father ; 
and he is thrice a villain, that says, sdch a 
father begot villains: Wert thou not nty 
brother, I would not take this hand from lliy 

• What do yon here? t Villain is used in a doable sense; by Oliver for a worthier* 

fellow, and by Orlando for a man of base extraction. 



Scene /.] 



AS YOU LIKE IT 



595 



ihroal, till this other had pulled out thy tongue 
tor saying so ; thou hast railed on thyself. 

Aduin. Sweet masters, be patient ; for your 
father's remembrance, be at accord. 

OH. Let me go, 1 say. 

Orl. I will not, till I please : you shall 
hear me. My father charged you in his will 
to give me good education : you have trained 
me like a peasant, obscuring and hiding from 
liie all gentleman-like qualities : the spirit 
of my father grows strong in nie, and I will 
no longer endure it : therefore allow me such 
exercises as may become a gentleman, or 
give me the poor allottery my father left me 
by testament; with that 1 will go buy my 
fortunes. 

OIL And what wilt thou do ? beg, when 
that is spent ? Well, sir, get you in : I will 
not long be troubled with you: you shall 
have some part of your will : I pray you, 
leave me. 

Orl, I will no further offend you than 
becomes me for my good. 

Oil. Get you with him. you old dog. 

Adam. Is old dog my reward 1 Most true, 
I have lost my teeth in your service. — God 
be w iih my old master ! he would not have 
spoke such a word. 

[Ed:eunt Orlando and Adam. 

Oil. Is it even so? begin you to grow 
upon me ? I will physic your rankness, and 
yet give no thousand crowns neither. Hola, 
Dennis! 

Enter Dennis. 

I>e7i. Calls your worship? 

OIL Was not Charles, the Duke's wrestler, 
here to speak with me ? 

Ven. So please you, he is here at the door, 
and importunes access to you. 

OIL Call him in. [Exit Devnis.]— Twill 
be a good way ; and to-morrow the wrest- 
ling is. 

Enter Charles. 

Cha. Good-morrow to your worship. 

OIL Good monsieur Charles! — what's the 
new news at the new court i 

Cha. There's no news at the court, sir, but 
the old news : that is, the old duke is ba- 
nished by his younger brother the new duke ; 
and three or four loving lords have put them- 
selves into voluntary exile with him, whose 
lands and revenues enrich the new duke; 
therefore he gives them good leave * to wander. 

OIL Can you tell, if Rosalind, the duke's 
daughter, be banished with her father. 

(■ha, O, no; for the duke's daughter, her 
cousin, so loves her, — being ever from their 
cradles bred together,— tliat she would have 
followed her exile, ov have died to stay be- 
hind her. She iS at the court, and no le?s 
beloved of her uncle than his own daughter ; 
and never two ladit-s loved as they do. 

Oct. Where will the old duke live? 

(T/.-a. They say, he is already in the forest 
of Arueu^ an<l a m^ny merry men with him ; 



and there they live like the old Robin Hood of 
England : they say, many young gentlensen 
flock to him every day ; and fleet the time 
carelessly, as they did in the golden world. 

OIL What, you wrestle to-morrow before 
the new duke? 

Cha, Marry, do 1, sir; and I came to 
acquaint you with a matter. I am given, sir, 
secretly to understand, that your younger 
brother, Orlando, hath a disposition to conie 
in di-guis'd against me to try a fall : To- 
morrow, sir, I wrestle for my credit; and he 
that escapes me without some broken limb, 
shall acquit him well. Your brother is but 
young, and tender; and, for your love, I 
would be loath to foil him, as I must, for my 
own honour, if he come in : therefore, out of 
my love to you, I came hither to acquaint jou 
withal ; that either you might stay him from 
his intendment, or brook such disgrace well 
as he shall run into ; in that it is a thing of 
his own search, and altogether against my 
will. 

OIL Charles, I thank thee for thy love to 
me, which thou shalt find I will most kindly 
requite. I had myself notice of my brother's 
purpose herein, and have by underhand 
means laboured to dissuade him from it; but 
he is resolute. I'll tell thee, Charles, — it Is 
the stubbornest young fellow of France; full 
of ambition, an envious emulator of every 
man's good parts, a secret and villanous con- 
triver against me his natural brother ; there- 
fore use thy discretion ; 1 had as lief thou 
didst break his neck as his finger : And thou 
wert best look to't ; for if thou dost him any 
slight disgrace, or if he do not mightily grace 
himself on thee, he will practise against thee 
by poison, entrap thee by some treacherous 
device, and never leave thee till he hath 
ta'en thy life by some indirect means oi* 
other : for, I assure thee, and almost with 
tears I speak it, there is not one so young and 
so villans^us this day living. I speak but 
brotherly of him; but should I anatomi/e 
him to thee as he is, I must blush and weep, 
and thou must look pale and wonder. 

Cha. I am heartily glad I came hither to 
you : If he come to-morrow, I'll give him 
his payment : If ever he go alone again, I'll 
never wrestle for prize more: And so, God 
keep your worship ! [Exit, 

Oil. Farewell, good Charles. — Now will I 
stir this gamester T: I hope, I shall see an 
end of him ; for my soul, yet I know not 
why, hates nothing more than he. Yet he's 
gentle; never school'd, and yet learned ; full 
of noble device; of all sorts i enchantinjy 
belove<l; and, indeed, so much in the heart of 
the world, and especially of my own peopi*-, 
who best know him, that I am altogeil'.er 
misprised : but it shall not be so lon^ ; ihift 
wrestler shall clear all ; nothing remains, buf 
that I kindle the boy thither, whirh jsow ill 
go about. [s^lxit 



A ready assent. 



t F'olicsome fellow. 



i Of all ranks. 



25!6 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act /. 



SCENE II. A Lawn before the Duke's 

Palace. 

Enter Rosalind and Celia. 

Cel. I pray thee, Rosalind, sweet my coz, 
be merry. 

Has. Dear Celia, I show more mirth than 
I am mistress of; and would you yet I were 
merrier i Unless yon could teach me to 
forget a banishtd father, you must not learn 
me how to remember any extraordinary 
pleasure. 

Cel. Herein, I see, thoo lovest me not 
with the full weight that I love thee : if my 
Ducle, thy banished father, had banished thy 
oncle, the duke my father, so thou hadst been 
Btill with me, I could have taught my love to 
take thy father for mine ; so wouldst thou, 
k" the truth of thy love to me were so righ- 
teously temper'd as mine is to thee. 

Bos. Well, I will forget the condition of 
my estate, to rejoice in yours. 

Cel. You know, my father hath no child 
but 1, nor none is like to have ; and, truly, 
when he die-s, thou shalt be his heir : for 
what he hath taken away from thy father 
perforce, I will render thee again in affection ; 
by mine honour, I will ; and when I break 
that oath, let me turn monster : therefore, my 
Bweet Rose, my dear Rose, be merry. 

Ros. From henceforth 1 will, coz, and 
devise sports : let me see ; What think you 
of failing in love 1 

Cel. Marry, I pr'ythee, do, to make sport 
withal : but love no man in good earnest ; 
nor no fuither in sport neither, than with 
safety of a pure blush thou mayst in honour 
come off again. 

Nos. What shall be our sport then 1 

Cel. Let us sit and mock the good house- 
wkfe. Fortune, from her wheel, that her gifts 
may henceforth be bestowed equally. 

Jios. 1 would, we could do so ; for her 
benefits are mightily misplaced : and the 
bountiful blind woman doth most mistake in 
her gilts to women. 

Cel. 'Tis true : for those, that she makes 
fair, she scarce makes honest ; and those, that 
she makes honest, she makes very ill-fa- 
vour 'dly. 

Ros. Nay, now thon goest from fortune's 
office to nature's : fortune reigns in gifts of 
the world, not in the lineaments of nature. 
Enter Touchstonk. 

Cel. No ? When nature hath made a fair 
creature, may she not by fortune fall into the 
fire? — Though nature hath given us wit to 
flout at fortuiie, hath not fortune sent iu this 
fool to cut off the argument? 

Ros. indeed, there is fortune too ha»-d for 
oature ; when fortune makes nature's natural 
«he cutter off of nature's wit. 

C(l. Fcradventure, this is not fortune's 
work neii4ier, but nature's ; who perceiving 
our natural wits too dull to reason of such 
goddesses, Hath sent this r;-at'iral for our whet- 



stone : for always the dulness of the fool u 
the whetstone of his wits. — How now, wit f 
whither wander you 1 

Touch. Mistress, you must come away to 
your father. 

Cel. Were you made the messenger ? 

Touch. No, by mine honour ; but I was 
bid to come for you. 

Ros. Where learned you tha^ oath, fool? 

Touch. Of a certain knight, that swore by 
his honour they were good pancakes, and 
swore by his honour the mustard was naught: 
now, I'll stand to it, the pancakes were 
naught, and the mustard was good ; and yet 
was not the kni-ght forsworn. 

Cel. How prove you that, in the great 
heap of your knowledge? 

Ros. Ay, marry ; now unmuzzle your 
wisdom. 

Touch. Stand you both forth now : stroke 
your chins, and swear by your beards that I 
am a knave. 

Cel. By our beards, if we had them, thou art. 

Touch. By my knavery, if I had it, then I 
were : but if you swear by that that is not, 
you are not forsworn ; no more was this knight, 
swearing by his honour, for he never had any ; 
or if he had, he had sworn it away, before ever 
he saw those pancakes or that mustard. 

Cel. Pr'rthee, who is't that thou mean'st ? 

Touch, One that old Frederick, your father, 
loves. 

Cel, My father's love is enough to honour 
him. Enough .* speak no more of him ; you'll 
be whip'd for taxation *, one of these days. 

Touch. Ihe more pity, that fools may not 
speak wisely, what wise men do foolishly. 

Cel. By my troth, thou say'st true : for 
since the little wit, that fools have, was 
silenced, the little foolery, that wise men 
have, makes a great show. Here comes 
Monsieur Le Beau. 

Enter Lk Beau. 

Ros. With his mouth full of news. 

Cel. Which he will put on us, as pigeons 
feed their young. 

Ros. Then shall we bie news-cramm'd. 

Cel. All the better; we shall be the more 
marketable, Ron jour, Monsieur Le Beau : 
What's the news? 

Le Beau. Fair princess, you hav€ lost 
much good si)X)rt. 

Cel. Sport? Of what colour ? 

J^e Beau. What colour, madam? How 
shall I answer you ? 

Ros. As wit and fortune will. 

Touch. Or as the destinies decree. 

Ctl. Well said ; that was laid on with a 
trowel. 

Touch. Nay, if I keep not my rank, 

Ros. Thou losest thy old smell. 

Jjf Beau. You amaze t me, ladies: I 
would have told you of good wrestling, which 
you have lost the sight of. 

Ros. Yet tell us the manner of the wresiiing. 

Le Beau. I will tell you the begnmiug. 



f Perplex, contuse. 



Scene IL] 



AS YOU LIKE II. 



227 



and, if it please your ladyships, you may see 
the end ; for the best is yet to do ; and here, 
wiiert you are, they are coming to perform it. 

('el. Well, — the beginning, that is dead and 
buried. 

Le Beau. There comes an old mail, and 
his three sons, 

Cel. I could match this beginning with an 
oM tale. 

Le Beau. Three proper young men, of 
excellent growth and presence ; 

Hos. With bills on their necks, — Be it 
knotvn unto all men by these presents, — 

Le Beau, The eldest of the three wrestled 
with Charles, the duke's wrestler; which 
Charles in a moment threw him, and broke 
rhiee of his ribs, that there is little hope of 
life in him: so he served the second, and so 
the tliird : Yonder they lie ; the poor old man, 
.■Jieir father, making such pitiful dole over 
hem, that all the beholders take his part 
with weeping, * 

Ros. Alas! 

Touch. But what is the sport, monsieur, 
that the ladies have lost 1 

Le Beau. Why, this that I speak of. 

Touch. Thus men may grow wiser every- 
day ! it is the first time that ever I heard, 
breaking of ribs was sport for ladies. 

Cel. Or T, I promise thee. 

Eos, But is there any else longs to see this 
oroken music in his sides? is there yet ano- 
her dotes upon rib-breaking?— Shall we see 
this wrestling, cousin ? 

Le Beau. You must, if you stay here: for 
here is the place appointed for t-he wrestling, 
and they are ready to perform it. 

Cel. Yonder, sure, they are coming : Let us 
BOW stay and see it. 

Flourish. Enter I>\i\ie Frederick, Lords, 
Orlando, Charles, and Attendants. 

Duke F. Come on; since the youth will 
not be entreated, his own peril on his for- 
wardness. 

Ros. la, yonder the man ? 

Le Beau. Even he, madam. 

Cel. Alas, he is too young: yet he looks 
successfully. 

Duke F. How now, daughter, and coushi? 
are you crept hither to see the wiestling? 

Ros. Ay, my liege I so please you give ns 
leave. 

Duke F. You will take little delight in it, 
I can tell yon, there is such odds in the men: 
In pity of the challenger's youth, I would fain 
(liwuade him, but he will not be entreated: 
►^peak to him, ladies; see if yoa can move 
fai.n.^ 

Cel. Call him hither, good Monsieur Le 
Beau. 

DukeF. Do so; I'll not be by. 

[Duke goe.^ apart, 

Le Beau. Monsieur the challenger, the 
vTincesses call for yon. 

Orl. I attend them, with all respect and 
inly. 

Hr»s. Young man, have yon challenge 
^l^aries the wiesilerf 



Orl. No, fair princess ; he is the general 
challenger: I come but in, as others do, to 
trj with him the strength of my youth. 

Cel. Young gentleman, your spirits are too 
bold for your years: You have see« cruel 
proof of this mau's strength : if you saw yDur- 
self with your eyes, or knew yourself with 
your judgment, the fear of your adventure 
would counsel you to a more equal enterprise. 
We pray you, for your own sake, to embrace 
your own safety, and give over this attempt. 

Ros. Do, yonn? sir; your reputation shaM 
not therefore be nnxiyriged : we will make 
it owr buit to the duke, that the wrestling 
might not go forward. 

Orl. I beseech vou, punish me not with 
your hard thoughts; wherein I confess rne 
much guilty, to deny so fair and excellent 
ladies any thing. BiH let your fair eyes, and 
gentle wishes, go with me to my trial : wherein 
if I be foiled, there is but one shamed that 
was never gracious; if killed, but one dead 
that is willing to be so : I shall do my friends 
no wrong, for 1 have none to lament me; the 
world no injury, for in it I have nothing ; 
only in the world 1 fill up a place, which may 
be belter supplied when I have made it 
empty. 

Ros. The little strength that I have, I 
would it were with you. 

Cel. And mine, to eke out hers. 

Ros. Fare you well. Pray heaven, I be 
deceived in you! 

Cel. Y'our heart's desires be with you. 

Cha. Come, where is this young gallant, 
that is so desirous to lie with his mother 
earth ? 

Orl. Ready, sir; but his will hath in it a 
more modest working. 

Duke F. Yon shall try but one fall. 

Cha. No, I warrant your grace; you shall 
not entreat him to a second, that have so 
mightily persuaded him from a first. 

Orl. You mean to mock me after; you 
should not have mocked me before: but come 
your ways. 

Ros. Now, Hercules be thy speed, young 
man ! 

Cel. I would I were invisible, to catoh the 
strong fellow by the leg. 

[Charles and Ori^k^do wrestle. 

Ros. O excellent young manl 

Cel. If I had a thunderbolt in mine eye, 1 
can tell who should down. 

[Charles it throtvn. Shout. 

Duke F. No more, no more. 

Orl. Yes, I beseech your grace ; I am not 
yet well breathed. 

Duke F. How dost thou, Charles ? 

Le Beau. He cannot speak, my lord. 

DukeF. Bear him away. [Char.es is 
borne out.'] What is thy name, young man ? 

Orl. Orlando, my liege; the youngest son 
of sir Rowland de Bois. 

Duke F. I wouM, ttiou hadst been son to 
some man else. 

Tbeworid esleem'd thy father h »nonrable 
But 1 did Gad hi:i. still \u\ut enemy : 



g28 



SHAKSPEARE, 



[Act /. 



Thon shonldst have better pleased me with 

this deed, 
Hadst thou descended from another house. 
But fare thee well ; thou art a gallant yonth ; 
I would, thou hadst told me of another father. 
[Exeunt DnVeFRED. Truing andliE Blau. 
Cel. Were I my father, coz, would I do 
this ? 

Or I. I am more proud to be sir Rowland's 
Hon, 
His youngest son;— and would not change 

that calline*, 
To be adopted heir to Frederick. 

Jlos, My father loved sir Rowland as his 
soul. 
And all the world was of my father's mind . 
Had I before known this young man his son, 
I sliould have given him tears unto entreaties, 
Ere he should thus have ventured. 

Cel. Gentle cousin, 

Let us go thank him, and encourage him : 
My father's rough and envious disposition 
Sticks me at heart. — Sir, you have well de- 
served : 
If yon do keep your promises in love, 
But justly, as you have exceeded promise. 
Your mistress shall be happy. 

Mos, Gentleman, 

[Giving him a chain from her neck. 
Wear this for me; one out of suits with for- 
tune!; [lacks means. — 
That could give more, but that her hand 
Shall we go, coz? 
Cel. Ay : — Fare you well, fair gen- 
tleman, [ter parts 
Orl. Can I not say, I thank you? My bet 
Are all thrown down ; and that which here 

stands up, 
Is but a quintain t, a mere lifeless block* 
Ros. He calls us back: My pride fell with 
my fortunes : [sir? — 

I'll ask him what he would: — Did you call, 
Sir, yt»u have wrestled well, and overthrown 
More than your enemies. 

Cel, Will you go, coz? 

Ros, Have with you:~Fareyou well. 

[Exeunt Rosalind and Celia. 

Orl. Wljat passion hangs these weights 

upon my tonu;ue? [ence. 

I cannot speak to her, yet she urged coiifer- 

Re-t Titer Le Beau. 

poor Orlando! Ihon art overthrown ; 

Or Charles, or something weaker, masters 
t}iee. [counsel you 

Jje Beau. Good sir, I do in friendship 
To leave tlis place: Albeit you hnvedeserv'd 
High coniiiiendation, tine applause, and love; 
\et such is now the duke's contlilion?, 
"That he misconstrues all that you have done. 

1 he duke is humorous ; what he is, ind'.etl, 
More suits you to conceive, than me to speak 

of. friie this; 

Orl. 1 thank you, sir: and, pray you, tell 
Which of the two was daughter of the duke 
That her- was at the wrestling? 



Le Beau. Neither his daughter, if we 

judge by manner* ; 
But yet, indeed, the shorter is his danghtpr: 
The other is daughter to the banishM duke. 
And Jiere detain'd by her usurping uncle, 
1 o keep his daughter company ; whose lovef 
Are dearer than the natural bond of sisters. • 
But I can tell you, that of late this duke 
Hath ta'en displeasure 'gainst his gentle niece; 
Grounded upon no other argument. 
But that the people praise her for her virtues, 
And pity her for her good father's sake ; 
And, on my life, his malice 'gainst the lady 
Will suddenly break forthr— Sir, fare you 

well ; 
Hereafter, in a better world than this, 
I shall desire more love and knowledge of 

you. 
Orl. I rest much boanden to you : fare you 

well! ]^Exit Le Bkap. 

Thus must l^om the smoke into the smother; 
From tyranrduke, unto a tyrant brother: — 
But, heavenly Rosalind! [E.rit, 

SCENE III, A Room in the Palace. 
Enter Celia fl/?rf Rosalind. 

Cel. Why, cousin; why, Rosalind;— Cupid 
have mercy ! — Not a word ? 

Ros. Not one to throw at a dog. 

Cel. No, thy words are too precious to he 
cast away upon curs, throw some of them at 
me ; come, lame mc with reasons. 

Ros. Then there were two cousins laid up; 
when the one should be lamed with reasons, 
and the other mad without any. 

Cel. But is all this for your father? 

Ros. No, some of it for my child's fathers 
O, hov«r full of briers is this working-day 
world ! 

Cel. They are but burs, cousin, thrown 
upon thee in holiday foolery; if we walk not 
in the trodden paths, our very petticoats will 
catch them. 

Ros. I could shake them off my coat; 
these burs are in my heart. 

Cel. Hem them away. 

Ros. I would try ; if I could cry hem, and 
have him. 

Cet. Come, come, wrestle with thy affec- 
tions. 

Ho^. O, they take the part of a better 
wrestler than myself. 

Cel. (), a good wish upon yon! you will 
try in time, in despite of a fall. — But, turning 
these jest? out of service, let us talk in good 
earnest : Is it possible, on such a sudden, you 
should fall into si» strong a Uking with old sit 
Rowland's youngest son? 

Ros. The duke my father loved his father 
deatly. 

Ctl. Doth it therefore ensue, tltat yon 
should love his son dearly? By this kind ol 
chase, I should I. ate liim, tor my fathei hated 
his father (iearly i , yet I hale not Orlando 

lios. No'laiili, hate him not, fui my sake. 



• Appellruion. 



+ Turned out of her service. t '^^^^ <»ht. r^t t<» d;:rt -i! iu tn^iili^l 



Svene J1J.\ 



AS YOU LIKE ir. 



229 



CH, Why should I not 1 dolh he not de- 
serve well? 

Ros. Let me love him for thnt ; and do 
you love him, because I do: — Look, here 
comes the duke. 

Cel. With his eyes full of anger. 
Enter Duke Frederick, with Lords. 

Duke F. Mistress, despatch you with your 
safest haste, 
And get you from our court. 

Bos. Me, uncle? 

Dnke F. You, cousin ; 

Within these ten days if that thou be*st found 
So near our public court as twenty miles. 
Thou aiest for it. 

Hos. I do beseech your grace, 

Let me the knowledge of my fault bear with 

me : 
If with myself I hold intelligence. 
Or have acquaintance with mine own desires ; 
if that I do not dream, or be not frantic, 
(As 1 do trust I am not,) ther, dear uncle, 
Never, so much as in a thought unborn, 
Did 1 offend your highness. 

Duke F. " Thus do all traitors; 

If their purgation did consist in words. 
They are as innocent as grace itself : — 
Let it suffice thee, that I trust thee not. 

Ros. Yet your mistrust cannot make me a 
traitor: 
Tell me, whereon the likelihood depends. 

Duke F. Thou art thy father's daughter, 
there's enough. [his dukedom ; 

Ros. So was I, when your highness took 
So was I, when your highness banish'd him: 
Treason is not inherited, my lord; 
Or, if we did derive it from our friends, 
What's that to me? my father was no traitor: 
Then, good my lie»e, mistake me not so much, 
To think my poverty is treacherous. 

Cel. Dear sovereign, hear me speak. 

Duke F. Ay,Celia; we stay'd her for your 
sake, 
Else had she with her father rang'd along. 

Cel, I did not then entreat to have her stiy, 
It was your pleasure, and your own remorse * ; 
I wa-s too young that time to value her, 
But now 1 know her: if she be a traitor. 
Why so am I ; we still have slept together. 
Rose at an instant, learn'd, play'd, eat toge- 
ther ; 
And wheresoe'erwe went, like Juno's swans, 
Still we went coupled, and inseparable. 

Duke F. She is too subtle for thee; and 
her smoothness, 
Her very silence, and her patience. 
Speak to the people, and they pity her. 
TLou art a fool : she robs thee of thy name; 
And thou wilt show more bright, and seem 

more virtuous. 
When she is gone: then open not thy lips; 
Firm and irrevocable is my doom 
Which I have pass'd upon her; she is banish'd, 



Cel. Pronounce that sentence then ou me 

I cannot live out of her company, [my liege 

Duke F. You are a fool : — You, niece, pro 

vide yourself; 
If you out-stay the time, upon mine honour. 
And in the greatness of my word, you die. 

[Fueunt Duke Fred, and Lords, 

Cel. O my poor Rosalind! whither wilt thou 

go ? [mine. 

Wilt thou change fathers? I will give thee 

I charge thee, be not thou more griev'd tha-n 

Kos. I have more cause. [I am. 

Cel. Thou hast not, cousin ; 

Pr'ythee, be cheerful : know'st thou not, the 
Hath banish'd me his daughter ? [duke 

Hos. That he hath not. 

Cel. No? hath not? Rosaliiid lacks then 
the love 
Which teachelh thee that thou and I am one : 
Shall we be sunder'd? shall we part, sweet 
No; let my father seek another heir. [girl? 
Therefore devise with me, how we may fly. 
Whither to go, and what to bear with us: 
And do not seek to take your change upon you, 
To bear > our griefs yourself, and leave me out ; 
For, by ibis heaven, now at our sorrows pale, 
Say what thou canst, I'll go along with thee. 

Bos. Why, whither shall we go? 

Cii. To seek my uncle. 

Bos. Alas, what danger will it be to us. 
Maids as we are, to travel forth so far? 
Beauty provoketh thieves sooner than gold. 

Cei. I'll put myself in poor and mean attire. 
And with a kind of umber t smirch my face; 
The like do you ; so shall we pass aloiig. 
And never stir ass.iilants. 

Bos. Were it not better. 

Because that I am more than common ttill. 
That I did suit me all points like a man? 
A gallant curtle-axe j upon my thigh, 
A boar-spear in my hand ; and (in my heart 
Lie there vvhfit hidden woman's fearthere will,) 
We'll have a swashing § and a martial outside ; 
As many other mannish cowards have. 
That do outface it with their semblances. 

Cel. What shall I call thee, when thou art 
a man? [own page. 

Bos. I'll have no worse a name than Jove's 
And therefore look you call me, Ganymede. 
But what will you be call'd? 

Cel. Something that hath a reference to my 
No longer Celia, but Aliena. [state; 

Bos. But, cou>in, what if we assay'd to steal 
The clownish fool out of your father's court' 
Would he not be a comfort to our travel i 

Cel. He'll ^^,0 along o'er the wide world with 
Leave me alone to woo him : Let's away, [me ; 
And get our jewels and our wealth together ; 
Devise the fittest time, and safest way 
To hide us from pursuit that will be made 
After my flight: Now go we in content. 
To liberty, and not to banishment. 

[Exeung 



• Corapafesion. t A dusky, yellowcoloured earth. J Cutlass. § Swaggering. 



230 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act tl. 



ACT II. 



S€BNE I. The Forest //Arden. 

KnterDvKEse7iior, Amiens, 4 other Lords, 
in the dress of Foresters. 

Duke S. Now, my co-mates, and brothers 
in exile, 
Hath not old custom made this life more sweet 
Than that of painted pomp ? Are not these woods 
More free from peril than the envious court? 
Here feel we but the penalty of Adam, 
The seasons' difference; as, the icy fang. 
And churlish chiding of the winter's wind ; 
Which when it bites and blows upon my body. 
Even till I shrink with cold, I smile, and say, — 
This is no flattery : these are counsellors 
That feelingly persuade me what I am. 
Sweet are the uses of adversity ; 
Which, like the toad, wgly and venomous. 
Wears yet a precious jewel in his head ; 
And this our life, exempt from public haunt, 
Fmds tongues in trees, books in the running 

brooks, 
Sermons in stones, and good in every thing. 
Ami, I would not change it: Happy is 
your grace, 
That can translate the stubbornness of fortune 
Into so quiet and so sweet a stjle. [son '? 

Duke S. Come, shall we go and kill us veni- 
And yet it irks me, the poor dappled fools, — 
Being native burghers of this desert city, — 
Should, in their own confines, with forked 
Have their round hamiches gor'd. [heads* 

1 Lord. Indeed, my lord. 

The melanclioly Jaques grieves at that ; 
And, in that kind, swears you do more usurp 
Thau doth your brother that hath banish'dyou. 
To-day, my lord of Amiens, and myself, 
Did steal behind him, as he lay along 
Under an oak, whose antique root peeps out 
Upon the brook that brawls along this wood: 
To the which place a poor sequester'd stag. 
That from the hunter's aim had taVn a hurl. 
Did come to languish ; and, indeed, my lord. 
The wretched animal heav'd forth such groans. 
That their dischargedid stretch his leathern coat 
Almost to bursting; and the big round tears 
Coursed one another down his innocent nose 
In piteous chase: and thus the hairy fool. 
Much marked of the melancholy Jaques, 
Stood on the extremest verge of the swilt brook, 
Augmenting it with tears. 

JJuke S. But what said Jaques? 

Did he not moralize this spectacle? 

\Lord. O, yes, into a thousand similes. 
First, for his weeping in the needless stream; 
Poor rfeer, quoth he, thou m kest a testuinent 
As worldlings do, giving thy sum of more 
To that which hud tiximvch: Then, being alone 
Left and abandonM of his velvet friends, 
Tis right, quoth he; this misery doth part 
The Jlux oj comjmny : Anon, a careless herd, 
FqU of the pasture, jumps along by him. 



• Barbed arrowo. 



+ Encounter. 
'j MeuTioridi. 



And never stays to greet him ; Ay, quoth Jaqne&, 
Sivee'p on, you fat and greasy vitizetis } 
*Tisjust the fashion : therefore do you took 
Upon that poor and broken bankrupt there? 
Thus most invectively he pierceth through 
The body of the country, city, court. 
Yea, and of this our life: swearing, that we 
Are mere usurpers, tyrants, and what's worse, \ 
To fright the animals, and to kill them up. 
In their assign'd and native dwelling-place. 

Duke S. And did you leave him in this con- 
templation ? [menling j 

2 Lord. We did, my lord, weeping and com- 
Upon the sobbing deer. 

DvkeS. Show me the place; 

I love to copet him in these sullen fits. 
For then he's tuU of matter. 

2 Lord. I'll bring you to him straight. 

{Exeunt 

SCE>«E II. A Room in the Palace. 

^wfer Duke Frederick, Lor«ls,4:Aitendants 

Duke F. Can it be possible, that no mao 
saw them ? 
It cannot be: some villains of my court 
Are of consent and sufferance in this. [her. 

1 Lorri. 1 caunrt hear of any that did see 
The ladies, her attendants of her chamber. 
Saw her a-bed ; and, in the morning early. 
They found the bed untreasur'd of theirmistress 

2 Lard. My lord, the roynish j clown, at 

whom so oft 
Your [i;race was wont to laugh, is also missing. 
Hesperia, the princess' gentKwoman, 
Confesses, that she secretly o*2r-heard 
Yonr daughter and her cousin much commend 
The parts and graces of the wrestler 
That did but lately foil the sinewy Charles; 
And she believes, wherever they are gone, 
That youth is surely in their company. 

Duke F. Send to his brother ; fetch that 
gallant hi her; 
If he be absent, bring his brother to me, 
I'll make him tind him : do this suddenly ; 
And let not search and inquisition quail ^ 
To bring again these foolish runaways. 

'Exeunt. 

SCENE III. Before On\er*s House, 

Enter Orlando and Adam, meeting. 

Orl. Who's there ? [gentle master 

Adam. What! my young master? — O, my 
O, my sweet master, O you memory fi 
Of old sir RowlaDdl why, what make you 
here? .y«"^ 

Why are you virtuous? Why do people love 
And wherefore are you gentle, strong, and 

valiant? 
W^hy would yon be so fond T to overcome 
The bony prizer of the humorous duke ? [you. 
Your praise is come too swiftly home before 

X Scurvy. i Sink into dejection. 
"* i iHoiiHiilersfp. 



Scene 111.1 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 



231 



Know you not, master, to some kind of men 
Their graces serve them but as enemies'? 
No more ffo yours ; your virtues, gentle mas- 
Are sanctified and holy traitors to you. [ter, 
O, what a world is this, when what is comely 
Envenoms him that bears it? 

Orl. Why, what's the matter? 

Adam. O unhappy youth. 

Come not within these doors ; within this roof 
The enemy of all your graces lives: 
Your brother — (no, no brother ; yet the son — 
Yet not the son; — 1 will not call him son — 
Of him I was about to call his father,)— 
Hath heard your praises; and this night he 

means 
To burn the lodging where you use to lie, 
And you within it : if he fail of that, 
He will have other means to cut you off: 
I overheard him, and his practices. 
This is no place *, this house is but a butchery ; 
Abhor it, fear it, do not enter it. 

Orl. Why, whither, Adam, wouldst thou 
have me go? [not here. 

Adam, No matter whither, so you come 

OrL What, wouldst thou have me go and 
beg my food ? 
Or, with a base and boisterous sword, enforce 
A thievish living on the common road? 
This I must do, or know not what to do : 
Yet this I will not do, do how I can ; 
I rather will subject me to the malice 
Of a diverted blood t, and bloody brother. 

Adam. But do not so ; I have five hundred 
crowns. 
The thrifty hire I sav'd under y<!ur father, 
Which 1 did store, to be my foster-nurse, 
Wh^n service should in my old limbs lie lame. 
And unregarded age in corners thrown; 
Take thai: and He tbat doth the ravens feed, 
Yea, providently caters for the sparrow. 
Be comfort to my age ! Here is the gold ; 
All this I give you: Let me be your servant; 
Though I look old, yet I am strong and lusty : 
For in ray youth I never did apply 
Hot and rebellious liquors in my blood ; 
Is or did not with unbashful forehead woo 
The means of weakness and debility ; 
Therefore my age is as a lusty winter. 
Frosty, but kindly : let me go with you ; 
Pll do the service of a younger man 
In all your business and necessities. [pears 

Orl. O good old^an ; how well in thee ap- 
The constant service of the antique world. 
When service sweat for duty, not for meed! 
1 h(»u art not for the fashion of these times, 
Where none will sweat, but for promotion ; 
And having that, do choke their service up 
Even with the having : it is not so with thee. 
But, poor old man, thou prunest a rotten tree, 
That cannot so much as a blossom yield. 
In lieu of all thy pains and husbandry : 
But come thy ways, we'll go along together ; 
And ere we have thy youthful wages spent, 
We'll light upon some settled low content. 

Adam. Master, go on ; and I will follow thee. 



To the last gasp, with truth an.1 loyalty. — 
From seventeen years till now almost fourscore 
Here lived I, but now live here no more. 
At seventeen years many their fortunes seek; 
But at fourscore, it is too late a week : 
Yet fortune cannot recompense me better, 
Than to die well, and not my master's debtor. 

SCENE IV. The Forest of At den. 

Enter Rosalind in boy's clothes, Celia 

drest like a Shepherdess ^ 4: To u c h sto n k. 

Ros. O Jupiter ! how weary are my spirits ! 

Touch. I care not for my spirits, if my 
legs were not weary. 

Ros, I could find in my heart to disgrace 
my man's apparel, and to cry like a woman : 
but I must comfort the weaker vessel, as 
doublet and hose ought to show itself cou- 
rageous to petticoat : therefore, courage, good 
Aliena. 

Cel. I pray you, bear with me ; I cannot 
go no further. 

Touch. For my part, I had rather bear 
with you, than bear you : yet I should bear 
no cross j, if I did bear you; for, I think, 
you have no money in your purse. 

Ros. Well, this is the forest of Arden. 

Touch. Ay, now am 1 in Arden : the more 
fool I ; when I was at home, 1 was in a belter 
place;- but travellers must be content. 

Ros. Ay, be so, good Touchsto«iie : — Look 
you, who comes here ; a young man, and ait 
old, in solemn talk. 

Enter Corin and Silvius. 

Cor. That is the way to make her scorn you 
still. [love her I 

Sil. O Corin, that thou knew'st how I do 

Cor. I partly guess ; for I have loved ere now. 

SU. No,Corin, being old, thou canst not^uess; 
Though in thy youth thou wast as true a lover 
As ever sigh'd upon a midnight pillow : 
But if thy love were ever like to mine, 
(As sure I think did never mnn love so,) 
How many actions most ridiculous 
Hast thou been drawn to by thy fantisy ? 

Cor, Into a thousand that I have forgotten. 

Sil, 0,thou did>t then ne'er love so heartily : 
If thou rememb'rest not the slightest folly 
That ever love did make ihee run into, 
l^ou hast not loved : 
Or if thou hast not sat as I do now. 
Wearying thy hearer in thy misii ess* praise. 
Thou hast not loved : 
Or if thou hast not broke from company. 
Abruptly, as my passion now makes me. 
Thou hast not loved : O Phebe, Phebe, Fhebc 
\^Exit Si i. VI OS. 

Ros. Alas, poor shepherd! searching of 
thy wound, 
I have by hard adventure found mine own. 

Touch. And I mine : 1 remember, when I 
was in love, I broke my sword upon a stone, 
and bid him take that for coming a-night § to 
Jane Smile : and 1 remember the kissing u/ 



• Mansion, residence. t Blood turned from its natural course. 

' money stamped with a cross. $ In the night. 



X A piece of 



2:r2 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r 



her batlet*, and the cow's dugs that htr 
pretty chopM hands had milk'd : and I re- 
member the wooing of a peascod instead of 
her ; from whom I took two cods, and, 
giving her them again, said with weeping 
tears, Wear these for my sake. We, th.it 
are true lovers, run into strange capers; but 
as all is mortal in nature, so is all nature in 
loA'e mortal in folly. 

Ros. Thou speak'st wiser, than thou art 
*ware of. 

Touch. Nay, I ?hall ne'er be 'ware of mine 
own wit, till I break my shins against it. 

Ros. Jove! Jove! this shepherd's passion 
Is much upon my fashion. 

Touch. And mine ; but it grows something 
stale with me. [man, 

Cel. I pray you, one of you question yond 
l£.he for gold will give us any food ; 
I faint almost to death. 

Touch, Holla; you, clown ! 

Ros, Peace, fool ; he's not thy kinsman. 

Cor, Who calls ? 

Touch. Your betters, sir. 

Cor, Else are they very wretched. 

Ros. Peace, I say :— 

Gf^od even to you, friend. 

Cor. And to you, gentle sir, and to you all. 

Ros. I pr'ythee, shepherd, if that love, 
or goht. 
Can in this desert place buy entertainment, 
Bring us where we may rest ourselves, and 
feed: [press'd, 

Here's a young maid with travel much op- 
And taints for succour. 

Cor. Fair sir, I pity her. 

And wish for her sake, more than for mine own, 
My fortunes were more able to relieve her : 
But I am shepherd to another man. 
And do not shear the fleeces that I graze ; 
My master is of churlish disposition, 
And little recks T to find the way to heaven 
by doing deeds of hospitality : 
Besides, his cote, his flocks, and bounds of feed. 
Are now on sale, and at our sheepcote now. 
By reason of his absence, there is nothing 
That you will feed on : but what is, come see. 
And in my voice most welcome shall you be. 

Ros. W hat is he that shall buy his flock 
and pasture? 

Cor, That young swain that you saw here 
but erewhile. 
That Utile cares for buying any thing. 

Hos. I pray thee, if it stand with honesty. 
Buy thou the cotia^^e, pasture, and the flock, 
Aiid thou shalt have to pay for it of us. 

C'( I. And we will mend thy wages : I like 
this place. 
And willingly could waste my time in it. 

Cor. Assuredly, the thing is to be sold : 
Ge with me : if you like, upon report, 
The soil, the profit, and this kind of life, 
[ will your very faithful fee'ier be. 
And buy it with your gold right suddenly. 

^Exeunt, 



SCENE V. The iame. 
Enter Amiens, Jaques, and others, 
SONG. 
Ami. Under the greenwood tree. 
Who loves to lie tvith me, 
And tune his merry note 
Unto the sweet bird's throat, 
Come hither, come hither, come hither ; 
Here shall he see 
No enemy. 
But winter and rough weather, 
Jaq, More, more, I pr'ythee, more. 
Ami. It willmakeyou melancholy, monsieur 
Jaques. 

Jaq. I thank it. More, I pr'ythee, more. 
I can suck melancholy out of a song, as a 
weasel sucks eggs : More, I pr'ythee, more. 

Ami. My voice is ragged;; I know, I 
cannot please you. 

Jaq, I do not desire yon to please me, I do 
desire you to sing : Come, more; another 
stanza; Call you them stanzas? 
Ami, What you will, monsieur Jaques. 
Jaq. Nay, 1 care not for their names ; they 
owe me nothing: Will you sing? 

Ami. More at your request, than to please 
myself. 

Jaq. Well then, if ever I thank any man, 
I'll thank you : but that they call compliment, 
is like the encounter of two do^-apes ; and 
when a man thanks me heartily, meihinks, I 
have given him a penny, and he renders me 
the beggarly thanks. Come, sing ; and you 
that will not, hold your tongues. 

Ami. Well, I'll end the song. — Sirs, cover 
the while ; the duke will drink under this 
tree : — he hath becu all this day to look you. 

Jaq. And I have been all this day to avoid 
him. He is too disputable § for my com- 
pany: I think of as many matters as he; 
but 1 give heaven thanks, and make no boast 
of them. Come, warble, come. 

SONG. 

Who doth ambit 1071. shun, [AM together here. 
And loves to live i* the sun, 
Seeking the food he eats. 
And pleased tvith what he gets, 
Come hither, come hither, come hither ; 
Here shall he see 
jNo enemy. 
But winter and rough weather. 

Jaq. I'll give you a verse to this note, that 
I made yesterday in despite of my invention. 
Ami. And I'll sing it. 
Juq, Thus it goes : 
If it do come to pass, 
T/iat any man turn ass. 
Leaving his wealth and ease 
A stubborn will to please. 
Due ad me, due ad me, due ad 7ne ; 
Here shall he ^ee. 
Gross fools as he. 
An if he will cotne to Ami, 



* The instrument with which wayhers beat clothes. 

iMil f(irii!«»lv ll'.;; ^AKwc iiitamng. 



t Carra. t Bagged and rugged 

5 L>n»i» ilatious. 



Scene F,] 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 



233 



Ami. What's that due ad me ? 

Jaq, 'Tis a Greek invocation, to call fools 
Into a circle. I'll go sleep if I can ; if I 
cannot, I'll rail against all the first-born of 
Egypt. 

Ami. And I'll go seek the duke ; his ban- 
quet is prepared. {Exeunt severally. 

SCENE VI. The same. 
Enter Orlando and Adam. 

Adam. Dear master, I can go no further : 
O, I die for food ! Here lie I down, and mea- 
sure out my ^rave. Farewell, kind master. 

Orl. Why, how now, Adam ! no greater 
heart in iheei Live a little; comfort a little ; 
cheer thyself a little : If this uncouth forest 
yield any thing savage, I will either be food 
for it, or brint^ it tor food to thee. Thy 
conceit is nearer death than thy powers. For 
my sake, be comfortable ; hold death awhile 
at the arm's end : I will here be with thee 
presently ; and if I bring thee not something to 
eat, I'll give thee leave to die : but if thou 
diest before I come, thou art a mocker of my 
labour. Well said ! thou look'st cheerly : 
and I'll be with thee quickly. — Yet thou liest 
in the bieak air : Coine, I will bear thee to 
some shelter; and thou shalt not die for lack 
of a dinner, if there live any thing in this 
desert. Cheerly, good Adam! {Exeunt 

SCENE VII. Tlie same. 

A table set out. Enter Duke senior, 

Amiens, Lords, and others. 

Duke S. I think he be transform'd into a 
For I can no where find him like a man. [beast ; 

1 hord. My lord, he is but even now gone 
hence ; 
Here was he merry, hearing of a song, [sical, 

Duke S. \i he, compact of jars *, grow mu- 
We shall have shortly discord in the spheres: — 
Go, seek him ; tell him, I would speak with him. 
Enter Jaques. 

1 Lord. He saves my labour by his own 
approach. [a lilt is this, 

Duke S. Why, how now, monsieur ! what 
That your poor friends must woo your coin- 
What ! you look merrily. [p^ny ? 

Jaq. A fool, a fool ! 1 met a fool i' the 

A motley fool; — a mist^rable world ! — [forest. 
As I do live by food, I met a fool ; 
Who laid him down and bask'd him in the sun, 
And rail'd on lady Fortune in good terms, 
In good set terms, — and yet a motley fool. 
Good-morrow, fool, quoth I : No, sir, quoth he, 
Call me not jool, till heaven hath sent me 

fortune : 
And then he drew a dial from his poke ; 
And looking on it with lack-lustre eye. 
Says, very wisely, It is ten o'clock: {wags : 
Thus may we see,(\noi\\ he, hmo the tvorld 
*Tis but an hour ago, since it was nine ; 
And after an hour more, 'twill be eleven ; 
And so, from hour to hour, we ripe and ripe, 
Andthtn,from hour to hour, tve rot, and rot. 
And thereby hangs a tale. When I did hear 



I The motley fool thus moral on the time. 
My lungs be2;an to crow like chanticleer. 
That fools should be so deep-contemplative ; 
And I did laugh, sans intermission. 
An hour by his dinl. — O noble fool! 
A worthy fooli Motley's the only weart. 
Duke S. VV hat fool is this 1 [a courtier ; 
Jaq, O worthy fool ! — One that hath been 
And says, if ladies be but young, and fair, 
They have the gift to know it : and in his brain,— 
Which is as dry as the remainder biscuit 
After a voyage,~.he hath strange placescraram'd 
With observation, the which he vents 
In mangled forms: — O, that I were a fool ! 
I am ambitious for a motley coat. 
Duke S. Thou shalt have one. 
Jaq. It is my only suit; 

Provided, that you weed your better judgments 
Of all opinion that grows rank in them. 
That I am wise. I must have liberty 
Withal, as large a charier as the wind. 
To blow on whom I please ; for so fools have: 
And they that are most galled with my folly. 
They most must laugh : And why, sir, nmst 

they so ? 
The why is plain as way to parWi church : 
He, that a fool doth very wisely hit. 
Doth very foolishly, although he smart. 
Not to seem senseless of the bob : if not. 
The wise man's folly is anatomized 
Even by the squand'ring glances of the fool. 
Invest me in my motley ; give me leave 
To speak my mind, and I will through and 

through 
Cleanse the foul body of the infected world, 
If they will patiently receive my medicine. 
Duke iS. Fie on thee! I can tell what thou 
wouldst do. [good ? 

Jaq. What, for a counter, would I do, but 
Duke S. Most mischievous foul sin. in chid- 
For thou thyself hast been a libertine, [ing sin : 
As sensual as the brutish sting itself; 
And all the embossed sores, and headed evils. 
That thou with license of free foot hast caught, 
Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world, 

Jaq. Why, who cries out on pride. 
That can therein tax any private party? 
Doth it not flow as hugely as the sea. 
Till that the very very means do ebb? 
What woman in the city do I name. 
When that I say, The city-woman bears 
The cost of princes on unworthy shoulders ? 
Who can come in, and say, that I mean her. 
When such a one as she, such is; her neighbour? 
Or what is he of basest function, 
That says, his bravery t is not on my cost, 
(Thinking that I mean him,) but therein suits 
His folly to the mettle of my speech? 
There then ; How, what then i Let me see 
wherein _ [»>g'Jt, 

My tongue hath wrongM him : if it do him 
Then he hath wrong'd himself; if he be free. 
Why then, my taxing, like a wild goose flies, 
Unclaim'd of any man. — But who comes here t 
Enter Orlanoo, wirh his suord d/aiv,/. 
Orl. Forbear, and eat no more. 



Made up of discoi ds. t The fool was anciently dressed in a party-coloured co it, t Finery 

X3 



234 



SHAKSPEAKE. 



^Act IL ' 



Jaq, Why, I have eat none yet. 

Orl. Nor ghalt not, till necessity be served. 

Jaq. Of what kind should this cock come of? 

Duke S. Art thou thus bolden'd, man, by thy 
distress ; 
Or else a rade despiscr of good manners. 
That in civility thou seem'st so empty? [point 

07'1. You touch'd my vein at first; the thorny 
Of bare distress hath ta'en from me the show 
Of smooth civility : yet am I inland bred *, 
And know some nurture t : But forbear, 1 say ; 
He dies, that touches any of this fruit. 
Till I and my affairs are answered, [reason, 

Jaq. An you will not be answered with 
I must die. [tleness shall force, 

Vuke S. What would you have? Your gen- 
More than your force move ns to gentleness. 

Orl. I almostdieforfood, andletmehaveit. 

Duke S, Sit down and feed, and welcome 
to our table. [pray you : 

Orl. Speak you so gently? Pardon me, 1 
I thought, thatall things had becnsavage here; 
And therefore put I on the countenance 
Of stern commandment : But whate'er you are. 
That in this desert inaccessible. 
Under the shade of melancholy boughs, 
Lose and ne2;lect the creeping hours of time; 
If ever you have lookM on better days, 
If ever been where bells have knoH'd to church; 
If ever sat at any good man's feast; 
If ever from your eye-lids wiped a tear. 
And know what 'tis to pity, and be pitied ; 
Let gentleness my strong enforcement be : 
In the which hope, I blush, and hide my sword. 

Duke S. True is it that we have seen bet- 
ter days ; 
And have with holy bell been knoU'd to church ; 
And satat good men*sfeasts;and wiped onreyes 
Of drops that sacred pity hath engendered : 
And therefore sit you down in gentleness, 
And take upon command what help we have. 
That to your wanting may be ministred. 

Orl. Then,but forbear jour food a little while, 
Whiles, like a doe, I go to find my fawn, 
And give it food. There is an old poor man. 
Who after me hath many a weary step 
Limp'd in pure love; till he be first sufticed, — 
Oppress'd with two weak evils, age and hun- 
I will not touch a bit. [ger, — 

Duke S. Go find him out, 

And we will nothing waste till you return. 

Orl. 1 thank ye; and be bless'd for your 
good comfort I [txit. 

Duke S. Thou seest, wc are not all alone 
This wide and universal theatre [nnhapi>y: 
Presents more woful pageants than the scene 
Where. n we play in. 

Jaq. All the world's a stage, 

And all the men and women merely players : 
They have their exits and their entrances ; 
And one man in his time plays many parts, 
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant, 
Mewling and pnkini^ in the nurse's arms; 
And then, the whining school-boy, with his 
satchel. 



And shining morning face, creeping like snail 
Unwillingly to school : And then, the lover ; 
Sighing like furnace, with a woful ballad 
Made to his mistress* eye-brow ! Then, a soldier; 
Full of strange oaths, and bearded like the pard. 
Jealous in honour,suddenjand quick in quarrel, 
Seeking the bubble reputation [justice; 

Even in the cannon's mouth : And then, the 
In fair round belly, with good capon lined. 
With eyes severe, and beard of formal cut. 
Full of wise saws and modern § instances, 
And so he plays his part : The sixth age shifts 
Into the lean and slipper'd pantaloon ; 
With spectacles on nose, and pouch on side; 
His youthful hose well saved, a world joo wide 
For his shrunk shank ; and his big manly voice. 
Turning again toward childish treble, pipes 
And whistles in his sound : Last scene of all. 
That ends this strange eventful history, 
Is second childishness, and mere oblivion ; 
Sans teeth, sans eyes, sans taste, sans every 
thing. 

Re-enter Orlando, with Adam. 
Duke S. Welcome ; Set down your venc- 
And let him feed. [rable burden, 

Orl. I thank yon most for him. 

Adam. So had you need ; 
I scarce can speak to thank you for my&elf. [yon 
Duke S. Welcome, fall to : I will not trouble 
Asyet, to question you about your fortunes: — 
Give us some music ; and, good cousin, sing. 
Amiens sings, 
SONG. 
I. 
Blow, blow, thou winter wind. 
Thou art not so unki/id\\ 
As man*s ingratitude ; 
Thy tooth is not so keen, 
Because thou art not seen. 
Although thy breuth be rude. 
Heigh, ho! sing, heigh, ho I unto the green 
holly : [mere folly : 

Most friendship is feigning, most loving 
Then, heigh, ho, the holly! 
This life is most jolly, 

n. 

Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky. 
That dost not bite so nigh 

As benefits forgot : 
Though thou the waters warp. 
Thy ^ting is not so sharp 
As friend remember^d^ not. 
Heigh, ho ! sin^, heigh, ho I &c. 
Duke S. If that you were the good sir 
Rowland's son, — 
As you have whisper'd faithfully, you were; 
And as mine eye doth his effigies witness 
Most truly limn'd, and living in your face, — 
Betruly welcome hither: I am the duke, [tune, 
That loved your father : The residue of your for- 
Go to my cave and tell me. — Good old man. 
Thou art right welcome as thy master is : 
Support him by the arm. — Give nie your hand 
And let me all your fortunes understand. 

[Ej-euiit 



Well brou-ht up. + Hood manners. t Violent. § Trite, common, 

li L'nnaiural. U Remeuibermg. 



AS YOL LIKE IT. 



285 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. A Room in the Palace. 

MhUer Duke Frederick, Oliver, Lords, 
and Attendants. 

Duke F. Not see him since? Sir, sir, 
that cannot be: 
But were I not the better part made mercy, 
I should not seek an absent argument 
Of my revenge, thou present : But look to it ; 
Find out thy brother, wheresoe'er he is ; 
Seekhira with candle ; bring him dead or living, 
Within this twelvemonth, or turn thou no more 
To seek a living in our territory. [thine, 

Thy lands, and all things that ihou dost call 
Worth seizure, do we seize into our hands ; 
Till thou canst quit thee by thy brother's 
Of what we think against thee. [mouth, 

OIL O, that your highness knew my heart 
I never loved my brother in my life, [in this ! 

Duke F. More villain thou. — Well, push 
him out of doors; 
And let my officers of such a nature 
Make an extent* upon his house and lands : 
Do this expediently t, and turn him going. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE II. The Forest. 
Enter Orlando, with a paper. 

Orl. Hang there, my verse, in witness of 

my love: [survey 

And, thou, thrice-crowned queen of night. 

With thy chaste eye, from thy pale sphere 

above, [sway. 

Thy huntress' name, that my full life doth 
O Rosalind 1 these trees shall be my books. 

And in their barks iry thoughts I'll character; 
That every eye, which in this forest looks, 

Shall see thy virtue witnessed every where. 
Run, run, Orlando; carve, on every tree. 
The fair, the chaste, and unexpressive j she. 

{Exit. 
Enter Corin aw<i Touchstone. 

Cor. And how like you this shepherd's life, 
master Touchstone 1 

Touch. Truly, shepherd, in respect of itself, 
it is a good life ; but in respect that it is a 
shepherd's life, it is naught. In respect that 
it is solitary, I like it very well ; hut in respect 
that it is private, it is a very vilt* life. >(ow 
in respect it is in the fields, it plenseth me 
well ; but in respect it is not in the court, it 
is tedious. As it is a spare life, look you, it 
fits my humour well; but as there is no more 
plenty in it, it goes much against my stomach. 
Hast any philosophy in thee, shepherd? 

Cor. No mxne, but that 1 know, the more 
one sickens, the worse at ease he is; and that 
be that wants mowey, means, and content, is 
without three good friends: — Ttiat the pro- 
perty of rain is to wet, and tire to burn : That 
good pasture makes fat sheep : and that a great 



cause of the night, is lack of the sun : That 
he, that hath learned no wit by nature nor art, 
may complain of good breeding, or comes of 
a very dull kindred. 

Touch. Such a one is a natural philosopher. 
Wast ever in court, shepherd % 

Cor. No, truly. 

Touch. Then thou art damn*d. 

Cor. Nay, 1 hope, 

Touch. Truly, thou art damn'd; like an ill 
roasted egg, all on one side. 

Cor. For not being at court? Your reason. 

Touch. Why, if thou never wast at court, 
thou never saw'st good manners ; if thou never 
saw'st good manners, then thy manners must 
be wicked ; and wickedness is sin, and sin is 
damnation : Thou art in a parlous state, shep- 
herd. 

Cor. Not a whit, Touchstone : those that 
are good manners at the court, are as ridicu. 
lous in the country, as the behaviour of the 
country is most mockable at the court. You 
told me, you salute not at the court, but you 
kiss your hands; that courtesy would be uu 
cleanly, if courtiers were shepherds. 

Touch. Instance, briefly ; come, instance. 

Cor. Why, we are still handling our ewes ; 
and their fells, you know, are greasy. 

Touch. Why, do not your courtier's hands 
sweat ? and is not the grease of a mutton as 
wholesome as the sweat of a man ? Shallow, 
shallow: A better instance, I say; come. 

Cor. Besides, our hands are hard. 

Touch. Your lips will feel them the sooner. 
Shallow,again: A more sounder instance,come. 

Cor. And they are often tarr'd over with 
the surgery of our sheep ; And would you 
have us kiss tar 1 The courtier's hands are 
perfumed with civet. 

Touch. Most shallow man! — Thou worms- 
meat, in respect of a good piece of flesh : 
Indeed ! — Learn of the wise, and perpend : 
Civet is of a baser birth than tar ; the very 
uncleanly flux of a cat. Mend the instance 
shepherd. 

Cor. Yon have too courtly a wit for me: I'll 
rest. 

Touch Wilt thou rest damn'd? God help 
thee, shallow man ! God make incision in 
thee ! thou art raw^. 

Cor. Sir, I am a true labourer ; I earn that 
I eat, get that I weai' ; owe no man hate, envy 
no man's happmess ; glad of other men's irood ; 
content with my harm : and the greatest of 
my pride is, to see my ewes graze, and my 
lambs suck. 

Touch. That is another simple «"n in yon ; 
to bring the ewes and the rams together, and 
to offer to get your living by the copulation of 
rattle : to be bawd to a bell-wether ; and to 
betray a she-lamb of a twelvemonth, to a 

• Seize by legal process. t Expeditiously, J Inexpressible. $ Unexperienced. 



'2ti6 



SHAKSl'E RE. 



\Act)fI, 



crooked -pated, old, cuckoldly ram, out of all 
reasonable match. If thi>u be'st not damn'd 
for this, the devil himself will have no shep- 
herds ; I cannot see else how thou shouldst 
'scape. 

Cor. Here comes young master Ganymede, 
my new mistress's brother. 

Enter Rosalind, reading a fcifer., 
Ros. From the east to tvesttrn ludf 

No jewel is like Hosalind. 

Her worthy being mounted on the wind, 

Through all the world bears Hosalind, 

All tlie pictures f J air est lined *, 

Are but black to Rosalind. 

Let no face be kept in niindy 

But the fair t of Rosalind. 

Touch. I'll rhyrne you so, eight years toge- 
ther; dinners, and suppers, and sleeping hours 
excepted : it is the right butter-womaii*s rank 
to market. 

Ros. Out, fool! 

Touch. For a taste :— — 

Jf a hart do luck a hiud, 

Let him seek out Rosalind, 

If the cat will after kind. 

So, be sure, ivill Rosalnid. 

W inf er-garments muse be lined. 

So jnust slender Rosalind. 

They that reap, 7/iust sheaf and bind; 

Then to cart with Rosalind. 

Sweetest nut hath sourest rind. 

Such a nut is Rosalind. 

He that sweetest rose will find. 

Must find lovers prick, and Rosalind, 
This is the very false gallop of verses ; Why 
no you infect yourself uith them. 

Ros. Peace, you dull fool; 1 found them on 
a tree. 

Touch. Truly, the tree yields bad fruit. 

Res, 1*11 gratf it with you, and then 1 shall 
graflf it with a medlar: then it will be the 
earliest fruit in the country: for you'll be rot- 
ten e'er you be half ripe, and that's the right 
virtue of the medlar. 

Touch, You have said; but whether wisely 
or no, let the forest judge. 

Enter Celia, reading a paper. 

Ros. Peace! 
Here comes my sister, reading ; stand aside. 

Cel. W hy should this desert silent be? 
For it is unpeopled? No ; 

Tongues I'll hang on every tree, 
That shall citilX sayings show. 

Some, hotv brief the life of man 
Runs his erring j'ilgrimage ; 

That the stretching of a spun 
Ruckles in his sum of age. 

Son. e, of violated voivs 
'Tuiit the souls of friend and friend: 

But upon the fairest boughs, 
Or at every sentence* end. 

Will I Rosalinda write; 
Teuching all that read, to know 

The guintesse?ice of every sprite 
Hiaven would in little show. 



Therefore heaven nature churned 
That one body should be filVd 

W ah all graces wide enlarged : 
Nature presently di.still'd 

Helen's chtek, but not her heart ; 
(.'leopatra's majesty ; 

Atalanta's bitter part ; 
Sad Lucrefia*s modesty. 

Thus Rosalind of many parts 
By heivenly synod tvas devised; 

Of many faces, tyes, and hi arts; 
To have the touches^ dearest prized. 

Heaven ivould that she these gifts should 
And 1 to live and die her slave, {liar*, 

Ros. O most gentle Jupiter! — what tcdions 
homily of love have you wearied your p;ii i-li- 
ionei s witliai, and never cry'd, Havepatienc c, 
good people ! 

Cel. How now! back friends ;— Shepherd, 
go off a little:— Go with him, sirrah. 

Touch. Come, shepherd, let us make i\n 
honourable retreat : though not with bag aud 
baggage, yet with scrip and scrippage. 

[Exeunt ( orin a7id Touch. 

Cel. Didst thou hear these verses'? 

Ros (), yes, I heard them all, and more 
too ; for some of them had in them more feet 
than the verses vvonlfl bear. 

Cel. That's no matter; the feet might bear 
the verses. 

Ros. Ay, but the feet were lame, and conld 
not bear themselves without the veise, and 
therefore htood lamely in the verse. 

Cel. I^ut didst thou hear, without wonder- 
ing how thy name should be hang'd and carved 
upon these treest 

Ros. I was seven of the nine days out ol 
the wonder, before you came ; for look here 
what 1 found on a palm-tree: I was never s«) 
be-rhymed since Pythagoras* time, that 1 vva» 
an Irish rat, which I can hardly remember. 

Cel. Trow you, who hath done this 1 

Ros. Is it a man ? 

Cel. And a chain, that yon once wore, about 
hie neck : Change you colour 1 

Ros. I pr'ythee, who ? 

Cel. O lord, lord ! it is a hard matter foi 
frifuds to meet ; but mountains may be r« 
moved with earthquakes, and so encounter. 

Ros. Nay, but who is iff 

Cel. Is it possible? 

Ros, Nay, I pray thee now, with most peti- 
tionary vehemence, tell me who it is. 

('el. O wonderful, wonderful, and mos 
wonderful wonderful, and yet again wonder- 
ful, and after that out of all whooping II ! 

Ros, Good my complexion ! dost thou 
think, though I am caparison'd like a m u 
I have a doublet and hose in my disposition 
One inch of delay more is a South-sea off dis- 
covery. I pr'ythee, tell me, who is it? quickly 
aB.d speak apace : 1 would thou couldst slam- 
mer, that thou might'st pour this concealed 
man out of thy mouth, as wine comes out of 
a narrow-mouth'd bottle; either too n.tioh at 
once, or none at all. I pr'>thee take? ih* 



• Delineated, t Complexion, beauty. % Grave, solemn. $ Featuies. 8 Out ot rvlk iuta*m 



Sctiie J J.] 



AS YOU LiKE IT. 



237 



cork oat of thy month, that I may drink thy 
tidings. 

Cel. So yon may put a man in your belly. 

Bos. Is he of God's making? What manner 
of man ^ Is his head worth a hat, or his chin 
worth a beard ? 

('(L Nay, he hath but a little beard. 

Ro<. Why, God will send more, if the man 
will be thankful : let me stay the ^rowtli of 
his beard, if thou delay me not the knowledge 
ot his cinn. 

Cet. It is young Orlando; that trippM up 
the wrestler's heels, and your heart, both in 
ail instant. 

Kos. Nay, but the devil take mocking; 
speak sad brow, and true maid*. 

(■el. I'faiih, coz, *tis he. 

fios. Orlando? 

Cel. Orlando. 
■ Ros. Alas the day! what shall I do with 
my doublet and ho?e? — What did he, when 
thou saw'st him? What said he? How look'd 
he? Wherein went het? What makes he 
here? Did he ask for me? Where remains he? 
How parted he with thee? and when shalt 
thon see him again? Answer me in one word. 

Cel. Yon must borrow ine Garagantua's j 
mouth first : 'tis a word too great for any 
mouth of this a£;e*s size: To say, ay, and no, 
to these p.irticulars, is more than to answer in 
a catechism. 

Ros. But doth he know that I am in this 
forest, and in man's apparel? Looks he as 
freshly as he did the day he wre>tled? 

Ctl. It is as easy to count atomies^, as to 
resolve the ; ropositions of a lover: — but take 
a taste of my finding him, and relish it with a 
good observance. I found him under a tree, 
like a dropp'd acorn. 

h'o\. It may well be callMJove*s tree, when 
it drops forth swch fruit. 

(^el. Give me audience, good madam. 

Ros. Proceed. 

Cel. There lay he, stretchM along, like a 
wounded knight. 

Ros. Thoiiiih it be pity to see such a sight, 
it well becomes the ground. 

Cel. Cry, holla! to thy tongue, I pr'ythee; 
it curvets very unseasonably. He was fur- 
nish'd like a hunter. 

Ros. O ominous he comes to kill my heart. 

Cel. 1 would sing my song without a bur- 
den : thou bring'st me out of tune. 

Kos. Do you not know I am a woman? 
■when I think, I must speak. Sweet, say on. 
Enter Orlando and Jaqu ks. 
Cel. You bring me out: — Soft! comes he 
not here? 

Ros. 'Tis he; slink by, and note him. 

[Cel. and Ros. retire. 
Jaq. I thank you for yonr company ; but, 
good faitn, 1 had as lief have been myself 
alone. 

Orl. And so had I; but yet, for fashion 
sake, I thank you too for your society. 



Jaq. God be with you ; let's meet as little 
as we can. 

Orl. I do desire we may be better strangers. 

Jaq. I pray you, mar no more trees with 
writing love-songs in their barks. 

Orl. I pray you, mar no more of my verses 
with reading them ill favouredly. 

Jaq. Rosalind is your love's name? 

Orl. Yes, just 

Jaq. I do not like her name. 

Orl. There was no thought of p>easing you, 
when she was christen'd. 

Jaq. What stature is she of? 

Orl. Just as higii as my heart. ■' 

Jaq. Yi*M are tuil of pretty answers: Have 
you not been acquainted with goldsmitlis* 
wives, and conn'd them out of rings? 

Orl. Not so ; but I answer you right painted 
cloth 11, from whence you have studied your 
questions. 

Jaq. You have a nimble wit; I think it 
was made of Alalanta's heels. Will you sit 
down with me? and we two will rail a^iain.-t 
our mistress the world, and all our misery. 

Orl. I vviil chide no breather in the worldj 
but myself; against whom I know most faults. 

Jaq. The worst fault you have, is to be in 
love. 

Orl. 'Tis a fault I will not change for your 
best virtue. I am weary of you. 

Jaq. By my troth, I was seeking for a fool, 
wh'.^n I found you. 

Orl. He is drown'd in t*e brook; look but 
in, and you shall see him. 

Jaq. Iheie sliall I see mine own figure. 

Orl. \\ hich I take to be either a fool or a 
cipher. 

Jaq. I'll tarry no longer with you : fare- 
well, good signior love. 

Orl. 1 am glad of your departure ; adieu, 
good monsieur melancholy. 

[Ea.it Jaqu I.S.— Celia «wtf Rosalind 
cojjie Joniard. 

Ros. I will speak to him like a saucy lac- 
quey, and under that habit play the knave 
with him. — Do you hear, forester? 

Orl. Very weil; What would you? 

Ros. I pray you, what is't o'clock ? 

Orl. You should ask me what time o'day ; 
there's no clock in the fo'est. 

Ro.s, Then there is no true lover in the 
forest ; else sighing every minute, and groan- 
ing every hour, would detect the lazy foot of 
time, as well as a clock. 

Orl. And why not the swift foot of time I 
had not thit been as proper ? 

Ros. By no means, sir: Time travels ii 
divers paces \^ilh divers perso/ss: I'll tell ^ ou 
who time an.bles withal, who ti.ne trots 
vvitlial, who time gallops withal, and who he 
stands still witiial. 

Orl. 1 pr'ythee, who doth he trot withal? 
Ros. Marry, he trots hard with a >o»ing 
maid, between the contract of her marriage, 
and the day it is" solemnized : if the iiiterii^ 



* Speak seriouely and honestly. t How w»s he dressed? i The giant of Rabelais* 

iMules An allusion to the mor.tl statence.^i on old t.ipeslry h.ui^ia^a. 



2.3S 



SHAKSPEARE. 



be but a se'unight, time's pace is so hard thai 
it seems the length of seven years, 

Orl. Who ambles time withal? 

Ros. With a priest that lacks Latin, and a 
rich man that hath not the goat : for the one 
sleeps easily, because he cannot study ; and 
the other lives merrily, because he feels no 
pain: the one lacking the burden of lean and 
wasteful learnini;; the other knowing no bur- 
den of heavy tedious penury: These time 
ambles withal. 

Orl. W ho doth he gallop withal? 

Ros. W^ith a thief to the gallows: for 
though he go as softly as foot can fall, he 
thinks himself too soon there. 

Orl. Who stays it still withal ? 

Ros. With lawyers in the vacation : for 
they sleep between term and term, and then 
they perceive not how time moves. 

Orl. Where dwell you, pretty youth ? 

Ros. Witli this shepherdess, my sister; 
here in the skirts of the forest, like fringe upon 
a petticoat. 

Orl. Are you native of this place? 

Ros. As the coney, that you see dwell 
where she is kindled. 

Orl. Your accent is something finer than 
you could purchaseiu so removed ♦ a dwelling. 

Ros. 1 have been told so of many: but, 
indeed, an old religious uncle of mine taught 
me to speak, who was in his youth an in land t 
man : one that knew courtship too well, fur 
there he fell in love. 1 have heard him read 
many lectures against it; and I thank God, I 
am not a woman, to be touch'd with so many 
giddy otftMices as he hath generally tax'd their 
whol*^ sex withal. 

Orl. (Ian you remember any of the principal 
evils, that he laid to the charge of women i 

Ros. There weie none principal ; they were 
all like one another, as half-pence are: eveiy 
one fault seeming monstrous, till his fellow 
fault came to match it. 

Orl. 1 pr'ythee, recount some of them. 

Ros. ISo ; 1 will not cast away my physic, 
but on those that are sick. There is a man 
haunts the forest, that abuses our young 
pi iiils with carving Rosalind on their barks; 
hnngs odes upon hawthorns,- and elegies on 
bramblt's: all, forsooth, deifying the name of 
Rosalind : if 1 could meet that fancy-monger, 
I would give him some good counsel, for he 
seems to have the quotidian of love upon him. 

Orl. I am he that is so love-shaked ; 1 pray 
you, tell me your remedy. 

Ros. There is none of my uncle's marks 
Qponyou: he taught me how to know a man 
in love ; in which cage of rushes, I am sure, 
vou are not prisoner. 

Orl. What were his marks? 

Ros. A lean cheek ; which you have not: a 
blue eye, and sunken; which )ou have not : 
an uti({uestionable spirit;; which yon hav«> 
Dot : a beard neglected ; which you have not: 
— bnt I paidon you for that; for, limply. 



(Act ///. 



your having § in beard is a younger brother'* 
revenue : — Then yoiir hose should be ungar- 
ter'd, your bonnet unhanded, your sleeve uu- 
buttoned, your shoe untied, and every thing 
about you demonstrating a careless desolation. 
But you are no such man; you are rather 
point-device |1 in your accoutrements ; as loving 
yourself, than seeming the lover of any other. 

Orl. Fair youth, I would 1 could make 
thee believe I love. 

^0*. Me believe it? you may as soon mak« 
her that you love believe it; which, 1 war- 
rant, she is apier to do, than to confess she 
does : that is one of the points in the which 
women still give the he to their consciences. 
But, in good sooth, are you he that hangs the 
verses on the trees, wherein Rosalind is so 
admired ? 

Orl. I swear to thee, youth, by the white 
hand of Rosalind, 1 am that he, that unfortu 
nate he. 

Ros. But are you so much in love asyoui 
rhymes speak? 

Orl. Neither rhyme nor reason can express 
how much. 

Ros. Love is merely a madness; and, I tell 
you, deserves as well a dark house and a 
whip, as madmen do: and the reason why 
they are not so punished and cured, is, that 
the lunacy is so ordinary, that the whippera 
are in love too : Yet I profess curing it ly 
counsel. 

Orl. Did you ever cure any so? 

Ros. Yvs, one; and in this manner. He 
was to imagine me his love, his mistress ; and 
1 set him every day to woo me: At which 
time would 1, being but amoonishll youih, 
grieve, be etieminate, changeable, longing, 
and liking; proud, fantastical, apish, shallow, 
inconstant, full of tears, fuii of smiles; lor 
every passit)n something, and for no passion 
truly any thing, as boys and women are lor 
the most part cattle of this colour : would now 
like him, now loath him ; then entertain him^ 
then forswear him; now weep for him, then { 
spit at him ; that I drave my suitor frotn hia 
njad humour of love, to a living humour of i 
madness; which was, to forswear the full i 
stream of the world, and to live in a not)k « 
merely monastic : And thus I cured him ; and 
this way will 1 take upon me to wash your i 
liver as clean as a sound sheep's heart, that I 
there shall not be one spot of love in'i. 
Orl. 1 would not be cured, youth. 

Ros. 1 would cure you, if you would bi< 
call me Rosalind, and come every day to my 
cote, and woo me. 

Orl. Now, by the faith of my love, I will; 
tell me where it is. 

Ros. Go with me to it, and I'll show it you: 
.. by the way, you shall tell me where la 
the forest you live: Will >ou go i 
Orl. Willi all my heart, good youth. 
Ros. Nay, yon must call me Rosalind ^— » 
Come, sister, will you got lExeuut, 



• Sequestered. 



j Estate. 



t Civil i7.*?d. 



il 0«.*r-«xact. 



t A bpii il aver«?p to conyprRatioo. 

X Variabit;. 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 



259 



SCENE III. 
fiw^er Touchstone and Audkry; Jaques 
at a distance^ observing them. 

Touch. Come apace, good Audrey ; I will 
fetch up your goats, Audrey : And how, Au- 
drey? am I the man yett Doth my simple 
feature content you? 

Aud. Your features! Lord warrant us! 
what features 1 

Touch. I am here with thee and thy goats, 
as the most capricious* poet, honest Ovid, 
was among the Goths. 

Jaq. O knowledge ill-inhabited 1 1 worse 
than Jove in a thatch'd house ! [Aside. 

Touch. When a man's verses cannot be un- 
derstood, nor a man's good wit seconded with 
the forward child, understanding, it strikes a 
man more dead than a great reckoning in a 
little room: — Truly, I would the gods had 
laade thee poetical. 

Aud. I do not know what poetical is: Is 
It honest in deed, and word? Is it a true 
thing ? 

Touch, No, truly ; for the truest poetry is 
the most feigning ; and lovers are given to 
poetry ; and what they swear in poetry, may 
be said, as lovers, they do feign. 

Aud. Do you wish then, that the gods had 
made me poetical ? 

Touch. I do, truly : for thou swear'st to 
me, thou art honest ; now, if thou wert a 
poet, I might have some hope thou didst 
feign. 

Aud. Would you not have me honest ? 

Touch. No truly, unless thou wert hard- 
favour'd : for honesty coupled to beauty, is 
to have honey a sauce to sugar. 

Jia^'. A material fool J ! [Aside. 

Aud, Well, I am not fair; and therefore I 
pray the gods make me honest ! 

Touch. Truly, and to cast away honesty 
upon a foul slut, were to put good meat into 
an unclean dish. 

Aud. 1 am not a slut, though I thank the 
gods I am foul$. 

Touch. Well, praised be the gods for thy 
foulness! sluttishness may come hereafter. 
I But be it as it maybe, I will marry thee: 
I and to that end, I have been with Sir Oliver 
M.^r-text, the vicar of the next village ; who 
I hath promised to meet me in this place of the 
I forest, and to couple us. 

Jaq. 1 would fain see this meeting. [Aside. 

Aud. Well, the gods give us joy ! 

Touch. Amen. A man may, if he were of 
a fearful heart, stagger in this attempt; for 
here we have no temple but the wood, no 
assembly but horn-beasts. But what though? 
' Courage ! As horns are odious, they are ne- 
cessary. It is said,— Many a man knows no 
end of his goods : right : many a man has 
good horns, and knows no end of them. Well, 
Ihat is the dowry of his wife ; 'tis none of his 
! awn getting. Horns? Even so: Poor men' 



alone ; No, no ; the noblest deer hath 

them as huge as the rascal ||. Is the sing]« 
man therefore blessed ? No : as a wall'd town 
is more worthier than a village, so is the 
forehead of a married man more honourable 
than the bare brow of a bachelor: and by 
how much defence^ is better than no skill 
by so much is a horn more precious than to 
want. 

Enter Sir Oliver Mar-text. 
Here comes sir Oliver : — -Sir Oliver Mar-text, 
you are well met : Will you despatch us here 
under this tree, or shall we go with you to 
your chapel? 

Sir OH. Is there none here to give the 
woman? 

Touch. 1 will not take her on gift of any 
man. 

Sir OH. Truly, she must be given, or the 
marriage is not lawful. 

Jaq. [Discovering himself.] Proceed, pro- 
ceed ; I'll give her. 

Touch. Good even, good master What ye 
calVt : How do you, sir? You are very well 
met: God'ild you** foryourlast company: I 
am very glad to see you : — Even a toy in 
hand here, sir : — Nay ; pray, be covered. 

Jaq. Will you be married, motley? 

Touch. As the ox hath his bow it, sir, the 
horse his curb, and the falcon her bells, so 
man hath his desires: and as pigeons bill, s« 
wedlock would be nibbling. 

Jaq. And will you, being a man of your 
breeding, be married under a bush, like a beg- 
gar? Get you to church, and have a good 
priest that can tell you what marriage is: 
this fellow will but join you together as they 
join wainscot; then one of you will prove a 
shrunk pannel, and, like green timber, warp, 
warp. 

Touch. I am not in the mind but I were 
better to be married of him than of another : 
for he is not like to marry me well ; and not 
being well married, it will be a good excuse 
for me hereafter to leave my wife. [Aside. 

Jaq, Go thou with me, and let me counsel 
thee. 

Touch. Come, sweet Audrey; 
We must be married, or we must live in baw- 
dry, Farewell, good master Oliver! 
Not— O sweet Oliver, 
O brave Oliver, 
Leave me not behi' thee ; 
But — Wind away, 
Begone^ I say, 
I will not to wedding wi' thee. 
[Exeunt Jaq. Touch, and Audr^. 

Sir OH. *Tis no matter ; ne'er a fantastical 

knave of them all shall flout me out of my 

calling. [Exit, 

SCENE IV. The same. Before a Cottage* 

Enter Rosalind and Celia. 

Ros, Never talk to me, I will weep. 



Lascivious. t Ill-lodged. % A fool with matter in him. 

U Lean deer are called rascal deer. IT The art of fencing. 

•• God rewaid you. t1 Yoke. 



Homely* 



24-0 



SHAKSPKARE. 



[Act II 



(el. Do, I pr'ytlu'e; but yet have the truce 
to consi(lfr,th}jt tears do not become a man. 

lios. But have I not cause to weep? 

Cel. As good cause as one would desire ; 
tlierefore weep. 

Jios. His VL-ry hair is of the dissembling 
colour. 

Ct'l. Something: browner than JudAs's : 
marry, his kisses are Judas's own children. 

Hos. 1 'faith, his hair is of a good colour. 

Ct I. An exctllcni colour: your chestnut 
was ever the otdy colour. 

Hi'.s. And his kissing is as full of sanctity 
as the touch of holy bread. 

Cel. H»r liath bought a pair of cast lips of 
Diana : a nun of winter's sisterhood klt>ses 
not more religiously ; the very ice of chastity 
is in them. 

Ros. But why did he swear he would come 
this morning, and comes not? 

Cel. Nay certainly, there is no truth in 
him. 

Jios. Do you think so? 

Cel. Yes : 1 think he is not a pick-purse, 
nor a horse-siealer; but for his verity in 
love, I do think him as concave as a cover'd 
goblet, or a worm eaten nut. 

Ros. Not true in love i 

Cel. Yes, when he is inj but, I think he is 
not in. 

Ros. You have heard him swear downright, 
he was. 

Cel. Was is not is : besides, the oath of a 
lover is no stronger than the word of a tap- 
ster ; they are both the confirmers of false 
reckonings : He attends here in the forest on 
the duke your fatlier. 

Ros. 1 met the duke yesterday, and had 
much que*itiou* with him : irle asked me, of 
what [)d.entage I was; 1 told hun, of as good 
as he; so he laugliM, and let me go. But 
what talk we of fathers, when there is such a 
man as Orlando ? 

Cel. O, that's a biave man ! he writes 
brave verses, speaks brave words, swears 
brave oaths, and breaks them bravely, quite 
I averse, athwart the heart of his lovert ; as 
t puny tilter, tiiat spurs his horse but on one 
dde, breaks his start like a noble g^oose : but 
til's brave, that youth mounts, and folly 
guides : — \\ ho comes here? 

Enter Co kin. 
Cor. Mistress, and master, you have oft 
inquired 
After the shepherd that complain'd of love ; 
Vv lio you sau aitliiig by me on the turf, 
i'raiswig the proud disdainful bhepherdeas 
I'ha^^as his mistress. 

CTT. Well, and what of him 1 

(■or. If you will see a pageant truly play'd. 
Between the pal • complexion of true iove 
And the red glow of .^corn and proud disdain, 
(io hence a little, and 1 shall conduct you, 
J I >ou will mark it. 

Ros, O, come, let us remove ; 

1 Jit fcight of lovers feedcth those in love ; — 



Bring us onto this sight, and you shall say 
I'll prove a busy actor in their play. {ExeuKt 

SCENE V. Another part of the Forest. 
Enter Silvius and Phebk. 
Sit. Sweet Phebe, do not scorn me ; do 
not, Phebe : 
Say, that you love me not ; but say not so 
In bitterness. The comn\on executioner, 
Whose heart the accustom'd sight of death i 
makes hard, ^ 

Falls not the axe upon the humbled neck, 
But first begs pardon ; Will you sterner be 
Than he that dies and lives by bloody dropsi 
Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Cokin, at a 
distance. 
Phe, I would not be thy executioner; 
I fly thee, for I would not injure thee. 
Thou tell'st me, there is murder in mine eye 
'Tis pretty, sure, and very probable, [things 
That eyes, — that are the frail'st and sol test 
Who shut their coward gates on atomies, — 
Should be call'd tyrants, butchers, murderers i 
Now 1 do frown on thee with all my heart; 
And, if mine eyes can wound, now let theio 

kill thee ; 
Now couiiterfeitto swoon ; why now fall down; 
Or, if thou canst not, O, for shame, tor shanie,^ 
Lie not, to say mine eyes are murderers. 
Now show the wound mine eye hath made 

in thee : 
Scratch thee but with a pin, and there remaiui 
Some scar of it ; lean but upt)n a rush. 
The cicatrice and capable impressure 
1 hy palm some moment keeps : but now 

mine eyes. 
Which 1 have darted at thee, hurt thee not ; 
Nor, 1 am sure, there is no force in eyes 
'i'ha« can do hurt. 

SU. O dear Phebe, 

If ever, (as that ever may be near,) [of fancy ;, 
\o\\ meet in some fresh cheek tne power 
Then shall you know the wounds invisible 
That love's keen arrows make. 

I^lie. But, till thai time. 

Come not thou near me: and, when tiiai 

time comes. 
Afflict me with thy mocks, pity me not ; 
As, till that lime, I shall not pity thee. 

Ro>,. And why, 1 pi ay you ^ [Aduiincin^.] 

W ho might be your m ther, 
That you insult, exult, and all at once. 
Over the wretched? What though you have 

more beauty, 
(As, by my faith, I see no more lu you 
Than without candle may go dark to bed,; 
Must you be thereU)re proud and pitiless ? 
Why, what means this? Why do yen look 

on me? 
I see no more in you, than in the ordinary 
()l nature's sale-work : — Od's my little life! 
1 think, she mearis to tangle my eyes too: — 
No, 'faith, proud mistress, hope not after ii; 
'li^ not your inky brows, your black-!-iik hair, 
'^ our bugle eye-balls, nor your cheek of cream. 
That can entame my spirits to your worshijj.— 



t Conversation. 



T Rljstress. 



I Love. 



Srene F.] 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 



241 



You foolish shepherd, wherefore do you follow 

her. 
Like foggy south, puffing with wind and rain ? 
You are a tliousand times a properer man, 
Than she a woman : 'Tis such fools as you, 
That maketheworidfull of ili-favour'd children: 
'Tis not her glass, but you, that flatters her ; 
And out of you she sees herself more proper. 
Than any of her lineaments can show her. — 
But, mistress, know yourself; down on your 
knees, [love : 

And thank heaven, fasting, for a good man's 
For 1 must tell you friendly in your ear, — 
Sell when you can ; you are not for all m;irkets: 
Cry the man mercy ; love him; take his offer; 
Foul is most foul, being foul to be a scoffer. 
So take her to thee, shepherd : — fare you well. 

Pke, Sweet youth, I pray you, chide a year 
together ; 
I had rather hear you chide, than this man woo. 

Ros. He's fallen in love with her foulness, 
and she'll fall in love with my anger : If it be so, 
as fast as she answers thee with frowning 
looks, ril sauce her with bitter words. — Why 
'ook you so upon me \ 

PIte. For no ill will I bear you. 

Ros. 1 pray you, do not fall in love with me, 
For I am falser than vows made in wine : 
Besides, 1 like you not : If you will know my 

house, 
Tis at the tuft of olives, here hard by : — 
Will you go, sister i — Shepherd, ply her hard :- 
Come, sister: — Shepherdess, look on him 
better, [see, 

And be not proud : though all the world could 
None could be so abus'd in sight as he. 
Come, to oar flock. 

[Exeunt Rosalind, Celia, and Corin. 

Plie, Dead shepherd ! now I find thy saw 
of might ; {sight ? 

Who ever loved, that loved not at first 

Sil. Sweet Phebe,— 

Phe, Ha! what sa.y'st thou, Silvius? 

SiL Sweet Phebe, pity me. [Siivius. 

Phe, Why, I am sorry for thee, gentle 

SU. Wherever sorrow is, relief would be ; 
Tf you do sorrow at my grief in love. 
By giving love, your sorrow and my grief 
Were both extermined. [neighbourly ? 

Phe. Thou hast my love ; Is not that 

Sd. I would have you. 

Phe. Why, that were covetousne^s. 

Siivius, the time was, that I hated thee ; 
And yet it is not, that I bear thee love : 



But since that thou canst talk of love so well. 
Thy company, which erst was irksome to me, 
1 will endure ; and Pll employ ihee too: 
But do not look for further recomp-^cae, 
Ihan thine own gladness that thou art em- 
ploy 'd. 
Sil. So holy, and so perfect is my love. 
And I in such a poverty of grace. 
That I shall think it a most plenteous crop 
To glean the broken ears after the man [then 
That the main harvest reaps : loose now and 
A scatler'd smile, and that I'll live upon. 
Phe. Know'si thou the youth that spoke to 

me ere while \ 
Sil. Not very well, but I have met him oft; 
And he hath bought the cottage, and the bounds. 
That the old carlot * once was master of. 
Phe. Think not I love him, though I ask 
for him ; 
'Tis but a peevish t boy : — yet he talks well j — 
But what care I for words? yet words do well. 
When he that speaks them pleases those that 
It is a pretty youth : — not very pretty : — [hear. 
But, sure, he's proud ; and yet his pride be- 
comes him : [him 
He'll make a proper man : The best thing in 
Is his complexion ; and faster than his tongu« 
Did make offence, his eye did heal it up. 
He is not tall ; yet for his years he's tall ; 
His leg is but so so ; and yet 'tis well : 
There was a pretty redness in his lip ; 
A little riper and more lusty red [difference 
Than that mixM in his cheek; 'twas just th« 
Betwixt the constant red, and mingled damask. 
There be some women, Siivius, had they 

mark'd him 
In parcels as I did, would have gone near 
To fall in love with him : but, for my part, 
I love him not, nor hate him not ; and yet 
I have more cause to hate him than to love 
For what had he to do to chide at me \ [him ; 
He s-aid, mine eyes were black, and roy hair 

black ; 
And, now I am remember'd, scorn'd at me : 
I marvel, why I answer'd not again : 
But that's all one ; omittance is no quittance. 
I'll write to him a very taunting letter, 
And thou shalt bear it ; Wilt thou, Siivius? 
Sil. Phebe, with all my heart. 
Phe. I'll write it straight; 

The matter's in my head, and in my heart : 
I will be bitter with him, and passing short: 
Go with me, Siivius. 



ACT IV. 

SCENE I. The same, i Jaq, I am so; I do love it better than 

Enter Rosalind, Celia, and Jaques. r'"i[;i"^f hose, that are in extremity of either, 
Jaq. I pr'ythee, pretty youth, let me be are abominable fellows ; and betray tntiu- 
better acquainted with thee. [selves to every modern censure, worse liiiin 

Ro" They say, you are i melancholy fellow. I drunkaids. 



* «»Mv. 



S42 



SHAKSPEARE, 



[.4c/ J 



Jaq, Why, 'tis good to be sad and say 
nothing. 

Ros. Why then, 'tis good to be a post. 

Jaq. I have neither the scholar's melan- 
choly, which is emulation ; nor the musician's, 
which is fantastical ; nor the courtier's, which 
is proud ; nor the soldier's, which is ambi 
tious ; nor the lawyer's, which is politic ; 
nor the lady's, which is nice • ; nor the lover's, 
which is all these: but it is a melancholy of 
mine own, compounded of many simples, 
extracted from many objects : and, indeed, 
the sundry contemplation of my travels, in 
which my often rumination wraps me, is a 
most hamorous sadness. 

Ros. A traveller I By my faith, you have 
great reason to be sad : I fear, you have sold 
your own lands, to see other men's ; then, to 
liave seen much, and to have nothing, is to 
have rich eyes and poor hands. 

Jaq, Yes, I have gained my experience. 
Enter Orlando. 

Ros. And your experience makes you sad: 
1 had rather have a fool to make me merry, 
than experience to make me sad ; and to 
travel for it too. 

Oil. Good-day, and happiness,dear Rosalind! 

Jaq. Nay then, God be wi* you, an you 
talk in blank verse. {Exit. 

Ros. Farewell, monsieur traveller: Look, 
you lisp, and wear strange suits ; disable t all 
the benefits of your own country ; be out of 
love with your nativity, and almost chide 
God for making you that countenance you 
are ; or I will scarce think you have swam 
in a gondola. — Why, how now, Orlando ! 
where have you bten all this while? You a 
lover 1 — An you serve me such anotlier trick, 
never come in my sight more. 

Orl. My fair Rosalind, 1 come within an 
hour of my promise. 

Ros. Break an hour's promise in love^ He 
that v^\\{ divide a minute into a thousand 
parts, and break but a part of the thousandth 
part of a minute in the affairs of love, it may 
be said of him, that Cupid hath clapp'd him 
o' the shoulder, but 1 warrant him heart- 
whole. 

Orl. Pardon me, dear Rosalind. 

Ros. Nay, an you be so tardy, come no 
more in my sight : 1 had as lief be woo'd of 
a siiail. 

OrL. Of asnain 

Ros. Ay, of a snail ; for though he comes 
flowly, he carries his house on \\'vi head ; a 
belter Jomture, 1 think, than you can mnke a 
woman : Besides, he brings his destiny with 
him. 

Orl. What's that? 

Ros. Why, horns ; which such as you are 
fain to be beholden to your wives for : but he 
comes armed in his fortune, and prevents the 
»la«der of his wife. 

Orl. Virtue is no horn-maker ; and my Ro- 
salind is virtDOus. 

Ros, And I am your Rosalind. 



Cel. It pleases him to call yon so ; but be 
hath a Rosalind of a belter leer J than yon. 

Ros. Come, woo me, woo me ; for now I 
am in a holiday humour, and like enongti to 
consent : What would you say to me now, an 
I were your very Rosalind I 

Orl. 1 would kiss, before 1 spoke. 

Rifs. Nay, you were better speak first ; and 
when you were gravelled for lack »'f matter, 
you might take occasion to kiss. Veiy good 
orators, when they are out, they will spit; 
and for lovers, lacking (God warn us !) matter, 
the cleanliest shift is to kiss. 

OrL How if the kiss be denied ? 

Ros. Then she puts you to entreaty, and 
there begins new matter. 

Orl. Who could be out, being before bis 
beloved mistress 1 

Ros. Marry, that should you, if I were your 
mistress; or 1 should think my honesty ranker 
than my wit. 

Orl. W hat, of my suit ! 

Ros. Not out of your apparel, and yet out 
of your suit. Am not I your Rosalind? 

Orl. I take some joy to say you are, be- 
cause I would be talking of her. 

Ros. Well, in her person, I say — I will not 
have you. 

Orl. Then, in mine own person, I die. 

Ros. No, faith, die by attorney. The poor 
world is almost six thousand years old, and in 
all this time there was not any man died in 
his own person, videlicet, in a love-cause. 
Troilus had his brains dashed out with a Gre- 
cian club; yet he did what he could to di« 
before ; and he is one of the patterns of love. 
Leander, he would have lived many a fair 
year, though Hero had turned nun, if it had 
not been for a hot midsummer niiiht : for, good 
youth, he went but forth to wash him in th« 
Hellespont, and, being taken with the cramp, 
WHS drowned ; and the foolish chroniclers of 
that age found it was — Hero of Sestos. But 
these are all lies; men have died from time 
to time, and worms have eaten them, but not 
for love. 

Orl. I would not have my right Rosalind of 
this mind; for,I protest, her frown might kill me. 

Ros. By this hand, it will not kill a fly: 
But come, now I will be your Rosalind in a 
more coming-on disposition ; andask me what 
you will, I will grant it. 

Orl. Then love me, Rosalind. 

Ros. Yes, faith will I, Fridays, and Satwf 
days, and all. 

Orl. And wilt thou have me? 

Ros. Ay, and twenty such. 

Orl. What say'st thou? 

Ros. Are you not good? i 

OrL I hope so. 

Ros. Why then, can one desire too nwcb i 
of a good thing? — Come, sister, you shall be ' 
the priest, and marry us. — Give me your han^^ '■ 
Orlando : — What do you say, sister % 

Orl. Pray thee, marry us. : 

CeL I cannot say the words. 



• Tiitliii 



♦ l^idtTvfttne. 



X Gomi Ifxioii. 



Scene I.] 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 



24^3 



Bos.Yon must begin, — Will i/ou,Orla/fdo,— 

Cel Go to : Will you, Orlando, have to 

wiJe this Rosalind ? 

Orl. I will. 

Bos. Ay, iHit when? 

Orl. Why now ; as fast as she can marry ns. 

Ros. ihen yon must say, — / take tliee, 
Rosalind, for wife. 

Ori. I take thee, Rosalind, for wife. 

Ros. 1 mighi ask you lor your commission ; 
but, — 1 do take thee, Orlando, for my hus 
band: There a girl goes before the piiest; 
«nd, cei tainly, a woman's thought runs before 
n^ actions. 

Orl. So do all thoughts ; they are winged. 

Ros. Now tell me, how long you would 
have her, after you have possessed her. 

Orl. For ever, and a day. 

Ros. Say a day, without th*; <;ver : No, no, 
Orlando ; men are April when they woo, De- 
cember when they wed : maids are May whvn 
.hey are maids, b'lt the sky changes when they 
are wivts. 1 will be more je^dons of thee 
than a Barbai cock-pigeon over his hen ; 
more clamoious than a parrot against rain ; 
more new-fangled than an ape ; more giddy 
in niy de^irt•s than a monkey: I will weep 
tor nothing, like Diana in the fountain, and 1 
will do that when you are di.^posed to be 
merry ; I will lau;;h like a hyen, and that 
when thou art inclined to sleep. 

Orl. But will my Rosalind do so? 

Ros. By my life, she will do as 1 do 

Orl. O, but she is wise. 

Ros. Or else she could not have the wit to 
do this: the wiser, the waywarder: Make the 
doors* upon a woman's wit, aiid it will out 
at the casement; shut that, and 'twill out at 
the key-hole; stop that, 'twill fly wilh the 
smoke out at the chimney. 

Orl. A man that had a wife with such a wit, 
he might say, — Wit^ whither wilt / 

Ros. Nay, you might keep that check for 
it, till you met your wife's wit going to your 
neighbour's bed 

Orl. And what \?it could wit have to ex- 
cuse that ? 

Ros. Marry, to say, — she came to seek you 
there. You shall never take her without her 
answer, unless you take her without her 
tongue. O, that woman that cannot make her 
fault her husband's occasion, let her never nurse 
her child herself, for she will breed it like a fool. 

Orl. For these two hours, Rosalind, 1 will 
leave thee. 

Ros. Alas, dear love, I cannot lack thee 
two hours. 

Orl. 1 must attend the duke at dinner ; by 
two o'clock I will be with thee again. 

Ros. Ay, go your ways, go your ways ; — 1 
knew what you would prove ; my friends told 
me as much, and I thought no less : — that flat- 
tering tongue of yours won me : — 'tis but one 
cast away, and so,— £Ojjie death. — Two o'clock 
Uyour hour? 

Orl. Ay, sweet Rosalind, 



Ros. By my troth, and in good earnej-t, and 
so God mend me, and by all pretty oaths that 
are not danf'^erous, if you break one jot of 
your promise, or come one minute behind 
your hour, I will think you the most patheti- 
cal break promise, and the most hollow lover, 
and the most unworthy of her you call Rosa- 
lind, that may be chosen out of the gross band 
of the unfaithful : therefore beware my cen- 
sure^ and keep your promise. 

Orl. With no less religion, than if thou 
wert indeed my Rosalind : So, adieu. 

Ros. Well, time is the old justice that ex- 
amines all such offenders, and let time try : 
Adieu 1 [Exit ORL.Ati DO. 

Cel. \o\x have simply misused our sex in 
your love-prate : we must have your doublet 
and hose plucked over your head, and show the 
world what the bird hath done to her own nest. 

Ros. O coz, coz, coz, my pretty little coz, 
that thou didst know how many fathom deep 
1 am in love ! But it cannot be sounded ; my 
attection hath an unknown bottom, like the 
bay of Portugal. 

Cel. Or rather, bottomless ; that as fast as 
you pour aftection in, it runs out. 

Ros. No, that same wicked bastard of Ve- 
nus, that WHS begot of thought +, conceived of 
spleen, and born of madness ; that blind ris* 
c dJy boy, that abuses every one's eyes, because 
his own are out, let him be judge, how deep 
1 am in love: — I'll tell thee Aliena, I caimot 
be out of the sight of Orlando : — I'll go find 
a shadow, and siii;h till he come. 

Cel. And I'll sleep. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. Another part of the Forest. 
Enter Jaques and Lords, in the habit of 
Foresters. 
Jaq. Which is he that killed the deer ? 

1 Lord. Sir, it was I. 

Jag. Let's present him to the duke, like a 
Roman conqueror ; and it would do well to 
set the deer's horns upon his head, for a branch 
of victory :— Have you no song, forester, for 
this purpose 1 

2 Lo7d. Yes, sir. 

Jaq. Sing it ; 'tis no matter how it be in 
tune, so it make noi.se enough. 
SONG. 

1. What shall he have, that kiWd the deer T 

2. His leather skin, and hortis to wear, 

1, Then iing him home : 
Take thou no scorn, to wear ^^*^}'^*a[f'* 
^orn; (-beaAhit 

It was a crest ere thou wast born;} burden. 

1. Thy fat her*s fat her wore it,- 

2. And thy father bore it : 

All. 7'Ae horn, the horn, the lusty horn, 
Js not a thing to laugh to scorn. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III. The Forest. 
Enter Rosalind and Celia. 
Ros. How say you now ? la it not pa^t 
two o'clock? and here much Orlando I 

M-hnciio'y. 



244 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Ace IV. 



Cet. I warrant yon, with pure love, and 
troubled brain, he hath ta'en his bow and ar- 
rows, and is gone forth — to sleep : Look, wiio 
conies here. 

Enter Silvius. 
Sil. My errand is to you, fair youth ; — 
My gentle Phebe bid me give you this : 

[Gluing a letter, 
I know not the contents; but, as 1 guess. 
By the stern brow, and waspish action 
\V hich she did use as she was writing of it. 
It bears an angry leuour ; pardon me, 
I am but as a guiltless messenger. [letter, 

Ros. Patience herself would startle at this 
And play the swaggerer ; bear this, bear all : 
bhe says, 1 am not fair; that 1 lack manners ; 
bhe calls me proud ; and, that she could not 

love me 
Were man as rare as phoenix; Od's ray will! 
Her love is not the hare that I do hunt: 
Why writes she so to me? — Weil, shepherd, 
Ihis is a letter of your own device. [well. 
Sit. No, 1 protest, I know not the contents ; 
Phebe did write it. 

Kos, Come, come, yon are a fool. 

And turn'd into the extiemity of love. 
1 saw her hand : she has a leathern hand, 
A freestone-colour'd hand ; I verily did think 
Th'it her old gloves were on, but 'twas her 

hands ; 
She has a huswife's hand : but that's no matter : 
I say, she never did invent this letter : 
This is a man's invention, and his hand. 
Sil. Sure, it is hers. 

Ros, Why, 'tis a boisterous and cruel style, 
A. style for challengers ; why, she defies me, 
Like Turk to Christian : woman's gentle brain 
Could not drop forth such giant-rude invention, 
Such Ethiop words, blacker in their effect 
Than in their countenance : — W ill you hear 
the letter I 
Sil. So please you, for I never heard it yet; 
Yet heard too much of Phebe's cruelty. 
Ros. She Phebes me: Mark how the ty- 
rant writes. [Reads. 
Art thou god to shepherd turn'd. 
That a maiden's heart hath burn*d?— 
Can a woman rail thus? 
Sil. Call you this railing? 
Ros, Why, thy godhead laid apart, 

Warr*st thou with a woman* s heart? 
Did your ever hear such railing ? — 

H hiles the eye of 7na7t did ivoo me. 
That could do no vengeance* to me. — 
Meaning me a beast. — 

Jf the scorn of your briaht eyne^ 
Have power to raise such love in mine. 
Alack, in me what strange effect 
Would they work in mild aspect t 
Whites you chid me, 1 did love ; 
Hinv then might your prayers move? 
He, that brings this love to thee, 
lAttle knows this love in me: 
And by him seal up thy mind : 
Whether that thy youth and kindX 



Will the faithful offer take 
Of me, and all that I can make ; 
Or else by him my love deny. 
And then I'U study ho'c to die, 

Sil. Call you this chiding? 

Cel. Alas, poor shepherd! 

Ros. Do you pity him ? no, he deserves no 
pity. — Wilt thou love such a woman \ — What 
to make thee an instrument, and play false 
strains upon thee! not to be endured '—Well, 
go your way to her, (for I see, love hath made 
thee a tame snake,) and say this to her ;— That 
if she love me, I charge her to love thee : it 
she will not, I will never have her, unless thou 
entreat for her. — If you be a true lover, hence, 
and not a word ; for here comes more com- 
pany. \^Exit Silvius. 
Enter Oliver. 

Oil. Good-morrow, fair ones : Pray you, if 
you know 
Where, in the purlieus § of this forest, stands 
A sheep-cote, fenced about with olive trees ? 

Cel. We?t of this place, down in the neigh- 
bour bottom. 
The rank of osiers, by the murmuring stream. 
Left on your right hand, brings you to the 

place; 
But at this hour the house doth keep itself, 
There's none within. 

Oil. If that an eye may profit by a tongue. 
Then I should know you by description ; 
Such garments, and such years : The boy is fair. 
Of female fat our, and bestows Idmself 
Like a r/pe sister : but the woman low. 
And brotvner than her brother. Are not you 
The owner of the house I did inquire for? 

Cel. It is no boast, being ask'd, to say, we 
are. [both; 

OH. Orlando doth commend him to you 
And to that youth, he calls his Rosalind, 
He sends this bloody napkin jji Are you he? 

Ros. I am: What must we understand by 
this? [me 

OH. Some of my shame ; if you will know of 
Whatman I am, and how, and why, and where 
This handkerchief was stain'd. 

Cel. I pray you, tell it. 

OH. When last the young Orlando parted 
He left a promise to return again [from you. 
Within an hour ; and, pacing through the forest, 
Chewing the food of sweet and bit er fancy, 
Lo, what befel! he threw his eye aside. 
And, mark, what object did present itself I 
Under an oak, whose boughs were luoss'd with 
And high top bald with dry antiquity, [age, 
A wretched ragged man, o'ergrown with hair. 
Lay sleeping on his back: about his neck 
A green and gilded snake had wreath'd itself. 
Who, with her head, nimble in threats, ap 

proach'd 
The opening of his mouth; but suddenly 
Seeing Orlando, it unlink'd itself, 
And with indented glides did slip away 
Into a bush : under which bush's shade 
A lioness, with udders all drawn dry. 



• Mischief. 



t Eyes. 1 Nature. 

y Handkerch:ef. 



$ Environs of a forest. 



Stene I/I.] 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 



2 1.5 



Lay coucliing, head on ground, with cat-like 

watch. 
When that the sleeping man should stir ; for 
Tlie royal disposition of that beast, ['tis 

To prey on nothiiig that doth seem as dead : 
This seen, OrUndo did approach the man. 
And found it was his brother, his elder brother. 

Cel. O, I have heard him speak of that 
same brother. 
And he did render * him the most unnatural 
That lived 'mougst men. 

OH And well he might so do, 

For well I know he was unnatural. 

Ros, But, to Orlando ; — Did he leave him 
Food to the suck'd and hungry lioness? [there, 

Ol/. Twice did he turn his backhand purposed 
But kindness, nobler ever than revenge, [so ; 
And nature, stronger than his just occasion, 
Made him give battle to the lioness, [lingt 
Who quickly fell before him ; in which hurt- 
From miserable slumber I awaked. 

Cel. Are you his broiher ? 

Ros. Was it you he rescued? 

Cel. Was't you that did so oft contrive to 
kill him? 

Oil. 'Twas I ; but *tis not I : I do not shame 
To tell you what I was, since my conversion 
So sweetly tastes, being the thing I am. 

Ros. But, for the bloody napkin? — 

OIL By, and by. 

When from the first to last, betwixt us two. 
Tears our recountments had most kindly bathed. 

As, how 1 came into that desert pUce ; 

In brief he led me to the ger.tle duke. 

Who gave me fresh array, and entertainment. 

Committing me unto my brother's love; 

Who led me instantly unto his cave, 

There stripp'd himself, and here upon his arm 

The lioness had torn some flesh away, [fainted. 

Which all this while had bled; and now he 



And cried, in fainting, upon Rosalind. 
Brief, I recovered him ; bound up his wound ,• 
And, after some small space, being strong ni 
He sent me hither, stranger as I am, [heart, 
To tell this story, that you might excuse 
His broken promise, and to give this napkin. 
Dyed in this blood; unto the sliepherd youth 
That he in sport doth call his Rosalind. 

Cel. Why, how now, Ganymede? sweet 
Ganymede? [BosAL\tiD faints, 

OIL Many will swoon when they do look 
on blood. [mede! 

Cel. There is more in it : — Cousin — Gany. 

OH, Look, he recovers. 

Ros. I would, I were at home 

Cel. We'll lead you thither: — 
I pray you, will you take him by the arm? 

OIL Be of ^ood cheer, youth: — You a man?— 
You lack a man's he^rt. 

Ros. I do so, I confess it. Ah, sir, a body 
would think this was well counterfeited : ( 
pray you, tell your brother how well I coun 
terfeited.— Heigh ho! — 

OU. This was not counterfeit ; there is too 
great testimony in your complexion, that it 
was a passion of earnest. 

Ros. Counterfeit, I assure you. 

OIL Well then, take a good heart, and coun* 
terfeit to be a man. 

Ros. So I do: but, i'faith I should have 
been a woman by right. 

Cel, Come, you look paler and paler ; 
pray you, draw homewards ; — Good sir, go 
with us. 

OIL That will I, for I must bear answer 
back: How you excuse my brother, Rosalin I. 

Ros. I shall devise something : But, 1 prny 
you, commend my counterfeiting to him : — 
Will you go ? 

[Exeunt, 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. The same. 



JE'wf^r Tod CH STONE and Audrey. 

Touch. We shall find a time, Audrey ; pa- 
tience, gentle Audrey. 

Aud. 'Faith, the priest was good enough, 
for all the old gentleman's saying. 

Touch. A most wicked sir OlFver, Audrey, 
a most vile Mar-text. But, Audrey, there is 
a youth here in the forest lays claim to you. 

Aud. Ay, I know who 'tis, he hath no inte- 
rest in me in the world : here comes the man 
you mean. 

Enter WiLiAAM. 

Touch. It is meat and drink to me to see a 
clown : By my troth, we that have good wits, 
have much to answer for: we shall be flout- 
ing ; we cannot hold. 

Will. Good even, Audrey, 

And. God ye good even, William. 

fVill. And good even to you, sir. 

f Describe. 



Touch. Good even, gentle friend: Cover 
thy head, cover thy head ; nay, pr'ythee, be 
covered. How old are you, friend. 

Will Five and twenty, sir. 

Touch. A ripe age : Is thy name, William? 

Will. William, sir. 

Touch. A fair name : Wast born i* the 
forest here? 

a ill. Ay, sir, I thank God. 

Touch. Thank God J — a good answer: Art 
rich? 

Will. *Faith, sir, so, so. 

Touch. So, so, is good, v£ry good, very ex- 
cellent good :— and yet it is not ; it is but so 
so. Art thou wise? 

Will. Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit. 

Touch. Why, thou say'st well. I do now 
remember a saying ; The fool doth think he 
is wise, but the wise man. knows himst if to 
be a fool. The heathen philosopher, when he 
had a desire to eat a grape, would open hi? 



t Scuffle. 



T 3 



246 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act V. 



lips when lie put it into his mouth; meaning 
thereby, that grapes were made to eat, and 
lips to open. You do love this maid ? 

f^f ilL I do, sir. 

Touch. Give nie your hand: Art thou 
learned I 

U ill. No, sir. 

Touch. Tlitn learn this of me; To have, is 
toh.tve: For it i? a figure in rhetoric, that 
drink, being poured out of a cup into a glass, 
by filling the one doth empty the other : For 
all your writers do consent, that ipse is he; 
now you are not fpst, for I am he. 

WUL Which he, sir? 

Touch. He, sir, that must marry this wo- 
man : Therefore, you clown, abandon, — which 
is in the vulgar, leave, — the society, — which in 
the boorish is, company, — of this female, — 
which in the common is, woman, which toge- 
ther is, abandon the society of this female; or, 
clown, thou perishest ; or, to thy better under- 
standing, diest ; to wit, I kill thee, make thee 
away, translate th> life into death, thy liberty 
into bondage: 1 will deal in poison with thee, 
or in bastinado, or in steel; 1 will bandy with 
thee in faction; I will o'er run thee with 
policy; I will kill thee a hundred and fifty 
ways ; therefore tremble, and depart. 

Aud. Do, i:ood William. 

Jfill. God rest you merry, sir. [Ecrit, 

Enter Corin. 

Cor, Onr master and mistress seek you ; 
«onie, away, away. 

Touch. Trip, Audrey, trip, Audrey; — I 
attend, I attend. {Exeunt. 

SCENE II. The same. 
Enter Orlando and Ol4VER. 

Orl. Is't possible, that on so little acquaint- 
ance you should like l.erl that, but seeing, 
you should love her^ and, lovin;^, woo.' and, 
w«ioing, she should grant? and will you per- 
sev-er to enjt»j her? 

ULi. Neither call the giddiness of it in ques- 
tion, the poverty of her, the small acquaint- 
ance, mj sudden wooiui^, nor her sudden con- 
sennng; lut siy with me, 1 love Alieua; say 
with hei, that she loves me; consent with 
both, that wc ma^ enjoy each other: it shall 
be lo )uur good ; tor my father's house, and 
all the revenue that was old sir Rowland's, 
will 1 estate upon you, and here live and die 
a shepherd. 

Enter Rosalind. 

Orl. You have my consent. Let your wed- 
ding be to-morrow: thither will i invite the 
duke, and all his contented followers: Go 
yuu, and prepare Aliena ; for, look you, here 
cornea m> Rosalind. 

/^ws. Ciod save jou, brother. 

Oil, And >uu. tair sister. 

Hos. O, my dear (/riando, how it grieves 
m* to see thee wear thy heart in a scarf. 

Orl. It is my ai m. 

Hos, 1 tb.onght, thy heart had beenwonnded 
with the ciaws of a lion. 



Orl, Wounded it is, but with the eyes oi a 
lady. 

Kos. Did your brother tell yoa how I 
counterfeited to swoon, when be showed nie 
your handkerchief? 

Orl. Ay. and greater wonders than that. ^ 

Ros. (), I know where you are: — Nay, 'tis 
true : thei^ was never any thing so sudden, 
but the fight of two rams, and Caesar's thra- 
sonical brag of — 1 came, saw, and overcame: 
For your bi other and my sister no sooner met, 
but they looked; no sooner looked, but they 
loved ; no sooner loved, but they sighed; no 
sooner sighed, but they asked one another the 
reason ; no sooner knew the reason, but they 
sought the remedy : and in these degrees have 
they made a pair of stairs to marriage, which 
they will climb incontinent, or else be incon- 
tinent before marriage : they are in the very 
wrath of love, and they will together ; clubs 
cannct part them. 

Orl. They shall be married to-moiTOw: and 
I will bid the duke to the nuptial. But, O, 
how bitter a thing it is, to look into happiness 
through another man's eyes! By so much the 
more shalll to-mt)rr()w be at the height of heart- 
heaviness, by how much I shall think my bro- 
ther happy, in having what he wishes for. 

Ros. Why then, to-morrow I cannot serv« 
your turn for Rosalind? 

Orl. I can live no longer by thinking. 

Ros. I will weary you no longer then wilh 
idle talking. Know of me, then, (for now I 
speak to some purpose,) that 1 know you are 
a geutleman of uood conceit : I speak not this, 
that you should bear a good opinion of my 
knowledge, insomuch, I say, I know >ou are ; 
neither do 1 labour for a greater esteem than 
may in some little measure draw a belief from 
you, to do yourself good, and not to grace me. 
believe, then, if jou please, that 1 can do 
strange things: I ha\e, .ince I was three 
years old, conversed with a magician, most 
profound in this art, and yet not damnable. 
If you do love Rosalind so near the heart as 
your gesture cries it out, when your brother 
marries Aliena, shall you marry her; I know 
into what straits of fortune slie is driven ; and 
it is not impossible to me, if it appear not 
inconvenient to you, to set her beiore your 
eyes to-morrow, human as she is, and without 
any danger. 

Orl. Spcakest thou in sober meanings? 

Ros. By my life, 1 do ; which I tender 
dearly, though 1 say I am a magician: There- 
fore, put you in >our best array, bid • your 
friends : for if you will be married to-morrow, 
you shall; and lo Rosalind if you will. 
Enter Silviijs and Phkbe. 
Look, here comes a lover of mine, and a lover 
of hers. 

Phc. Youth, you have done me much an 
gentleness. 
To show the letter that I writ to yon. 

Ros. 1 care not, if 1 have : it is my study. 
To seem despiteful and ungentle to you : 



Invitp, 



Scene II,] 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 



247 



You are there follow'd by a faithful shepherd ; 
-Look upon him, love him ; he worships you. 

Phe. Good shepherd, tell this youth what 
*tis to love. 

Sil. It is to be all made of sighs and tears* — 
And so am I for Phebe. 

PUe, And I for Ganymede. 

Orl. And 1 for Rosalind. 

Ros. And I for no woman. 

iSil. It is to be all made of faith and service ; — 
jfliud so am I for Phebe. 

Phe, And I for Ganymede. 

Orl. And I for Rosalind. 

Ros. And I for no woman. 

SiL It ia to be all made of fantasy, 
All made of passion, and all made of wishes ; 
All adoration, duty and observance. 
All humbleness, all patience, and impatience, 
All purity, all trial, all observance; — 
And so am I for Phebe. 

Phe, And so am 1 for Ganymede. 

Orl. And so am I for Rosalind. 

Ros, And so am I for no woman. 

Phe. If this be so, why blame you me to 
love you? [To Rosalind. 

Sil. If this be so, why blame you me to 
love you? \To Phebe. 

Orl. If this be so, why blame you me to 
love you % [me to love you ? 

Ros, Who do you speak to, tvhy blame you 

Orl, To her, that is not here, nor doth not 
hear. 

Ros. Pray you, no more of this; 'tis like 
the howling of Irish wolves against the 
moon. — I will help you, \To Silvius] if I 
can: — I would love you, \To Phebe] if I 
could. — To-morrow meet me all together. — I 
will marry you, \To Phebe] if ever I marry 
woman, and Til be married to-morrow: — I 
will satisfy you, \To Orlando] if ever I 
satisfied man, and you shall be married to- 
morrow :-^I will content you, [Tb Silvius] 
if what pleases you contents you, and you 
shall be married to-morrow. — As you \To 
Orlando] love Rosalind, meet; — as you, 
\To SiLYius] love Phebe, meet ; And as I 
love no woman, I'll meet. — So, fare you 
well ; I have left you commands. 

Sil. I'll not fail, if I live. 

Phe, Nor I. 

Orl. Nor I. 

\^Exeuni, 

SCENE III. The same. 
Enter Touchstone and Audrey. 
Touch, To-morrow is the joyful day, 
A'idrey ; to-moiTOW will wc be married. 

Aud. I do desire it with all my heart : 
and I hope it is no dishonest desire, to desire 
to be a woman of the world *. Here comes 
two of the banished duke's pages. 
Enter two Pages. 

1 Page, Well met. honest gentleman. 
Touch. By my troth, well met : Come 

sit, sit, and a song. 

2 Page* We are for you : sit i'the middle. 



1 Page. Shall we clap into't roundly, 
without hawking, or spitting, or saying we 
are hoarse ; which are the only prologues to 
a bad voice ? 

2 Page. I'faith, i'faith ; and both in a tune, 
like two gipsies on a horse. 

SONG. 
It was a lover, and his lass, 

pnth a hey, and a ho, and a hey nomno, 
That o'er the green corn-field did pass 
In the spring time, the only pretty rank 
time. 
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding , 
Stveet lovers love the spring. 

Between the acres of the rye. 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino^ 
These pretty country folks tvould lie, 

In spring time, &c. 

This^ carol they began that hour. 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, 

Hoiv that a life was but a flower 
In spring time, &c. 

And therefore take the present time, 

With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino f 
For love is crotvned with the prime 

In spring time, &c. 

Touch, Truly, young gentlemen, though 
there was no greater matter in the ditty, yet 
the note was very untuneable. 

1 Page. You are deceived, sir; we kept 
lime, we lost not our time. 

Touch. By my troth, yes ; I count it but 
time lost to hear such a foolish song. God 
be with you ; and God mend your voices i 
Come, Audrey. [Eieunt. 

SCENE IV. Another part of the Forest. 
Enter Duke senior, Amiens, Jaques, 

Orlando, Oliver, arid Celia. 
Duke S. Dost thou believe, Orlando, tliat 
Can do all this that he hath promised? [the boy 
Orl. I sometimes do believe, and sometimes 
do not ; [fear. 
As those that fear they hope, and know they 
Enter Rosalind, Silvius, and Phebe. 
Ros. Patience once more, whiles our com- 
pact is urged: 

You say, if I bring in your Rosalind, 

[To the Duke. 

You will bestow her on Orlando here? 

Duke S, That would I, had I kingdoms to 

give with her. [I brmg her ? 

Ros, And you ^ay, you will have her, when 

[To Orlando. 

Orl, That would I, were I of all kingdoms 

king. [willing ; 

Ros, You say, you'll marry me, if I be 

[To Pheb£« 

Phe. That will I,shouldI die the hour after. 

Ros, But, if you do refuse to many me. 

You'll give yourself to this most faithful shep- 

Phe. So is the bargain. [herd ? 

Ros, You say, that you'U have Phebe, if 

she wilH [2'a SiLViud 



• A married woman. 



S48 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Art y 



mi. Though to have her and death were 
both one thing. [even. 

Pos. 1 have promised to make all this matter 
Keep you your word, O duke, lO give your 

daughter ; — 
You yours, Orlando, to receive his daughter : — 
Ket-pyour word, Phebe,thatyou'll marry me; 
Or else, refusing me, to wed this shepherd : — 
Keep your word, ?5ilvius, that you'll marry her, 
If she refuse me: — and from hence 1 go, 
i\) make these doubts all even. 

[Exeunt Rosalind find Celia. 

DukeS. I do remember in this shepherd-boy 
Some lively touches of my daughter's favour. 

Orl. My lord, the first time that I ever saw 
h'm, 
Methougbt he was a brother to your daughter : 
But, my good lord, this boy is forest-bom j 
iVnd hath been tutorM in the rudiments 
Of many desperate studies by iiis uncle, 
Whom he reports to be a great magician. 
Obscured in the circle of this forest, 

/i/?/<?r Touchstone anr/ Audrey. 

y/aq. There is, sure, another flood toward, 
and these couples are coming to the ark! 
Here comes a pair of very strange beasts, 
which in all tongues are called fools. 

Touch,. Salutation and greeting to you all ! 

Jaq. Good my lord, l)id him welcome ; 
This is the motley minded gentleman, that I 
have vso often met in the forest : he hath been 
a couitier, he swears. 

Touch. If any man doubt that, let him put 
me to my purgation. I have trod a measure * ; 
I hnve flattered a lady ; I have been politic 
with my friend, smooth with mine enemy ; I 
have undone three tailors; I have had four 
quarrels, and like to have fought one. 

Jaq, And how was that ta'en up ? 

Touch. 'Faith, we met and found the quarrel 
was upon the seventh cause. 

Jaq. How seventh cause? — Good my lord, 
like this fellow. 

Duke S. 1 like him very well. 

Touch, God'ild you, sir ; I desire you of 
the like. 1 press in here, sir, amongst the 
rest of the country copulatives, to swear, «nd 
to forswear; according as marriage binds, 
and blood breaks: — A poor virgin, sir, an 
ill-tavoured tiling, sir, but mine own ; a poor 
humour of mine, sir, to take that that no 
man else will : Rich honesty dwells like a 
miser, sir, in a poor-house ;* as your pearl, 
in your foul oyster. 

Duke S. by my faith, he is very swift and 
sententious. 

Touch. According to the fool's bolt, sir, 
and such dulcet diseases. 

Jaq. But, for the seventh cause ; how did 
you find the quarrel <»n the seventh cause? 

Touc/i. I pon a lie seven limes removed ; — 
T-ear your body more seeming +, Audrey: — 
us thus, sir. L did dislike the cut of a certain 
Courtier's beard; he sent me word, if 1 said 
lub beaid was not cut well, he was in the 
niiud it was : This is called the Retort cour- 



teous. If I sent him word again, it was not 
well cut, he would send me word, he cut it 
to please himself: This is called the Qiiip 
modest. If again, it was not well cut, he 
disabled my judgment: This is call'd th«J 
Reply chui li.sh. If again, it was not well I 
cut, he would answer, I spake not true: This I 
is called the Reproof vaiuntt. If again, itf 
was not well cut, he would say, I lie : This isl 
calledthe Countercheck quarrelsome .'and so 1 
to the Lie circumstantial, and the Lie direct., 1 
Jaq. And how oft did you say, his beard ' 
was not well cut ? 

Touch, I durst go no farther than the Lie 
circumstantial, nor he durst not give nie the 
Lie direct ; and so we nieasured iwords, and 
parted. 

Jaq. Can you nominate in order now th« 
degrees of the lie ? 

Touch, O sir, we quarrel in print, by the 
book ; as you have books for good n anners : 
I will nan)e you the deurees. The first, 'he 
Retort courteous ; the second, the Quip mo- 
dest ; the third, the Reply churlish ; the 
fourth, the Reproof valiant; the hflh, the 
Coumercheck quarrelsome ; the sixth, the 
Lie with circumstance; the seventh, the Lie 
direct. All these you may avoid, but the Lie 
direct; and you may avoid that too, with an 
JJ. I knew when seven justices could not 
lake up a quarrel ; but when the parties were 
met themselves, one of then) thought but ot an 
//", as, Jj you said so, then I said so ; and 
they shook hands, and swore brothers. Your 
Jjis the only peace-maker ; much virtue in //, 
Jaq. Is not this a rare fellow, my lord ? 
he's as good at any thing, and yet a fool. 

Duke S. He uses his folly like a stalking- 
horse, and under the presentation of that, he 
shoots his wit. 
Enter Hymen, leading Rosalind, in 
woman's clothes; and Celia. 
Still Music. 
Hym. Then is there mirth in heaven, 
When earthly things made even 

Atone together. 
Good duke, receive thy daughter. 
Hymen from heaven brought her. 

Yea, brought her hither ; [his. 

That thou might* st join her hand with. 

Whose heart ivithin her bosom is, 

Ros. To you I give myself, for 1 am yours. 

[To Yyy}h.R S. 

To you I give myself, for I am yours. 

[/'(> Orlando. 
Duke S. If there be trnth in sight, you are 
my daughter. [Rosalind. 

Orl, If there be truth in sight, you are my 
Phe. If sight and shape be true. 
Why then, — my love adieu ! 
Ros. I'll have no father, if yon be not he :— 

[To LfUK b S. 

I'll have no husband, if you be not he : — 

[To Orlando. 
Nor ne'er wed woman, if you be not she 

iJ'o i'HEBE 



A statelv solemn dance. 



+ Seemly. 



cene IV,] 



AS YOU LIKE IT. 



249 



Hym Peace, no ! I bar confuwon : 
•I'is I most make conclusion 

Of these most strange events: 
Here's eight that must take hands. 
To join in Hymen's bands, 
If truth holds true contents*. 
You and you no cross shall part: 

[To Orl. and Ros. 
You and you are heart in heart : 

[To Oli. and Cel. 
'You [To Phebe] to his love must accord. 
Or have a woman to your lord : — 
You and you are sure together, 

[7\> Touch, and Aud. 
As the winter to foul weather. 
Whiles a wedlock-hymn we sing. 
Feed yourselves with questioning ; 
That reason wonder may diminish. 
How thus we met, and these things finish. 
SONG. 
Wedding is great Juno's crown ; 

O blessed bond of board and bed! 
'Tis Hymen peoples every town ; 

High wedlock then be honoured: 
Honour y high honour and renown, 
T(K Hymen y god of every town ! 
Duke S. O my dear niece, welcome thou 
art to me ; 
Even daughter, welcome in no less degree. 
Phe. I will not eat my word, now thou 
art mine ; 
Thy faith my fancy to thee doth combine t. 

[ToSiLV. 
Enter J AQVEs de Bois. 
Jaq. de B. Let me have audience for a 
word or two; 
I am the second sou of old sir Rowland, 
That bring these tidiiigs to this fair assembly : — 
Duke Frederick, hearing how that every day 
Men of great worth resorted to this forest, 
Addreas'd a mighty power ! w hich were on foot. 
In his own conduct, purposely to take 
His brother here, and put him to the sword : 
And to the skirts of this wild wood he came ; 
Where, meeting with an old religious man, 
After some question with him, was converted 
Both from his enterprise, and from the world : 
His crown bequeathing to his banish'd brother, 
And all their lands restored to them again 
That were with him exiled.: This to be true, 
I do engage my life. 

Duke S. Welcome, young man ; 

Thou offer'st fairly to thy brothers wedding: 
To one, his lands withheld ; and to the other, 
k land itself at large, a potent dukedom. 
First, in thi^ forest, let us do those ends 
That here were well begun, and well begot: 
And after, every of this happy number, [us. 
That have endured shrewd days and nights with 



Shall share the good of our returned fortune. 
According to the measure of their states. 
Meantime, forget this new fall'n dignity. 
And fall into our rustic revelry : — 
Play, music ; — and you brides and bride- 
grooms all, [fall. 

With measure heap'd in joy, to the measures 

Jaq. Sir, by your patience ; If I heard you 
The duke hath put on a religious life, [rightly. 
And thrown into neglect the pompous court 1 

Jaq. de B. He hath. 

Jaq. To him will I: out of these convertites 
There is much matter to be heard and learn'd. — 
You to your former honour I bequeath ; 

[To Duke *y. 

Your patience, and your virtue, well-deserves 

it : — [faith doih merit: — 

You [To Orlando] to a love, that your true 

You [7'o O1.IVER] to your land, and love, and 

great allies: — [bed; — 

You [7b SiLVius] to a long and well-deserved 

And you [To Touchstone] to wrangling ; for 

thy loving voyage [pleasures; 

Is but for two months victuard: — So to your 

1 am for other than for dancing measures. 

DukeS. Stay, Jaques, stay. [have 

Jaq. To see no pastiii.e, I : — what you would 
I'll stay to know at your abandon'd cave. [Ex/t. 

Duke S. Proceed, proceed : we will begin 
these rites. 
And we do trust they'll end, in true delights. 
[A dance. 
EPILOGUE. 

Ros. It is not the fashion to see the lady 
the epilogue: but it is no more unhandsome, 
than to see the lord the prologue. If it be 
true, that good wine needs no bush, 'tis true, 
that a good play needs no epilogue; Yet to 
good wine they do use good bushes ; and got>d 
plays prove the better by the help of good 
epilogues. What a case am I in then, that 
am neither a good epilogue, nor cannot insi 
nuate with you in the behalf of a good play? 
I am not furnished j like a beggar, therefore 
to beg will not become me: my way is, to 
conjure you ; and I'll begin with the women. 
I charge you, O women, for the love you bear 
to men, to like as much of this play as please 
them: and so I charge you, O men, for the 
love you bear to women, (as I perceive by 
your simpering, none of you hate them,) that 
between you and the women, the play may 
please. If I were a woman, I would kiss as 
many of you as had beards that pleased me, 
complexions that liked me§, and breaths that 
I delied not : and, I am sure, as many as have 
good beards, or good faces, or sweet breaths, 
will, for my kind offer, when I make curt'sy, 
bid me farewell. _ [Exeunt. 



Unless truth fails of veracify. t Bind. % Dressed. §That I liked, 
Of this play the fable is wild and pleasing. I know not how the ladies will approve the 
facility with which both Rosalind and Celia give away their hearts. To Celia much may be 
forgiven for the heroism of her friendship. The character of Jaques is n-atural and well pre- 
served. The comic dialogue is very sprightly, with less mixture of low buffoonery than in 
some other plays; and the graver part is elegant and harmonious. By hastening to the end 
of this work, Shakspeare suppressed the dialogue between the usurper and tie hermit, and 
lost an opportunity of exhibiting a moral lesson in which he uiii^ht have found matter worthy 
of his highest powers.— Juhivmon. 



ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL 



i^^r^ou^ t^prcscntel). 



Kins: of France. 

Duke of Florence. 

Bertram, Count of Rousillon. 

Lafeu, an old Lord, 

Paroi.les, a follower of Bertram, 

Several young French Lords ^ that serve 

with Bertram in the Florentine war, 
Sieward, ^servants to the Countess of Rou- 
Clown, J sillon. 



A Page. 

Countess ofRousillon, mother to Bertram. 

Helena, a gentlewoman protected by tha 

Countess, 
An old Widow of Florence. 
Diana, daughter to the widow, 
VioLENTA, \ neighbours and friends tp t/te 
Mariana, •» widow. 



Lords, attending on the King : Officers, Soldiers, S^c, French and Florentine, 
Scene,— Partly in France, and partly in Tuscany, 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. 



Ronsillon. A Room in the Countess's 
Palace, 
Mnter Bertram, the Countess q/" Rousillon, 
Helena, and Lafeu, i» mourni7ig. 

Count. In delivering my son from me, I 
bury a second husband. 

Ber, And I, in going, madam, weep o*er 
my father's death anew : but I must attend 
his majesty's command, to -whom I am now 
in ward *, evermore in subjection. 

Laf, You shall find of the king a husband, 
ma'.am ; — you, sir, a father : He that so gene- 
rally is at all times good, must of necessity 
hold his virtue to you ; whose worthiness 
would stir it up where it wanted, rather than 
lack it where there is such abundance. 

Count. What hope is there of bis majes- 
ty's amendment? 

Laf He hath abandoned his physicians, 
madam; under whose practices he hath per- 
secuted time with hope; and finds no other 
advantage in the process but only the losing 
of hope by time. 

Count. This young gentlewoman had a fa- 
ther, (O, that hadt! how sad a passage 'tis !) 
whose skill was almost as great as his honesty ; 
had it stretched so far, would have made na- 
ture immortal, and death should have play 
for lack of work. 'WouUI, for the king's 
sake, he were living ! 1 think, it would be 
the death of the king's disease. 

Laf. How called you the man you speak 
of, madam ? 

(U)unt. He waa famous, sir, in his profes- 



sion, and it was his great right to be so : Ge- 
rard de Narbon. 

Laf. He was excellent, indeed, madam; 
the king very lately spoke of him, admiringly 
and mourningly : he was skilful enough tc 
have lived still, if knowledge could be set uj 
against mortality. 

Ber, What is it, my good lord, the kin| 
languishes of? 

Laf A fistula, my lord. 

Ber. I heard not of it before. 

Laf I would, it were not notorious. — Was 
this gentlewoman the daughter of Gerard de 
Narbon? 

Count. His sole child, my lord; and be- 
queathed to my overlooking. I have those 
hopes of her good, that her education promi- 
ses : her dispositions she inherits, which make 
fair gifts fairer; for where an unclean mind 
carries virtuous qualitiesi, there commenda- 
tions go with pity, they are virtues and trai- 
tors too; in her they are the better for their 
simpleness § ; she derives her honesty, and 
achieves her goodness. 

Laf Your commendations, madam, get 
from her tears. 

Count. 'Tis the best brine a maiden can 
season her praise in. The remembrance of 
her father never approaches her heart, but 
the tyranny of her sorrows takes all liveli- 
hood ij from her cheek. No more of this, He- 
lena, go to, no more ; lest it be rather thought 
you attect a sorrow, than to have. 

Hel. I do affect a sorrow, indeed, but I 
have it too. 

Laf Moderate lamentation is the right of 



• Under his particular care, as my guardian. t The countess recollects her own loss ol 
a hnjiband and observes how heavily had passes through her mind. J Qualities of good 
breedini' and erudition. § i. €., Her excellencies are the better because they areartie^a 

(1 Ail appearance of hfe. 



Scene /.] 



ALL S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 



251 



*e dead, excessive grief the enemy to the 
living. 

Count. If the living be enemy to the grief, 
♦he excess makes it soon mortal. 
JBer. Madam, I desire your holy wishes. 
Laf. How understand we that^ 
Count. Be thou blest, Bertram ; and suc- 
ceed thy father 
In manners, as in shape! thy bloody and vir- 
tue, [ness 
Contend for empire in thee ; and thy good- 
Share with thy birth right! Love all, trust a 

few. 
Do wrong to none : be able for thine enemy 
Rather in power, than use; and keep thy 
friend [silence, 

Under thy own life's key : be check'd for 
But never tax'd for speech. What heaven 

more will. 
That thee may furnish*, and my prayers 

pluck down. 
Fall on thy head! Farewell. — My lord, 
Tis an nnseason'd courtier ; good my lord. 
Advise him. 

La/, He cannot want the best 

That shall attend his love. 

Count. Heaven bless him!— Farewell, Ber- 
tram. [Exit Countess. 
Ber. The best wishes, that can be forged in 
your thoughts, [To Helena] be servants to 
yout! Be comfortable to my mother, your 
mistress, and make much of her. 

Laf. Farewell, pretty lady : You must hold 
the credit of your father. 

[Exeunt B rrtrau and Lafeu. 

Hel. O, were that all!— I think not on my 

father; [more 

And these great tears grace his remembrance 

Than those I shed for him. What was he 

like? 
I have forgot him: my imagination 
Carries no favour in it, but Bertram's, 
I am undone ; there is no living, none, 
If Bertram be away. It were all one, 
That I should love a bright particular star. 
And think to wed it, he is so above me : 
In his bright radiance and collateral light 
-Must I be comforted, not in his sphere. 
The ambition in my love thus plagues itself: 
'J he hind, that would be mated by the lion. 
Must die for love. Twas pretty, though a 

plague. 
To see him every hour ; to sit and draw 
His arched brows, his hawking eye, his curls, 
la our heart's table J; heart, too capable 
Of every line and trick § of his sweet favour || : 
But now he's gone, and my idolatrous fancy 
Must sanctify his relics. Who conies here? 

Enter Parolles. 
One that goes with him : I love him for his 

sake ; 
And yet I know him a notorious liar. 
Think him a great way fool, solely a coward ; 



Yet these fix'd evils sit to fit in him. 
That they take place, when virtue's steely 
bones [we see 

Look bleak in the cold wind: withal, full oft 
Cold wisdom waiting on superfluous folly. 

Par. Save you, fair queen. 

HeL And you, monarch. 

Par. No. 

Hel. And no. 

Pur. Are yon meditating on virginity 1 

Hei. Ay. You have some stain of soldier 
in you ; let me ask you a question : Man i? 
enemy to virginity ; how may we barricado 
it against him i 

Par. Keep him out. 

Hel. But he assails; and our virginity, 
though valiant in the defence, yet is weak : 
unfold to us some warlike resistance. 

Par. There is none; man, sitting down be- 
fore you, will undermine you, and blow you 
up. 

Hel. Bless our poor virginity from under- 
miners, and blowers up! — Is there no military 
policy, how virgins might blow up men '? 

Par. Virginity, being blown down, man 
will quicklier be blown up : marry, in blow- 
ing him down again, with the breach your- 
selves made, you lose your city. It is not 
politic in the commonwealth of nature, to 
preserve virginity. Loss of virginity is ra- 
tional increase; and there was never virgin 
got, till virginity was first lost. That, you 
were made of, is metal to make virgins. 
Virginity, by being once lost, may be ten 
times found : by being ever kept, it is ever 
lost: 'tis too cold a companion ; away with 
it. 

Hel. I will stand for't a little, though there- 
fore I die a virgin. 

Par. There's little can be said iu't ; 'tis 
against the rule of nature. To speak on the 
part of virginity, is to accuse your mothers; 
which is most infallible disobedience. He, 
that hangB himself, is a virgin : virginity mur- 
ders itself; and should be buried in high- 
ways, out of all sanctified limit, as a de.spe- 
rale otfendress against nature. Virginity 
breeds mites, much like a cheese; consumes 
itself to the very paring, and so dies with 
feeding his own stomach. Besides, virginity- 
is peevish, proud, idle, made of self-love^ 
which is the most inhibited^ sin in the canon. 
Keep it not; you cannot choosebnt lose by't: 
Out with't: within ten years it will make it- 
self ten, which is a goodly increase ; and tiie 
principal itself not much the woise : Away 
with't. 

Hel. How might one do, sir, to lose it to 
her own liking J 

Par. Let me see: Marry, ill, to like him 
that ne'er it likes. 'Tis a commodity will lose 
the gloss with lying; the longer kept, tlie less 
wor^h : off with't, while 'tis vendible: an- 



• i. e.. That may help thee with more and better qualifications. t i. e.. May yoo 

\e mistress of your wishes, and hiive power to bring them to effect. J Helena cousi- 

flers her heart as the tablet on which his resemblance was portrayed. * j Peculiarity 
cf feature. |j Countenance. % Forbidden. 



253 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act I. 



I' 



Bwer the time of request. Virginity, like an 
old courtier, wears her cap out of fa>hion ; 
richly suited, but unsuitable: just iike the 
brooch and tooth-pick, which wear not now : 
\ourdate*is better in your pie and your 
porridge, than in your cheek: And your vir- 
inity, your old virginity, is like one of our 
•rench withered pears; it looks ill, it eats 
dryly; marry, 'tis a withered pear; it was 
formerly better ; marry, yet, 'tis a withered 
pear : Will yon any thing with it ? 

Hel. Not my virginity yet. 
There shall your master have a thousand 

loves, 
A mother, and a mistress, and a friend, 
A phoenix, captain, and an enemy, 
A guide, a goddess, and a sovereign, 
A counsellor, a traitress, and a dear; 
His humble ambition, proud humility, 
His jarring concord, and his discord dulcet, 
His faith, his sweet disaster; with a world 
Of pretty, fond, adoptions Christendoms, 
That blinking Cupid gossips. Now shall he — 
I know not what he shall : — God send him 

well! — 
The court's a learning-place ; — and he is one — 

Par. What one, i'faith? 

BeL That I \\ish well.— 'Tis pity 

Pa7\ What's pity ? 

Bel. That wishing well had not a body 
in't, [born. 

Which might be felt : that we, the poorer 
Whose baser stars do shut us up in wishes, 
Might with effects of them follow our friends, 
And show what we alone must think t; which 
Returns us thanks. [never 

Enter a Page. 

Page. Monsieur Parolles, my lord calls 
for you. \^Exit Page. 

Par. Little Helen, farewell : if I can re- 
member thee, 1 will think of thee at court. 

Het. Monsieur Parolles, you were born 
under a charitable star. 

Pur. Under Mars, I. 

Bet, 1 especially think, under Mars. 

Par, Why under Mars? 

Uel. The wars have so kept you under, 
that you must needs be born under Mars. 

Par, When he was predominant. 

Bel. When he was retrograde, I think, ra- 
ther. 

Par. Why think you so? 

Bel, You go so much backward, when you 
fight. 

Par. That's for advantage. 

Bil. So is running away, when fear propo- 
ses the safety : But the composition, that your 
valour and fear makes in you, is a virtue of a 
good wing, and 1 like the wear well. 

Par. I am so full of businesses, I cannot an- 
swer thee acutely : I will retuni perfect cour- 
tier ; in the which, my instruction shall serve 
to natuializethee, so thou wilt be capable J of 
a courtier's counsel, and understand what ad- . 

• A quibble on date, which means age, and candied fruit. + i. «., And show by realitiet* 

wiiai Ave now must only think. J i. ^., Thtm wilt romprehriul it. % Tliiiitjn forinfd by 
ii-iluie lor earh ollivT. j llie oili/eui> of the suiaii ifept.l>hc ul which 5n.uin is the capj.iii. 



l! 



vice shall thrust upon thee ; else thou diest in 
thine unthankfulness, and thine ignorance 
makes thee away : farewell. When thou hasf 
leisure, say thy prayers; when thou hast none, 
remember thy friends: get thee a good hus 
band, and use him as he uses thee: so fare- 
well. X^Exit.: 

Hel. Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie. 
Which we ascribe to heaven : the fated sky 
Gives us free scope; only, doth backward ^ 

pnll [dull. 

Our slow designs, when we ourselves are 
What power is it, which mounts my love so 

high; [eye? 

That makes me see, and cannot feed mine 
The mightiest space in fortune nature hringf ^j 
To join like likes, and kiss like native tlling^> 1 1 
Impossible be strange attempts, to those -^i 

That weigh their pains in sense ; and do suppose 
What hath been cannot be : Who ever strove 
To show her merit, that did miss her love { 
The king's disease— my project may deceive me. 
But my intents are fix'd, and will not leave 

me. [Exit. ^ 

SCENE I [. Paris. A Room in the King* s 

Palace, ' 

Flourish of cornets. Enter the King of 

France, with letters ; Lords and others 

attending. 

King. The Florentines and Senoysjj are by 
the ears ; 
Have fought with equal fortune, and continue 
A braving \var. 

1 Lord. So 'tis reported, sir. [ceive it 

King. Nay, 'tis most credible; we here r« 
A certainty, vouch'd from our cousin Austriri, 
With caution, that the Florentine will move us 
For speedy aid ; wherein our dearest friend t, 
Prejudicates the business, and would seem 
To have us make denial. 

1 Lord. His love and wisdom. 
Approved so to your majesty, may plead 
For amplest credence. 

King, He hath arm'd our answer. 

And Florence is denied before he comes; 
Yet, for our gentlemen, that mean to see 
The Tuscan service, fieely have they leaM^ 
To stand on either part. 

2 Lord, It may well serve 
A nursery to our gentry, who are sick 
For breathing and exploit. ,j 

King, What's he comes nere? { 

Enter Bertram, Lafeu, and Parolles j 

1 Lord, It is the count Rousillon, my good J 
Young Bertram. [lor(i 

King. Youth, thou bear'st thy father's face ; 
Frank nature, rather curious than in haste. 
Hath well composed thee. Thy father's moral 

parts 
May'st thou inherit too ! Welcome to Paris. 

lier. My thanks and duty are your majesty's. , 

King. I would I had that coiporai sound- 
ness now. 



Scene II.] 



AJLL S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 



253 



As when thy father, and myself, in friendship 
First try*d our soldiership ! He did look far 
luto the service of the time, and was 
Discipled of the bravest : he lasted long ; 
But on OS both did haggish age steal on, 
And wore us out of act. It much repairs * me 
To talk of your good father : In his youth 
He had the wit, which I can well observe 
To-day in our young lords ; but they niay jest. 
Till their own scorn return to them unnoted^ 
Ere they can hide their levity in honour. 
Bo. like a courtier, contempt nor bitterness 
Were in his pride or sharpness; if they were, 
His equal had awak'd them ; and his honour. 
Clock to itself, knew the true minute when 
Exception bid him speak, and, at this time. 
His tongue obe>'d hist hand : who were below 
He used as creatures of another place ; [him 
And bow'd his eminent top to their low ranks. 
Making them proud of his humility, 
In iheir poor praise he humbled : Such a man 
Might be a copy to these younger times ; 
Which, followM well, would demonstrate 
Jiut goers backward. [them now 

£er. His good remembrance, sir, 

Lies richer in your thoughts, than on his tomb ; 
So in approof j lives not his epitaph, 
As in your royal speech. [always say, 

King. 'Would, I were with him ! He would 
(Methinks, I hear him now ; hi? plansive words 
He scattered not in ears, but grafted them. 
To grow there and to bear,( — Let me not 
Thus his good melancholy ott began, [/i^e, — 
On the catastrophe and heel of pastime. 
When it was out, — let me not lit €y quoth he. 
After my Jlame lacks oil, to be the snujf 
Of younger spirits, whose apprehensiie 
senses [ments are 

All but new things disdain ; VJhose judg- 
Mere fathers of their garments^; whose 
constancies [wished : 

Expire before their fashions : This he 

I, after him, do after him wish too. 
Since I nor wax, nor honey can bring home, 
I quickly were dissolved from my hive. 
To give some labourers room. 

1 Li0rd» You are loved, sir ; 

They, that least lend it you, shall lack you 
first. [is*t, count. 

King. I fill a place, I know*t.— How long 
Since the physician at your father's died 7 
He was much fam'd. 

Ber. Some six months since, my lord. 

King. If he were living, I would try him yet ; 
Lend me an arm j — the rest have worn me out 
With several applicatious:--nature and sickness 
Debate it at their leisure. Welcome, count ; 
My son's no dearer. 

Ber. Thank your majesty. 

[fkeunt. Flourish^ 

SCENE III. Rousillon. A Room in the 

Coun(tess's Palace. 

Enter Countess, Steward, and Clown. 



Count. I will now hear: what say you of 
this gentlewoman 1 

Stew. Madam, the care I have had to even 

your content Ij, 1 wish might be found in the 
calendar of my past endeavours; for then we 
wound our modesty, and make foul the clear 
ness of our deservings, when of ourselves we 
publish them. 

Count. What does this knave here? Get 
you gone, sirrah: The complaints, 1 have heard 
of you, I do not all believe ; 'tis my slowness, 
that I do not : for, I know, you lack not folly 
to commit them, and have ability enough to 
make such knaveries yours. 

Clo. 'Tis not unknown to you, madam, I am 
a poor fellow. 
Count. Well, sir. 

Clo, No. madam, 'tis not so well, that I am 
poor; though many of the rich are danuud : 
Hut, if I may have your ladyship's uood-vviU 
to go to the worlds, Isbel the woman and i 
will do as we may. 

Count. Wilt thou needs be a beggar? 
Clo. I do beg your good-will in this case. 
Count. In what case? 

Clo. In Isbel's case, and mine own. »Ser- 
vice is no heritage : and, I think, 1 stiall never 
have the blessing of God, till 1 have issue of 
my body ; for, they say, beams ** are bless- 
ings. 

Count. Tell me thy reason why thou wilt 
marry. 

Clo. My poor body, madam, requires it: I 
am driven on by the flesh ; and he must needs 
go, that the devil drives. 

Count. Is this all yuur worship's reason ? 
Clo, Faith, madam, I have other holy rea- 
sons, such as they are. 

Count. May the world know them? 
Clo. I have been, madam, a wicked crea- 
ture, as you and all flesh and blood are ; and 
indeed, I do marry, that I may repent. 

Count. Thy marriage, sooner than thy wick- 
edness. 

Clo. 1 am out of friends, madam ; and I 
hope to have friends for my wife's sake. 
C'OMW^.Such friends are thine enemies,knave. 
Clo. You are shallow, madam; e'en great 
friends ; for the knaves come to do tiiat for 
me, which I am a-weary of. He, that earstt 
my land, spares my team, and gives me leave 
to inn the crop : if I be his cuckold, he's my 
drudge: He, that comforts my wife, is the 
cherisher of my flesh and blood ; he, that 
cherishes my flesh and blood, loves my flesh 
and blood ; he, tha{ loves my flesh and blood, 
is my friend : ergoi^, he that kisses my \>ife, 
is my friend. If men could be contented to 
be what they are, there were no fear in mar 
riage; for young Charbon the puritan, and old 
Poysam the papisl, howsoe'er their hearts are 
severed in religion, their heads are both one, 
they may joll horns together, like any deer 
i' the herd. 



► To repair here signifies to renovate. + Hii i% put for its. j Approbation. 

^ Who have no other use of their faculties than to invent new rnode^ of dress 
To act up to your desires. IF To be married. *♦ Children, tt i*ioughs. JI Thereiore. 



234 



SlIAKSPEAKE. 



Count. Wilt thoa ever be a foul-mouthed 
and calumnious knave 1 

Clo. A prophet I, madam; and I speak the 
truth the next way * : 

For I the baUad will repeat^ 

}fluch men full true shall find ; 
Your marriage comes by destiny, 
Your cuckoo sings by kind. 
Count. Get you gone, sir ; I'll talk with you 
more anon. 

Stew. May it please you, madam, that he bid 
Helen come to you ; of her I am to speak. 

Count. Sirrah, tell my gentlewoman, I 
would speak with her ; Helen I mean. 

Clo. Was this fair face the cau^e, quoth 
she, [iSinging. 

Wliy the Grecians sacked Troy ? 
Fond done t, done fond, 

IVas this king Priam*s joy. 
With that she sighed as she stood. 
With that she sighed as she stood, 

And gave this sentence then ; 
Among nine bad if one be good. 
Among nine bad if one he good. 
Therms yet one good in ten. 
Count. What, one good in ten? you cor- 
rupt the song, sirrah. 

Clo. One good woman in ten, madam ; 
which is a purifying o'the song: '\Vould God 
would serve the world so all the year ! we'd 
find no fault with the tithe- woman, if I were 
the parson: One in ten, quoth a*! an we 
might have a good v.oman born but every 
blazing star, or at an earthquake, 'twould 
mend the lottery well; a man may draw his 
Leart out, ere he pluck one. 

Count. You'll be gone, sir knave, and do 
as I command you? 

Clo. That man should be at woman's com- 
mand, and yet no hurt done ! — Though honesty 
be no puritan, yet it will do no hurt; it will 
wear the surplice of humility over the black 
gown of a big hcMrt. — I am going, forsooth : 
the business is for Helen to come hither. 
Count. Well, now. {Exit Clown. 

Stew. 1 know, madam, you love your gen- 
tlewoman entirely. 

Count. Faith, I do : her father bequeathed 
her to me ; and she herself, without other ad- 



first assault, or ransome aiterward: This si.e'l 
delivered in the most bitter touch of surrow, 
that e'er 1 heard virgin. exclaim in : which I 
held my duty, speedily to acquaint you withal ; 
feithencej, in the loss that may happen, it con 
cerns you something to know it. 

Count. You have discharged this honestly ; 
keep it to yourself : many likelihoods informed I 
me of this before, which hung so tottering in I 
the balance, that I could neither believe, nor 
misdoubt: Pray you, leave me : stall this in ' 
your bosom, and 1 thank you for your honest 
care : I will speak with you further anon. 

[Kiit Steward. 

Enter Helena. 

Count. Even so it was with me, when I 

was young : [thorn 

If we are nature's, these are ours; this 

Doth to our rose of youth rightly belong ; 

Our blood to us, this to our blood is born ; 
It is the show and seal of nature s truth. 
Where love's strong passion is impress'd in 
By our remembrances of days foregone, .youth: 
Such were our faults ;— K)r then we thought 

them none. 
Her eye is sick on't; I observe her now. 
Hel. What is your pleasure, madam I 
Count. You know, Helen, 

I am a mother to you. 

Hel. Mint honourable mistress. 
Count. ^iay» a mother; 

Why not a mother? When I said, a mother 
Methoughtyousaw a serpent: What's in mother 
That you start at it ? 1 say, I am your mother ; 
And put you in the catalogue of those 
That were enwonibed mine : 'Tis often seen, 
Adoption strives with nature; and choice breeds 
A native slip to us from foreign seeds : 
You ne'er oppress'd me with a mother's groan. 
Yet I express to you a mother's care : — 
God's niercy, maiden! does it curd thy blood. 
To say, I am thy mother? What's the matter. 
That this distemper'd messenger of wei. 
The many-coloui'd Iris, rounds thine eye ^ 

Why ? that you are my daughter? 

Hel. That I am not. 

Count. I say, I am your mother. 
Hel. Pardon, madam; 

The count Rousillon cannot be my brother : 
I am from humble, he from honour'd, name; 
No note upon ray parents, his all noble; 



vantage, may lawfully make title to as much 

love as she finds: there is more owing her, _ . ^ . 

than is paid ; and more shall be paid hci, than My master, my dear lord he is ; and I 

Bhe'll demand. | His servant live, and will his vassal die : 

Stew. Madam, I was very late more near He must not be my brother, 
her than, I think, she wished ine : alone she i Count. Nor I your mother ? 

was, and did communicate to herself, her own j Hel. You are my mother, madam ; ' WouM 
words to her own ears; she thought, I dare you uere [iher,) 

vow for her, they touched not any stranger (So that my lord, your son, were not my bro- 
eense. Her matter was, she loved your son : Indeed, my mother! — or were you both our 



Fortune, f>he said, was no goddess, that hid 
put such ditterence betwixt their two estates ; 
Love, no god, that would not extend his might, 
only where (jualities were level ; iJiana, no 
queen of virgins, that would sutler her poor 
knight to be surprised, without rescue, in the I 



mothers, 

I care no more for§, than I do for heaven. 
So 1 were not his sister : Can't no other, 
But, I your daughter, he mu>t be my brother? 
Count. Yes, Helen, you might be my daugh- 
ter-in-law ; 



• The nearest way. 



t Foolitthly done. % Since. 
wish it e<iually. 



§ t. e,, I care as much for : 



1 



Sreht IJ/.] 



ALL S WKLL THAT ENDS WELL. 



255 



God shield, you mean it not ! daughter, and 

mother, 
So strive* upon your pulse: What, pale again? 
My fear hath catcli'd your fondness : Now I see 
The mystery of yopr loneliness, and find 
Your salt tears' headt.^J ow lo all sense 'tis gross, 
You love my son; invention is asham'd, 
Against the proclamation of thy passion. 
To say, thou dost not : therefore tell me true ; 
But lell me then, 'lis so: — for, look, thy cheeks 
Confess it, one to the other ; and thine eyes 
{See it so grossly shown in thy behaviours. 
That in their kind J they speak it : only sin 
And hellish obstinacy tie thy tongue. 
That truth should be suspected : Speak, is't so? 
If it be so, you have wound a goodly clue ; 
If it be not, forsvvear't : howe'er, 1 charge thee, 
As heaven shall work in me for thine avail. 
To tell me truly. 

Ilei. Good madam> pardon me ! 

Count. Do you love my son ? 

fJel. Your pardon, noble mistress! 

Count. Love you my son? 

Hel. Do not you love him, madam ? 

Count. Go not about ; my love hath in't a 

bond, [disclose 

Whereof the world takes note : come, come. 

The state of your affection ; for your passions 

Have to the full appeach'd. 

Hel. Then, I confess, 

Here on my knee, before high heaven and you. 
That before yon, and next unto high heaven, 
I love your son : — [love ; 

My friends were poor, but honest; so's my 
Be not offended ; for it hurts not him. 
That he is lov'd of me : I follow him not 
By any token of piesumptuous suit ; 
Nor uould I have him, till 1 do deserve him; 
Yet never know how that desert should be. 
I know I love in vain, strive against hope ; 
Yet, in this captious and intenible sieve, 
1 still pour in the waters of my love, 
And lack not to lose still: thus, Indian-like, 
Religious in mine error, I adore 
The sun, that looks upon his worshipper. 
But knows of him no more. My dearest madam, 
Let not your hate encounter with my love. 
For loving where you do : but, if yourself, 
\V hose aged honour cites a virtuous youth j. 
Did ever, in so true a flame of liking. 
Wish chastely, and love dearly, that your Dian 



Was both herself and love || ; O then, give pity 
To her, whose state is such, that cannot choose 
But lend and give, where she is sure to lose , 
That seeks not to find that her search implies. 
But, riddle-like, lives sweetly where she dies. 

Count. Hail you not lately an intent, speak 
To go to Paris i [tiuiy 

Hel. Madam, I had. 

Count. Wherefore ? tell true. 

Hel. I will tell truth ; by grace itself, 1 swear. 
Youknow,my father left me some prescriptions 
Of rare and proved effects, such as his reading. 
And manifest experience, had collected 
For general sovereignty ; and that he will'd me 
In heedfullest reservation to bestow them, 
As notes, whose faculties inclusive were. 
More than they were in noteH: amongst the 
There is a remedy, approved, set down, [rest. 
To cure the desperate languishes, whereof 
The king is render'd lost. 

Count. This was your motive 

For Paris, was it? speak. [of this; 

Hel. My lord your son made me to think 
Else Paris, and the medicine, and the king. 
Had, from the conversation of my thoughts, 
Haply, been absent then. 

Count. But think you, Helen, 

If you should tender your supposed aid. 
He would receive it? He and his physicians 
Are of a mind ; he, that they cannot help him. 
They, thatthey cannot help: Howshall they cre- 
A poor unlearned virgin, when the schools, [dit 
Emboweird of their doctrine**, have left oflf 
The danger to itself? 

Hel. There's something hints. 

More than my father's skill, which wasthe great- 
Of his profession, that his good receipt [est 
Shall, for my legacy, be sanctified [honour 
By the luckiest stars in heaven: and, would your 
But give me leave to try success, I'd venture 
The well-lost life of mine on his grace's cure. 
By such a day, and hour. 

Count. Dost thou believe't ? 

Hel. Ay, madam, knowin^ily. [and love, 

Co2<w^.Why,Helen,thoushalthavemy 'eave. 
Means, and attendants, and my loving greetings 
To those of mine in court ; I'll stay at home, 
And pray God's blessing into thy attempt: 
Be gone to-morrow ; and be sure of this, 
What I can help thee to, thou shalt not miss. 
[Exeunt, 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. Paris. A Room in the King's 
Palace. 

Flourish. Enter King, with young Lords 
taking leave for tlie Florentine war; 
BKRTR-iM, Parolles, and Attendants. 

King. Farewell, young lord, these warlike 
principles 



Do not throw from you :— and you, my lord» 
farewell:— [all 

Share the advice betwixt you ; if both gaii- 
The gift dolh stretch itself as 'lis received, 
And is enough for both. 

1 Lord. H is our hope, sir. 

After well-enter'd soldiers, to return 
And find your grace in health. 



• Contend. t The source, the cause of your grief. t According to their nature. 

e. e., Whose respectable conduct in age proves that you were no less virtuous when young 

jj s. e.j VenuB. % Receipts in which greater virtues were enclosed than appeared. 

•♦ Exhausted of their skill. 



255 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Art //. 



King. No, no, it cannot be; and yet my 
heart 
Will not confess he owes the malady 
That doth my life besiege. Farewell, young 

lords : 
Whether I live or die, be you the sons 
Of worthy Frenchmen: let higher Italy 
(Those 'bated, that inherit but the fall 
Of the last monarchy*,) see, that you come 
Kot to woo honour, but to wed it : when 
The bravest questantt shrinks, find what you 

seek, 
That fame may cry you loud : I say, farewell. 
2 Lord. Health, at your bidding, serve 
your majesty I fthem ; 

King. Those girls of Italy, take heed of 
They say, our French lack language to deny. 
If they demand : beware of being captives. 
Before you serve j. 
Botli. Our heart* receive your warnings. 
King. Farewell.— Come hither to me. 

\The Kin^ retires to a couch. 

1 Lord. O my sweet lord, that you will 

stay behind us! 
Par. 'TIS not his fault ; the spark 

2 Lord. O, 'tis brave wars ! 
Far. Most admirable: I have seen those 

wars. 

Ber. I am commanded here, and kept a 

coil§ with ; {early. 

Too you7ig, and the next year, and *ti.s too 

Par. An thy mind stand to it, boy, steal 

away bravely. [smock, 

Ber. I shall stay here the forehorse to a 

Creaking my shoes on the plain masonry. 

Till honour be bought up, and no sword 

worn, [steal away. 

But one to dance with II ! By heaven, I'll 

1 Lord. There's honour in the theft. 
Par. Commit it, count. 

2 Lord. I am your accessary ; and so fare- 
well. 

Ber. I grow to you, and our parting is a 
tortured body. 

1 Lord Farewell, captain. 

2 Lord. Sweet monsieur Parolles! 
Pur. Noble heroes, my sword and yours 

are kin. Good sparks and lustrous, a word, 
good metals: — You shall find in the reijiment 
oftheSpinii, one captain Spurio, with his 
cicatrice, an emblem of war, here on his si- 
nister cheek; it was this very sword en- 
trenclied it : say to him, I live ; and observe 
his reports for me. 

2 Ijorit. We shall, noble captain. 

Par. Mars dote on you for his novices ! 
JueuJit Lords.] What will you do? 

Ber. Stay; the king [Seeing him rise. 

Par. Use a more spacious ceremony to the 
noble lords; you have restrained yourself 
within the libt of too cold an adieu : be more 

• i. e.y Those excepted who possess modern Italy, the remains of the Roman Empire, 
t Seiker, inquirer. X Be not captives before you are soldiers. § With a noise, bu>tle. 

•.j In Shakspeare's time it was usual for gentlemen to dance with swords on. H They -^e 
Ih-' foremost in the fashion. •• Have the true military step. tt The dance. i; Jj^ 
skilHiliy . a phrase taken from the exercise at a quintaine. $^ A fem;de physician. l[!' A 
kv"' -*'«>n..e. \^ By profession is meant her declaration ot tl.e ohjecl of her coming. 



expressive to them ; for they wear themselves 
in the cap of the timelT, there, do muster true 
gait**, eat, speak, and move under the influ- 
ence of the most received star ; and though 
the devil lead the measure tt, such are to be 
followed : after them, and take a more dilated 
farewell. 
Ber. And I will do so. 
Par. Worthy fellows ; and like to prove 
most sinewy sword-men. 

[Exeunt Bertram and Parolles. 
Enter Lafeu. 
Laf. Pardon, my lord, [K?ieeling.] for mc 
and for my tidings. 
King. I'll fee thee to stand up. 
Laf. • Then here's a man 

Stands, that has brought his pardon. I would, 

you 
Had kneel'd, my lord, to ask me mercy; and 
That, at my bidding, you could so stand up. 
King. I would 1 had ; so \ had broke thy 
pate, 
And ask'd thee mercy for't. 

La/, G ood faith, across JJ: 

But, my good lord, 'tis thus; Will yon be 
Of your infirmity 1 [cured 

King. No. 

Laf. O, will you eat 

No grapes, my royal fox? yes, but you will. 
My noble grapes, an if my royal fox 
Could reach them: I have seen a medicine §§, 
That's able to breathe life ?nto a stone; 
Quicken a rock, and make yon dance canarylHJ, 
With spritely fire and motion ; whose simple 

touch 
Is powerful to araise king Pepin, nay, 
To give great Charlemain a pen in his hand. 
And write to her a love-line. 
Ki7ig. What her is this? 

LaJ. Why, doctor she: My lord, there's 
one arrived, 
If you will see her,— now, by my faith and 

honour, 
If seriously I may convey my thoughts 
In this iriy light deliverance, I have spoke 
With one, that, in her sex, her years, pro- 
fession UH, 
Wisdom, and constancy, hath amazed me more 
Than I dare blame my weakness. Will you 

see her 
(For that is her demand,) and know her bu- 

siness? 
That done, laugh well at me. 

King. Now, good Lafeu, 

Bring in the admiration ; that we with thee 
May spend our wonder too, or take otf thine. 
By wond'ring how thou took'st it. 

Lof. Nay, I'll fit you. 

And not be all day neither. [Eiit L\feu. 
King. Thus he his special nothing ever pro- 
logues. 



Scene /.] 



ALL S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 



2.57 



Re-enter La feu, with Helena, 

I^nf. Nay, coine your ways. 

Ki/ig. This haste hath wings indeed. 

La/. Nay, come your ways; 
This is his majesty, say your mind to him : 
A traitor you do look like ; but such traitors 
His majesty seldom fears: I am Cressid's 

uncle*, 
That dare leave two together ; fare you well. 

[Exit. 

King. Now, fair one, doe» your business 
follow us? [was 

HeL Ay, my good lord. Gerard de Narbon 
My father ; in what he did profess, well 

King. I knew him. [found t. 

Hel. The rathet- will I spare my praises 
towards him ; [death 

Knowing him, is enough. On his bed of 
Many receipts he gave me; chiefly one, 
Which, as the dearest issue of his practice, 
And of his old experience the only darling. 
He bad me store up, as a triple eye j, [so : 
Safer than mine own two, more dear; I have 
And, hearing your high majesty is tonch'd 
With that malignant cause wherein the honour 
Of my dear father's gift stands chief in power, 
I come to tender it, and my appliance, 
With all bound humbleness. 

King. We thank yon, maiden; 

But may not be so credulous of cure, — 
When our most learned doctors leave us ; and 
The congregated college have concluded 
That labouring art can never ransome u iture 
From her inaidable estate, — I say we must not 
So stain our judgment, or corrupt our hope, 
To prostitute our past-cure malady 
To empirics; or to dissever so 
Our great self and our credit, to esteem 
A senseless help, when help past sense we 
deem. [pains: 

Hel. My duty then shall pay me for my 
I will no more enforce mine office on you; 
Humbly entreating from your royal thoughts 
A modest one, to bear me back again. 

King. I cannot give thee less, to be call'd 
grateful: [t give. 

Thou thought'st to help me; and such thanks 
As one near death to those that wish him live: 
But, what at full I know, thou know*st no 
1 knowing all my peril, thou no art. [part ; 

Hel. What 1 can do, can do no hurt to try. 
Since you set up your rest 'gainst remedy: 
He that of gieatest works is tinisher, 
Oft does them by the weakest minister : 
So holy wiitin babes hath judgment shown. 
When judges have been babes j. Great floods 

have flown 
From simple sources 1; and great seas have 
dried, [denied IF. 

When miracles have by the greatest been 
Oft expectation fails, and most oft there 



Where most it promises: and oft it hits, 
W^here hope is coldest, and despair most sit». 
King. I must not hearthee; fare thee well, 
kind maid ; 
Thy pains, not used, must by thyself be paid : 
Protters, not took, reap thanks for their reward. 
Hel. Inspired merit so by breath isbarrVi; 
It is not so with Him that all things knows, 
As 'tis with us that square our guess by shows : 
But most it is presumption in us, when 
The help of heaven we count the act cf men. 
Dear sir, to my endeavours give consent; 
Of heaven, not me, make an experiment. 
I am not an impostor, that proclaim 
Myself against the level of mine aim **; 
But know I think, and think I know most 

sure. 
My art is not past power, nor you past cure. 
King. Art thou so confident ? Within what 
Hop'st thou my cure? [space 

Hel. The greatest grace lending grace. 

Ere twice the horses of the sun shall bring 
Their fiery torcher his diurnal ring; 
Ere twice in murk and occidental damp 
Moist Hesperus tt hath quench'd his sleepy 

lamp ; 
Or four and twenty times th^. pilot's glass 
Hath told the thievish minutes how they pass ; 
What is infirm from your sound parts shall fly. 
Health shall live free, and sickness freely die. 
King. Upon thy certainty and confidence. 
What dar'st thou venture? 

Hel. Tax of impudence, — 

A strumpet's boldness, a divulged shame, — 
Traduced by odious ballads; my maiden's 
name [ed, 

Sear'd otherwise ; no worse of worst extend- 
With vilest torture let my life be ended. 
King. Methinks, in thee some blessed spi- 
rit doth speak ; 
His powerful sound, within an organ weak : 
And what impossibility would slay 
In common sense, sense saves another way. 
Thy life is dear; for all, that life can rate 
Worth name of life, in thee hath estimate Jj 
Youth, beauty, wisdom, courage, virtue, all 
That happiness and prime )? can happy call: 
Thou this to hazard, needs must intimate 
Skill infinite, or monstrous desperate. 
Sweet practiser, thy physic I will try; 
That ministers thine own death, if I die. 

Hel. If I break ti'nie, or flinch in property 
Of what I spoke, unpitied let me die ; [fee 
Aud well deserv'd : Not helping, death's my 
But, if I help, what do you promise me? 
King. Make thy demand. 
Hel. But will you make it even ? 

£j.ng. Ay, by my sceptre, and my hopes <\ 
heaven. [hand 

iT^^.Then shalt thou give me, with thy kingly 
What husband in thy power I will command : 



• I am like Pandarus. "t Of acknowledged excellence. I A third eye. $ An allu- 
sion to Daniel judging the two Elders. li i. e.. When Moses smote the rock in Horeb 
•il Tliis must refer to the children of Israel passing the Red Sea, when miracles had been de- 
pied by Pharaoh. ** i. e., Pretend to greater things than befits the mediocrity of my con 
diiion. tt The evening star. Ji i. e.. May be counted among the gifts enjoyed bv ihee 
9^ Tht spring or morning of life. 

Z 3 



f^38 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act If. 



Exempted be Irom me the arrogance 

To choose from forth the royal blood of 

France ; 
My low and humble name to propagate 
"With any branch or image of thy state: 
But such a one, ihy vassal, whom I know 
Is free for me to ask, thee to bestow. 

King. Here is my hand ; the premises ob- 
served. 
Thy vi'ill by my performance shall be served ; 
So make the choice of thy own time ; for I, 
Thy resolved patient, on thee still rely. 
More should 1 question thee, and more I must; 
Though, more to know, could not be more to 
trust; [But rest 

From whence thou cam'st, how tended on, — 
Unquestion'd welcome, and undoubted blest. — 
Give me some help h«re, ho 1 — If thou pro- 
ceed [deed. 
As high as word, my deed shall match thy 
[Flourish. Exeunt. 

SCENE II. Rousillon. A Room in the 

Countess's Palace. 

Enter Countess and Clown. 

Count. Come on, sir ; I shall now put yon 
to the height of your breeding. 

Clo. I will show myself highly fed, and 
lowly taught ; 1 know my business is but to 
the court. 

Count. Tothecourt! why, what place make 
you special, when you put off that with such 
contempt? But to the court! 

Clo. Truly, madam, if God have lent a man 
any manners, he may easily putit oflf at court : 
he that cannot make a leg, put oft's cap, kiss 
his hand, and say nothing, has neither leg, 
hands, lip, nor cap; and, indeed, such a fel- 
low, to say precisely, wtre not for the court: 
but, for me, I have an answer will serve all 
men. 

Count. Marry, that's a bountiful answer, 
that tits ail questions. 

Clo. It is like a barber's chair, that fits all 
buttocks ; the pin-buitock, the quatch buttock, 
the brawn-buttock, or any buttock. 

Count. Will your answer serve fit to all 
questions? 

('lo. As fit as ten groats is for the hand of I 
an attorney, as your French crown for your 
tatfata punk, as Tib's rush for Tom's fore-fin- 
ger, as a pancake for Shrove-tuesday, a mor- 
ris for May-day, as the nail to his hole, th.e 
cu(kold to his horn, as a scoldins^ quoan to a 
wrangling knave, as the nun's lip to the friar's 
mouth ; nay, as the pudfling to liis skin. 

Count. Have you, I say, an answer of such 
fitness for all questions? 

Clo. From below yonr duke, to beneath 
your constable, it will lit any question. 

Count. It must be an answer of most mon- 
strous size, that must fit all demands. 

Clo. But a tiifie neither, in good faith, if 
the learned should speak truth of it: here it 
It, and all that belongs to't : Ask me, if [ am 
a courtier; it shall do voa no harm to learn. 



Properly rollows 



t Ordinary. 



Cou?it. To be young again, if we could : 
will be a fool in question, hoping to be the 
wiser by your answer. I pray you, sir, are ,] 
you a courtier? 

Clo. O Lord, sir, There's a simple put- 
ting off; — more, more, a hundred of them. 

Count. Sir, I am a poor friend of yours, 
that loves you. 

Clo. O Lord, sir, — Thick, thick, spare not me. 
Count. I think, sir, you can eat none of 
this homely meat. 

Clo. O Lord, sir, — Nay, put me to't, I 
warrant you. 

Count. You were lately whipped, sir, as I 
think. 

Clo. O Lord, sir, — Spare not me. 
Count. Do you cry, O Lor it ^ sir^ at your 
whipping, and spare not me? Indeed, your 
O Lord J airy is very sequent* to your whip- 
ping ; you would answer very well to a 
whipping, if you were but bound to't. 

Clo. I ne'er had worse luck in my life, in 
my — O Lord, sir : 1 see, things may serve 
long, but not serve ever. 

Count. 1 play the noble housewife with 
the time, to entertain it so merrily with a 
fool. 

Clo. O Lord, sir, — Why, ther*! serves well 
again. 

Count. An end, sir, to your business : Give 
Helen this. 
And urge her to a present answer back : 
Commend me to my kinsmen, and my son ; 
This is not much. . ^ 

Clo. Not much commendation to them. 
Count. Not much employment for you : 
You understand me ? 

Clo. Most fruitfully ; I am there before my 
legs. 
Count. Haste yon again. {Exeunt severally. 

SCENE III. Paris. A Room in the King's 

Palace, 
Enter Bertram, Lafeo, a«d Parolles. 

Laf. They say, miracles are past ; and we 
have our philosophical persons, to make 
modern t and familiar things, supernatural 
and causeless. Hence is it, that we make 
trifles of terrors ; ensconcing ourselves into 
seeming knowledge, when we should submit 
ourselves to an unknown fearj. 

Par. Why, 'tis the rarest argument of 
wonder, that hath shot out in our latter times. 

Ber. And so 'tis. 

Laf. To be relinquished of the artists, • 

Fur. So I say ; both of Galen and Paracelsus. 

Laf. Of all the learned and authentic 
fellows, — 

Par. Right, so I say. 

Laf. That gave him out incurable, — 

Pur. Why, there 'tis ; so say I too. 

Laf. Not to be helped, — 

/^«r. Right: as 'twere, a man assured of an — 

Laf. Uncertain life, and sure death. 

Par. Just, you say well; «o would I hav« 
said. 

j Fear mc nt here the object o( fear. 



Scene JII] 



ALL S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 



259 



La/. I may truly say, it ia a novelty to the 

world. 

Par. It is, indeed : if yon -will have it in 

showing, yoQ shall read it in, What do 

you call there ? — 

Laf. A showing of a heavenly effect in an 
earthly actor. 

Far. That's it I would have said ; the 
very same. 

JLaf. Why, your dolphin* is not lustier: 
'fore me I speak in respect 

Par. Nay, *tis strange, 'tis very strange, 
that is the brief and the tedious of it ; and he 
is of a most facinoroust spirit, that will not 
acknowledge it to be the 

Laf. Very hand of heaven. 

Par. Ay, so I say. 

Laf. In a most weak 

Par. And debile minister, great power, 
great transcendence : which should, indeed, 
give us a further use to be made, than alone 
the recovery of the king, as to be 

Laf. Generally thankful. 
Enter King, Helena, and Attendants. 

Par. I would have said it ;, you say well : 
Here comes the king. 

Laf LustickJ, as the Dutchman says: I'll 
like a maid the better, whilst I have a tooih 
in my head : Why, he's able to lead her a 
coranto. 

Par. Mort du Vinaigre ! Is not this Helen 1 

Laf. 'Fore God, I think so. 

King. Go, call before me all the lords in 
court. — {b^xit an Attendant. 

Sit, my preserver, by thy patient's side ; 
And with this healthful hand, whose banish'd 

sense 
Thou kast repealM, a second time receive 
The confirmation of my promised gift. 
Which but attends thy naming. 

Enter several Lords. 
Fair maid, send forth thine eye : this youthful 

parcel 
Of noble bachelors stand at my bestowing. 
O'er whom both sovereign power and father's 

voice § 
I have to use : thy frank election make ; 
Thou hast power to choose, and they none to 
forsake. [tuous mistress 

Hel. To each of yon one fair and vir- 
Fall, when love please I — marry, to each, but 
one II 1 

Laf. I'd give bay CurtalU, and his furniture. 
My mouth i o more were broken than these 
And writ as little beard. [buys'. 

King. Peruse them well ; 

Not one of those, but had a noble father. 

Hel. Gentlemen, [health. 

Heaven hath, through me,Testored the king to 

All. We understand it, and thank heaven 
for you. [wealthiest, 

Hel. I am a simple maid ; and therein 

That, I protest, I t^iraply am a maid : 

Please it your majesty, 1 have done already : I 



The blushes in my cheeks thus whisper nie. 
We blush, that thou shouldst choose ; Out, 

be refused, 
Let the white death sit on thy cheek for ever ; 
We'll ne*er come there again. 

King. Make choice ; and, see. 

Who shuns thy love, shuns all his love in me. 

Hel. Now, Dian, from thy altar do I fly; 
And to imperial Love, that god most high. 
Do my sighs stream. — Sir, will you hear ray 

1 Lord. And grant it. [suit l 
Hel. Thanks, sir ; all the rest is mute **. 
L'lf I had rather be in this choice, than 

throw ames-acett for my life. 

Hel. 1 he honour, sir, that flames in youi 
fair eyes. 
Before 1 speak, too threateningly replies : 
Love make your fortunes twenty times above 
Her that so wishes, and her humble lovel 

2 Lord. No better, if you please. 

Hel. My wish receive. 

Which great love grant! and so I take my leave. 

Laf. Do all they deny her? An ihey were 
sons of mine, I'd have them whipped ; or I 
would send them to the Turk, to make en. 
nuchs of. 

Hel. Be not afraid \To a LordJ that I your 
hand should take ; 
I'll never do you wrong for your own sake : 
Blessing upon your vows! and in your bed 
Find fairer fortune, if you ever wed ! 

Laf. These boys are boys of ice, they'll 
none have her : sure, they are bastards to the 
English ; the French ne'er got them. 

Hel. You are too young, too happy, and 
too good. 
To make yourself a son out of my blood. 

4 Lord. Fair one, I think not so. 

Laf. There's one grape yet, — I am sure, 
thy father drank wine.— But if thou be'st not 
an ass, I am a youth of fourteen ; I have 
known thee already. 

Hel. I dare not say, I take you ; \To Ber 
tram] but I give 
Me, and my service, ever whilst I live. 
Into your guiding power. — This is the man. 

King. V^hy then, young Bertram, take her 
she's thy wife. [your highness 

Ber. My wife, my liege? 1 shall beseech 
In such a business give me leave to use 
The help of mine own eyes. 

King. Know'st ihou not, Bertram 

What she has done for me ? 

Ber. Yes, my good lord ; 

But never hope to know why I should marry 

her. [from my sickly bed. 

King. Thou know'st, she has raised me 

Btr. But follows it, my lord, to bring me 
down [well ; 

Must answer for yonr raising ? I know her 
She had her breeding at my father's charge : 
A poor physician's daughtermy wife !— Disdain 
Rather corrupt me ever I [the which 

King. 'Tis only title;; thou disdain'st in hci. 



• The dauphin. t Wicked. % Lustigh is the Dutch word for lusty, cheertai. 

% They were wards as well as subjects. || Except one, meaning Bertram. IT A docked horse. 

*• /. e., 1 have no more to say to you. t+ The lowest chance of the dice. 

ti i. e.. The want of title. 



260 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Arf //. 



' can build up. Straiiye is it, that our bloods, 
Of colonr, weight, and heat, pour'd all together, 
Would quite confound distinction, yet stand off 
In differences so mighty : If she be 
All that is virtuous, (save what thou dislikest, 
A poor physician's daughter,) thou dislikest 
Of virtue for the name : but do not so: [ceed, 
From lowest place when virtuous things pro- 
The place is dignitied by the doer's deed: 
'Where great additions* swell, and virtue none, 
It is a dropsied honour: good alone 
Is good, without a name ; vileness is sot ; 
The property by what it is should go. 
Not by the title. She is young, wise, fair; 
In these to nature she's immediate heir; 
And these breed honour : that is honour's scorn, 
Which challenges itself as honour's born. 
And is not like the sire : Honours best thrive, 
When rather from our acts we them derive 
Than our fore-goers : the mere word's a slave, 
Debauch'd on every tomb ; on every grave, 
A lying trophy, and as oft is dumb, 
Where dust, and damn'd oblivion, is the tomb 
Of honour*d bones indeed. What should be said? 
If thou canst like this creature as a maid, 
I can create the rest : virtue, and she, [me. 
Is her own dower; honour and wealth, from 

£er. I cannot loveher, nor will strive to do't. 

King. Thou wrong'st thyself, if thou 
sh<»uldst strive to choose. [I am glad; 

Hel. That you are well restored, my lord, 
Let the rest po. [defeat, 

Kmg. My honour's at the stake ; which to 
I must produce my power: Here, take her 

hand, 
Proud scornful boy, unworthy this good gift ; 
That dost in vile misprision shackle up 
My love, and her desert ; that canst not dream. 
We, poising us in her defective scale, [know, 
Shall weigh thee to the beam : that wilt not 
It is in us to plant thine honour, where [tempt : 
We please to have it yrow: Check thy con- 
Obey our will, which travails in thy good: 
Believe not thy disdain, but prtsently 
Do thine own fortunes that obedient right, 
Which both thy duty owes, and onr power 

claims ; 
Or 1 will throw thee from my care for ever, 
Into the staggers, and the careless lapse [hate. 
Of youth and ignorance ; both my revenge and 
Loosing upon thee in the name of justice, 
Without alltermsofpity: Speak ; thine answer. 

Her Pardon, my gracious lord ; for I submit 
My fancy to your eyes: When I consider. 
What great creation, and what dole of honour, 
Flies where ycu bid it, I find, that she, which 

late 
Was in my nobler thoughts most base, is now 
The praised of the king ; who, so ennobled, 
I.-?, as 'twere, born so. 

King. Take her by the hand, 

And tell her, she is thine: to whom I promise 
A counterpoise ; if not to thy estate, 
A balance more replete. 

Btr. I take her hand. 



King. Good fortune, and the f^voar of th« 
king, 
Smile upon this contract; whose ceremony 
Shall seem expedient on the now-born brief. 
And be perform'd to-night: the solemn feast 
Shall more attend upon the coming space. 
Expecting absent friends. As thou lovest her. 
Thy iove's to me religious ; else, does err. 

\Exeunt King, Ber. Hel. Lords, 
and Attendants. 

Lnf.Do you hear,monsieur? a word with yon. 

Par. Your pleasure, sir? 

JLaf. Your lord and master did well to make 
his recantation. 

Par. Recantation? — My lord? my master? 

l^iif. Ay ; Is it not a language, I speak? 

Par. A most harsh one; and not to b* 
understood without bloodv succeeding. My 
master? 

JLaf. Are you companion to the count Rou« 
sillon ? 

Par. To any count ; to all coants ; to what 
is man. 

L,af. To what is count's man ; count's mas- 
ter is of another style. 

Par. You are too old, sir; let it satisfy 
you, you are too old. 

Liif. 1 must tell thee, sirrah, I write man ; 
to which title age cannot bring thee. 

Par. W hat I dare too well do, 1 dare not do. 

L,af. I did think thee, for two ordinaries ;, 
to be a pretty wise fi^llow ; thou didst make 
tolerable vent of thy travel ; it might pass: 
yet the scarfs, and the bannerets, about thee, 
did manifoldly dissuade me from believing 
thee a vessel of too great a burden. I have 
now found thee ; when 1 lose thee again, 1 
care not : yet art thon good for nothinu hut 
taking up; and thut thou art scarce worth. 

Far. Hadsl thou not the privilege of anti- 
quity upon thee, 

Ldf. Do not plunge thyself too far in anger, 
lest thou hasten thy trial; — which if « Lord 
have mercy on thee for a hen! 8o, my good 
window of lattice, fare thee well; thy ease- 
ment I need not open, for I look through 
thee. Give me thy hand. 

Par. My lord, you give me most egregious 
indignity. 

Laf. Ay, with all my heart ; and thou art 
worthy of it. 

Pur. I have not, my lord, deserved it. 

Laf. Yes, good faith, every dram of it ; and 
I will not bate thee a scruple. 

Par. Well, I shall be wiser. 

Jjof E'en as soon as thou canst, for thou 
hast to pull at a smack o' the contrary. If 
ever thou be'st bound in thy scarf, and beaten, 
thou shalt tind what it is to be proud of thy 
bondage. 1 have a desire to hold my acqu;^ini- 
ance with thee, or rather my knowledt;e; 
that I may say, in the default §, he is a man 
1 know. 

Par. My lord, you do me most in^np 
portable vexatiou. 



• Titles. 



t Good Is good independent of any worldly distinction, and so is vilenes? vile, 
I /. e.f While 1 ^ate twice with thee at dinner. $ At a need. 



Scene JJI.] 



ALL S WELL THAT EADS WELL. 



261 



L(tf. I would it were hell-pains for thy 
Bake, and rny poor doing eternal: for doing 1 
awi past; as I will by thee, ia what motion 
age will give me leave. [Exit. 

Pur. Well, thou hast a son shall take this 
disgrace off me; scurvy, old, filthy, scurvy 
lt)rd ! — Well, I must be patient ; ihere is no 
fettering of authority. I'll beat him, by my 
life, if I can meet liim with any convenience, 
an he were double and double a lord. I'll 
/^lave no more pity of his age, than I would 
have of— I'll beat him, an if I could but meet 
liim again. 

Re-enter La feu. 

Laf. Sirrah, your lord and master's mar- 
ried, there's news for you; you have a new 
mistress. 

Par. 1 most unfeignedly beseech your lord- 
s!)ip to make some reservation of your wrongs : 
He is my good lord : whom I serve above, is 
my master. 

Laf, Who? God? 

Par. Ay, sir. 

Z/u/. The devil it is, that's thy master. Why 
dost thou garter up thy arms o* this fashion? 
dost make hose of thy sleeves? do other ser- 
vants so? Thou wert best set thy lower part 
where thy nose stands. By mine honour, if 
I were but two hours younger, I'd beat thee : 
methinks, thou art a general offence, and 
every man should beat thee. I think, thou 
wast created for men to breathe * themselves 
upon thee. 

P(tr. This is hard and undeserved measure, 
my lord. 

Laf. Go to, sir; you were beaten in Italy 
for piokingakerneloutof a pomegranate; you 
are a vagabond, and no true traveller: you 
are more saucy with lords, and honourable 
personages, than the heraldry of your birth 
and virtue gives you commission. You are 
not worth another word, else I'd call you 
knave. I leave you. ' {Exit. 

Enter Bertram. 

Par. Good, very good; it is so then. — 
Good, very good ; let it be concealed a while. 

Ber. Undone, and forfeited to cares for ever ! 

Par. What is the matter, sweet heart? 

Ber. Although before the solemn priest I 
I will not bed her. [have sworn. 

Par. What? what, sweetheart? [me: — 

Ber. O my Parolles, they have married 
I'll to the Tuscan wars, and never bed her. 

Par, France is a dog-hole, and it no more 
merits 
The tread of a man's foot : to the wars! 

Ber. There's letters from my mother; what 
I know not yet. [the import is. 

Par. Ay, that would be known : To the 
wars, my boy, to the wars ! 
He wears his honour in a box unseen, 
That hugs his kicksy-wicksy t here at home; 
Spending his manly marrow in her arms. 
Which should sustainthe bound and high curvet 
Of Mars's fiery steed : To other regions I 



France is a stable ; we that dwell in't, ja^Je.*: 
Therefore, to the war! [house, 

Ber. It shall be so ; I'll send her to my 
Acquaint my mother with my hate to her, 
And wherefore I am fled ; write to the king 
i hat which I durst not speak : His present gift 
Shall furnish me to those Italian fields, 
\v here noble fellows strike: War is no strife 
To the dark house j, and the detested wife. 

Par, Will this capricio hold in thee, art 
sure? [me. 

Ber, Go with me to my chamber, and advise 
I'll send her straight away : To-morrow 
I'll to the wars, she to her single sorrow. 

Par, Why, these balls bound; there's noise 

in it. — 'Tis hard ; 

A young man, married, is a man that's marr*d : 

Therefore away, and leave her bravely ; go ; 

The king has done you wrong ; but, hush I 

'tis so. {Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. The same. Another Roatn 

in the same. 

Enter Helena and Clown. 

Hel, My mother greets me kindly : Is she 
well? 

Clo. She is not well; but yet she has her 
health : she's very merry ; but yet she is not 
well: but thanks be given, she's very well^ 
and wants nothing i'the world; but yet she is 
not well. 

Hel. If she be very well, what does she ail, 
that she's not very well 1 

Clo. Truly, she's very well, indeed, but for 
two things. 

Hel. W hat two things? 

Clo. One, that she's not in heaven, whither 
God send her quickly! the other, that she's in 
earth, from whence Goa send her quickly 1 

Enter Parolles. 

Par, Eless you, my fortunate lady ! 

Hel. I hope, sir, I have your good will to 
have mine own good fortunes. 

Par, You had my prayers to lead them on: 
and to keep them on, have them still. — 0,niy 
knave! How does my old lady? 

Clo. So that you had her wrinkles, and I 
her money, I would she did as you say. 

Par. Why, I say nothing. 

Clo. Marry, you are the wiser man ; for 
many a man's tongue shakes out his master's 
undoing : To say nothing, to do nothing, to 
know nothing, and to have nothing, is to be 
a great part of your title ; which is within a 
very little of nothing. 

Par, Away, thou'rt a knave. 

Clo. You should have said, sir, before a 
knave thou art a knave; that is, before me 
thou art a knave : this had been truth, sir. 

Par. Go to, thou art a wittj fool, I have 
found thee. 

Clo. Did yon find me in yourself, sir? or 
were you taught to find me? The search, sir, 
was profitable ; and much fool may you find 



• Exercise. t A cant term for a wife, t The house made ploomy by discontent. 



262 



SHAKSPEARE. 



\Act il 



m you. even lo the world's pleasure, and the 
iDOiease of laughter. 

Par. A good knave, i'faith, and well fed. — 
Ma<iam, my lord will go away to-night ; 
A very serious business calls on him. 
The great prerogative and rite of love, . 
Which, as your due, time claima, he does ac- 
knowledge ; 
But puts it off by a compell'd restraint; 
Whose want, and whose delay, is strewed 

with sweets. 
Which they distil now in the curbed time, 
To make the coming hour o'erflow with joy, 
And pleasure drown the brim. 

Ilel. What's his will else? 

Par. That you will take your instant leave 
o' the king, [ceeding, 

And make this haste as your own good pro- 
Strengthen'd with what apology you think 
May make it probable need ♦. 

Hel. What more commands he ? 

Par. That having this obtain'd, you pre- 
Attend his further pleasure. [senily 

Htl, In every thing I wait upon his will. 

Par. I shall report it so. 

Hel, I pray you. — Come, sirrah. 

[Laeunt, 

SCENE V. Another Room in the same. 
Enter Lafeu and Bertram. 

La/. But, I hope, your lordship thinks not 
him a soldier. 

Ber. Yes, my lord, and of very valiant ap- 
proof. 

Lff/. You have it from his own deliverance. 

Ber. And by other warranted testimony. 

L,(iJ'. Then my dial goes not true ; 1 took 
his l.wk for a bunting t. 

Btr. I do assure >ou, my lord, he is very 
great in knowledge, and accordingly valinnt. 

Ltif. 1 have then sinned against his expe- 
rience, and transgressed against his valour ; 
and my state that way is dangerous, since 1 
cannot yet find in my heart to repent. Here 
he comes ; I pray you, make us friends, I will 
pursue the amity. 

Enter Parolles. 

Par. These things shall be done, sir. 

[To Bertram. 

Eaf. Pray you, sir, who's his tailor 1 

Pur. Sir r 

Lnf. O, I know him well: Ay, sir ; he, 
fir, is a good workman, a very good tailor. 

Ber. Is she gone to the king f 

[Aside'to Parolles. 

Par. She is. 

Ber. Will she away to night 1 

Par. As you'll have her. [treasure, 

Ber. I ha\e writ my letters, .casketed my 
Civen order tor our horses ; and to night. 
When 1 should take possession of the bride, — 
And, ere i do begin, 

Laf. A goml traveller is something at the 
latter end of a dinner ; but one th.l lies three- 
thirds, and uses a known truth lo pass a thou- 



sand nothings with, should be once heard, ai)<5 
thrice beaten. — God save you, captain. 

Ber. Is there any unkindness between xay 
lord and you, monsieur 1 

Par. 1 know not how I have deserved to 
run into my lord's displeasure. 

Laf. You have made shift to run into't, 
boots and spurs and all, like him that leaped 
into the custard ; and out of it you'll run again, 
rather than suffer question for your residence. 

Ber. It may be, you have mistaken him, 
my lord. 

Laf. And shall do so ever, though I took 
him at his prayers. Fare you well, my lord ; 
and believe this of me, there can be no kernel 
in this light nut ; the soul of this man is his 
clothes : trust him not in matter of heavy con- 
sequence ; 1 have kept of thenf tame, and 
know their natures. — Farewell, monsieur : J 
have spoken better of you, than you have oi 
will deserve at my hand : but we must dft 
good against evil. [^Exit. 

Par. An idle lord, I swear. 

Ber. 1 think so. 

Par. Why, do yo« not know him ? 

Ber, Yes, 1 do know him well ; and com- 
mon speech [clo<4 
Gives him a worthy pass. Here comes mj 
Enter Helena. 

Hel. I have, sir, as I was commanded fron> 
you, [ha\» 

Spoke with the king, and have procured hi* 
For present parting ; only, he desires 
Some private speech with you. 

Ber. 1 shall obey his will. 

You must not marvel, Helen, at my course. 
Which holds not colour with the time, not 
The ministration and required office [duei 

On my particular : prepared I was not 
For such a business ; therefore am I found [you 
So much unsettled : This drives me to entrea; 
Th^t presently you take >our way for home, 
And rather muse J, than ask, why I entreat you 
For my respects are better than they seem ; 
And my appointments have in them a need. 
Greater than shows itself, at the first view, 
To you that know them not. This to my mo 
ther : [Giiing a letter. 

'Twill be two days ere I shall see you ; so 
I leave you to your wisdom. 

Bel. Sir, I can nothing say. 

But that I am your mo^t obedient servant. 

Ber. Come, come, no more of that, 

Bel. And ever shall 

With true observance seek to eke out that. 
Wherein toward me my homely stars have 
To equal my great fortune. [fail'ii 

Ber. Let that go : 

My haste is very great: Farewell; hie home. 

Hel. Pray, sir, your pardon. 

Ber. Well, what would you say t 

Hel. I am not worthy of the wealth I owe ) ; 
Nor dare I say, 'tis mine ; and yet it is; 
But, like a timorous thief, most fain would 
What law does vouch mine own. [ste>il 

• A specious appearance of necessity. t The bunting nearly resemMes the sky-lark ; 

bill h.u« littlf <»r no ..ow^, which giv.;. j'-tiniatii.u i<i the ^k> l.;ik. ; Wonder. ^ posses*,. 



all's well that ends well. 



203 



£er. What would you have? 

Hel. Something; and scarce so much: — 

nothing, indeed. — ['faith, yes; — 

would not tell you what I would : my lord — 
^tl•angfcrs, and foes, do sunder, and not kiss. 
Her. I pray yoa, stay not, but in haste to 

horse. [ray lord. 

HeL I shall not break your bidding, good 



Ber. Where are my other men, monsieur 1 — 

Farewell. [Exit Hllena. 

Go thou toward home; where 1 will never 

come, [drum : — 

Whilst I can shake my sword, or hear the 

Away, and for our flight. 

Par, Bravely, coragio ! 

{Exeunt. 



ACT III. 



SCENE L Florence. A Room in the 
Duke's Palace. 

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, 
attended ; tivo French Lords, 4 others. 

Duke. So that, from point to point, now 
have you heard 
The fundamental reasons of this war ; 
Whose great decision hath much blood let 
And more thirsts after. [forth, 

1 Lord. Holy seems the quarrel 
Upon your grace's part; black and fearful 
On the opposer. [France 

/>wAe.Therefore we marvel much, our cousin 
Would, in so just a business, shut his bosom 
Against our borrowing prayers. 

2 Lord. Good my lord. 
The reasons of our state I cannot yield *, 
But like a common and an outward mant. 
That the great figure of a council frames 
By self-unable motion : therefore dare not 
Say what I think of it ; since 1 have found 
Myself in my uncertain grounds to fail 

As often as 1 guess'd. 

Duke. Be it his pleasure. 

2 Lord. But I am sure, the younger of our 
nature j. 
That surfeit on their ease, will, day by day. 
Come here for physic. 

Duke. Welcome shall they be ; 

And all the honours, that can fly from us, 
iihall on them settle. You know your places 

well ; 
When better fall, for your avails they fell : 
I'o-morrow to the field. [F/ourish. Exeunt. 

BCENE n. Rousillon. A Room in the 

Countess's Palace* 

Enter Countess and Clown. 

Count. It hath happened all as I would have 
had it, save, that he comes not along with her. 

Clo. By my troth, I take my young lord to 
be a very melancholy man. 

Count. By what observance, I pray you? 

Clo. Why, he will look upon his boot, and 
sing ; mend the ruflfj, and sing ; ask questions, 
and sing ; pick his teeth, and sing : 1 know a 
man that had this trick of melancholy, sold a 
goodly manor for a song. 

Count, Let me see what he writes, and when 
he means to come. [Opening a letter. 

Ci,o. I have no mind to Isbel, since I wan 



at court : our old ling and our Isbels o* the 
country are nothing like your old ling and your 
Isbels o' the court ; the brains of my Cupid's 
knocked out ; and I begin to love, as an old 
man loves money, with no stomach. 

Count. What have we here ? 

Clo. E'en that you have there. [Exit, 

Count. [Reads.] 1 have sent you a dauglir- 
ter-in-law : she hath recovered the king, 
and undone me. I have icedded her, not 
bedded her ; and sworn to make the not 
eternal. You shall hear, 1 am run atvay ; 
knmv it, before the report come. If there 
be breadth enough in the world, I ivill hokd 
a long distance. My duty to you. 

Your unfortunate son, 

Bertram. 
This is not well, rash and unbridled boy ; 
To fly the favours of so good a king ; 
To pluck his indignation on thy head. 
By the misprizing of a maid too virtuous 
For the contempt of empire. 

Re-enter Clown. 

Clo. O madam, yonder is heavy news with- 
in, between two soldiers and my young lady. 

Count. What is the matter? 

Clo. iN ay , there is some comfort in the news, 
some comfort : your son will not be killed so 
soon as I thought he would. 

Count. Why should he be killed? 

Clo So say I, madam, if he run away, as 
I hear he does : the danger is in standing to't; 
that's the loss of men, though it be the gt^tting 
of children. Here they come, will tell you 
more : for my part, 1 only hear, your son was 
run away. [Eiit Clown. 

Enter Helena and ttvo Gentlemen. 

1 Gent. Save you, good madam. 

Hel. Madam, my lordisgone, for ever gone. 

2 Gent. Do not say so. [gentlemen, — 
Count. Think upon patience. — 'l^ray yuu, 

I have felt so many quirks of joy, and grief. 
That the first face of neither, on the ^tart, 
Can womanij me unto't : W^here is my sot», I 
pray you ? [of Florence : 

2 Gent, Madam, he's gone to serve the duke 
We met him thitherward ; from thence we 

came. 
And, after some despatch in hand at court. 
Thither we bend again. [pi«ssport. 

Hel. Look on his letter, madam ; here's my 
[Reads.] When thou canst get the rmg 



* t €., I cannot inform you of the reasons. + One not in the secret of atfairs. 

{ As we say at present, our young fellows. § The foliling at ihe lop of llie boot 

jl i. e.. AtTect me suddpiilv and deeply, «" onr nex are iishh>Iv irterfcii. 



264 



SHAKSPEARE. 



ft Art ni 



upon my finger ♦, which never shall come 
v^\ and show tne a child begotten of thy 
'nxly, that I am father to, then call me 
husband: but in such a then I write a never. 
This is a dreadful sentence. 

Count. Brought you this letter, gentlemen ? 

1 Gent. Ay, madam ; 
And, for the contents* sake, are sorry for our 

pains. 
Count. I pr'y thee, lady, have a better cheer; 
If ihou engrossest all the griefs are thine t, 
Thou robb'st me of a moiety : He was my son ; 
But I do wash his name out of my blood. 
And thou art all my child.— Towards Florence 

2 Gent. Ay, madam. [is he? 
Count. And to be a soldier? 

2 Gent. Such is his noble purpose : and, 
believe*t. 
The duke will lay upon him all the honour 
riial good convenience claims. 

Count, Return you thither ? 

1 Gent. Ay, madam, with the swiftest wing 
of speed. 

Hel. [Reads.] Till 1 have no tvife, I hare 
"Tis bitter. \_nothing in France. 

Coi/7it. Find you that there ? 

fiel. Ay, madam. 

1 Gent. Tis but the boldness of his hand, 
haply, which 
His heart was not consenting to. [wife ! 

Count. Nothing in France, until he have no 
There's nothing here, that is too good for him. 
But only she; and she deserves a lord. 
That twenty such rude boys might tend upon. 
And call her hourly, mistress. Who was with 
him? 

1 Gent. A servant only, and a gentleman 
Which I have some time known. 

Count. Parol les, was't not? 

1 Gent, Ay, my good lady, he. 

Count. Pl very tainted fellow, and full of 
wickedness. 
My son corrupts a well-derived nature 
V\ ith his inducement. 

1 Gent. Indeed, good lady. 
The fellow has a deal of that, too much, 
W hich holds him much to have. 

Count. You are welcome, gentlemen; 
I will entreat you, when you see my 5on, 
To tell him, tliat his sword can never win 
The honour that he loses : more I'll entreat you 
VVriticn to bear along. 

2 Gent. We serve you, madam. 
In that and all your worthiest affairs. 

(oiint. Mot so, but as we change our 

V\ ill you draw near? [courtesies;. 

[Exeunt Countess ffwd Gentlemen. 

Hel. Till I have no ivfe, 1 have nothing 

in France. 

Nothing in France, until he has no wife ! 

Thou sIihU have none, RousJllon, none in 

France, 
Then hast thou all again. Poor lord ! is't I 



That chase thee from thy country, and expose 
Those tender limbs of thine to the event 
Of the none-sparing war? and is it I [thou 
That drive thee from the sportive court, where 
Was shot at with fair eyes, to be the mark 
Of smoky muskt- ts ? O you leaden messengers. 
That ride upon the violent speed of fire. 
Fly with false aim ; move the still piercing air, 
That sings with piercing, do not touch my lord 1 
Whoever shoots at him, I set him there ; 
Whoever charges on his forward breast, 
I am the caitiff, that do hold him to it ; 
And, though I kill him not, I am the cause 
His death was so effected : belter 'twere, 
I met the ravin § lion when he roar'd 
With sharp constraint of hunger ; better 'twere 
That all the miseries, which nature owes. 
Were mine at once: No, come thou home 
Rousillon, * 

W^hence honour but of danger wins a scar. 
As oft it loses all ; I will be gone : 
My being here it is, that holds thee hence : 
Shall I stay here to do't? no, no, although 
The air of paradise did fan the house. 
And angels officed all : I will be gone ; 
That pitiful rumour may report my flight. 
To consolate thine ear. Come, night ; end, day I 
For, with the dark, poor thief, I'll steal away. 

{Flit, 

SCENE III. Florence. Before the Duke'a 

Palace. 

Flourish. Enter the Duke of Florence, Ber* 

TRAM, Lords, Officers, Soldiers, «wrf others. 

Duke. The general of our horse thou art ; 
and we, [dence, 

Great in our hope, lay our best love and cre- 
Upon thy promising fortune. 

Ber. Sir, it is 

A charge too heavy for vay strength ; but yet 
We'll strive to bear it for your worthy sake, 
To the extreme edge of hazard. 

Duke. Then go thou forth ; 

And fortune play upon thy prosperous helm. 
As thy auspicious mistress ! 

Ber. This very day, 

Great Mars, I put myself into thy file : [prove 
Make me but like my thoughts; and 1 shall 
A lover of thy drum, hater of love. [Exeujit. 

SCENE IV. Rousillon. A Room in the 
Countess's Palace. 
Enter Countess and Steward. 
Count. Alas ! and would you take the letter 
of her { [has done. 

Might you not know, she would <io as she 
By sending me a letter? Read it again. 
Stew. Jam Saint Jaques' pil^riin ; thither 

gone ; 
Ambitious lore hath so in me o^ ended, 
That bart-fwt ytod I the void ground ujon, 
H ith sai7ited loiv my faults to hate 
amended. 



• i. 6., When you can get the ring which is on my finger into your possession. T If 
thou keepest all thy ."oriowg to thyself. I In reply to the gentlemen's declaration that 

Ovy Arv hor hcrvants, the countess answers — no olheiwiso than as she return* Iht same 



Srnie /F.] 



ALL S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 



255 



II rite, toritey that , from the bloody course 
of wary 

My dearest master ^y our dear son may hie; 
Bless him at home in '}>eare,ivhHst I from far, 

His naynewith zealous fervour sanctify: 
His taken labours bid him me forgive ; 

I, his despiteful Juno*, sent him forth 
From courtly friends, with camying foes 
to lire, {worth : 

Where death and danger dog the heels of 
He is too good and fdr for death and me ; 
Whom I myself embrace, to set him free. 

Count. Ah, what sharp stings are in her 

mildest words! 

Rinaldo, you did never lack advice + so mach, 
As letting her pass so; had I spoke with her, 
I conid have well diverted hei^intents. 
Which thus she hath prevented. 

Stew. Pardon me, madam : 

If 1 had given you this at over-night. 
She might have been o'erta'en ; and yet she 

writes. 
Pursuit would be in vain. 

Count. What angel shall 

P;less this unworthy husband ? he cannot thrive, 
Unless her prayers, whom heaven delights to 

hear, 
And loves togrant, reprieve him from the wrath 
Of iireaiest justice. — Writf, write, Rinaldo, 
To this unworthy husband of his wife ; 
Let every word weigh heavy of her worth. 
That he does weigh j too light: my greatest 

grief, 
Though little he do feel it, set down sharply. 
Despatch the most conveni-nt messenger : — 
When, haply, he shall hear that she is gone. 
He will return ; and hope I may, that si e. 
Hearing so nnich, will speed her foot again, 
Led hither by pure love : which of theni both 
Is dearest to me, I have no skill in sense 
'i'o make disiinction : — Provide this mes- 
senger : — 
My heart is heavy, and mine age is weak ; 
C.iief would have tears, and sorrow bids me 
«peak. [Exeunt. 

SC RNE V. Without the Walls o/Florence. 
A tucket afar ojf. Enter an old Widow uf 

Florence, Diana, Violknta, Mariana, 

an't other Citizens. 

Wid. Nay, come ; for if they do approach 
the city, we shall lose all the sight. 

Dia. They say, the French count has done 
most honourable service. 

Wid. It is reported that he has taken their 
greatest commander; and that with his own 
hand he slew the duke's brother. We havQ 
li»stour I ibonr; they are gone a contrary way : 
hark ! you may know by their trumpets. 

Mar. Come, let's retnrn again, and suffice 
ourselves with the report of it^ Well, Diana 



Wid. 1 have told my neighbour, how yoa 
have been solicited by a gentleman his com- 
panion. 

Mar. I know that knave ; hang him! one 
Parolles : a filthy officer he is in those sng;- 
gestions^ for the young earl. — Beware of 
ihem, Diana ; their promises, enticements, 
oaths, tokens, and all these engines of Inst, 
are not the things they go under ||: many a 
maid hath been seduced by them ; and the 
misery is, example, that so terrible shows iu 
the wreck of maidenhood, cannot for all tliat 
dissuade succession, b:it that they are limed 
with the twigs that threaten them. I hope, 
I need not to advise you further; but, I hope, 
yotir own grace wiil keep you where you are, 
though there were no further danger known, 
but the modesty which is so lost. 

Dia. You shall not need to fear me. 
Enter Helena, in the dress of a Pilgrim, 

Wid. I hope so. Look, here comes a 

pilgrim : I know she will lie at my house: 
thither they send one another : Pll quesiioi* 
her. — 
God saveyon, pilgrim ! Whither are you bound? 

Hel. To Saint Jaques le grand. 
VV here do the palmers^ lodge,! do beseech you? 

Wid. At the Saint Francis here, beside 

Hel. Is this the way 1 [the port. 

Wid. Ay, marry, is it. — Hark yon ! 

[A march afar off. 
They come this way : — If you will tarry, holy 
But till the troops come by, [pilgrim, 

I will conduct yon where you shall be lodged ; 
The rather, for, I think, I know your hostess 
As ample as myself. 

Hel. Is it yourself ? 

Hid. If you shall please so, pilgrim. 

Hel. I thank you, and will stay upon your 
leisure. 

Wid. You came, I think, from France ? 

Hel. I did so. 

Wid. Here you shall see a countryman of 
That has done vvortliy service. [yoms, 

Hel. His name, I pray yv.u. 

Dia. The count Roosillon ; Know you 
such a one I [of him : 

Hel. But by the ear, that hears most uobiy 
His face I know not. 

Dia. Whatsoe'er he is, 

He's bravely taken here. He stole from France, 
As'iis reported,for ** the king had married liini 
Against his liking : Think you it is so ? 

Htl. Ay, surely, mere the truth tt; I know 
his lady. [the count. 

Dia. There is a gentleman, that serves 
Reports but coarsely of her. 

Hel. W^hat's his name ? 

Dia. Monsieur Parolles. 

Hfl. (), I believe with him. 

In argument of praise, or to the worth 



lake heed of this French earl : the honour of Of the great count himself, she is too mean 
a maid is her name ; and no legacy is so rich To have her name repeatefl ; all her deservinsjj 
as honesty. j Is a reserved honesty, and that 

• Alludi .g to the story of Hercules. t Discretion or thought. t Weigh here moan? 
to v;iliu^ or e.-teein. ;> Temptations. H Tt'.ey are not the things for which th»-ir na^.-ies 

V uld make them pa?*s. \ IM.grimsj so called from a starf or hv.n-h of p-iliu tluy \vci-e 
woai lo carry. *• IJecauoe. tt Tlie. exact, liie entire tnuh. 

ti A 



2GG 



SHAKSPEARE. 



iJct in 



I have not beard examined. 

Dia. Alas, poor lady ! 

Tis a hard bondage, to become the wife 
Or a detesting lord. 

I'f'ld. A right good creature: wheresoe'er 
she is, [might do tier 

Her heart weighs sadly ; this young maid 
A shrewd tarn, if she pleased. 

flel. How do you mean ? 

May be, the amoroas count solicits her 
In the unlawful purpose. 

tf'id. He does, indeed ; 

And brokes* with all that can in such a suit 
Corrupt the tender honour of a maid : 
hin she is arm'd for him, and keeps her guard 
In honesiest defence. 
Enter with drum and colours, a party 

of the Florentine army, Bertram, and 

Parollf.s. 

Afar, The gods forbid else! 

IVid. »So, now they come: — 

That is Antonio, the duke's eldest son ; 
That, Escalus. 

UeL Which is the Frenchman ? 

Dia. He ; 

That with the plume : 'tis a most gallant fellow; 
1 would, he loved his wife: if he were houester. 
He were much goodlier : — Is't not a handsome 

Bel. I like him well. [gentleman? 

Via. *Tis pity, he is not honest : Yond's 
that same knave. 
That leads him to these places ; were 1 his lady, 
I'd poison that vile rascal. 

Bel. Which is he 1 

Via. That jack-anapes with scarfs : Why 
Is he melanclioly l 

Hel. Pt^rchance he's hurt i'the battle. 

Par, Lose our drum ! well. 

Mar. He's shrewdly vexed at something : 
Look, he has spied us. 

Wid. Marry, hang you ! 

Mar. And your courtesy, for a ring-carrier! 
[^lew/if Bertram, Farolles, Oflicers, 
atid Soldiers. 

Wid, The troop is past: Come, pilgiim, I 
will bring you 
Whore you sliail'host : of enjoin'd penitents 
There'sfour or five,t<) great Saint J aques bound. 
Already at my house. 

jjeL. i humbly thank you : 

Please it this matron, and this gentle maid. 
To eat with u» to-night, the charge, and 

thanking, 
Shall be for me; and, to requite you further, 
I will bestow some precepts on this virgin. 
Worthy the note. 

Both. We'll take your ofter kindly. 

{tlxeunt. 

SCENE VI. Canrp before Florence. 
Enter Bertram, flwrf ^^e^rt^o French Lords. 

1 Lord. Nay, good my lord, put him to't ; 
let him have his way. 

•2 Lord. If >our lordship find him not a 
fiildingt> iiwlfl i"*^ "o more in your respect. 



1 Lord. On my life, my lord, a b; bt)le. 
Bfr. Do you think, I am so far deceived 
in him? 

1 Lord. Believe it, my lord, in mine o*•^'P 
direct knowledge, without any malice, but to 
speak of him as my kinsman, he's a most nota- 
ble coward, an infinite and endless liar, an 
hourly promise breaker, the owner of no one 
good quality worthy your lordship's enier- 
tainment. 

2 Lord. It were fit you knew him ; lest, 
reposing too far in his virtue, which he hath 
not, he might, at some great and trusty busi 
ness, in a main danger, fail you. 

Ber. I would, 1 knew in what particulai 
action to iry him. 

2 Lord. None better than to let him fetch 
off his drum, which you hear hira so confi 
dently undertake to do. 

1 Lord. I, with a troop of Florentines, will 
suddenly surprise him ; such I will have, wliom, 
I am sure, he knows not from the enemy : we 
will bind and hood-wink him fto, that he shall 
suppose no other but that he is carried into 
the leaguer + of the adversaries, when we bring 
him to our tents: Be but your lordship pre 
sent at his examination ; if he do not, for the 
promise of his life, and in the highest com- 
pulsion of base fear, offer to betray you. and 
deliver all the intelligence in his power againsl 
you, and that with the divine forfeit of his 
soul upon oath, never trust my judgnnent io 
any thing. 

2 Lord. O for the love of laughter, let hira 
fetch his drum; he says, he has a stratagem 
for't : when your lordship sees the bottom ol 
his success in't, and to what metal this coun. 
terfeit lamp of ore will be melted, if you give 
him not John Drum's entertainment, your in- 
dining cannot be removed. Here he comes. 

Enter Farolles. 

1 Lord, O, for the love of laughter, hinder 
not the humour of his design ; let him fetch 
off' his drum in any hand. 

Ber. How now, monsieur? this drum sticks 
sorely in your disposition. 

2 Lord. A pox on'i let it go ; 'tis but a drum. 
Par. But a drum ! Is't but a drum ? A drum 

so lost ! — There was an excellent command I 
to charge in witli our horse upon our own 
wings, and to reud our own soldiers. 

2 J^ord. That was not to be blamed in the 
command of the service; ii was a disaster of 
war that desar himself could not have pre. 
vented, if he had been there to command. 

Ber. Well, we cannot greatly condemn our 
success : some dishonour we had in the loss of 
that drum ; but it is not to be recovered. 

Par. \i might have been recovered. 

Ber. It might, but it is not now. 

Par. Il is to be recovered : but that the 
merit of service is seldom attributed to the 
true and exact performer, 1 would have that 
drum or another, or hicjacet^. 

Bi r. Why , if you have a stomach to't, mou- 



Deal'* with pMulers. t A paltry fellow, a coward. J The camp. 

5 1 would iccover the lost dnun or aJioiher, or die in the attempt. 



Scene V!.] 



ALL'S WKLL THAT EJVDS WELL. 



267 



sieur, if you think your mystery in stratagem 
can bring this instrument of honour again into 
Jhis native quarter, be magnanimous in the en- 
terprise, and go on ; I will grace the attempt 
for a worthy exploit: if you speed well in it, 
the duke shall both speak of it, and extend to 
you what further becomes his greatness, even 
to the utmost syllable of your worthiness. 

Par. By the hand of a soldier, I will under- 
take it. 

Ber. But you must not now slumber in it. 

Par. I'll about it this evening: and I will 
. presently pen down my dilemmas*, encou- 
rage myself in my certainty, put myself into 
roy mortal preparation, and, by midnight, 
look to hear farther from me. 

Ber. May I be bold to acquaint his grace, 
you are gone about it I 

Par. I know not what the success will be, 
my lord ; but the attempt I vow. 

Ber. I know, thou art valiant; and, to the 
possibility of thy soldiership, will subscribe 
for thee. Farewell. 

Par. I love not many words. [Exit. 

1 Lord. No more than a fish loves water 

Is not this a strange fellow, my lord? that so 
confidently seems to undertake this businejs^ 
which he knows is not to be done; damni 
himself to do, and dares better be damned 
than to do*t. 

2 Lord. You do not know him, my lord, as 
we do : certain it is, that he will steal liiinself 
into a man's favour, and, for a week, escape a 
great deal of discoveries ; but when you ti» i 
him out, you have him ever after. 

Her. Why, do you think, he will make no 
deed at all of this, that so seriouslv je does 
address himself unto? 

1 Lord. None in the world: but return with 
an invention, and clap upon yoa two or three 
probable lies : but we have flmost embossed 
himt, you shall see his fall .o-night; for, in- 
deed, he is not for your Icidship's respect. 

2 Lord. We'll make you some sport with 
the fox, ere we case himj. lie was first 
smoked by the old lord Lafeu : when his dis- 
guise and he is parted, tell me what a sprat 
you shall find hi" . ; which you shall see this 
very night. 

1 Lord. J Tiust go look my twigs; he shall 
be caught, 

Ber ^-our brother, he shall go along with 
nie. 

1 Lord. As*t please your lordship: I'll 
reave you. [Eiit. 

Ber. Now will I lead you to the house, 
and show you 
The lass 1 spoke of. 

2 Lord. But, yon say, she's honest. 
Ber. That's all the fault: 1 spoke with her 

but once, [her, 

And found her %vondrou8 cold ; but I sent to 
By this same coxcomb that we have i'the wind, 
Tokens and letters which she did re-send ; 



And this is all I have done: She's a fair crea- 

Will you go see her? [ture ; 

2 Lord. With all my heart, my lord. 

{Exeunt, 

SCENE VII. Florence. A Room in the 

Widow's House. 

Enter Helena and Widow. 

Hei. If you misdoubt me that I am not she, 
I know not how I shall assure you further. 
But 1 shall lose the sirounds I work upon^. [born, 

Vf'id. Though my estate be fallen, I v/as well 
Nothing acquHinted with these businesses; 
And would not put my reputation now 
In any staining act. 

Htl. Nor would I wish yon. 

First, give me trust, the count he is my hus- 
band ; [spoken, 
And, what to your sworn counsel I have 
Is so, from word to word ; and then you cannot. 
By the good aid that I of you shall borrow. 
Err in beaowing it. 

Wid. L should believe you ; 

For you have show'd me that, which well 
You are great in fortune [approves 

Hel. " Take this purse of gold. 

And let me bay your triendly help thus far. 
Which 1 "Till over-pay, and pay again. 
When I. nave found it. The count he woos 

^our daughter, 
Lays down his wanton siege before her beauty, 
Resolves to carry her; let her, in fine, consent. 
As we'll direct iier how 'tis best to bear it. 
Now his important II blood will nought deny 
That she'll demand : A ring the countyli wears. 
That downward hath succeeded in his house. 
From son to son, some four or five descents 
Since the first father wore it: this ring he holds 
In most rich chi)ice ; yet, in his idle fire. 
To buy his will, it would not seem too dear, 
Howe'er repented after. 

IVid. Now I see 

The bottom of your purpose. 

Hel. You see it lawful the n: It is no more. 
But that your daughter, ere she seems as won, 
Desires this ring; appoints him an encounter; 
In fine, delivers me to fill the time, 
Herself most chastelv abi«ent : after this. 
To marry her, I'll add three tliousand crowns 
To what is past already. 

Wid, I have yielded : 

Instruct my daughter how she shall persever, 
That time and p!ace,with this deceit so lawful . 
May prove coherent. Every nij:ht he come? 
U ith musics of all sorts, and songs composed 
To her unworthiness: It nothing steads us. 
To chide him from our eaves**; for he persist* 
As it his life lay on't. 

Hel. Why then, to night 

Let us assay our plot ; which, if it speed. 
Is wicked meaning in a lawful <leed. 
And lawful meaning in a lawful act; 
Where both not sin, and yet a sinful fact: 
But let's about it. [Exeunt, 



V will pen down my plans and the probable obstructions. t Hunted hini down. 
t Before we strip hiai naked. <^ i. e.. By discovering herself to the count, 
il importunate If », e.. Count. •* From under our windows. 



268 



SllAKSPKARK 



rArt i>'. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. Without the Florentine Camp. 

Enter Jirst Lord, iv'ithjitye or six Soldiers 
in umbu.sh, 

1 Lord. He can come no other way but by 
this hediie* corner : When you sally upon hinj, 
«peak \Nhat terrible language you will ; lhont;h 
you undei stand it not yourselves, no matter: 
it>r we must not seem to understand him; un- 
less some one among ns, whom we must pro 
duce for an interpreter. 

1 Sold. Good captain, let me be the inter- 
preter. 

1 Lord. Art not acquainted with him? 
knows he not thy voice ? 

1 Sold. No, sir, 1 warrant you. 

1 Lord. But what linsy-woolsy hast thou to 
speak to us again? 

1 Sold. Even such as you speak to me. 

1 Lord. He must think us some band of 
itran^iers i* the adversary's entertainment*. 
Now he hath a smack of all neighbouring lan- 
guages; therefore we must every one be a 
man of his own fancy, not to know what we 
speak one to another; so we seem to know, 
is to know straight our purpose : chough's t 
language, gabble enough, and good enough. 
As for you, interpreter, you must seem very 
politic. But couch, ho ! here he comes ; to 
btguile two hours lu a skep, and then to 
return and swear the lies he forges. 
Enttr Paroli.es. 

Par. Ten o'clock: within these three hours 
'twill be lime enoi>gh to go home. What shall 
I say I have done? It must be a very plausive 
invention that carries it : They begin to smoke 
n)e; and disgraces have of late knt)cked too 
often at my door. 1 find, my tongue is too 
tool-hardy ; but my heart hath the fear of Mars 
before it, and of his creatures, not daring the 
reports of my tongue. 

1 Lord. This is the first truth that e'er thine 
ewn tongue was guilty of. [A-^ide. 

Par. What the devil should move nie to 
nndortake the recovery of this drum; being 
not ignorant of the impossibility, and knowing 
1 had no such purpose? I must give myself 
some hurts, and say, 1 got them in exploit : 
Yet slight ones will not carry it: They wil' 
say. Came you off with so little? and great 
ones I dare not give. Wherefore? what's the 
instance;? Tongue, I must put you into a but- 
er-woman'8 mouth, and buy another of Baja- 
»jt'8 njule,if you prattle me into these perils. 

1 Lord. Is it possible he should know 
what he is, and be that he is? [Aside. 

Par. 1 would the cutting of my garments 
would serve the turn; or the breaking of my 
Spanish sword. 

1 Lord. \V e cannot afford you so. {Avide. 

Par. Or the baring of my beard; and to 
ray, it was in stratai^em. 



1 Lord. 'Twould not do. [Aside, 

Par. Or to drown my clothes, and say, I 
was stripped. 

1 Lord. Hardly serve. {Aside. 

Pur. ThiMigh I swore I leaped from the 
window of the citadel 

1 Li^rd. How deep? [Aside. 

Par. Jhirty fathom. 

1 Lord, i hree great oaths would scarce 
make th.at be believed. {AsHit . 

Par. I wnuld, I had any drum of the 
enemy's ; I would swear, I recovered it. 

1 Lord. You shall hear one anon. [Aside. 

Par. A f'.rum now of the enemy's! 

[Alarum tc'ithin. 

I Lord. Throca movousus, cargo, cur^o^ 
cargo. 

All. Cargo, cargo, villianda par corbo, 
catgo. 

Par. O I ransome, ransome : — Do not hid* 
mine eyes. 

[They seize him and blindfold him, 

1 Sold. Bosko.s throniuldo boskos. 

Par. I know you aie the Muskos' regiment. 
And I shall lose my life for want of langUHge; 
If there be here German, or Dane, low Duiqh, 
Italian, or French, let him Speak to me, 
I will discover that which shall undo 
1 he Morenline. 

1 SoM. Boskos vauvf/do: 

I understand thee, and can speak thy tongue:— 

Kerelybonto ; Sir, 

Hetake thee to thy failh,for seventeen poniards 
Are at thy.bosom. 

Par. Oh ! 

\ Sold. O, pray, jway, pray. 

jila/ika revania anli he. 

1 Lord. Oscorbi duUhos rolirorca. 

1 Sold. The general is content to spare thee 

yet ; [on 

And, hoofl-wink'd as thou art, will lead liiee 

To gather from thee: haply, ihou ma>'stin- 

Something to save thy life. [fonn 

Par. O, let me live. 

And all the secrets of our camp I'll show, 
'J heir force, their purposes, nay, I'll speak 
Which you will wonder at. [(h.i4 

1 Sold. Jiut wilt ihoo faithfull> i 

Par. If I do not, damn me. 

1 Sold. Acordo Unto.—. 

Come on, thou art granted space. 

[Exit, with PAROLi.hs, gitardt d. 

1 Lord. Go, tell the count Rousillon, and 

my brother, 
We have caught the woodcock, and will keep 
Till we do hear from thera. [him niufl\etl, 

2 Sold. Captain, I will. 

1 Lord. He will betray us all unto our- 
Iniorm 'em that. [selves,—- 

2 Sold. So I will, sir. 

1 Lord. Till then, I'll keep him dark, and 
safely lock'd. [tut'>ntt. 



• Le,^ Foreign troops in the enemy's pay. t A bird like a jjvckdaw. t Tlie pv«'of. 



ALL S U fc.LL lilAT EiNDS WELL. 



20.1 



^tENK IL Florence. A Room in the 

Widow's House. 

Enter Bertram and Diana. 

Ber. They told me, that your name was Fon- 

D'u. No, my good lord, Diana. [tibeli. 

Ber. Tilled goddess ; 

A.nd worth it, with addition ! But, fair soul, 
In your tine frame hath love no quality ? 
It the quick fire of youth light not your mind, 
V'ou are no juaiden, but a m^jnument : 
. W hen you are dead, you should be such a one 
As you are now, for you are cold and stern; 
And now you should be as your mother was, 
VVhen \oHr sweet self was got. 

Via. She then was honest. 

Ber. So should you be. 

Dia. No : 

My mother did but duty ; such, my lord. 
As you owe to your wife. 

Ber. No more of that ! 

1 pr'ythee, do not strive against my vows*: 
1 was conipell'd to her ; but I love thee 
By love's own sweet constraint, and will for 
Do thee all rights of service. [ever 

Dta. Ay, so you serve us, 

Till we serve you: but when you have our roses, 
You barely leave our thorns to prick ourselves; 
And mock us with our bareness. 

Bet . How have I sworn 1 

Via. 'Tis not the many oaths, that make 
the truth ; 
But the plain single vow, that is vowM true. 
What is not holy, that we swear not by. 
But take tiie Highest to witness 1: Then, pray 

you, tell me, 
If I should swear by Jove's great attributes, 
1 love<l you dearly , wonldyon believ e my oaths. 
When 1 (lid love you ill { this has no holding, 
To swear by him whom I protest to love. 
That 1 will work against him : Therefore, 

your oaths 
A^re words, and poor conditions; but unseai'd ; 
At least, in my opinion. 

Ber. Change it, change it ;. 

Be not so holy cruel : love is holy ; 
And my integrity ne'er knew the crafts. 
That you do charge men with : Stand no more 
But give thyself unto my sick desires, [olf, 
VV ho then recover : say , thou art mine, and ever 
My love, as it begins, shall so persever. 

Via. 1 see, that men make hopes, in such 

aftairs, [ring. 

That we'll forsake ourselves. Give me that 

Ber. I'll lend it thee, my dear, but have no 
To give it from me. [power 

Via. Will you not, my lord? 

Ber. It is an honour 'longing to our house. 
Bequeathed down from many ancestors ; 
VV liich were the greatest obloquy i'the world 
In me to lose. 

Uia. Mine honour's such a ring : 

Vly chastity's the jewel of our house, 
Bequeathed down from many ancestors ; 



Which were the greatest obloquy i'the world 
In me to lose: Thus your own proper wigdom 
Brings in the champion honour on my part. 
Against your vain assault. 

Ber. Here, take my ring; 

My house, mine honour, yea, my life be thine, 
And I'll be bid by thee, [chaii. ber window ; 
Dill. When midnight comes, knock at my 
I'll order take, my mother shall not hear. 
Now will 1 charge you in the band of truth. 
When you haveconquer'd my yet maiden bed. 
Remain there but an hour, nor speak to me : 
My reasons are moat strong ; and you shall 

know them, 
When back again this ring shall be deliver'd : 
And on your finger, in the nigi t, I'll put 
Another ring; that, what in time proceeds. 
May token to the future our past deeds. 
Adieu, till then; then, fail not: You have won 
A wife of me, though there my hope be done. 
Ber. A heaven on earth 1 have won, by 

wooing thee. [Krit. 

Dia. For which live long to thank both 
You niay so in the end. — [heaven and ine 1 
My mother told me just how he would woo. 
As if she sat in his heart ; she says, all men 
Have the like oaths : he had sworn to marry 

me, [him. 

When his wife's dead; therefore I'll lie with 
When I am buried. Since Frenchmen are so 

braid j. 
Marry that will, I'll live and die a maid : 
Only, in this disguise, I think't no sin 
To cozen him that would unjustly win. [Exit^ 

SCENE III. The Florentine Camp. 

Enter the two French Lords, and tico or 

thret Soldiers. 

1 Lord. You have not given him his mo- 
ther's letter? 

2 Lord. I have delivered it an hour since : 
there is something in'i that stings his nature ; 
for, on the retoiug it, he changed almost into 
another man. 

1 Lord. He has much worthy blame laid 
upon him, for shaking oif so good a wife, and 
so sweet a lady. 

2 Lord. Especially he hath Incurred the 
everlasting displeasure of the king, who had 
even tuned his bounty to sing happiness to 
him. I will tell you a thing, but >ou shall 
let it dwell darkly with you. 

1 Lord. When you have spoken it, 'tis 
dead, and I am the grave of it. 

2 Lord. He hath perverted a young gentle 
woman here in Florence, of a most chaste re 
nown ; and this night he fleshes his will in 
the spoil of her honour: he liath given iu^r 
his monumental ring, and thinks hiniself made 
in the unchaste composition. 

1 Lord. Now, God delay our rebellion ; as 
we are ourselves, what things are we ! 

2 Lord. Merely our own traitors. And as 
in the common course of all treasons, we still 



* i. e.. Against his determined resolution never to cohabit with Helena. 

t The sense is — we never swear by what is not holy, but take to witness (he Higliest, 

the Divinity. i Crafty, deceiifoi. 

2A3 



270 



SlIAKSPEAllE. 



{Art /r. 



Sfe them reveal themselves, till they attain to 
their abhorred ends ; so he, that in this action 
contrives against his own nobility, in hift pro- 
per stream o'erflows himself*. 

1 Lord. Is it not meant damnable + in us, to 
be trumpeters of our unlawful intents? We 
shall not then have his company to-night ? 

2 Lord. Not till after midnight; for he is 
dieted to his hour. 

r Lord. That approaches apace : I would 
gladly have him see his conjpany I anatomized; 
that he might take a measure of his own judg- 
ments, wherein so curiously he had set this 
counterfeit. 

2 Lord. We will not meddle with him till 
he come; for his presence must be the whip 
of the other. 

1 Lord. In the mean time, what hear you 
of these wars ? 

2 Lord. I hear, there is an overture of peace, 
lZ.orrf.Nay, Ias5ureyou,a peace concluded. 
2 Lord. What will count Rousillon dothen? 

will he travel higher, or return again into 
France? 

1 Lord. I perceive, by this demand, you 
are not altogether of his council. 

2 Lord. Let it be forbid, sir ! so should I 
be a great deal of his act. 

1 Jjord. Sir, his wife, some two months 
since, fled from his house ; her pretence is a 
pilgrimage to Saint Jaques le grand; whicli 
holy un<iertakiug, with most austere sancti- 
mony, she accomplished t and, there residing, 
the tenderness of her nature becan»e as a prey 
to her grief; in fine, made a groan of her last 
breath, and now she sings in heaven. 

2 Lord. How is this justified? 

1 Lord. The stronger part of it by her own 
letters ; which makes her story true, even to 
the point of her death : her death itself, which 
could not be her ofljce to say, is come, was 
faithfully ctmfirmed by the rector of the place. 

2 Lord. Hath the count all this intelligence? 

1 Jjord. Ay, and the particular confirma- 
tions, point from point, to the full arming of 
the verity. 

2 Lorn. I am heartily sorry, that he'll be 
glad of this 

1 Lord. How mightily, sometimes, we make 
us comforts of oar losses I 

2 Lord. And how mightily, some other 
times, we drown our gain in tears! The great 
dignity, that his valour h^iih here acquired for 
him, shall at home be encountered with a 
sliame as ample. 

1 Lord. The web of our life is of a mingled 
yarn, good and ill together : our virtues would 
be proud, if our taulfs whi, ped them not ; 
and our crimes would despair, if they were 
not cherished by our virtues. — 
Enter a Servant. 
How now? Where's your master? 

Sirv. He njet the duke in the street, sir, of 
Whom he hath taken a solemn leave ; his lord- 



ship will next morning for France. The duke 
hath otlered him letters of commendations to 
the king. 

2 Lord. They shall be no more than need- 
ful there, if they were more than they can 
commend. 

Enter Bertram. 

1 Lord. They cannot be too sweet for ♦?*# 
king's tartness. Here's his lordship nov . 
How now, my lord, is't not after midnig^i? 

Ber. I have to-night despatched sixteen 
businesses, a month's length a-piece, by axi 
abstract of success : I have conge'd with th«< 
duke, done my adieu with his nearest ; buriet? 
a wife, mourned for her ; writ to my lady mo- 
ther, 1 am returning ; entertained my conroy; 
and, between these main parcels of despatch, 
effected many nicer needs; the last was the 
greatest, but that I have not ended yet. 

2 Lord. If the business be of any difficulty, 
and this morning your departure hence, it re- 
quires haste of your lordship. 

Ber. I mean, the business is not ended, as 
fearing to hear of it hereafter: But shall we 
have this dialogue between the fool and the 

soldier ? Come, bring forth this counterfeit 

module $; he has deceived me, like a double- 
meaning prophesier. 

-1 Lord. Bring him forth: [Exeunt Sol- 
diers.] he has sat in the stocks all night, poor 
gallant kn tve. 

Ber. No matter ; his heels have deserved 
it, in usurping his spurs || so long. How does 
he carry himself? 

1 Lord. 1 have told your lordship already; 
the stocks carry him. But, to answer you as 
you would be understood ; he weeps, like a 
wench that had shed her milk : he hath con- 
fessed himself to Morgan, whom he supposes 
to be a friar, from the lime of his remenj- 
brance, to this very instant disaster of his 
setting i'the stocks : And what think you he 
hath confessed ? 

Ber. Nothing of me, has he ? 

2 Lord, His confession is taken, and it shalC 
be read to his face: if your lordship be lu't 
as, I believe you are, you must ha^e the pa- 
tience to hear it. 

Be-enier Soldiers, w/7A Parolles. 

Ber. A plague upon him ! muffled! he can 
say nothing of me ; hush ! hush ! 

1 Lord, Hoodman comesl— Porto tarta. 
rossa. 

I Sold. He calls for the tortures; What 
will you say without *em ? 

far. I will confess what 1 know without 
constraint ; if ye pinch me like a pasty, I can 
say no more. 

1 Sohl, Boscho chimurcho. 

2 Lord. Boblibindo chicurmurco. 
1 So/d. \ou are a merciful general: — Out 

general bids you answer to what I shall ask 
you out of a note. 

Par. And tiuly, as I hope to live. 

Betrays his own secrets in his own talk. + Here, as elsewhere, used adverlMally 
1 For companion. $ Model, pattern. 

U An allusion to the de^i adation of a knij;ht by h ickiug off his spurs. 



Sreve III.] 



ALL S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 



27 i 



1 Sold. First demand of him hotv many 
horse the duke is strong. What say you to 
that? 

Par, Five or six thousand ; but very weak 
and unserviceable : the troops are all scat- 
tered, and the commanders very poor rogues, 
upon my reputation and credit, and as I hope 
Jo live. 

\ Sold. Shall I set down your answer so? 

Par. Do ; I'll take the sacrament oii*t, how 
and which way you will. 

Ber. All's one to him. What a past-saving 
slave is this! 

1 Lord. You are deceived, my lord ; this 
is monsieur Parolles, the gallant militarist, 
(that was his own phrase,) that had the whole 
theorick *of war in the knot of his scarf, and 
the practice in the chape t of his dagger. 

2 Lord. I will never trust a man Hgain, for 
keeping his sword clean ; nor believe he can 
have every thing in him, by wearing his ap- 
parel neatly. 

1 Sold. Well, that's set down. 

Par. Five or six thousand horse, I said, — 
I will say true, — or thereabouts, set down, — 
for 1*11 speak truth. 

1 Lord. He's very near the truth in this. 

Ber. But I con him no thanks for't, in the 
nature he delivers it. 

Par. Poor rogues, I pray you, say. 

1 Sold. Well, that's set down. 

Par. I humbly thank you, sir: a truth's a 
truth, the rogues are marvellous poor. 

1 Sold. Demand of him, of 2vhat strength 
they are afoot. What say you to that? 

Far. By my troth, sir, if I were to live 
this present hour, I will tell true. Let me 
Bee: Spurio a hundred and fifty, Sebastian 
8«> many,Corambus so many, Jaques somany ; 
Guiltian, Cosmo, Lodowick, and Gratii, two 
hundred fifty each : mine own cornpdny, 
Chitopher, Vaumond, Benlii, two hundred 
and fifty each : so that the muster-file, rotten 
and sound, upon my life, amounts not to fif- 
teen thousand poll ; half of which dare not 
shake the snow from otf their cassocks t, lest 
they shake themselves to pieces. 

Ber. \\ hat shall be Oone to him? 

1 Lord. Nothing, but let him have thanks. 
Demand of him my conditions §, and what 
credit I have with the duke. 

1 Sold. Well, that's set down. You shall 
(hmand of him ^ whether one Captain Du- 
main he i^ the camp, a Frenchman ; what 
his repiUation is with the duke, what his 
valour, honesty, and expertness in wars; 
or whether he thinks, it zvere not possible, 
with well-weighing sums of gold, to corrupt 
h>m to a reiolt. W^hatsay you to this? 
what do you know of it? 

Far. I beseech you, let me answer to the 
uarticular of the inteigatoriesij : Demand 
iliem singly. 



1 Sold. Do yon know this captain Dumaiu'? 

PuW. I know him: he was a botcher's 
'prentice in Paris, from whence he was whip- 
ped for getting the sheriflf's fool II with child; 
a dumb innocent ♦*, that could not say him, 
nay. 

[DuMAiN lifts up his hand in anger, 

Ber. Nay, by your leave, hold your hands; 
though I know, his brains are forfeit to the 
next tile that falls. 

1 Sold. Well, is this captain in the duke of 
Florence's camp ? 

Par. Upon my knowledge, he is, and 
lousy. 

1 Lord. Nay, look not so upon me ; we 
shall hear of your lordship anon. 

1 Sold. What is his reputation with the 
duke? 

Par. The duke knows him for no other 
but a poor officer of mine; and writ to me 
this other day, to turn him out o'the band; I 
think, I have his letter in my pocket. 

1 Sotd. Marry, we'd search. 

Par. In good sadness, I do not know; 
either it is there, or it is upon a file, with the 
duke's other letters, in my tent. 

1 Sold. Here 'tis; here's a paper: Shall 1 
read it to you I 

Par. I do not know, if it be it, or no. 

Btr. Our interpreter does it well. 

1 Lord. Excellently. 

1 Sold. Dian. llie count *s a fool, and 
full of gold, — 

Par. That is not the duke's letter, sir; 
that is an advertisement to a proper maid in 
Florence, one Diana, to take heed of the al- 
lurement of one count Roiisillon, a foolish 
idle boy, but, for all that, very rutlish: 1 pray 
you, sir, put it up again. 

1 Sold. Nay, I'll read it first, by your fa- 
vour. 

Par. My meaning in *t, T protest, was very 
honest in the behalf of the maid : for I knew 
the young count to be a dangerous and lasci- 
vious boy ; who is a whale to virginity, and 
devours up all the fry it finds. 

Ber. Damnable, both sides rogue I 

I Sold. When he swears oaths, bid him 
drop gold, a7id take it ; 

After he scores, he never pays the score. 
Half won is match tcell made ; match, and 
well make itM ; 

He m'erpays after debts, take it before ; 

And say, a soldier, Dian, told thee this, 

Men are to well with, boys are not to kiss : 

For count of this, the count's a fool, J 

know it, [it, 

H ho pays before, but not wheti he does oive 

Thine, as he vow'd to thee in thine ear, 

Parolles. 

Ber. He sliall be whipped through the ar- 
my, with this rhyme in his forehead. 
j 2 Lord. This is your devoted friend, sir, 

* Theory. + The point of the scabbard. t Cassock then .signified a hor«©- 

man's loose coat. i i disposition and character. i For interrogatories. 

•I An idiot under the care of the sheriff. *♦ A natural fool. 

*t i e. A match well aiaoe is half won: make your match therefore, but make it weli. 



278 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act rv. 



the nianir'old linguist, and the arniipotent sol 
dier. f 

Ber, 1 conid endure any thing before but a 
cat, and now he's a caf to me. 

1 Sold. 1 perceive, sir, by the general's 
looks, we shall be fain to hang you. 

Pur. My life, sir, in any case: not that I 
am afraid to die; but that, my offences being 
many, I would repent out the remainder of 
nature: let me live, sir, in a dungeon, i' the 
stocks, or any where, so I may live. 

i S'ld. We'll see what may be done, so 
you confess freely ; therefore, once more to 
this captain Dumain: You have answered to 
hijj reputation with the duke, and to his va- 
lour: What is his honesty? 

Par. He will steal, sir, an egg out of a 
cloisier*; for rapes and ravishments he pa- 
rallels Nessus +. He professes not keeping of 
oiihs; in breaking tliem, he is stronger than 
Hercules. He will lie, sir, with such volubility, 
that you would think truth were a fooi : drun- 
kenness is his best virtue; for he will be 
swine-drunk; and in his sleep he does little 
harm, save to his bed-clothes about him ; but 
tlu^y know his conditions, and lay him in 
straw. I have but liitle more to say, sir, of 
his honesty : he has every thing that an honest 
mnn should not have ; what an honest man 
should have, he has notiiing. 

1 Lord. 1 begin to love him for this. 

JSer. For this description of thine honesty ? 
A pox upon him fur me, he is more and more 
a cat 
1 Sold. Whatsay you tohisexpertnessin war? 

Par. Faith, sir, he has led the drum hcfore 
the English tragedians,— to belie him, I will 
not, — and more ot his soldiership I know not; 
except, in that countiy. he had fhe honour to 
be the officer at a place there called Mdr-end, 
to instruct for the doubling of tiles: I would 
do the man what honour 1 can, but of this 1 
am not certain. 

1 Lord. He hath out-villained villany so 
far, that the rarity redeem** him. 

Btr. A pox on him! lie's a cat still. 

1 Sold. His qualities being at ihis poor 
price, 1 need not ask you, if gold will cor- 
rupt him to revolt. 

Pur. Sir, for a quart d'ecuX he will sell 
the fee-simple of hissalvation, the inheritance 
u\ it ; and cut the entail from all remainders, 
and a perpetual succession for it peipetually. 

1 Sold. What's his brother, the other cap- 
tain Dumain ? 

2 Lord. Why does he ask him of me? 
1 Sidd. What's he? 

Pur. K'en a crow of the same nest; not al- 
together so great as the first in goo Ines-R, but 
i:ie<it«-r a great deal in evil, lie excels his 
brother for a coward, yet his brother is repu- 
t -.1 one of the- best that is: In a reiirat he 
cut runs any lackey; marry, in coming on he 
hafe the cramp. (, 



I Sold. If your life be saved, will you un- 
dertake to betray the Florentine? 

Par. Ay, and the captain of his horse, 
count Rous i lion. 

1 Snld. I'll whisper with the general, and 
know his pleasure. 

Par. I'll no more drumming; a plague of 
all drums! Only to seem to deserve well, and 
to beguile the supposition ^ of that lascivious 
young boy the coimt, have I run into this dan- 
ger : Yet, who would have suspected an am- 
bush where I was taken? [Aside. 

1 Sold. There is no remedy, sir, but yon 
must die: the general says, you, that have so 
traitorously discovered the secrets of your ar- 
my, and made such pestiferous reports of men 
very nobly held, can serve the woild for no 
honest use ; therefore you must die. Come, 
headsman, off with his head. 

Par. O Lord, sir ; let me live, or let me 
see my death ! 

1 Sold. That shall you, and take your leave 
of all your friends. [Uumvj/iing hi»t 
So, look about you; Know you any here? 

Ber. Good morrow, noble captain. 

2 Lord. God bless j^ou, captain Parolles. 

1 Lord. God save you, noble captain. 

2 Lord. Captain, what greeting will you 
to my lord Lafeu ? I am for France. 

1 Lord. Good captain, will you give me a 
copy of the sonnet you writ to Diana in be- 
half of the count Rousillon? an I were not a 
very coward, I'd compel it of you; but fare 
you well. [/Laeiint Bertram, Lords, d^c. 

1 Said. You are undone, capiain : all but 
your scarf, that has a knot oii'l yet. 

Par. Who cannot be cruslu-d with a plot? 

1 Sold. If you could find out a country 
where but women were that had received so 
much shame, you might begin an impudeur 
nation. Fate you well, ?ir; I am for Francf; 
too; we shall speak of you there. [A,j/^. 

Par. \ et am I thankful : if my heart wer* 
great, [more; 

*Twoul(l hurst at this: Captiin, I'll be no 
Hut 1 will eat and diink, and sleep as soft 
As captain shall: simply the thing I am 
Shall make me live. \Vho knows himself a 

bratigart, 
Let him fear this ; for it will come to pass. 
That every braggart shall be found an ass. 
Rust, sword ! cool, blushes ! and, Parolles,') 

live 
Safest in shame! being foolM, 
There's place, and means, 

alive. 
Pll after them. [Luit, 

SCENE IV. Florence. A Boom in the 
Widow's House. 

Enter Helena, Widow, owrf Diana. 

Ilel. That you m.iy well perceive I have 
not wrong'd you. 



be found an ass. 
es ! and, Parolles, ^ 
[thrive ! I 
foolM, by foolery \ 
s, for every mai* I 



• i. r.. He will steal any tiling however trifling, from any place however holy, 
t The Cer.lHur killed b> Helci.Ns- : Th*- fourth put of the smaller Fnuch crown. 



(liceive llie o^>iuio^^. 



Scene IV.] 



ALL S WELL THAT EIMDS WELL. 



273 



One of the2;reatest in the Christian world 
Shall be my surety ; *fore whose throne, 'tis 

needful, 
Ere I can perfect mine intents, to kneel : 
Time was, I did him a desired office, 
I>ear almost as his life; which gratitude 
Through Hinty Tartar's bosom would peep 

forth, 
And answer, thanks : I duly am informed, 
His grace is at Marseilles; to which place 
We have convenient convoy. You must 

know, 
I am supposed dead : the army breaking. 
My husband hies him home ; where, heaven 

aiding. 
And by the leave of my good lord the king, 
We'll be, before our welcome. 

Wid, Gentle madam. 

You never had a servant, to whose trust 
Your business was more welcome. 

HeL Nor you, mistress, 

Ever a friend, whose thoughts more truly la- 
bour [ven 
To recompense your love ; doubt not, but hea- 
Hath brought me up to be your daughter's 

dower. 
As it hath fated her to be my motive* 
And helper to a husband. But O strange 

men ! [hate. 

That can such sweet use make of what they 
When saucy t trusting of the cozen'd thoughts 
Defiles the pitchy night! so lust doth play 
With what it loaths, for that which is away: 

But more of this hereafter: You, Diana, 

I'uder my poor instructions yet must suffer 
Soinething in my behalf. 

Oia, Let death and honesty J 

Go with your impositions j, I am yours 
L'pcn your will to sutfer. 

Htl. Yet, I pray you, 

But with the word, the time will bring on 

SJimmer, [thorns. 

When briers shall have leaves as well as 
And be as sweet as sharp. We must away; 
Our waggon is prepared, and time revives us: 
All's well that ends welt \\ ; siill the fine's 

the crown ; 
Whate'er the course, the end is the renown. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE V. Rousillon. A Roojn in the 

Countess's Palace. 

Enter Countess, La feu, and Clown. 

La/. No no, no, your son was misled with 
a siiipt-taftata fellow there; whose vilianous 
sattronli would have made all the unbaked 
and doughy youth of a nation in his colour; 
your daughter in-law had been alive at this 
hour; and your son ht-re at home, inore ad- 
vanced by the king, than by that red-tailed 
humble-bee I speak of. 

Count. I would, I had not known him! it 
was the death of the most virtuous gentle- 



I woman, that ever nature had praise for cre- 
ating; if she had partaken of my fksh, and 
cost me the dearest groans of a mother, I 
could not have o\^ed her a more rooted love. 

//«/'. 'Twas a good lady, 'twas a good Udy : 
we may pick a thousand salads, ere we light 
on such another herb. 

Clo. Indeed, sir, she was the sweet-marjo- 
ram of the salad, or, rather the herb of gract**. 

J-'Cf. They are not salad hei bs, you knave, 
they are nose-herbs. 

Clo. I am no great Nebuchadnezzar, sir, 
have not much skill in grass. 

Euf. Whether dost thou profess thyself; a 
knave, or a fool ? 

Clo. A fool, sir, at a woman's service, ana 
a knave at a man's. 

Lifif. Your distinction? 

Clo. I would cozen the man of his wife 
and do his service. 

Laf. So you were a knave at his service 
indeed. 

Clo. And I would give his wife my bau 
ble, sir, to do her service. 

Laf. 1 will subscribe for thee; thou ar» 
both knave and fool. 

Clo. At your service. 

/,«/. No, no, no. 

Clo. Why, sir, if I cannot serve you, I cap 
serve as gieat a prince a? yon are. 

L"f. Who's that? a Frenchman? 

Clo. Faith, sir, he has an English name; 
but his phisnomy is more hotter in France, 
than there. 

L>of. What prince isthat? 

Clo. The black prince, sir, alias, the prince 
of darkness; alias, the devil. 

Eaf, Hold thee, there's my purse: I give 
rhee not this to suggest tt thee from thy mas- 
ter thou talkest of; serve him still. 

Clo. I am a woodland fellow, sir, that al- 
ways loved a great fire ; and the master I 
speak of, ever keeps a good fire. But, surCj 
he is the prince of the world, let his nobility 
remain in his court. I ani for the house with 
the narrow gate, which I take to be too little 
for pomp to enter: some, that humble them- 
selves, may; but the many will be too chill 
and tender; and they'll be for the flowery 
way, that leads to the broad gate, and the 
great fire. 

Laf. Go thy ways, I begin to be a-weary 
of thee; and 1 tell thee so before, because I 
would not fall out with thee. Go thy ways; 
let my horses be well looked to, without any 
tricks. 

Clo. If I put any tricks upon 'em, sir, 
they shall be jades' tricks; which are their 
ov\n right by the law ot nat..:*. [Exit, 

Ldf. A shrewd knave, and an unhappy;;. 

Count. So he is. My lord, that's gone, 
made himself much spttii out of him: by his 
authority he remains here, which he thinks is 



* For mover. t Lascivious. j i.e.. An honest death. § Commanos. 

1 End. IF There was a fashion of using yeilcw staich for bands and ruffles, to whirli 

Lareu alludes. •* i. e., Kue. tt deduce. It Mischievously uuharpy, 

wafaidu 



f74. 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act y 



a |) itent for his sanciness ; and, indeed, he 
hiis no pace, but runs where he will. 

LaJ'. 1 like him well; 'tis not amiss : and I 
was about to tell you. Since I heard of the 
jtood lady's death and that my lord your son 
was upon his return home, 1 moved the k\w^ 
my mister, to speak in the behalf of my 
'^auiiliter ; which, in the minority of the^u 
boih, his majesty, out of a self-gracious re- 
membrance, did first propose : his highness 
hath promised me to do it : and, to stop up 
the displeasure he hath conceived against your 
son, there is no fitter matter. How does your 
ladyship like it 1 

(-ount. With very much content, my lord, 
and I wish it happily effected. 

Li'tf. His highness comes post from Mar- 
seilles, of as able body as when he numbered 
thirty; he will be here to-morrow, or I am 
deceived by him that in such intelligence hath 
seldom failed. 

Coiint. It rejoices me, that I hope I shall 
see him ere I die. I have letters, that my 
(SOU will be here to-night : I shall beseech 



your lordship^ to remain with me till thej* 
meet together. 

Ldf. Madam, I was thinking, with what 
manutrs I might safely be admitted. 

Count. You need but plead your honour- 
able privilege. 

LaJ. Lady, of that I have made a bold 
charter ; but, I thank my God, it holds yet. 
Rt enter Clown. 

Clo. O madam, yonder's my lord your son 
with a patch of velvet on's face: whethei 
there be a scar under it, or no, the velvel 
knows; but *tis a goodly patch of velvet 
his left cheek is a cheek of two pile and n 
half, but his right cheek is worn bare. 

Laf. A scar nobly got, or a noble scar, id 
a good livery of honour; so, belike, is that. 

Tjlo. But it is your carbonadoed * face. 

Laf. Let us go see your son, I pray you . 
1 long to talk with the young noble soldier. 

Clo. 'Faith, there's a dozen of *em, with 
delicate fine hats, and most courteous feathers, 
which bow the head, and nod at every man. 

[ikeunt. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. Marseilles. A Street. 

Enter Helena, Widow, and Diana, with 
two Attendants. 

Hel. But this exceeding posting, day and 
night. 
Must wear your spirits low : we cannot help it; 
Bui, since you have mad« the days and nights 

as one, 
To wear your gentle limbs in my affairs. 
Be bold, you do so grow in my requital, 
As nothing can unroot you. In happy time ; — 

Enter a gentle Astringert. 
This njan may help me to his majesty's ear, 
If he would spend his power. — God save you, 

Ctnt. And you. [sir. 

JJel. Sir, I have seen you in the comt of 

Gent. I have been sometimes there. [France. 

fJel. I do presume, sir, that you are not fallen 

From the report that goes upon your goodness ; 

And therefore, goaded with most sharp oc- 

ca<iions, 
Which l.iy nice manners by, I put you to 
The use of your own virtues, for the which 
1 sh.dl coniinue thankful. 

Gent. What's your will? 

flel. That it will please you 
To i;ive this poor petition to the king ; 
All i aid me with that store of power you have, 
To come into his presence. 

Gi nf.. The king's not here. 

Hcl. Not here, sir ? 

Gent. >iOt, indeed: 

He hence remov'd last night, and with more 
Than is his use. [haste 

h id. Lord, Low we lose our pains I 



Hel. AU*s well that enda well ; yet ; 
Though time seem so adverse, and means 
I do beseech you, whither is he gone ? [unfei, 

Gent. Marry, as I lake it, to Rousillon ; 
Whither I am going. 

Hel. I do beseech you, sir. 

Since you are like to see the king before me. 
Commend the paper to his gracious hand ; 
Which, I presume, shall render you no blame. 
But rather make you thank your pains f{>r it ; 
I will come after you, with what j;ood speed 
Our means will make us menus. 

Gent. This I'll do for yon 

Hel. And you shall find yourself to be weli 
thanked, [a^ain ;— 

Whate'er falls more. — We must to horse 
Go, go, provide. [Kieunt. 

SCENE II. Rousillon. The inner Court 

of the Countess's Palace. 

Enter Clowii and Parolles. 

Par. (jood monsieur Lavalch, give my lord 
L.tfeu this letter : I have ere now, sir, betn 
belter known to you, when 1 have held fami- 
liarity with fresher clothes ; but I am now, 
sir, muddied in fortune's moat and snjell 
somewhat t-tront: of her strong displeasure. 

('lo. Truly, fortusie's displeasure is bu 
sluuish. it it smell so sironij as thou speakeat 
of: I will henceforth eat no fish of fortune's 
buttering. Pr'ylhee, all»>w the wind. 

Far, Nay, you need not stop your nose, 
sir; I spake but by a metaphor. 

Clo. Indeed, sir, if your metaphor stink, I 
will stop my nose; or against any man's me- 
taphor. Pr'ylhee, get thee further. 



i-\^,u\ WVv ;» pit;r.e nf tnpat for the gridiron. + A crntleman F-dconcr. 



ittltf lJ.\ 



ALL S WELL THAT ENDS WELL. 



^75 



Par. Pray you, sir, deliver me this paper. Tliou^h my revenges were high beut upon hiiii, 

I'lo. Foh, pr'ythue, stand away; A paper And watch'd the time to shoot. 

from fortune's close-stool to give to a noble- ^''{Z. This I must say, . 

man ! Look, here he comes himself. But first I beg my pardon, — I he young lord 

EnttJ La FEU. Did to his majesty, his mother, and his lady. 

Here is a pur of fortune's, sir, or of fortune's Ottence of mighty note ; but to himselt 

eat,(bu^ not a musk-cat,) that has fallen into . The greatest wrong of all: he lost a wife, 

fhe unclean fishpond of her displeasure, and. Whose beauty did astonish the survey 

«s he says, is muddied withal : Pray you. sir, Of richest e>es^; whose woids all ears took 

use the carp as you may ; for he looks like a captive; [serve. 

eooi, decayed, ingenious, foolish, rascally Whose deir perfection, hearts that scorn'd to 

nave. I do pity his distress in my smiles Humbly called mistress. 

»f comfort, and leave him to your lordship. King. Praising what is lost, 

[^j-^? Clown. Makes the remembrance dear. Well, cail 

Par. My lord, I am a man whom fortune him hither; 

Aath crueiij' scratched. We are reconciled, and the first view shall kill 

Laf. And what would you have me to do ? All repetition h : — Let him not ask your pardon; 

'tis too late to pare her nails now. Wherein The nature of his gnat ottence is dead, 

nave you playeil the knave with fortune, that And deeper than oblivion do we bury 

she should scratch you. who of herself is a The incensing relics of it : lei hin) ipproach, 

good lady, and would not have knitves thrive A stranger, no offendt-r ; and inform him, 

long under her ? There's a quart d'ecu for i>o 'tis our will he should, 

you: Let the justicts make you and fortune Gent. I shall, my liege, 

friends ; I am for other business. {Exit Gentleman 

Par. I beseech your honour, to hear me King. What says he to your daughter Miave 

one single word. you spoke i [highness. 

Laf. Vou beg a single penny more : come, J^^f- AH that he is hath reference to your 

you shall ha't ; save your word*. King. Ihen shall we have a match. 1 have 

Par. My name, my good lord, is Parolles. letters sent me, 

Laf. \ ou beg more than one word then. — That set him high in fame. 

Cox' my passion! give me your hand: — How Enter Bertram. 

does your drum ? Laf, He looks well on't. 

Par. » my good lord, you were the first King. I atn not a day of season^, 

that foun I me. For thou may'st see a sun-shine and a hail 

Laf. Was I, in sooth? and I was the first In me at once : But to the brightest beams 

that lost hee. Distracted clouds give way ; so stand thou forth. 

Par. ]t lies in you, my lord, to bring me The time is fair again, 

in some grace, for you did bring me out. Ber. My high-repented blames**, 

Laf O It upon thee, knave ! dost thou put Dear sovereign, pardon to me. 

upon me at once both the oflice of God and King. All is whole 

the devil f ODe brings the% in grace, and the Not one word more of the consumed lime, 

other brings ihee out. [Trumpets sound.] Let's take the instant by the forward top ; 

The king's coming, i know by his trumpets. — For we are old, and on our quick'st decrees 

Sirrah, inquire further after me ; I had talk of The inaudible and noiseless foot of time 

you last night: though >ou are a fool and a Steals ere we can elfectthem: You remembej 

knave, you shall eat ; go to, follow. The daaghter of this lord 1 

Par. I praise God for you. [Exeunt. Ber. Admiringly, my liege : at first 

SCENE IIL The same. A Room in the I«t"ck my choice upon her ere my heart 

Countess's Palace. ^"''' '" u^^- ^'''* ^"^ -"^ '" ^^'^'"^ "* ""^ '.-'"^"^ * 

«,,.,„ ^ _... ^ _ Where the impression ot mine eye inhxing, 

gtourmh. Enter King, Countess, Lafeu, Couiempthis scorntul perspective did lend me. 

Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, ^c Which warp'd the line of every otiier favour j 

King. We lost a jewel of her ; and our Scorn'd a fair colour, or express'd it stol'n ; 

esteem t Extended or confracred all proportions, 

Was made much poorer by it : but your son, To a most hideous object: Ihtnce it came. 

As mad in folly, lack'd the sense to know That she, whom ail men praised, and whom 

Her estimation home j. myself. 

Count. 'Tis past, my liege : Since J have lost, have loved, was in mine eye 

And I beseech your majesty to make it The dust that did offend it. 

Natural rebellion, done i'tlie blaze of youth ; Kin-. Well excused : 

When oil and fire, too trong for reason's force. That thou didst love her, strikes some scores 

O'erbears it, and burns on. away [too Ute, 

King. My honour'd lady, I From the great compt : But love, that comes 

1 have forgiven and forgotten all ; i Like a remorseful pardon slowly carried, 

• You need not ask;— here it is. t Reckoning or estimate. % Completely, in its fuli 
extent. j So in As you Like it :~to have " seen much and to have nothing, is to have 

nth eyes and poor hands." \\ i. e.. The first interview shall put an end to all recoUec 

»'«>h Of (ho iiMst. ^i /. e.. Of nnintrrriMifed rain. ** Ftnlts tcncitti-M . f v^ tfip ntinos 



27(i 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act V 



To the great sender turns a sour offence, 
Crying, That's good that's gone: our rash faults 
Make trivial price ol" serious tilings we have. 
Not knowing tliem, until we know their graye : 
Ott our displeasures, to ourselves unjust. 
Destroy our friends, and after weep tlieir dust : 
Our own love waking cries to see w hat's done. 
While shameful hate sleeps out the afternoon 
Be this sweet Helen's knell, and now forget 
her. [lin : 

Send forth your amorous token for fair Maud- 
J he main consents are had ; and here we'll stay 
To see our widower's second n.arriage-day. 
Count. Which better than the first, O dear 
heaven, bless! 
Or, ere they meet, in me, O nature, cease! 
Z,aJ'. Come on, my son, in whom my house's 
name 
Must be digested, give a favour from you. 
To spaikle in the spirits of my daughter. 
That she may quickly come. — By my old beard, 
And every hair that's on't, Helen, that's dead. 
Was a sweet creature; such a ring as this. 
The last that e'er I took her leave at court, 
1 saw upon her finger. 

Ber. Hers it was not. 

King. Now, pray you, let me see it ; for 
mine eye. 
While 1 was speaking, oft was fasten'd to't. — 
This ring was n.ine ; and, when 1 ^aveit Helen, 
I bade her, if her fortunes ever stood 
Necessitied to help, that by this token 
I would relieve her: Had you that craft, to 
Of what should stead her most? [reave her 
Ber. My gracious sovereign, 

Howe'er it pleases you to take it so. 
The ring was never hers." 

Coutit. Sou, on my life, 

I have seen her wear it ; and she reckon'd it 
At her life's rate. 

y^//. I am sure, I saw her wear it. 

Ber. You are deceived, my lord, she never 

saw it: 

In Florence was it from a casement thrown me, 

W rapp'd in a paper, which coutain'Ci the name 

Of her that threw it 'Jo.she was, and 

thought , "• t 

I stood ingaged*: but when : /.ad subscribed 
To mine own fortune, and info- \.i'd her fully, 
1 could not answer in -t course of honour 
As she had made tiie i. verture, the ceastd. 
In heavy satisfaction, nad would never 
Kective the ring agai. ' *. 

King. \- , sei.*", [cinet,*' 

That knows the tine -ltif.!ying mtdi- 

Hatli not in nature's mystery more science, 
1 han I have in this ring : 'twas mine, 'twas 

Helen's, 
Whoever t^ave it you : Then, i you know 
That you are well acqir/tntcd ^' 'tli jourselft; 
Confess 'twas hers, aa/ii by *-'^i!;j;h <,i;- 

furceuient j^surcty. 

You got it from her: she cui'd the ca'nts lu 
1 hat she would never put it from her finger, 
Culess she gave it to yourself in bed. 



(Where you have never come,) or sent it as 
Upon her great disaster. 

Ber. She never saw it. 

King, Thou speak'st it falsely, as I \o\e 
mine honour; 
And njakest conjectural fcKrs to come into me. 
Which I would fain shut out: If it should prove 
That thou art so inhuman,— 'twill not prove 
so;— [deadly, 

And yet I know not:— thou did«t hate her 
And she is dead ; which nothing, but to close 
Her eyes myself, could win me to believe. 
More than to see this ring. — Take him away. .- 
[Guards seize Bertram. 
My fore-past proofs, howe'er the matter fall, 
Shall tax my fears of little vanity, 
Having vainly fear'd too little.— Away with 
We'll sift this matter further. [him;— 

Ber, If you shall prove 

This rmg was ever hers, you shall as easy 
Prove that 1 husbanded her bed in Florence, 
Where yet she never was. 

\^tlxit Bertram, gwar^ierf. 
Enter a Gentlenian. 

King. I am wrapp'd in dismal thinkings. 

Gent. Gracious sovereign. 

Whether I have been to blame, or no, 1 know 
Here's a petition from a Florentine, [n(»t ; 
Who hath, for four or five removes j, come 
To tender it herself. I undertook it, [short 
Vanquish'd thereto by the fair grace and speech 
Of the poor sappliant, who by this, 1 know, 
Is here attending : her business looks in her 
With an importing visage; and she told me, 
Iii a sweei verbal brief, it did concern 
^ our highness with herself. 

King. [Reads.] b'pon lies many 'pro' est a- 
tiois^ to murry me j when luswije was dead, 
1 blusli to say it, he uon me. Notv is the 
count Hmi.sUlon a widower ; his vows are 
forjeited to me, and my honour's fuid to 
htm. He stole Jrom Flcience, taking no 
leavCy and I follow him to hii^^fountry for 
justice :,1^ri(nt it me, P Mug^4,t you it 

best lies; otherwise a sedi' Jiourishes, 

and a poor maid is undone. ' 

Diana Capulet, 

'Lifff I will buy iD^t«# so .^-in-law in a fair, 
and toll him jj : for this, I'll no . nim. 

King. The hea> ..» have tiii>ught well on 
thee, U6t"i. / [suitors. — 

Tot{>..A.^ . ihis discovery. — Seek these 

Go,.'. eedilx,aiiU bring again the count. 

[Exeun^ Gentleman, and some Attendants, 
I am afeard, tne life of Helen, lady. 
Was foully snalch'd. 

Count. Now, justice on the doers.' 

Enter Bertra.^j, guardtd. 

King. I wonder, sir, since wives are n>on- 

sters to you, [sliip. 

And that \,oa tly th;p^]^s you swear them U>r<J- 

Vet>t^u<J^iire tomi^y. — What woman's ihatl 

yie- ^-^fip Oeutteinau, with Widovy, and 

-♦ •: ..* lilANA. -. 

D!r. Jjum, my lord, a wretched Florentine, , 



• Jn the sense of unengaged. t The philosopher's stone. " i'"*;'^ i.>.. That you have^' 

the proper coiistionsness of your own actious. j Po8t-al.a;^». jJ Pay loii tor u ml 



S'yen^ 1 1 J.] 



all's well that ends well. 



277 



Derived from the ancient Capnlet ; 

My suit, as 1 do understand, you know, 

A.nd tlierefore know how far I may be pitied. 

fJ^id. 1 am her mother, sir, whose age and 
honour, 
Both sutter under this complaint we bring. 
And both shall cease*, wilhout your remedy. 

King. Come hither, count; Do you know 
these women ? 

Ber. My lord, I neither can, nor will deny 

But that 1 know them: Do they chaige me 

further.' [wife ? 

Dia. Why do you look so strange upon your 

Ber. She*3 none of mine, my lord. 

Diet. If you shall marry, 

You give away this hand, and that is mine ; 
You ^ive away heaven's vows, and those are 

mine; 
You giv« away myself, which is known mine; 
For I by vow am so embodied yours. 
That she, which marries you, must marry me. 
Either botli, or none. 

L'.tf* Your reputation [Tb Bertram.] comes 
•^oo «ho<"t for my daughter, you are no husband 
for her. 

Ber. My lord, this is a fond and desperate 

creature, - [your highness 

Whom sometime I have laugh'd with : let 

Lay a more noble thought upon inine honour, 

•Than for to think that I would sink it here. 

King. Sir, for my thoughts, you have them 
ill to friend, 
Till your deeds gain them : Fairer prove yoar 
Than in my thought it lies ! [houour, 

I) la. Good my lord, 

Ask him upon his oath, if he does think 
He had not my virginity. 

King. What say'st thou to her ? 

Ber. She's impudent, my lord ; 

And was acommoa gamester to the campt. 

Did. He* does me wrong, my lord: if I 
•'• ' were so, 
H.e.might'h.ive bought me at a common price : 
Do m)t't»eliesve him : O, behold tni^ ling. 
Whose higA=*^#Bpect, and rich validity j. 
Did lack a p^railfel ; yet^ for all that, 
He gave it to a commoner o' the camp. 
If I be ^MP, ■■£t^.,l ., 

Coiini,^ '"Bfe flushes, and 'tis it: 
Of six predafmg ancesi^a^j^that gem 
C-iferr'd by t meat * •'''**'^s«»n|neDl issue, . 
Hath it been owed andl"\v(» igi i'liii :.-His 
That ring's a thousand proiilS.*^ ' Qfwqte; 

King. Meth'olie:titt you snid, • 

You saw one here in court codld' witness it. 

Via. I did, ir\y lord, but loth am to produce 
So bad an instrument ; his name's Parolles. 

J^uj. 1 saw the man to-day, if man he be. 

Aing, Find him, and bring him hither. 

Ber. What of him? 

He's quot*(l^ tor a most perfidious slave, 

With all the spots o'lhe world tax'd and de- 

boshd li ; , i 

Whose nature "ickens, but to speak % uuth : \ 



Am I or that, or this, for what he'll utter. 
That will speak any thing ? 

King. She hath that ring of yours. 

Ber. I think, she has : certain it is I liked 
her. 
And boarded her i'the wanton way of youth : 
She knew her distance, and did angle for me. 
Madding my eageriiess vvitii her rt-straint. 
As all iiupediments in fancy's H course 
Are motives of more fancy ; and, in fine. 
Her insult corning with her modern grace**. 
Subdued me to her rate: she got the ring: 
And 1 had that, which any inferior might 
At market-price have bought. 

Dia. 1 must be patient 

You, that turn'd off a first so noble wife, 
M !y justly diet mett. I pray you yet, 
(Since you lack virtue, I will lose a liu.sband,) 
Send for your ring, 1 will return it home. 
And give me mine again. 

Brr. I have it not. 

King. What ring was yours, I pray you ? 
Dia. Sir, much like 

The same upon your finger. 

King. Know you this ring? this ring was 
his of late. [a-bed. 

D'a. And this was it I gave him, being 

King. The story then goes false, you threw 
Out of a casemei.t. [it him 

Dia. 1 have spoke the truth. 

E'lter Parollks. 

Ber. My lord, I do confess, the ring Avas hers 

King. You boggle shrewdly, every feather 
is this the man you speak of i [starts you. — 

Dia. Ay, my lord. 

King. Tell me, sirrah, bat tell me true, I 

charge you. 

Not fearing the displeasure of your master, 

(Which, Oil your just proceeding, I'll keep 

off,) [you ? 

By him, and by this woman here, what know 

Par. So please your majesty, njy njaster 
hath been an honunrable gentleman; tricks 
he hath had in him, which gentlemen have. 

King, Come, come, to the purpose: Did 
he love this w -o- : 

Par. 'F 1*' , Si.,ne did love her: But how? 

Kinr. H-c , I pray vou? 

Par. He 1 love her, sir, as a gentleman 
loves a womffn. ^'Ij 

Kitig. How is that? 

Pur. He loved her-, sir, and loved her not 

King. As thou '»•■ .I'knave, and no knave: 
— What an eo''- -' ' 'iit'(')mpanion:i is this? 

Pur. I am: I i/m. J3«, and at your majes- 
ty's command. " • • 

Laf He's a good drum, my lord, but a 
naugh^y (rator. 

Dia. ho you know,he promised me marriage? 

Far. 'Faitlr. I k'nc / more than I'll speak. 

A7/7/t> : 7' ; V .fiit thou not speak all thou 
know'c ; 

Par. Yes, 80 please your majesty; I did 
go between them, as 1 (said ; but more than 



• Decease, dit. t llJamester ,yhen applied to a female, then meant a common woman. 
I Value. ^ Noted. %.-^ Debauched. 4 Love. ♦* Her solicitation concurring with 

ber appearance of being common. *♦ May justly make me fast. :;; 1 el low 



278 



SHAKSPEARE. 



l^ct V. 



that he loved her,— for, indeed, he was mad 
for her, and talked of Safm and of limbo, 
and of furies, and I know not what; yet 1 
was in that credit with them at that time, that 
1 knew of their going to bed; and of other 
motions, as promising her marriage, and things 
that would derive me ill will to speak of, there- 
fore I will not speak what I know. 

King Thou hast spoken all already, unless 
thou canst say they are married : But thou 
art too fine* in thy evidence: therefore stand 
aside. — 
This ring, you say, was yours ? 

J)ia. Ay, my good lord. 

King, Where did you buy it ? or who gave 

it you ? 
Dia. It was not given me, nor I did not 

buy it. 
King. Who lent it you? 
Via, It was not lent me neither. 

King, Where did you find it then? 
Dia. I found it not. 

King, If it were yours by none of all these 
How could you give it him? [ways, 

Dia, 1 never gave it him. 

Liof. This woman's an easy glove, my 
lord ; she goes off and ou at pleasure. 
King. This riMg was mine, I gave it his 
fiffct wife. [I kntjw. 

Dia. It might be yours, or hers, for aught 
King. Take he'*away, I do not like her now ; 
To prison with her: and avvay with him. — 
Unless thou tell'st me where thou hadst this 
Thou diest within this hour. [rimr, 

Dia. ril never tell you. 

King. Take her away. 
Dli. I'll put in bail, my liege. 

King, I think thee now some common cus- 
tomer t. 
Dia. By Jove, ifever I knew man, 'twas you. 
King Wherefore hast thou ac( used hitii all 

this while? 
Dia. Becausehe's guilty, and he is not guilty; 
He knows, lam no maid, and he'll swear lo't: 
Pll swear, I am a maid, and he knows not. 
Great king, I am no strumpet, by my life ; 
1 am either maid, or else this old iijan's wife. 
[Pointing to Lakeij. 
King. She does abuse owv ears ; to prison 
with her. [royal sir ; 

Dia. Good mother, fetch my brjil. — Stay, 
[Exit Widow. 
The jeweller, that owes J the ring, is sent tor, 
Ami he shall surety me. But for this lord, 
Who hath abused me, as he knows himself. 
Though jet he never harm'd me, here I quit him: 
Too artful. | Common woman. 



He knows himself, ray bed he hath defiled ; 
And at that lime he got his wife with child- 
De^i^, though she be, she feels her young one 

'■■•?»■ kick; 
So^jpe's my riddle, One, that's dead, is quick : 
An^Bow behold the meaning. 

Re-enter Widow, tvitti Helena,. 
King, Ig there no exorcist^ 

Beguiles the truer office of mine eyes ? 
Is't real, that I see ? 

Hel. No, my good lord ; 

'Tis but the shadow of a wife you see, 
The name, and not the thing. 

Ber, Both, both ; O, pardon ! 

Hel. O, my good lord, when 1 was like 
this maid, 
I found you wondrous kind. There is your ring, 
And, look you, here's your letter ; Tliis it says, 
IVhenfrorn myjingtr you can get this ri/iii. 
And are by we n'Uti chili/, &.c. — This is done: 
Will you be mine, now you are doublj won? 
Ber. If she, my lieije, can make me know 
this clearly, 
I'll love her dearly, ever, ever dearly, 

Hel. If it appear not plain, and pr»*ve untrue, 
Deadly divorce step between me and youl — 
O, my dear mother, do 1 see you living { 

Laf. Mine eyes smell onions, I shall weep 
anon: — Good loin Drum, [Ta Pakolles.J 
lend me a handkerchief: So, I thank thee; 
wait on me home, I'll make sport with thee 
Let thy courtesies alone, they are scurvy ones. 
King. Let us from point to point this story 
know. 
To make the even truth in pleasure flow : — 
If thou be'st yet a fresh uncropped f^pwer. 

[To Diana. 
Choose thou thy husband, and I'll pay thy 

dower ; 
For I can yuess, that, by the honest aid, 
I'hou kepl'st a wife herself, thyself a maid. — 
Of that, and all the pi ogress, more and less. 
Resolvedly more leisure shall express: 
All yet seem.s well ; and, if it end so meet, 
The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet. 
[ Flourish 
Advancing. 
The king's a fnggar, now the play is done: 
All is well ended, if this suit be icon. 
That you express content ; which ne will pay, 
H'ith strife to please you, doy exceeding day : 
Ours he your patience then, and yours our 

parts\\; 
Yimr gentle hands lend us, and take our 
hearts. 

[Exeunt* 

t Owns. § Enchanter. I *• e ^ Hear us 



without interruption, and take our parts, support and defend ns. 

This play has many delightful scem-s, though not sulliciently probable, and some happy 
characters, though not new, nor produced by any deep knowledge of human nature. Parolles 
is a boasi'sr and a coward, such as his always been the sport of the stajje, but perhaps never 
raised more laughter or contempt thin in ttie hands of Shakspf'are. 

1 cannot reconcile my heart to Bertram ; a man noble without uenerosity, and young without 
tnuh ; who marries He4en as a coward, and leaves her as a protligate : when she is dead by 
his unkindne5s, sneaks home to a second marriage, is accused by a woman whom he has 
wronged, defends himself by falseluxKi, and is dismissed to happiness. 

TiiH sforv of li'-rti III in r hi I.I I had inMMi lold bef(»> e of M>jrMna and Angelo, and, »o CQ9 
cej. iht iiuiii, acMicilj mciUcii lo i»c hea»«i a &*:iron(l am*:. — vwWNSVKf 



TAMING 



THE SHREW. 



A Lord. 1 Persons 

Christopher Sly, a drunken tinker. > in the 

hostess, Page, Players, Huntsmen, and other Servants, attending on the Lord. ) Induction* 



Baptista, a rich gentleman of Partita, 

V NCENTio, an olrt gentleman of Pisa. 

hvoESTio, son to Vincetitio, in love with 
Bianca. 

I'etruch ID, a gentleman of Verona, a sui- 
tor to Kathurina. 

Gremio, \suitors to Bianca, 

HORTENSIO, $ 

^t^.)!i\ X « \ servants to Lucent io, 

BlONDELLO, / 

Tailor, Haberdasher, and Servants attending on Baptista and Pefruchio. 
Scene, — sometimes in Padua; and sometimes in Petruchio*s House in the Country. 



CuRTil*^' \jeri;aw*5 to Petruchio, 

Pedant, an old fellow set up to perso7ti4ft 
Vincuitio, 



Katharina, the Shrew,^ daughters to 
B 1 A N e A. her sifter, j Baptista, 
Widow, 



INDUCTION. 



SCENE I. Before an Alehouse on a 
Heath, 

Enter Hostess and Sly. 

Sly. pLLpheese* yon, in faith. 
Host. A pair of stocks, you rogue! 
Sly. Y'are a baggage; the Slies are no 
rogues : Look in the chronicles, we came in 
vith Richard Conqueror. Therefore, paUcas 
paUabrisi ; let the world slide: SessaX! 

Host. You will not pay for the glasses you 
have burst §? 

Sly. N«, not a denier: Go by, says Jero- 
uimy ; — Go to thy cold bed, »n(1 warm theelj. 
Host. I know my remedy, 1 must go fetch 
the thirdborough %. [Exit, 

Sly. Third, or fourth, or fifth borough, PU 
answer him by law: Pll not budge an inch, 
boy ; let him come, and kindly. 
.Lies di'iv/t on the ground, and falls asleep. 
Wind Horns. Enter a Lord/ro»i hunting, 
with Huntsmen and Servants. 
Lord. Huntsman, I charge thee, tender well 
my hounds : [boBs'd tt, 

Brach ♦* Merriman,— the poor cur is em- 
And couple Clowder with the deep-mouth'd 
brach. [good 

Saw'st thou not, boy, how Silver made it 
At the hedge corner, in the coldest fault? 
I would not lose the dog for twenty pound. 
1 Hun. Why, Belman is as good as he, my 
lord ; 
He cried upon it at the merest loss. 



And twice to-day pick'doot the dullest scent. 
Trust me, I take him for the better dog. 
Lord. Thou art a fool ; if Echo were a? 
fleet, 
I would esteem him worth a dozen such. 
But sup them well, and look unto them all ; 
To-morrow I intend t » hunt again 

1 Hun. I will, my lord. 

Lord. What's here? one dead, or drunk? 
See, doin he breathe? 

2 Hun. He breathes, my lord : Were he 

not warmed with ale. 
This were a bed but cold to sleep so soundly. 
Lord. O monstrous beast ! how like a 

swine he lies ! [thine image ! 

Grim death, how foul and loaihsome is 
Sirs, I will practise on this drunken man. — 
What think you, if he were conveyed to Ixid, 
Wrapped in sweet clothes, rings put upon his 

finiiero, 
A most delicious banquet by his bed, 
And brave attendants near him when he 

wakes. 
Would not the beggar then forget himself? 

1 Hun. Believe me, lord, I think he tan- 

not choose, [when he waked. 

2 Hun. It would seem strange unto hiiH 
Lord, Even as a flattering dream, or worth. 

less fancy. 
Then take him up, and manage well the jest: — 
Carry him gently to my fairest chamber, 
And hang it round with all my wanton pic 

tures : 



• Beat or knock. t Few words. t Be quiet. $ Broke. |f i ni» 

line and the scrap of Spanish is used in burlesQue from an old play called Hieronymo,or the 
Spanish Tragedy. II An oflUcer wliose authority equals a constable. ♦* Biicn. 

tr Strained. 



IJThi. 



280 



SHAKSPEARE, 



[Jrtdnc 



halm his foul head with warm iisiillert wateis, 
And burn sweet wood to make the lodging 

sweet : 
Procure me music ready when he wakes; 
Tom ike a dulctt and a heavenly sound ; 
And if lie chance to speak, be ready straight, 
And, with a low submissive reverence, 
Say, — What is it your honour will command ? 
T.et one attend him with a silver bason, [ers; 
Full of ruse-water, and bestrew'd with tiow- 
Another bear the ewer*, the third a diapert, 
And say,— VVill't please your lordship cool 

your hands? 
Some one be ready with a costly suit, 
Attd ask him what apparel he will wear; 
Another tell him of his hounds and horse. 
And that his lady mourns at his disease : 
Ptrsuade him, that he hath been lunatic; 
And, when he says he is — , say, that he 

dreams, 
For he is nothing but a mighty lord. 
This do, and do it kindly t. gentle sirs; 
It will be pastime passing cxctllent. 
If it be husbanded with modesty §. 

1 HiDi. My lord, I warrant you, we'll play 
our part, 
As he shall think, by our true diligence, 
He is no less than what we say he is. 

Lord. Take him up gently, and to bed with 

him ; 

And each one to his office, when he wakes. — 

[Some bear out Sly. A frnmyet sounds. 

Sirrah, go see what trumpet *tis that sounds : — 

[Exit Servant. 

Belike, some noble gentleman ; thai means. 

Travelling some journey, to repose him here. 

Re-enter a Servant. 
How now? who is it? 

Serv. An it please your honour, 

Players that offer service to your lordship. 
hord. Bid them come near: — 
Enter Players. 
• Now, fellows, you are welcome. 

1 Play. We thank your honour. 

Lord. Do you intend to stay with me to- 
night? 

2 Play. So please your lordship to accept 

our duty. 
Lord. With all my heart.— This fellow I 
remember. 
Since once he play'd a farmer's eldest son ; — 
Twas where you woo'd the gentlewoman so 

well : 
1 have forgot your name ; but, sure, that part 
Was aptly fitted, and naturally performed. 
1 Play. 1 think, 'twas Solo that your ho- 
nour means. [lent. — 
Jjord. 'Tis very true ; — thou didst ft excel- 
Well, von are come tome in happy time; 
The ratlier for I have some sport in hand, 
Wherein your cunning can assist me much. 
There is a lord will hear you play to-night: 
But I am doubtful of your modesties; 
Lest, over-tying of his odd behaviour, 
For yet his honour never heard a play,) 
\ oa break into some merry passion, 



k 



And so offend him; for I tell you, sirs. 
If you should smile, he grows impatient. 
1 Play. Feirnot, my lord; we can con- 
tain ourselves. 
Were he the veriest antic in the world. 

Lo>d. Go, sirrah, take tliem to the buttery 
And give them friendly welcome every one: 
Lei them want nothing that my house affords.* 
[Exevni Servant and Players. 
Sirrah, go you to Bartholomew my page, 

[To a St-rvant. 
And see himdress'd in all suits like a lady: 
That done, conduct him to the drunkard's 

chamber, 
And call him — madam, do him obeisance, 
Tell him from me, (as he will win my love 
He bear himself wilU honourable action. 
Such as he hath observed in noble ladies 
Unto their Lords, by them accomplished! 
Such duty to the drunkard let him do. 
With soft low tongue, and lowly courtesy; 
And say, — What is't youi honour will com 

mand, 
Wherein your lady, and your humble wife. 
May show her duty, and make known hei 

love? [iiig kisses. 

And then — with kind cmbracements, tempt- 
And with declining head into his b()Som, — 
Bid him shtd tears, as be iig overjoy'd 
To see her noble lord restored to health. 
Who, for twice seven years, hath esteemed 

him 
No better than a poor and loathsome beggar : 
And if the boy have not a woman's gift. 
To rain a shovser of commanded tears. 
An onion will do well for su( h a shift; . 
Which in a napkin being close conveyed. 
Shall in despite enforce a watery eye. 
See this despatched with all the haste thou 

canst; 

Anon ril give thee more instructions. 

[Ejt'it Servant. 
1 know, the boy will well usurp the grace. 
Voice, gait, and action of a gentlewoman : 
I long to hear him call the drunkard, husband; 
And how my men will stay themselves from 

laughter. 
When they do homage to this simple peasant. 
I'll in t«) counsel them : haply |i, my presence 
May well abate the over-merry spleen. 
Which otherwise would grow into extremes. 

[E2en7it. 

SCENE II. A Bedchamber in the Lord's 

Bouse. 
Sly is discovtred in a rich niiht ^oivvy 
with Attendants; some with afyarel, 
others with bu.son, ewer^ and other wp 
purtenauces. Enter Lord, dressed like 
a Servant. 
Sly. For God's sake, a pot of small ale. 

1 Stru. Will't please your lordship drink 

a cup of sack ? 

2 Serr. Will't please your honour taste of 

these conserves? [wear to-day '} 

3 Strv. What raiment will your honour 



Pitcher 



i Naukin 



J Nafnrilly 



5 Arndcrat'on. 



i Pe-lian* 



tr-ne JI.\ 



TAMINQ OF THE SHKEW. 



2S1 



Slr/» I am Christophero Sly; call not me — 
honour, nor lardship: I never drank sack in 
my life; and if you give me any conserves, 
give me conserves of beef: IS e'er ask me 
what raiment I'll wear; for I have mo n)ore 
doublets than backs, no more stockit»ii;s than 
le2;s, nor no more shoes than feet; nay, some- 
times, more feet than shoes, or such shoes as 
my toes look through the over-leather. 

Lord. Heaven cease this idle humour in 
your honour! 
O, that a mii;hty man, of such descent. 
Of such possessions, and so high esteem, 
Should be infuserl with so foul a spirit! 

aiy. "What, would you make me mad? Am 
not 1 Christopher Sly, old Sly'j »on of Bur- 
ton-heath ; by birth a pedlar, by education a 
card-maker, by transmutation a bear-herd, and 
now by present profession a tinker? Ask Ma- 
rian Racket, the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if she 
know me not : if she say I am not fourteen 
pence on the score for sheer ale, score me up 
for the lyingest knave in Christendom. What, 
T am not bestraught * : Here's 

\Strr, O, this it is thai makes your lady 
mourn. fdroop. 

2 Serv. O, this it is that makes your servants 

Lord. Hence comes it that your kindred 
shun your house, 
As beaten hence by your strange lunacy. 
O, noble lord, bethink thee of thy birth; [ment. 
Call home thy ancient thoughts from banish- 
And banish hence these abject lowly dreams: 
Look how thy servants do attend on thee, 
Each in his office ready at thy beck. 
Wilt thou have nmsic i hark ! Apollo plays, 

[ Music . 
And twenty caged nightingales do sing : 
Or wilt thou sleep '( we'll have thee to a couch. 
Softer and sweeter than the lustful bed 
On purpose trimm'd up for Semiramis. 
^ Say, thou wilt walk ; we will bestrew the 
ground : 
Or wilt thou ride? thy horses shall be trapp'd, 
Their harness studded all with gold and pearl. 
Dost thou love hawking? thou hast hawks 

will soar 
Above the morning lark : Or wilt thou hunt? 
n.y hounds shall make the welkin answer them. 
And fetch shrill echoes from the hollow earth. 

1 Serv. Say, thou wilt course ; thy grey- 

hounds are as swift 
As breathed stags, ay, fleeter than the roe» 

2 Serv. Dost thou love pictures? we will 

fetch thee straight 
Adonis, painted by a running brook: 
And Cytherea all in sedges hid; [breath, 

W hich seem to move and wanton with her 
Even as the waving sedges play with wind. 

Lord. We'll show thee lo, as she was a maid; 
And how she was beguiled and surprised. 
As lively painted as the deed was done. 

ZSerr. OrDaphne,fOamingthrough a thorny 
\rO{)d ; [bleeds : 

Scratching her legs that one shall swear she 
Aud at that sight shall sad ApoJio weep. 



So workmanly the blood and te^rs aredrawa 
Lord. Thou art a lord, and nothing but a 
Thou hast a lady far more beautiful [lord : 
Than any woman in this waning age. 

1 Serv. And, till the tej.rs that she hath 

shed tor thee. 
Like envious floods, o'er-ran her lovely face. 
She was the fairest creature in the world ; 
And yet she is interior to none. 

Sly. Am I a lord ? and have I such a lady? 
Or do I dream ? or have I dream'd till now l 
I do not sleep : I see, I hear, I speak ; 
I smell sweet savours, and I feel soft things :--• 
Upon my life, 1 am a lord, indeed ; 
And not a tinker, nor Christophero Sly. — 
Well, bring our lady hither to our sight ; 
And once a^ain. a pot o' the smallest ale. 

2 Serv. Will't please your mightiness to 

wash your hands? 
[Servants present an ewer, bason, 8f,napkin. 
O, how we joy to see your wit resiored ! [are ! 
O, that once more you knew but what you 
These fifteen years you have been in a dream ; 
Or, when you waked, so waked as if you slept. 
Sly. Tiiese fifteen years! by my fay t, a 
goodly nap. 
But did I never speak of all that time? 

\ Serv. O, yes, my lord; but very idle 
words : — [her, 

For though you lay here in this goodly chain- 
Yet would you say, ye were be<iteiiout of door; 
And rail upon the hostess of the house; 
And say, you would present her at the Itet j, 
Because she brought stone jug? and no seai'd 
quarts : [Hacket. 

Sometimes you would call out for (Mcely 
Slju Ay, the woman's ntaid of the house. 

3 Serv. Why, sir, you know no house, nor 

no such maid ; 
Nor no such men, as you have reckon'd up, — 
As Stephen Sly, and old John Mrips of Greece, 
And Peter Turf, and Henry Pinipernell; 
And twenty more such names and men astiiese, 
Which never were, nor no.iian ever saw. 

Sly^ Now, Lord be thanked, for my good 

AIL Amen. [amends ! 

Sly. I thank thee ; thou shall not lose by it. 
Enter the Page, as a lady, uitli A«iiendanis. 

Page. How fares my noble lord? 

Sly. Marry, 1 fare well; for here is cheer 
Where is my wife ? [enongli- 

Page. Here, noble lord; What is thy will 
with her ? [me— husband { 

Sly. Are you my wife, and will not call 

My men should call me — lord; 1 am your 

goodman. [and husband ; 

Page. My husband and my lord, my ior<i 
I am your wife in all obedience. 

Sly. I know it well :— What must I call her ? 

Lord. Madam. 

Sly. Al'ce madam, or Joan madam? 

Lord. Madam, and nothing else ; so lords 
call ladies. [dream'd, and slept 

Sly. Madam wife, they say that 1 have 
Above some fifteen year and more. [ns"; 

Page. Ay, and the time seems tiiirty uuto 



* ]>istr<!Cted. t Faith. ; Couri-ket. 



2 B 3 



2S'2 



SHAKSPEAHE. 



\Act f 



Being all this time abarirton'd from your berl. 

Sly, 'i is much ; Servants, leave me and 

her alone- 

Madam, undress you, and come now to bed. 

Page. Tlirice noble lord, let nie entreat of 
To pardon nie yet for a night or two ; [>ou, 
Or, if nt»t so, until the sun be set : 
For your ph^siuians have expressly charged, 
Jn peril to incur your former nialady. 
That 1 should yet absent me from your bed: 
1 hope, this reason stands for my excuse. 

Sly. Ay, it stands so, that 1 may hardly 
tai ry so long. But I would be lotti to faH 
i.ito my dreams again ; I will therefore tarry, 
in despite of the flesh and the blood. 
Enter a Servant. 

Serv. Your honour's players, bearing your 
amendment. 



Are come to play a pheasant comeuy. 
For so >our doctors hold it very meet ; 
Seeing too much ?adne.<s hath congeal'd yonr 
And melancholy is the nurse of frenzy, [blood, 
i'herefore,lhey thought it good you hear a play. 
And frame your mind to mirth and mtrriment, 
W hich bars a thousand harms, and ieugihena 
life. 

Sly, Marry, I will; let them play it : Is 
not a coramonty* a Christmas gambol, or a 
tunjbling-trick i 

Page. No, my good lord ; it is more pleas 
ing stuff. 

Sly. What, household stnflF? 

Page. It is a kind of history. 

Sly. Well, we'll see't : Come, madam wife 
sit by my side, and let the world slip ; w» 
shall ne'er be younger. [Ttiey sit aom^ 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. Padua. A public Place, 
Enter Luckntio and Tranio. 

Luc. Tranio, feince— for the great desire I 
To see fair I'adua, nursery of arts, — [had 
1 am arrived for fruittul Lombardy, 
Ihe pleasant garden of great Italy; 
And, by my father's love and leave, am arm'd 
\\ ilh his g(Jod will, and thy goo<i company, 
Most irusty J^ervant, well approved in all; 
Here let us breathe, and happily institute 
A c<)urse of learning, and ingenious t studies. 
Pisa, renowned for grave citizerjs, 
Cave me \u} being, and my father first, 
A merchant of great traffic through the world, 
Vincentio, come <»f the Beniivolii. 
Vincentio his ^on, brought up in Florence, 
It shall become, to serve all hopes conceived. 
To (leek his fortune with his virtuous deeds: 
And therefore, Tranio.. for the lime 1 study, 
\ iitue, and that part of philosophy 
W ill I 'ppl.V, tliat treats of happiness 
B> vnliie 'specially to be acliieved. 
lell me th> ii:ind : for I have Pisa left. 
And am to Padua come ; as he tint leaves 
A shallow plash ;, to plunge him in the deep. 
And with satiety seeks to quench his thirst. 

Tra. A/i p'raona/e ^, gentle m.tster mine, 
I am in all atlected as yourself; 
Glad that you thus continue your resolve. 
To suck the sweets of sweet philosophy. 
Only, good master, while we do admire 
This viitue, and this moral discipline. 
Let's be rjo stt»ics nor no stocks, 1 pray ; 
Oi so devote to Ari.slotle's checks l|, 
As Ovid be an outcaj^t quite abjured: 
Talk logic with acquaintance that you have. 
And piaciihe rhetoric in >our common talk: 
Music and poesy use lo quicken 1^ you; 
The mat hematics, and the metaphysics. 



Fall to them, as you find yonr stomach serves 

you: 
No profit grows, where is no pleasure ta'en ;— 
In brief, sir, study what you most affect. 

Liiic. Oramercies, Tranio, well dost thou 
If, Biondello, thou wert come ashore, [advise. 
We could at once put us in readiness ; 
And take a lodging, fit to entertain 
Such friends, as time in Padua shall beget. 
But stay awhile : What company is this l 

Tra. Master, some show, to welcome us lo 
town. 
Enter Baptista, Katharina, Biancv, 

GRiiMIO, and HORTENSIO. LUCENIIO 

and Tranio staiid aside. 

Buy. Gentlemen, importune me no further. 
For how I firndy am resolved you know; 
That is, — not to bestow my youngest daughter, 
Before 1 have a husband for the elder: 
If eiiher of you both love Katharina, 
Because 1 know you well, and love you well, 
Leave shall you have to court her at your pUi- 
sure. [me: - 

Gre. To cart her rather : She's too rough or 
There, there Hortensio, will >ou any wife * 

Kutli. 1 pray you, sir, [Vb Bat.] is it yiur 
will 
To make asiale»*of mearaongst these mate>? 

Hoi. Mates, maid! how mean you that f no 
mates for you, 
Unless you were of gentler, milder mould. 

KalU. I'faiih, sir, you shall never need lu 
I wisti,it is not halfway to her heart : [fe o- ; 
But, if it were, doubt not her care should t.e 
'lo comb your noddle with a three-legg'd siooi. 
And paint your face, and use you like a towL 

Hor. From allsuch devils, good Lord, deliver 

Gre. And me too, good Lord! [m»1 

Tru. Hush, master 1 here is some good pa» 
time toward; 



• For comedy. t Itii^enuous. X Small piece of water. $ Pardon me, 
{1 Haroh rules. 51 Animate. •• A bait or decoy. +t Think. 



S' pne y.j 



TAMliNG OF THE iSliiiKVV. 



3 



That wench is stark mad, or wonderful fro ward. 

L)ic. But ill the other's silence I do see 
Maids' mild behaviour and sobriety. 
Peace, Tranio. [your fill. 

Tra Well said, master: mum! and gaze] 

i?«j?. Gentlemen, that 1 may soon makegood 
.What 1 have said, — Bianca, get you in : 
And let it not displease thee, good Bianca; 
For I will love thee ne'er the less, my girl. 

Kuth. A pretty peat* ! 'lis best 
Put finger in the eye, — an she knew why. 

Bian. Sister, content you in my discon- 
tent.— 
Sir, to your pleasure humbly I subscribe : 
My books, and instruments, shall be my com- 
pany ; 
On them to look, and practise by myself. 

Luc. Hark, Tranio ! thou may'st hear Mi- 
nerva, speak. [Aside. 

Hot. Signior Baptista,willyoube so strange ? 
Sorry am 1, that our good will etfects 
Bianca's grief. 

Gre. Why, will you mew + her up, 

Signior Baptista, for this fiend of hell, 
Aurl make her bear the penance of her tongue ? 

Bap. Gentlemen, content ye ; 1 am re- 
solved : — 
Go in, Bianca. [Exit Bianca. 

And for I know, she taketh most delight 
In music, instruments, and poetry, 
»** choohuasters will I keep within my house. 
Fit to instruct her y<»utli. — If yt»u, Hortensio, 
Or signior Gemio, you,— know any such, 
Prefer J them hither; tor to cuniiing j men 
i will be very kind, and libernl 
To mine own children in good bringing up ; 
And so farewell. Katiuuina, yi-u may stay ; 
For I have more to lommnne with Bianca. 

[ Exit. 

Kuth. Why, and I trust, I may eo too ; 

May 1 not ; [belike. 

What, shall i be appointed hours; as though, 

I knew not what to take, and what to leave.' 

Ha? [Exit. 

Gre. You may go to the devil's dam ; your 
giflsll are so good, here is none will hold >o;i. 
Their love is not so great, Hortensio, but we 
may blow our nails together, and fast it fairly 
out ; our cake's dough on both sides. Fare- 
well : — Yet, for the love I bear my sweet 
Bianca, if I can by any means light on a fit 
man, to teach her that wherein she aelightg, I 
will wish him to her father. 

Ilor. So will I, signior Gremio : But a 
word, I pray. Though the nature of our quar- 
rel yet never brook'd parle, know now, upon 
advice IT, it toucheth iis both, — that we may 
yet again have access to our fair mistress, and 
be happy rivals in Bianca's love, — to labour 
and etiect one thing 'specially. 

Gre. What's that, I pray \ 
flor. Marry, sir, to get a husband for her 
fisttr. 

Gre. A husband ! a devil. 



Hor. I say, a husband. 

Gre. I say, a devil : Think'st thou, Horten- 
sio, though her father be very rich, any man 
is so very a fool to be married to hell? 

Hor. lush, (ireinio, though it pass your 
patience, and ndne, to endure her loud ala 
rums, why, man, there be good fellows in 
the world, an a man could light on them, 
would take her with all faults, and money 
enough. 

Gre. I cannot tell ; but I had as lief take 
her dowry with this condition, — to be whipped 
at the high cross every morning. 

Hor 'Faith, as you say, there's small choice 
in rotten apples. But, come ; since this bar 
in law makes us friends, it shall be so far 
forth friendly maintained, — till by helping 
Baptista's eldest daughter to a husband, we 
set his Nounuvst free for a husband, and then 
have to't afresh.— Sweet Bianca !— Happy 
man be his Hole ♦* ! He that runs fastest, gets 
the ring. How say you, signior Gremio ! 

Gie. I am agreed: and 'would I had given 
him the best horse in Padua to begin his 
wooing, that would thoroughly woo her, wed 
her, and bed her, and rid the house of her. 
Come on. [fJx'unt Gre. and Hou. 

Tra. [Adv(fnc'ng.'] I pray, sir, tell me, — Is 
it possible 
That love should of a sudden take such hold ? 

Luc. O Tranio, till 1 found it to be true, 
I never thought it possible, or likely ; 
But see! while idly I stood looking on, 
I found the effect of love in idleness : 
And now in plainness do confess to thee, — 
That art to me as secret, and as dear. 
As Anna to the queen of Carthage was, — 
Tranio, I burn, I pine, I perish. Tranio, 
If I achieve not this young modest girl: 
Counsel me, Tranio, for I know thou canst; 
Assist me, Tranio, for I know thou wilt. 

Tra. Master it is no time to < hide you now : 
Affection is not rated tt from the heart : 
If love have touch'd you, nought remains but 

so, — 
Redime te captutn quam queas mtnimo. 

Luc. Gramercies, lad ; go forward : this 
contents ; 
The rest will comfort, for thy counsel's soun'i 

Tra. Master, you look'd so longly j;; on thf 
maid. 
Perhaps you mark'd not what's the pith of all. 

Luc. O yes, I saw sweet beauty in her face. 

Such as the daughter §5 of Agenor had, 

That made great Jove to humble him to her 

hand, [stranO 

When with his knees he kiss'd the Cret.Hu 

Tra. Saw you no more ; mark'd you not, 
how h- r sister 
Began to scold ; and rai.se up such a storm, 
Ihat mortal ears might hardly endure the din 

J^iic. Tranio, I saw her coral lips to mov*'. 
And with her breath she did perfume the air ; 
Sacred, and sweet, was all 1 saw in her. 



• Pet. t Shui. X Becommend. i Knowing, learned. J Endowment*. 

•J Consideration. •• Gain or lot. t+ Driven out by ciiiding. i; Longingly 

i^ E'uropa. 



^84 



SHAKSFKAUE. 



[Art / 



Tra. Nay, then, 'tis time to stir him from 
his trance. 
I pra> , awake, sir ; If you h)ve the maid. 
Bend thoughts and wils to achieve her. Thus 

it stands : 
Herehlfr sisiet is so curst and shrewd, 
That, till the father rid his ha-nds of her, 
Master, your love must live a maid at home : 
And the'efore has he closely mewM her up, 
Because she ^hall not be aunoy'd with iiiiiors. 

J^uc. Ah, Tranio, M'hat a cruel f nht-r's he 
But art thou not advised, he took sonu- care 
To get her cunniuij schoolmasters to instnut 
her? .plotted. 

Tra. Ay, marry, am I, sir ; and now 'tis 

jLuc. I have it, Tranio. 

Tru. Master, for my hand, 

Both onr inventions meet and jump iu one. 

J^uc. Tell me thine first. 

Tta. You will be schoolmaster, 

And undertake the teaching of the maid : 
Thai's your device. 

Luc. It is : May it be done ? 

7'///. Not possible : For who ^hall bear your 
And be in Padua here Vincenlio's son I [part, 
Keep house, and ply his book ; welcome his 

friends ; 
Visit his countrymen, and banquet them ? 

Lite. Basta * ; content thee ; for 1 have it full. 
Wfc have not yei been seen ill any house; 
Nor can we be distiniiuishM by our fares. 
For man, or Miastir: then it follows thus : — 
riuiu shalt be master, Tranio, in my stead. 
Keep house, and port +,an(l servants. as I should: 
£ will some oiher be ; some Florentine, 
Some Neapolitan, or mean man of l*isa. 
*Tis hatch'd, and shall be so : — Tranio, at once 
Incase thee ; take my culour'd hat and cloak : 
When Biondtllo comes, he waits on thee ; 
But I will charm hinj first to keep his tongue. 

Tra. So had you need. 

[They exchange habits . 
In brief then, sir, silhl it your pleasure is. 
And I am tied to be obedient ; 
{For so ) our father charged me at our parting ; 
Be -triiceabte fo mii son, quotli he ; 
Although, I think, Uwas in another sense;) 
I am c«>iitent to be ; ucentio. 
Because so well I love Fucentio. 

Luc. Tranio, be so, because Lucentio loves. 
And let me be a slave, to achieve that maid 
Whose sudden si^ht hath thrali'd my wounded 
eye. 

Enter BiONDELLO. 
Here comes the rogue. — Sirrah, where have 
you been 1 [where are you ? 

Bion. Where have I been i Nay, h*»w now. 

Master, has my fellow Tranio stolen your 

clothes? [news? 

Or you stolen \\\i1 or both? pray what's the 

JjW. Sirrah, come hither ; 'tis no time to jest. 
And therefore frame > our inanui rs to the lime. 
Yonr fellow Tranio here, to save my life. 
Puts my apparel and my countenance on, 
And 1 for niy esc.ipe nave put on his ; 
For io a quarrel, since I came ashore. 



I kill'd a man, and fetr I was descried $: 
Wait you on him, I change you, as becomes, 
While I make way from hence to save my life: 
You understand me? 
Bion, I, sir, ne'er a whit. 

Luc. And not a jot of 'J ranio in j our mouth ; 
Tranio is changed into Lucentio. 

Bio7i. The better for him : Would I were so 

too ! [wish after, — 

Tra. So would 1, faith, boy, to have the next 

That Lucentio indeed had Baptista's youngi."! 

daut:hter. [-1 advi>>:* 

Rut, sirrah, — notfor my sake,but your master's 

You use your manners discieeiiy in ail kiiul 

of companies : 
When I am alone, why then I am Tranio ; 
But in all places else, jour master Lucentio 

Jak . Tranio, lei's go : — 
One thing m<)re rests, that thyself execute ; — 
To make one among these wooeis: If th"U 

ask me why, — 
Sufficeth, my reasons are both good and 
weiiihty. [Exiuik. 

1. Serv. My lord, you nod ; you do n t 

mind the play. 
Sly. Yes, by Saint Anne, do I. A good 
viat I er, surely ; Comes there any more of / .'' 
Page. Aly lord, *fis bat begun. 
Sly. *Tis a lery ejcelleut piece of work, 
viuaam lady ; 'H ould 'tuei e done! 
SCENE II. The same. Be/on RoTtensu>'» 
House. 
Enter Petruchio and Grumio. 
Pet. Verona, foi a while I take my leave. 
To see m> friends in Padua; but, of all. 
My best beloved and approved friend, 
Hortensio ; and, I trow, this is his house: — 
Here, sirrah (.rundi); knock. I say. 

Gru. Knock, sir! whom should I knock? 
is there any man has rebused >our worship i 
Pet. Villain, I say, knos k me here soundiy. 
Gru. Knock you here, sir? why. sir, wiiai 
am 1, sir, that I should knock yon heie, sir I 
Pet. Villain, 1 say, knock me at this gate. 
And rap me well, or I'll knock your knavi's 
pate. 
Gru. My master is trown quarrelsome : 1 
should knock )ou first. 
And then I know afiet whocome« by the worst. 

Pet. Will it not be ? 
•Faith, sirrah, an you'll notknock, I'll wringit; 
I'll try how >ou can .sol, fn^ and sinj; it. 

[He wrings Gru.mio by the ears. 
Gru. Help, masters, help ! my master is mad. 
Pet. Now, knock when I bid you : sirrah! 
villain ! 

Enter Hortensio. 
Ilor. How now? what's the matter? — My 
old friend Grumio ! and my good frieiwi 
Petruchio ! — How do yon all at Verona! 
J^et. .si-:nior Hortensio, come you to pari 
the fray T 
Con tntto il core bene trovuto, may I h-\y, 

Hor. Alia nostra casa ben£ venuto, 
Molto fioniirato sifiuor mio Petruchio^ 



*iu - 



iwii^h. 



>>l».»%«, appeArniue 



>Lk-«*. 



\ UU^-rv^-**. 



Scene JJ.} 



TAMIx^G OF Tliii SHHEVV. 



28.5 



Riae, Grumio, rise ; we will compound this 
quarrel, 
Gru. Nay, His no matter, wh^t he leges* 
in Latin.— If this be not a lawful cause for me 
to leave his service — Look you, sir, — lie bid 
me knock him, and raphimsou uily,sir : Well, 
was it lit for a servant to use his master so ; 
being, perhaps, (for aught I see,) two-and- 
thirty, — a pip out? 
Whom, 'would to God, I had well knock'd at 

first. 
Then had not Grumio come by the wiorst. 

Pet. A senseless villain — Good Horteasio, 
I baie the rascai knock upon your gnte, 
And could not get him for my heart to do it. 

Gru. Knock at the gate ^ — O heavens ! 

Spake you not these words yldiu,— Sirrah, 

knock me here, [soundlji / 

Rap me herCy knock me tvell, and knock ?ne 

And comeyou now with — knocking at the gate? 

Pet. Sirrah, be gone, or lalk not, I ad vise 

you. [pk'flge : 

Hor. Petruchio, patience; I am Grumio's 

Why, this a heavy chance *twixthim and you ; 

Your ancient, trusty, pleasant servant (Grumio. 

And tell me now, sweet friend, — what happy 

gale 
Blows yon to Padna here, from old Verona ? 
Pet. Such wind as scatters young men 
through the world, 
To seek their fortunes fiuther than at home. 
Where small experience grows. But, in a few t, 
Signior Hortensio, thus it stands with me: — 
Antonio, my father, is deceastd ; 
And I have thrust myself into this maze, 
Haply to wive, and thrive, as best I may : 
Crowns in my purse I have, and goods at home. 
And so am come abroa;i to see the world. 
Hor. Petruchio, shall I then come rounrlly 
to thee, 
And wish thee to a shrewd ill-favour'd wife ? 
Thou'dst thank me but a little for my counsel ; 
And yet Pll promise thee she shall be rich, 
And very rich : — But thou'rt too much my 

friend, 
And I'll not wish thee to her. 

Pet. Sitinior Hortensio ; 'twixt such friends 
as we 
Few words suffice : and, therefore, if thou know 
One ricii enough to be Petruchio's wife, 
f As wealth is burthen of my wooing dance,) 
l3e she as foul as was Florentius' lovej, 
As old as Sibyl, and as curst and shrewd 
As Socrates' Xantippe, or a worse, 
Jshe moves me not, or not removes, at least, 
Atfection's edge in me ; were she as rough 
As are the swelling Adriatic seas: 
I come to wive it wealthily in Padua ; 
If vealihily, then happily in Padua. 

Gru. Nay, look you, sir, htj telis you flatly 
what his mind is : Why, give him gold enough \ 
and marry him to a puppet, or an aglet-baby j ; ; 
oi an old trot with ne'er a tooth in her head, j 
though she have as many diseases as two and j 



fifty horses : why, nothing comes amiss, so 
money comes withal. 

Hor. Petruchio, since we have stepp'd thus 
I will continue that I broach'd in jest, [lar iu 
I can Petruchio, help thee to a wife 
With wealth enough, and young,and beauit-ons; 
Brought up as best becomes a uentlewoinan : 
Her only fault (and that is faults enough, 
Is, — that slie is intolerably ■ urst, [sure. 

And shrewd, and troward; so beyond al! niea- 
That, were my state far worser than it is, 
1 would not wed her for a mine of gold. 
Pet. Hortensio, peace j thou kuow'st not 
gold's etfect : 
Tell me her father^s name, and 'tis enough; 
For 1 will boartl htr, though she chide as loud 
As thunder, when the clouds in autumn crack. 

Hor. Her father is Baplisia Minola, 
An atfable and courteous gentleman : 
Her name is Katharina Minola, 
Renown'd in Padua for her scolding tongue. 

Pet. I know her father, though i know not 
And he knew my deceased rather well : [her; 
I will nor sleep, Hortensio, till 1 see her ; 
And tiierefore let me he thus bold with you, 
To give you over at this first encounter, 
Unkss yon will accompany me thither. 

Gra. I pray you, sir, lot him go while the 
humour lasts. ()' my word, an she knew him 
as well as i do, she would think scoldiiig 
would do little good upon him; She may, 
perhaps, call hin^ half a ?core of knaves, or 
90 : why, that's nothing: an he begin once, 
he'll rail in his rope-tricks I',. I'll tell you 
what, sir, — an she standi Inm but a little he 
will throw a figure in her face, and so divSli- 
gure her with it, that she shall have no nioi e 
eyes to see withal than a cat: You know him 
not, sir. 

H r. Tarry, Petruchio, I must go with thee; 
For in Baptista's keep* ♦ my treasure is: 
He hath the jewel of my lire in hold, 
His youngest (laughter, beautiful Bianca ; 
And her withholds from nie, and o.her more 
Suitors to her, and rivals ^n my love : 
Supposing it a thing ik^possible, 
(For those defects 1 have before rehearsed,) 
i'hat ever Katharina will be woo'd ; 
Therefore this ordertt hath Bapti>ta ta'en ; — 
That none shall have access unto Bianca, 
Till Katharine the curst have got a husband. 

Gru. Katharine the curst ! 
A title for a maid, of all titles the worst. 

Hor. Now shall my friend Petruchio do 
me grace ; 
And offer me, disguised in sober robes. 
To old Baptista as a schoolmaster 
Well seen:: in music, to instruct Bianca; 
That so I may by this device, at least. 
Have leave and leisure to make l;)ve to her. 
And, unsuspected, court her by herself 
Enter Grlm.o; wit-k liim Lucentio dis 
guiserl, iiith books under hi'' arm. 

Gru. Here's knavery ! See, to beguile the 



• Alleges. ^ Ffw words. t See the etory. No. 80, of 
^ A suidii ima-e oii llie ta^of a Uce. ii Aj'-isive language 

■t t 'Ihese niea&ures. i; \ ert>ed. 



.4 Thotiv(fnd Notahle l'hin^\" 



:db6 



bll AxviSx^K AUi:. 



[Art 



»l(i toikfc, how ihe youui; folk*, lay their LcJida 
,ogc»her ( Master, mnsler, look about you : 
VV ho <ioe8 there Mia 1 

Idor. Peace, Grmnio : 'tis the rival of my 
Petruchio, stand by a whiie. [love : — 

Oru. A. proper stripliug, and an aiuorous ! 
['/hei/ retire. 

Gre, O, very well ; I have perused the note. 
HarkyoUjSir; I'll have them very fairly bonad: 
All books of love, see that at any hand * ; 
And see you read no other ieciuies to her: 
Yt»u understand me; — Over and beside 
Signior Bapiista's liberality, [pers too, 

I'll niend it wiili a largess + : — Take your pa- 
And let nie have them very well pertun^ed; 
For she is sweeter than perfume itself, [her? 
To whom they t,'<>. What will you read to 

Luc. Whate'er I read to her, I'll plead for 
yon, 
As for my patron, (stand you so assured,) 
As firn)ly as yonrseli were still in place : 
Yea, and (perhaps) with moresiiccess-fid words 
Than you, unless you were a scholar, sir. 

Gre. O this learning ; what a thing it is! 

Gru. O this woodcock ! what an ass it iJ^! 

Pet, Peace, sirrah. [Greniio ! 

JFlor. Grumio,muin! — God save you, signior 

Gre. And you're well met, signior Hoi- 
tensio. irow you, 
Whither I am going f— To Baptista Minola. 
I promised to inquire car* fully 
About a sch(K)lmaster for fair Bianca : 
And, by g.»od fortune, I have lighted well 
On this younii man ; for learning and lielia- 
Fit for her ti.rn ; wtll real in poetry [vioiir. 
And other books, — good ones 1 warrant you. 

Hor. *Tis well : and I have met a gentleman. 
Hath promised me to help me to another, 
A fine aiiiAician to instruct om- misiiess ; 
•So shall 1 no whit be behind in duty 
To fair Bianca, so beloved of ine. 

Gre. Bt loved of me, — and that my deeds i 
shall prove 



Pet. Will 1 live ? 

Gru. Will he woo her? ay, or Pll ha; | 

her. [A.sid 

Pet. VV hy came I hither, but to that intern ^ 
Think you, a little din can daunt mine ears { 
Have i not in my time heard lions roar f 
Have I not heard the sea, putt'd up wiih windf 
llage like an angry boar, chafed with sweat i 
Hav« 1 not heard great ordnance in the fiel , 
And heaven's artillery thunder in the skies' 
Have 1 not in a pitched battle heard [clan. ' 
Loud 'larums, neighing steeds, and trumpet ' 
And do you tell me of a woman's tongue. 
That gives not half so great a blow to the ea' 
As will a chestnut in a farmer's lire? 
Tu:sh ! tush ! fear boys with bugs^. 

Gru. For he fears none. [Aside. 

Gre. Hortensio, hark ! 
This gentleman is happily arrived. 
My mind ^jresumes, for his own good, and ours. 

Hor. 1 promised we would be contributor* 
And bear his charge of wooing, whatsoe'er. 

Gre. And so we will; provided that he win 
her. 

Gru. I would I were as sure of a good 

dinner. lA.siiie. 

Enter Tranio, bravely apparelled ; uiui 

BlONDliLl.U. 

Tra. Gentlemen, God save you ! If I maj 
be bold, [way 

Tell me, I l>cseech you, which is the readies. 
To the house of signior Bapiista Minola? 

Gre. He that has the ivto lair daughters: — 
is'i [Aside to Tra mo.] he >ou mean i 

Tra. liven he. Biondelio ! 

Grt. Hark j ou, sir ; Vou mean not her to — 

Tra, Perhaps him and her, sir ; W^hat have 
yoti to do? 

Pel. Not her that chidts, sir ; at any hand. 
I pray. [away. 

Tra. I love no chiders, sir : — Biondelio, let'* 

Luc. Well begun, Tranio. [Aside. 

Hor. Sir, a woid ere you go ; — [or no i 



Gru. And that his bags f^hall prove [A4de. i Are you a suiior to the maid you talk of, yea 



- Hor. Gremio, 'lis now n(» time to vent our 
Listen to me, and if ys>u speak me fair, Uove: 
I'll tell you news inditterent good for either. 
Here is a gentlen'.an, whom by chance 1 met, 
Upon agreement from us to his likin^, 
\V ill undertake to woo curst Katharine; 
Yea, and to mairy her, if her dowjy please. 

Gre. So said, so done, is well : 
Hortensio, have you told him all her faults? 
Pet. I know, she is an irksome brawling 
scold ; 
If that be ail, masters, I hear no harm. 
Gre. No ! say 'at ine so 1 1 lend? What coun- 
tryman ? 
1*et. Born in Verona, old Antonio's son : 
My father dead, my fortune lives lor ine; 
And 1 do hopH go(»d days, ami hnig, to st-e. 
Gre. O, sir, such a life, with such a wife, 
were sirantje : [n 



Tra. An if I be, sir, is it any otleuce I 

Gre. No; if without more words, you will 
get you hence. [as fi te 

Tra. Why, sir, 1 pray, are not the streets 
For ine as for you I 

Gre. But so is not she. 

Tra. For what reason, I beseech you ? 

Gre. For this reason, if you'll knovv, 

That she's the choice love of si-nior (ireini<». 

Hor. That she's the chosen of signior H<»r- 
teiiSio. J""''. 

Tra, Softly, my masters ! if you be gentle 
Do me this right. — hear me with patience, 
liaptista is a noble gentleman. 
To whom my father is not all unknown ; 
And, were his daughter fairer than she is. 
She may in«>re suitms have, and me for one. 
Fair Leda's daughter had a thousand wooers; 
Then well one more may fair Bianca have : 



But, if you h .ve a stomach, to't <►' God's | And so she shall ; Lucentio shall make one, 

You sha'l have me assisting you in all. Though Paris came in hope to speed alone, [all. 

tt«t wid vou woo this wihl «at ? • Gre. What! this gentleman will out-talk di 



• Rate. 



♦ Vre**tixi. 



I Fright boys with bug-beanw 






Scene //.J 



TA^IIIVJG OF Ti;L 6iliiKVVr. 



2S7 



Luc. Sir, give him head ; I know he*li 
prove a jade. [words ? 

Pei, Hortensio, to what end are all these 

Hor. iSir, let me be so bold as to ask you. 
Did you yet ever see Baptista's dauehier l 

Tra. No, sir ; but hear I do, that he hatli 
The one as famous for a scolding ton2;ue, [two; 
As is the other for beauteous modesty. [by. 

Pet» Sir, sir, the tirsl's for me ; let her go 

Gre. Yea, leave that labour to great Her- 
And let it be more than Alcides' twelve, [cules ; 

Pet. Sir, understand you this of me, in- 
sooth ; — 
The youngest daughter, whom you hearken for, 
Her father keeps from all access of suitors ; 
And will not promise her to any man, 
lint. I the elder sister tirst be wed : 
The younger then is free, and not before. 

Tra, If it be so, sir, that you are the man 



Must stead us ah. and me among the rest ; 
An if you break the ice, and do this feat, — 
Achieve the elder, t^et the younger free [her, 
For our access, — whose hnp shall be to lutve 
Will nut so graceless be,tt> be ingrate* (ceive ; 

HjX. bir, you say well, and well you do cou- 
And since you do profess to be a suitor, 
You must, as we do, gratify this gentleman, 
To whom we all rest generally beholden. 

Tra, Sir, I shall not be slack: in sign 
whereof, 
Please ye we may contrive this afternoon, 
And quaff carouses to our misiress' health ; 
And do as adversaries do in law, — 
Strive mightily, but eat and drink as friends. 

Gru. hion. O excellent motion ! Fellowst, 
let's begone. [so : — 

Hor. The motion's good indeed, and be it 
Petruchio, I shall be your Oen venuto.\^Exeunt, 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. The same. A Room in Bap- 
tista's House, 
Enter Katharina and Bianca. 

Blan. Good sister, wrong me not, nor 
wrong yourself. 
To make a bondmaid and a slave of me; 
That 1 disdKin : but for these other gawds t, 
Unbind my hands, PU pull them oif myself. 
Yea, itU my raiment, to my petticoat ; 
Or, what you will command me, will I do. 
So well I know my duty to my elders. 
Kath. Of all thy suitors, here I charge 
thee^ tell [nut. 

Whom thou lovest best : see thou dissemble 
Bian. Believe me, sister, of all the men 
I never yet beheld that special face [alive. 
Which I could fancy more than any other. 
Kath. Minion, thou liest ; Is't not Hortensio? 
Bian. if you affect j him, sister, here I 
swear, [him. 

Pi! plead for you myself, bat you shall have 
Kath. O then, belike, you fancy riches 
You will have Gremiotokeepyou fair, [more; 

Blan. Is it for him you do envy me so ? 
Nay, then you jest; and now I well perceive. 
You have but jested with me all this while: 
I pr'ythee, sister Kate, untie my hands. 
Kath. if that be jest, then all the rest was 
so. [^Strikes her» 

Enter Baptist a. 
Bap. Why, how now, dame! whence grows 

this insolence.' 

Bianca, stand aside ; — poorgirl ! she weeps : — 
Go ply thy needle; meddle not with her. — 
For shame, thou hilding|| of a devilish spirit, 
VV hy dost thou wrong her that did ne'er wrong 
thee? * 

When did she cross thee with a bitter word? 
Kath. Her silence floiits me, and PU be re- 
venged. [Flies ajti'r Bianca. 
Bay, What, in my sight? — Bianca, get thee 
in • lt:xU Bianca. 



ATfl^/i. Will you not suflFer me ? Nay, now 
I see, [band ; 

She is your treasure, she must have a hus- 
I must dance bare-foot on her wedding-day. 
And, for your love to. her, lead apes in hell. 
Talk not to me ; I will go sit and weep. 
Till 1 can tind occasion of revenge. 

[Exit Katharina. 

Bay. W'as ever gentleman thus grieved as i ? 
But who comes here \ 
Enter Gremio, loith Lijcentio in the habit 

oj a mean man ; Pktruchio, with Hor- 

T E n > I o </A a Musician ; and T u a m o, tvith 

BiONDiiLLO bearing a lute and boo'xs. 

Gre, Good morrow, neighbour Baptista. 

Bap. Good-morrow, neighbour Gremio: 
God save >oa, gentlemen ! 

Pet. And you, good sir ! Pray, have you 
not a (irttighter 
CalI'd Katliarina, fair, and virtuous ? 

Bap. I have a daughter, sir,caird Katharina. 

Gre. You are too blunt, go to it orderly. 

Pet, You wrong me, sii;nior Gretnio; tjive 
I am a gentleman of Verona, sir, [me leave. — 
That, —hearing of her beauty, and her wit, 
Her affability, and bashful modesty. 
Her wondrous qualities, and mild behaviour,— 
Am bold to show m} self a forward guest 
Within your houre, to make mine eye the wit 
Of that report which I so oft have heard, [ness 
And, for an entrance to my entertainment, 
I do present you with a mm of mine, 

[Presenting Hortensio. 
Cunning in music, and the mathematics. 
To instruct her fully in those sciences, 
\\ hereof, I know, she is not ignorant : 
Accept of him, or else you do me wrong; 
His name is Licio, born in Mantua. 

Bap. You're welcome, sir ; and he, for 
your good sake : 
But for my daughter Katharine, — this I know 
She is not for your turn, the more my grief 

Pet. I see you do not mean to part with her ; 



Ungratetul. t Companions. % Trifling ornaments. $ Love< || A worthless woman. 



2b S 



SHAKSPKARE. 



\Art // 



Or else you like not of my company. 

Bap. Mistake me not, 1 speak but as I find 

Whence are you, sir? what may 1 call your 

name l 

Pet, Petruchiois my name ; Antonio's son, 

A man well known throughout all Italy. 

Bay. 1 know him well : you are welcome 

for his sake. 
Ore. Saving yonr tale. Petruchio, I pray. 
Let us, that are poor petitioners, sj eak too : 
Baccare*! you are marvellous forward. 
Pet. O, pardon me, siguior Gremio ; I 
would fain be doing, [your wooing. — 
Gre. 1 doubt it not, sir; but you will curse 
ISeighbour, this is a gift very i;rateful, 1 am 
sure of It. To express the like kindness my- 
pelf, that have been more kindly beholden to 
you than any, I freely give unto you this 
young scholar, [Presenting Lucemio.J that 
hath been long studying at Kheims ; as cun- 
ning in Greek, Latin, and other languages, as 
the other in music and mathematics : his name 
is Cambio; pray, accept his service. 

Bap. A thousand thanks, signior Gremio : 
welcome, jjood Cambio. — But, gentle sir, [To 
Tramo.] methinks,you walk like a stranger; 
May I be so bold to know the cause ol your 
coming? 

Tra. Pardon me, sir, the boldness is mine 
That, bfing a stranger in this city here, [own; 
Do make myself a suitor to your daughter, 
• Unto Bianca, fair, and virtuous. 

Nor is your firm resolv-* unknown to me. 
In the preferment of the eldest sister: 
This liberty is all that 1 request, — 
That, upon knowledge of iny parentage, 
I may have welcome *moni:&i the res I that woo, 
And free access and favour as the rest. 
And, toward the education of your daugliters, 
I here bestow a simple instrument, [books : 
And this fcmall packet of Greek and Latin 
If you accept them, then their worlii is great. 
Bap. Luceniio is your name i of whence, 

I pray t 
Tra. Of Pisa, sir; son io Vincentio. 
Bap. A mighty man of Pisa ; by report 
I know him well : you are very welcome, sir. — 
Take }ou [i'o Hon.] the lute, and you [Tu 

Lie] the set of books. 
You shiill go bee your pupiis presently. 
Holla, within! 

Enter a Servant. 
Sirrah, lead 

These gentlemen to my daughters ; and tell 
them both, [well. 

These aie their tutors; bid them use ihem 
iLxit Svr ydiit, icifh Hurtknsio, J^uciiW- 
iiOfUnd BioNUtLLO. 
We will go walk a little in the orchard, 
* And then lo dinner : Yt)U are passing welcome, 
And so I pray you all to think yourselves. 

Pet. Signioi baptista, my business asketh 
An<l eveiy d.iy I cannot come to woo. [haste. 
Vou knew my father well; and in him, me. 
Left solely l)eir lo all his lands aud goods. 



Which 1 have better'd rather than decnaseii; 
Then tell me, if 1 get your daughter's lo\e. 
What dovvjy shall 1 have with her to wiu- { 

Blip. After my death, the one half oi my 
lands : 
And, in possession, twenty tlionsand crowns. 

Pet. And, for that dowry, I'll ust-nre her of 
Her widowhood, — be it that she survive me, — 
In all my lands and leases whatsoever : 
Let specialties be therefore drawn between us. 
That covenants may be kept on either hand. 

Bap. Ay, when the special thing is well 
obtaiu'd, 
This is,— her love ; for that is all in all. [father. 

Pet. Why, that is nothing ; lor 1 tell you, 
I am as peremptory as she proud-minded ; 
And where two racking fires meet totjeiher. 
They do consume the thing that ii^knU their lury: 
Though little fire groves great with little wind. 
Yet extreme gusts will blow out tire and all : 
^io 1 to her, and so slie yields to me ; 
For 1 am rough, and woo not like a b^be. 

Bap. Well may'st thou woo, and happy be 
thy speed ! 
But be thou arm'd for some unhappy words. 

Pet. Ay, to the proof; as jnountains aie 
for winds. 
That shake not, though they blow perpetually. 
Be-CHttr HoRTENSio, with hi.s hend broken. 

Bap. How now, my friend ? why dost thou 
look so pale I 

Hor, For fear, I promise you, if I look pale 

Bap. \\ hat, will my daughter prove a good 
musician 1 

Hor. I think, she'll sooner prove a soldier; 
Iron may hold with her, but never lutes. 

Bap. Why, then thou canst not break her 
to the lute i [to me 

Hor. Why, no; for shje hath broke the lute 
I did but tell her, she mistook her frets t, 
And bovv'd her hand to teach her fingering; 
When, with a mo^t impatient devilish spirit. 
Frets, call you these/ quoth she : I'lljume 
with them: [head, 

And, with that word, she struck me on the 
And tlirough the instrument my pate made 
And there 1 stood amazed for a while, [way; 
As on a pillory, looking through the lute; 
V\ hile sUe UkI can ioe, — r l^c-l. nudier, [terms. 
And — t wangling Jack; ; wiih twenty such vile 
As she hid studied to miMise im so. [wench ; 

Ptt. Now, \j\ the wtnid it is a lusty 
1 love her ten limes more than e'er J did : 
), now 1 long to have some chat with her! 

Bap. Well, lio with me, and be not so dis- 
comhied : 
i*ioceed in practice with my younger daughter; 
She's apt H) ;eai n.aud thankful for dootl turns.— 
Signior Petruchio, will you go with as;. 
()v shall 1 -end my (iaugl tir Kate to you? 
Pit. I pray \ ou do : I will aiteini her here, — 
[Kieiutt Baftista, Gkemio, TKA^ k>, 
and HoRTi nsio. 
And woo her with some spirit when she comes- 
&ay, that she rail ; Why, then I'll tell her pl.ii.i. 



A proverbial evclamarion then in use. + A fret in music h the stop which causes 

Oi rc^uiaiee the vibration of the striug. ; i'alliV musiciau. 



Scene /. • 



TxiMfNG OF THE SI3REAV. 



289 



She sings as sweetly as a nightingale: [clear 
Say, that she frown ; I'll say, she looks as 
As morning roses newly wash'd with dew: 
Sny, she be miue, and will not speak a word ; 
Then I'll commend her volubility, 
And say — she iittereth piercing eloquence : 
If she do bid me pack, I'll give her thanks. 
As though she bid me stay by her a week ; 
If she deny to wed, I'll crave the day [ried : — 
\\ hen I shall ask the banns, and when be mar- 
But here she comes ; and now, Petruchio, 
speak. 

Enter Katharina. 
Good-morrow, Kate ; for that's your name, I 
hear. [hard of hearing ; 

Kath. Well have you heard, but something 
They call tne — Katharine, that do talk of me. 

Pet. You lie, in faith ; for you are cali'd 
plain Kate, 
And bonny Kate, and sometimes Katetheourst; 
But Kate, the prettiest Kate in Christendom, 
Kate ot Kate-Hall, my super-dainty Kate, 
For dainties are all cates : and therefore, Kate, 
Take this of me, Kate of my consolation; — 
Hearing thy mildness praised in every town, 
Thy virtues spoke of, and thy beauty sounded, 
(Yet not so deeply as to thee belongs,) 
IViyself am moved to woo thee for my wife 

Kath. Moved! in good time: let him that 
moved you hither, 
Remove you hence : I knew you at the first. 
You were a moveable. 

Pet. Why, what's a moveable? 

Kath. A joint-stool. 

Pet. Thou hast hit it: come, sit on me. 

Kath. Asses are made to bear, and so are 
you. [you. 

Pet. Women are made to bear, and so are 

Kath. No such jade, sir, as you, if me vou 
mean. [thee : 

Pet. Alas, good Kate ! I will not burden 
For, knowing thee to be but young and light,— 

Kath. Too light for such a swain as you 
to catc h ; 
And yet as heavy as my weight should be. 

Pit. Should be? should buz. 

Kath. Well ta*en, and like a buzzard. 

Pet. O, slow-wingM turtle! shall a buzzard 
take thee I [zard. 

Kath. Ay, for a turtle ; as he takes a buz- 

Pet. Come, come, you wasp ; i'faith, you 
are too angry. 

Kath. If I be waspish, best beware my sting. 

Pet. My remedy is then, to pluck it out. 

Kath. Ay, if the fool could find 4t where 
it lies. [wear his sting? 

Pet. Who knows not where ? wasp doth 
In his tail. 

Kath. In his tongue. 

f^ft* Whose tongue ? 

Kath. Yours, if you talk of tails'? and so 
farewell. [nay, come again, 

Pet. What, with my tongue in your tail? 
Good Kate; 1 am a gentleman. 

l^^ath. That I'll try. 

[S'i viking him. 



Pet. Iswear I'llcutf you, if you strike again. 

Kath. So may you lose your arms : 
If you strike me, you are no g»intleman; 
And if no gentleman, why, then no arms. 

Pet. A herald, Kate? « >, put me in thy book^. 

Kath. What is your crest? a coxcomb? 

Pet. A corabless cock, so Kate will be my 
hen. [a craven *. 

Kath. No cock of mine, you crow too like 

Pet. Nay, come, Kate, come; you must not 
look so sour. 

Kath. It is my fashion, when I see a crab. 
. Pet, Why, here's no crab; and therefore 

Kath. There is, there is. [look not sour. 

Pet. Then show it me. 

Kath. Had I a glass, I would. 

Pet. What, you mean my face? 

Kath. Well aim'd oft such a young one. 

Pet. Now, by Saint George, I am too young 

Kath. Yet you are wither'd. [for you. 

Pet. *Tis with cares. 

Kath. 1 care not. 

Pet. Nay, hear you, Kate: in sooth, you 
'scape not so. 

Kath. I chafe you, if I tarry ; let me go. 

Pet. No, not a whit; 1 find you passing 
gentle. [sullen, 

*Twas told me, you were rough, and coy, and 
And now I find report a very liar; 
For thou art pleasant, gamesome, passing 
courteous ; [flowers : 

But slow in speech, yet sweet as spring-time 
Thou canst not frown, thou canst not look 

askance, 
Nor bite the lip, as angry wenches will ; 
Nor hast thou pleasure to be cross in talk; 
But thou with mildness entertain'st thy wooers. 
With gentle conference, softandafifable. [limp? 
Why does the world report, that Kate doth 
O slanderous world! Kate, like the hazel-twig. 
Is straight, and slender; and as brown in hue 
As hazel nuts, and sweeter than the kernels. 
O, let me see thee walk : thou dost not halt. 

Kath. Go, fool, and whom thou keep*st 
command. 

Pet. Did ever Dian so become a grove, 
As Kate this chamber with her princely gait? 
O, be thou Dian, and let her be Kate; [ful ! 
And then let Kate be chaste, and Dian sport- 

Kath. Where did you study all this goodly 
speech ? 

Pet. It is extempore, from my mother-wit. 

Kath. A witty mother ! witless else her son. 

Pet. Am 1 not wise? 

Kath. Yes; keep you warm. 

Pet. Marry, so I mean, sweet Katharinj 
in thy bed : 
And therefore, setting all this chat aside, 
Thus in plain terms:— Your father hath con- 
sented [on ; 

That you shall be my wife ; your dowry *greed 
And, will you, nill you, 1 will marry yo'i. 
Now, Kate, I am a husband for your turn; 
For, by this liijht, v.here'by 1 see thy beauty 
(Thy beauiy, that dota make me like tlH« 
well,) 



• A degenerate cock. 



+ Bv. 



2 C 



290 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act If, 



Fhou nm>i be married to no man but me: 
For I am he, am born to tame yon, Kate; 
Anil bring >ou from a wild cat to a Kate 
Conformable, a* other hongehoUl Kates. 
Here comes your father ; never make denial, 
1 must and will have Katharine to my wite. 

Jif-enttr Baptista, Gremio, 4 Tramo. 

B' p. Now, 
Sii;niur Petrnchio : How speed yon with 
My flaughterf 

Pet. How bat well, sir? how but well? 
It were impossible, I should speed amiss. 

Bap. W hy, how now, daughter Katharine? 
in your dumps t [mise you, 

Kath. Call you me, daughter? now 1 pro- 
You have show'd a tender fatherly regard, 
To wish me wed to one half lunatic ; 
A mad-cap ruffian, and a swearing Jack, 
That thinks with oaths to face the matter out. 

Pet. Father, 'tis thus, — yourself and all the 
world, 
That talkM of her, have talk'd amiss of her; 
If she be curst it is for policy: 
For ihe's not froward, but modest as the dove; 
She is not hot, but temperate as the morn; 
For patience she will prove a second Gris-el ; 
And Roman Lucrece for her chastity : [tlier, 
And to conclude, — we have 'greed so well toge- 
That upon Sunday is ihe wedding-day. 

Katii. I'll see thee hang'd on Sunday first. 

Gre. Hark, Petnir.hio! she says, she'll see 
thee hang'd first. 

Tru. Is this your speeding ? nay, then, good 
night our p irt ! 

Pet. Be patifut, gentlemen ; I choose her 
f(ir myself; 
tf she and 1 be pleased, what's that to you ? 
Mis bargain'd 'twixt us twain, being alone, 
That sIk- shall still be curst in company. 
1 tell you, 'tis incredible to believe 
How much she loves me : O, the kindest Kate ! 
She hung about my neck ; and kiss ou kiss 
She vied • so fast, protesting oath on oath, 
i hat in a twink she won me to her love. 
O, you are novices ! 'tis a world to sect, 
How tame, when men and women are alone, 
A nieacock ; wretch can make the curstest 

shrew. — 
Give mt- thy hand, Kate: I will unto Venice, 
T<» buy apparel 'gainst the wedding-day: — 
provide the fea«t, father, and bid the guests ; 
1 will be sure, my Katharine shall be fine 

Bap. 1 know not what to say : but give me 
yonr hands ; 
God send you joy, Petruchio! 'tis a match. 

Gre. Tra Amen, say we ; we will be w it- 
nesses. [adieu ; 

Pet. Father, and wife, and gentlemen, 

I will lo Venice, Stmday comes apace : 

We will have rints, and things, and fitie array ; 

And kiss me, Kate, we will be n>arried o'Sun- 

day. [blxeuiit PtiRucHio und 

Katharine, severally. 

Gre.Was ever match ciapp'd upso suddenly? 



Bap. Faith, gentlemen, now 1 play a mer* 

chant's part, 
And venture madly on a desperate mart. 

Tru. 'Twas a commodity lay fritting by yon: 
'Twill bring you gain, or perish on the st-as. 

Bap. The gain 1 seek is — quiet in the match. 

Gre. No doubt, but he hath got a quiet catch. 
But now, Baptista, to your you. ger daughter; — 
Now is the day we long have looked for; 
I am your neighbour, and was suitt»r first. 

Tra, And 1 am one, that love Bianca more 

Than words can witness, or your thoughts can 

guess. [dear as 1. 

Gre. Youngling! then canst not love so 

Tra. Grey-beard I thy love doth freeze. 

Gre, But thine doth fry. 

Skipper, stand back ; 'tis age, that nourisheth. 

2Va. But youth, in ladies' eyes, that flou- 
risheth. [pound this strife : 

Bap. Content you, gentlemen ; I'll coni- 
'Tis deeds, must win the pii/e; and he, of both. 
That can assure my daughter greatest dower. 
Shall have Bianca's love. — 
Say, signior Gremio, what can you assure her? 

Gre. First, as you know, my house withiu 
the city 
Is richly furnished with plate and gold ; 
Hasons, and ewt rs, to lave her dainty hands ; 
My hangings all of Tyrian tapestry : 
In ivory colteis I have siuti'd my crowns; 
In cypress cliests my arras, counterpoints j. 
Costly appirtl, tents, and canopies, 
Fine linen, Turkey cushions boss'd with pearl, 
Valance of Venice gold in needle-work, 
Pewter and brass, and all ihmgs that belong 
To house, or housekeeping: then, at my faim, 
I have a hundred milch kine to the pail, 
Sixscore fat oxen standing in my stalls. 
And all things answerable to this portion. 
Myself am struck in years, I must confess; 
And, if I die to-morrow, this i^ hers. 
If, whilst 1 live, she will be only mine. ^ 

Tra. Ihat, only, came well in Sir, list 

I am my father's heir, and only son : [to me. 
If I may have yi)ur daughter to my wife. 
I'll leave her houses three or four as good. 
Within rich Pisa walls, as any one 
Old signior Gremio has in Padua ; 
Besides two thousand ducats by the year, 
Of fruitful land, all which shall be her join 

ture. — 
What, have I pinch'd you, signior Gremio? 

Gre. Two thousand ducats by the year, of 
My land amountsnot to so much in all : laiul ! 
That she shall have ; besides an argosy H, 
That now is l)ing in Marseilles* road:-- — • 
What, have I choked you with an argosy? 

Tra. Gremio, 'tis known, my father hath , i 

no less [liasses^, ■! 

Than three great argosies : besides two gal- W ' 

And twelve tight gallejs : these 1 will assure ^ 

her, 
And twice as much, whate'er thou oflfer'st next. ^ 

Gre. Nay,l have otter'd all, 1 have no more; 



• To vie and revye were terms at cards now superseded by the word brag. t It is well 

aorth s»?eing. j A dastardly creature. ^ Covei ings for beds ; now railed conutei |Miie«. 

A l<ii>4c mer<:hant-hhip. % A vessel of bnrtlun worked both with b.tila and oaiM. 



TAMING OF THE SHREW. 



291 



Aiul she can have no more than all 1 have ; — 
ti you like me, she shall have tne and mine. 

Tra. Why, then the m.iicl is mine liom ail 
the world. 
By your firm promise ; Gremio is out-vied. 

hdjj. I must confess, yom' orter is the best; 

And, let your father make her the assurance, 

bhe is your own ; else, you mnst pardon me : 

It you should die before him, where's her 

dower 1 

Tra. That's but a cavil ; he is old, I young. 

Gre, And may not young men die, as well 

Jiap. Well, gentlemen, [as old i 

1 am thus resoived:--On Sunday next you know, 
Afy daughter Katharine is to be manied : 
JSow, on the Sunday following, shall bianca 
Be bride lo you, if you make this assurance ; 
If not, to signior Gremio ; 



And 8o I take my leave, and thank yon both. 

[Euit, 
Gre. Adieu, good neighbour. — Now 1 fear 

thee not; [fool 

Sirrah, young gamester, your father were a 
To give thee all, ami, in his waning age. 
Set foot under thy table : Tut 1 a to) 1 
An old Italian fox is not so kind, my boy. [Exit. 
Tra, A vengeance on your crafty withered 
Yet I ha ve faced it with a c ard.of ten ♦. [hide ! 
*Tis in my head to do my master good : — 
1 see no reason, but supposed Lucentio 
Must get a father, called — supposed Vincentio ; 
And that's a wonder: fathers, coranjonly. 
Do get their children; but, in this case of 

wooing, 
A child shall get a sire, if I fail not of my 

cunning. [£uit» 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. A Room in Baptista's House, 
Enter Lucentio, HoRTENsio,a/id Bianca. 

Luc. Fiddler, forbear ; you grow too for- 
ward, sir : 
Have you so soon forgot the entertainment 
Her sister Katharine welcomed you withal 1 

Hur. But, wrangling pedant, this is 
The patroness of heavenly harmony : 
Then give me leave to have prerogative ; 
And when in music we have spent an hour, 
V i>ur lecture shall have leisure for as much. 

JLuc. Preposterous ass J that never read so 
far 
fo know the cause why music was ordain'd ! 
Was it not, to refresh the mind of man. 
After his studies, or his usual pain .' 
Then give me leave to read piiilosophy, 
And, while 1 pause, serve in your harmony. 

Hor. Sirrah, 1 will not bear these braves 
of thine. [wrong, 

Bian. Why, gentlemen, yon do me double 
To strive for that which resteth in my choice : 
I am no breeching scholar t in the schools ; 
1*11 not be tied to hours, nor 'pointed times. 
But le.^rn my lessons as I please myself. 
And, to cut off all strife, here sit we down : — 
Takeyou your instrument, pla} you ihe whiles; 
His lecture will be done, ere you have tuned. 

Hur. Youll leave his lectuie when I am iu 
tune? [Tu Bianca. — Hor. retires. 

Luc. That will be never; — tune your in- 

Biun. Where left we last '\ [siruraent. 

Luc. Here, madam : 

Hac ibat Simois ; hie est Sigeia tellus ; 

He steterat Priami regki celsa senis. 

Bian. Construe them. 

Luc. Hue ibat, as I tol(} you before, — *y/- 
ftiois, I am Lucentio, — hie est, son unto Vin- 
centio of Pisa, — Sigeia tellus, disguised thus 
lo get your love.— //it* steterat, and that 
Lucentio that comes a-wooing, — Priami, is 
iny man Tranio, — regia, bearing my port, — J 



celsa senis, that we might beguile the old 
pantaloon j. 

Hor. Madam, my instrument's in tune. 

[Returning » 

Bian. Let's hear; — [HoRThNsio j:>/flyA. 

fie l the treble jars. 

Luc. Spit in the hole, man, and tune again. 

Bian. Now let me see if I can construe it; 
Hac ibat Simois, I know you not ; hie- est 
Sigeia tellus, 1 trust you not ; — Hic steterat 
Priami, take heed he hear us not ; — regia, 
presume not ; — celsa senis, despair not. 

Hor. Madam, 'tis now in tune. 

Luc. All but the base. 

Hor. The base is right ; 'tis the base knave 
that jars. 
How fiery and forward our pedant is! 
Now, for my life, the knave doth court my 
Pedascule^, I'll watch you belter yet. [love : 

Biuji. In lime I may believe, yet 1 mistrust. 

Lac. Mistrust it not ; for, sure, iEacides 
Was Ajax, — call'd so from his grandfather. 

Bum. 1 must believe my master ; else I 
promise you, 

1 sh uld be arguing still upon that doubt : 
But iet it rest. — Now, Licio, to you : — 
Good masters, take it not unkiiully, pray. 
That I have been thus pleasant with yon both. 

Hor, You may go walk, [To Lucentio.] 
and give me leave awhile ; 
My lessons make no music in three parts. 

jLwc.Aieyou so formal, sir? well, 1 must wait. 
And watch withal; for, but I be deceived. 
Our fine musician groweth amorous. [Aside. 

Hor. Madam, before you touch the instru- 
To learn the order of my fingering, [meut, 
I must begin with rudiments of art; 
To teach you gamut in a briefer sort. 
More pleas int, pithy, and etttctual. 
Than hath been taught by any of my trade : 
And there it is in writinsj, fairly drawn. 

Bian. Why, I am past my gamut long ago 

Hor. Yet read the gamut of Horteusio. 



♦ The highest card. ♦ No school boy, liable to be wtiipr. 

; ihe old cully in Italian farces. j reiiaut. 



202 



SHAKSPEARK. 



[Act ilh 



Bian. \Reads.\ Gamut I am^ the ground 
oj all accord. 
A le^ to plead Hortensio*s paxsion'; 
B mi, Biatica, take him for thy lord, 

C fiiut, that Loves with all ajfection ; 
D sol re, one clij^\ two notes have J ; 
E la mi, show pit iff or 1 die. 
Call you this — g^inut I tut ! I like it not : 
Old fashions please me best; I am not so nice*, 
To change true rules for odd inventions. 
Enter a Servant. 
Sew. Mistress, your father prays you leave 
your books, 
And help to dress your sister's chamber up; 
You know, to-morrow is the weddinij-day. 
JSiafi. Farewell, sweet masteis,both ; 1 must 
be gone. [Kieunt Bianca 4 Servant. 
ZjUc. 'Faith, mistress, then I have no cause 
to stay. - [Exit. 

//br.But I have cause to pry into this pedant; 
Methinks, he looks as though he were in love : — 
"Yet if thy thoughts, Bianca, be so humble. 
To cast thy wand'ring eyes on every stale T, 
Seizethee, that list : If once I tind thee ranging, 
Hortensio will be quit with thee by chanuing. 

. [Edit. 

SCENE II. The .same. Before Baptista's 

House. 
JE'wfcrBAPTiSTA, Gremio,Tranio,Katha 
RiNA, Bianca, LucENTm,*:^- Attendants. 
Bap. Signior Lucentio, [7b Tranio.] this 
is the 'pointed day [ried. 

That Katharine and I'etruchio should be mar 
And yet we hear not of our son in law : 
What will be said? what mockery will it be, 
To want thebridegroom,whenthe priest attends 
To speak the ceremonial rites of marriage? 
What says Lucentio to this shame of ours? 
Kath. No shame but nune : I muat, for- 
sootli, be forced 
To give my hand, opposed against my heart. 
Unto a mad-brain rudesby, full of spit-en;; 
Who woo'd in haste, and means to wed at lei- 
I told you, 1, he was a frantic fool, [sure. 
Hiding his bitter je.-ts in blunt behaviour: 
And, to be noted for a merry man, 
He'll woo a thousand, 'point the day of mar- 
riage, [banns ; 
Make friends, invite, yes, and proclaim the 
\ et never means to we(l where he hath woo'd. 
Now must the world point at poor Kalhai ine, 
And s;iy , — Lo, there is mad Petruchio'stvife, 
If it u OH id } lease him t onieana marry hrr. 
Tra. Patience, good Katharine, and Bap- 
tisla too ; 
Upon my life, Petruchio means but well, 
W hntever fortune stays him from liis word : 
Though he be blunt, I know him passing wise ; 
Though he be merry, yet withal he's honest. 
Kath. 'Would Katharine haii never seen 
him though! \ Edit, ueepi/tg, fol- 
lowed by Bianca, rt/'rf others. 
Bap. Go, girl; 1 cannot blame thee now 
to weep ; 



For such an injury would vex a saint. 
Much more a shrew of thy impatient hnmour. 
Eater Bionuello. 

Bion. Master, master ! news, old news, and 
such news as you never heard of I 

Bap. Is it new and old tooT how may 
that be? 

B'to/i. Why, is it not news, to hear of Pe- 
truchio's coming? 

Bap. Is he come? 

Bion. Why, no, sir. 

Bap. What then? 

Bion. He is coming. 

Bap. When will he be here? 

Bivn. When he stands where I am, ana 
sees yon there. 

Tra. But, say, what: — To thine old news. 
Bion. Why, Petruchio is coming, in a new 
hat and an old jerkin; a pair of old breeches, 
thrice turned ; a pair of boots that have been 
candle-cases, one buckled, another laced ; an 
old rusty sword ta'en out of ihe town armory, 
with, a broken hilt, and chapeless; with two 
broken points: His horse hipped with an old 
mothy saddle, the stirrups of nokmdred : be- 
sides, possessed with the glanders, and like to 
niose in the chine; troubled with the lampass, 
infected with the fashions*^, full of wind- 
galls, sped with spavins, raied with the saU 
lows, past cure of the fives ||, stark spoiled 
with the slaiigers, begnawn with the bots; 
swayed in the back, and shoulder shotten ; 
ne'er-legged before, and with a half-checked 
bit, and a head-stallof sheep's leather ; which, 
being restrained to keep him from stumbling, 
hati) been dlten burst, and now repaired with 
knots: one girt six times pieced, and a wo- 
man's crupper of velurell, which hath two 
letters for her name, fairly set down in studs, 
and here and there pieced with packthread. 

Bap. Who comes with him? 

Bion. O, sir, his lackey, for all the world 
caparisoned like the horse; with a linen 
stock** on one leg, and a kersey boot-hose on 
the other, gartered with a red and blue list; 
an old hat, and The humour of jorty fanries 
pricked in't for a feather: a monster, a very 
monster in apparel j and not like a christian 
foot boy, or a gentleman's lackey. 

Tra. 'Tis some odd humour pricks him to 
this fashion ; — 
Yet oftentimes he goes but mean apparell'tf. 

Bap. I am glad he is come, hoNvsoe'erhe 
comes. 

Bion. Why, sir, he convcs not. 

Bap. Didst thou not say, he comes? 

Bion. Who? that Petruchio camef 

Bap. Ay, that Petruchio came. 

Bion. No, sir; I say, his horse comes with 
him on his back. 

Bap. Why, that's all one. 

Btoii Nay, by Saint Jamy, I hold yoa 
penny, 
A horse and a man is more than one, and y«A 
not many. 



• Fantastiral. + Bait, decoy. t Caprice, inconstancy. 6 Farcy. |l Vivcs,.* 

di-iemper in horses, little dilfering from the stran-le», f WU.t. ♦« SttM^ug. 



^'cene JI.] 



TAx^lING OF THE SHREW. 



293 



Enter Petruchio attd Grumio. 
Pet. Come, where be these gallants? who 

is at home'? 
JBap. You are welcome, sir. 
Pet, And yet I come not well. 

Bap. And yet you halt not. 
7V«. Not so well apparell'd 

•As I wish you were. 

Pet. Were it better I should rush in thus. 
But where is Kate ? where is my lovely bride ? 
How does my father ? — Gentles, methinks you 

frown : 
And wherefore gaze this goodly company ; 
As if they saw some wondrous monument. 
Some comet, or unusual prodigy? 

Bap. Why, sir, you know, this is your wed- 
ding-day; [come; 
First were we sad, fearing you would not 
Now sadder, that you come so unprovided. 
Fie ! doff this habit, shame to your estate. 
An eye-sore to our solemn festival. 

Tra. And tell us, what occasion of import 
Hath all so long detained you from your wife, 
And sent you hither so unlike yourself? 
Pet. Tedious it were to tell, and harsh to 
hear: 
Sufficeth, I am come to keep my word, 
Though in some part enforced to digress*; 
Which, at more leisure, I will so excuse 
As you shall well be satisfied withal. 
But, where is Kate? I stay too long from 
her; [church. 

The morning wears, *tis time we were at 
Tra. See not your bride in these unreve 
rent robes ; 
Go to my chamber, put on clothes of mine. 
' Pet. Not I, believe me; thus I'll visit her. 
Bap. But thus, I trust, you will not marry 
her. [done with words ; 

Pet. Good sooth, even thus ; therefore have 
To me she's married, not unto my clothes : 
Could I repair what she will wear in me, 
As I can change these poor accoutrements, 
*Twere well for Kate, and better for myself. 
But what a fool am I, to chat with you. 
When I should bid good-morrow to my 

bride, 
And seal the title with a lovely kiss? 

[Exeunt Petruchio, Grumio, «wd 

BlONDELLO. 

Tra. He hath some meaning in his mad 
We will persuade him, be it possible, [attire: 
To put on better ere he go to church. 

B'jp. P!l after him, and see the event of 
this. [Ei'it. 

Tra. But,sir,toherloveconcernethustoadd 
Her father's liking: Which to bring to pass. 
As 1 before imparted to your worship, 
I am to get a man,— whate'er he be. 
It skillst not much; we'll fit him to ourturn. 
And he shall be Vincentio of Pisa ; 
And make assurance, here in Padua, 
Ot greater sums than 1 have promised. 
So shall you quietly enjoy your hope. 
And marry sweet Bianca with consent. 



Luc. Were it nor that my fellow school 
master 
Doth watch Bianca's ateps so narrowly, 
'Twere good, meihinks, to steal our marriage; 
Which once perform'd, let all the world say — 

no, 
I'll keep mine own, despite of all the world. 
Tra. That by degrees we mean to look 
into, 
And watch our vantage in this business : 
We'll o^'er-reach the greybeard, Gremio, 
The narrow-prying father, Minola; 
The quaint j musician, amorous Licio ; 
All for my master's sake, Lucentio. — 

Re-enter Gremio. 
Signior Gremio! came you from the church T 
Gre. As willingly as e'er I came from 

school. 
Tra. And is the bride and bridegroom 
coming home? [indeed, 

Gre. A bridegroom, say you? 'tis a groom, 
A grumbling groom, and that the girl shall 
find. 
Tra. Curster than she? why, 'tis impossi- 
ble, [fiend. 
Gre. Why, he's a devil, a devil, a very 
Tra. Why, she's a devil, a devil, the de- 
vil's dam. [him. 
Gre. Tut ! she's a lamb, a dove, a fool lo 
Pll tell you, sir Lucentio ; When the priest 
Should ask — if Katharine should be his wife. 
Ay, by gogs-'trouns, quoth he ; and swore so 

loud, 
That, all amazed, the priest let fall the book : 
And, as he stoop'd again to take it up. 
The mad-brain'd bridegroom took him such a 
cuff, [priest ; 

That down fell priest and book, and book and 
Nuw take them up, quoth he, if any list. 
Tra. What said the wench, when he arose 
again? [stamp'd, and swore, 

Gre. Trembled and shook ; for why, he 
As if the vicar meant to cozen him. 
But after many ceremonies done. 
He calls for wine : — A health, quoth he; as if 
He had been aboard carousing to his mates 
After a storm : — Quaff'd off the muscadel §, 
And tlirew the sops all in the sexton's face ; 
Having no other reason, — 
But that his beard grew thin and hungerly, 
And seem'd to ask him sops as he was drinking. 
This done, he took the bride about the neck ; 
And kiss'd her lips with such a clamorous 

smack, 
That, at the parting, all the church did echo. 
I, seeing this, came thence for very shame ; 
And after me, 1 know, the rout is coming : 
Such a mad marriage never was before ; 
Hark, hark ! 1 hear the minstrels play. 

Music, 
J5/?fer Petruchio, Katharina, Bianca, 
Baptista, Hortensio, Grumio, and 

Train. 
Pet. Gentlemen and friends, I thank yoa 
for your pains : 



i. e., To deviate from my promise. + Matters. % Strange. § It was the custom 
for the company present to drink wine immediately after the marriage-ceremony. 

tie 3 



294 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IF. 



I know, you think to dine with me to-dny, 
And have prepared great store of wedding 

cheer ; 
But 8o it is, my haste doth call me hence. 
And therefore here I mean to take my leave. 

Bap. Is't possible, you will away to-night? 

Pet. I must away to-day, before night 
come : — [ness, 

Make it no wonder; if you knew my busi- 
You would entreat me rather go than stay. 
And, honest company, I thank you all, 
That have beheld me give away myself 
To this most patient, sweet, and virtuoas 

wife*: 
"Dine with my faiher, drink a health to me; 
For I must hence, and farewell to you all. 

Tra. Let us entreat you stay till after dinner. 

Pet, It may not be. 

Ore, Let me entreat you. 

Pet. It cannot be. 

JCath. Let me entreat you. 

Pet. I am content. 

Kfith. Are you content to stay ? 

Pet. I am content you shall entreat me 
stay; 
But yet not stay, entreat me how you can. 

Kat/i. Now, if you love me, stay. 

Pet. Grumio, my horses. 

Grii Ay, sir, they be ready; the oats have 
eaten the horses. 

Kut/i. Nay. then, 
Do what thou canst, I will not go to-day ; 
No, nor to-inorrow, nor till 1 please myself. 
The door is open, sir, there lies your way, 
You may be jogging, whiles your boots are 

green ; 
For me, I'll not be gone, till I please myself; 
•Tis like, you'll prove a jolly surly groom, 
That take it on you at the tirst so rotindly. 

Pet. O, Kate, content thee; pr'ythee, be 
not aniiry. 

Kath. I will be angry; What hast thou to 
do?— 
Father, be quiet; he shall stay my leisure. 

Gre. Ay, marry, sir: now it begins to 
work. [dinner: — 

Kath, Gentlemen, forward to the bridal 



I see, a woman may be made a fool. 
If she had not a spirit to resist. 

Pet. They shall go forward, Kate, at thy 
command : — 
Obey the bride, you that attend on her: 
Go to the feast, revel and domineer. 
Carouse full measure to her maidenhead, 

Be mad and merry, or go hang yourselves-, 

But for my bonny Kate, she must with me. 
Nay, look not big, nor stamp, nor stare, noi 

fret ; 
I will be master of what is mine own: 
She is my goods, my chattels; she Is my 

house, 
My household-stuff, my field, my barn. 
My horse, my ox, my ass, my any thing; 
And here she stands, touch her whoever dare; 
I'll bring my action on the proudest he 

rhat stops my way in Padua Grumio, 

Draw forth thy weapon, we're beset with 

tliieves; 
Rescue thy mistress, if thou be a man : — 
Fear not, sweet wench, they shall not touch 

thee, Kate; 
Pli buckler fhee against a million. 

[Exeunt Pktruchio, Katharine, and 

Grumio. 
Bap. Nay, let them go, a couple of quiel 
ones. [with laughimi. 

Gre. Went they not quickly, I should die 
Tra. Of all inad matches, never was the 
like ! [your sister f 

Lur. Mistress, what's your opinion of 
Bian. That, being mad herself, she's madly 

mated. 
Gre. I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated. 
Bap. Neijhbours and friends, though bride 
and bridegroom wants 
For to supply the places at the table. 
You know, there wants no junkets • at the 
feast ; — fplac v ; 

Lucentio, you shall supply the bridegroom's 
And let Bianca take her lister's room. 
Tra. Shall sweet Bianca practise how to 

bride it ? 
Bap. She shall, Lucentio. — Come, Gentle- 
men, let's go. {Exeujit. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. A Hall in Petrnchio's Country 

}I ou.se. 

Enter Grumio. 

Gru. Fie, fie, on all tired jades! on all 

mad masters! and all foul ways! Was ever 

man so henten? was ever man so rayed t ? 

was ever man so weary ? I am sent before to 

make a tise, and they are coming after to 

warm them. Now, were not I a little pot, 

and soon hot, my very lips might freeze to 

my teeth, my tongue to the roof of my mouth, 

my heart in my belly, ere I sliould come b}' a 

fire to thaw me : — But, 1, with blowing the 

• T)*»lir,acies, 



fire, shall warm myself; for, considering the 
weather, a taller man than I will take cold. 
Holla, hoa! Curtis! 

Enter Curtis. 

Curt. Who is that, calls so coldly? 

Gru. A piece of ice : If thou doubt it, thou 
may'st slide from my shoulder to my heel, 
with no gieater a run but my head and my 
neck. A fire, good Curtis. 

Curt. Is my master and his wife coming 
(Jrumio ? 

Gru. O, ay, Curtis, ay : and therefore fire, 
fire ; cast on no water. 

t Bewrayed ; dirty. 



Scene L 



TAMING OF THE SHREW 



295 



Curt, Is she so hot a shrew as she's reported? 
Gru, She was, good Curtis, before this frcst : 
but, thou know'st, winter tames man, woman, 
and beast ; for it hath tamed my old master, 
«nd my new mistress, and myself, fellow 
Curtis. 

Curt, Away, you three-inch fool I I am no 
beast. 

Gru. Am I but three inches ? why, thy 
horn is a foot ; and so long am I, at the least. 
But wilt thou make a fire, or shall I complain 
on thee to our mistress, whose hand (she 
being now at hand) thou shalt soon feel, to 
thy cold comfort, for being slow in thy hot 
office. 

Curt. I pr'ythee, good Grumio, tell me. 
How goes the world? 

Gru, A cold world, Curtis, in every office 
but thine ; and, therefore, fire : Do thy duty, 
and have thy duty ; for my master and mistress 
are almost frozen to death. 

Curt. There's fire ready; And therefore, 
good Grumio, the news ? 

Gru. Why, Jack boy! ho hoy! and as 
much news as thou wilt. 

6'wr^.Come,youare sofull of coney-catching:- 

Gru. Why therefore, fire ; for I have caught 
extreme cold. Where's the cook ? is supper 
ready, the house trimmed, rushes strewed, 
cobwebs swept ; the serving-men in their 
new fustian, their white stockings, and every 
officer his wedding-garment on 1 Be the Jacks 
fair within, the Jills fair without, the carpets 
Jaid, and every thing in order l 

Curt. All ready; And, therefore, I pray 
thee, news ? 

Gru, First, know, my horse is tired ; my 
master and mistress fallen out. 
■ Curt. How? 

Gru, Out of their saddles into the dirt 
And thereby hangs a tale. 

Curt. Let's ha't, good Grumio. 

Gru. Lend thine ear. 

Curt. Here. 

Gru. There. [Strilchig him. 

Curt, This is to feel a tale, not to hear a 
tale. 

Gru. And therefore 'tis called, a sensible 
tale : and this cutf was but to knock at your 
ear, and beseech listening. Now I begin : 
Imprimis, we came down a foul hill, my 
master riding behind my mistress ; — 

Curt. Botli on one horse ? 
' Gru, What's that to thee? 

Curt, \V hy , a horse. 

Gru. Tell thou the tale : But hadst thou 

not crossed me, thou shouldst have heard 
how her horse fell, and she under her horse ; 
thou shouldst have heard, in how miry a 
place : how she was bemoiled • ; how he left 
her with the horse upon her ; how he beat 
me because her horse stumbled ; how she 
waded through the dirt to pluck him otf me ; 
how he swore ; how she prayed— that never 
prayed before ; how I cried ; how the horses 
ran away ; how her bridle was burst t; how 



I lost my crupper ; — with many things of 
worthy memory ; which now shall die in 
oblivion, and thou return unexperienced to 
thy grave. 

Curt. By this reckoning, he is more shrew 
than she. 

Gru, Ay ; and that, thou and the proudest 
of you all shall find, when he comes home. 
But what talk I of this ?— call forth Nathaniel, 
Joseph, Nicholas, Philip, Waller, Sugarsop, 
and the rest; let their heads be sleekly combed, 
their blue coats brushed, and their garters ot 
an indifferent J knit : let them curtsey with 
their left legs ; and not presume to touch a 
hair of my master's horse-tail, till they kiss 
their hands. Are they all ready ? 
Curt. They are. 
Gru. Call them forth. 
Curt. Do you hear, ho ? you must meet 
my master, to countenance my mistress. 
Gru. Why, she hath a face of her own. 
Curt. Who knows not that? 
Gru. Thou, it seems ; that callest for com- 
pany to countenance her. 

Curt. I C9ll them forth to credit her. 
Giu. Why, she comes to borrow nothing 
of them. 

Enter several Servants. 
Nath, Welcome home, Grumio. 
Phil. How now, Grumio? 
Jos. What, Grumio I 
Nich. Fellow Grumio ! 
Nuth. How now, old lad ? 
Gru. Welcome, you ;— how now, you ; 
what, you ; — fellow, you ; — and thus much lor 
greeting. Now, my spruce companions, is 
all leidy, and all things neat? 

Nuth. All things is ready : How near is 
our master? 

Gru, E'en at hand, alighted by this ; and 

therefore be not, Cock's passion, silence! 

1 hear my master. 

Enter Petruchio and Katharina. 
Pet. Where be these knaves? What, no 
man at door. 
To hold my stirrup, nor to take my horse ! 

Where is Nathaniel, Gregory, Pliiiip ! 

All Hew. Heie, here, sir; here, sir. [sir!— 
Pet. Here, sir ! here, sir ! here, sir! here. 
You logger-headed and uupolish'd grooms! 
What, no attendance? no regard { no duty ?— 
Where is the foolish knave 1 sent before ? 
Gru, Here, sir; as foolish as 1 was before. 
Pet. You peasant swain! you whoreson 
malt horse drudge! 
Did 1 not bid thee meet me in the park, 
And bringalong these rascal knaves with thee? 
Gru. Nathaniel's coat, sir, was not fully 
made, [lJ*'el ; 

And Gabriel's pumps were all unpink'd i'the 
Thire was no link$ to colour Petei's hat. 
And Walter's daj^ger was not come from sheath 

ing : 
There wete none fine, but Adam, Ralph, and 

Gregory ; 
The rest were ragged, old, and beggarly ; 



Bemired. t Broken. 1 l^^ot diflcrent one from the other. $ A torch of pitch. 



29 f> 



SHAKSPEAUE. 



[Ace /r. 



Yet, as they are, here arc they come to meet 

yoa. [ill.— 

Pet. Go, rancals, go, and fetch my siipptr 

[Kirunt somf of the Servants. 

Where is the iij'e that late 1 led— [SiiiRs. 

WluTo are tliose Sit down, Kate, and wel- 

Soad, sond, soud, soud* 1 [come. 

He-etiter Servants, with supper. 
Why, when, I say Y— Nay, yood sweet Kate, 

be merry. 
Off with my boots, you rogues, you villains ; 
When? 
It was the friar of orders grai/f [Sings. 
A\ he forth walked on his way : — 
Out, out, you rogue I you pluck my foot awry : 
Take that, and mend the plucking otf the 
other. — ' [Strikes hh/i. 

Be merry, Kate: — Some water, here; what, 
ho ! — [hence, 

Where's my spaniel Troilus?— Sirrah, mtyou 
And bid my cousin Ferdinand come hither;— 
[Kiif Servant. 
One, Kate, that you must kiss, and be ac- 

quainte*! with. — 

Where are my slippers?— Shall I have some 

water? [A bason is presented to him. 

Come, Kale, and wash, and welcome heartily : — 

[Servant lets the etvrr fall. 

You whoreson villain! will you let it fall? 

[Strikes him. 
Kuth. Patience, I pray you; 'twas a fault 
unwilling. [knavr! 

Pet. A whoreson, beetle-headed, flap-eaiM 
Come, Kate, sit down ; 1 know you have a 
stomach. [shall 1 ?— 

Will you give thanks, sweet Kate; or else 
What is this? mutton/ 
1 Serv, Ay. 

Pet, Who brought it? 

1 Serv. I. 

Pet. 'Tis burnt; and so is all the meat: 
What dogs are these?— Where is the rascal 
co<»k? [drcssiT, 

How durst you, villains, bring it from tlu- 
And serve it thus to me that love it not i 
There, take it to you, trenchers, cups, and all: 
[Throivs the meat,^c. ahout the staf*e. 
You heedless joltheads, and unmanner'd slaves I 
What, do you grumble? I'll be with you 
straight. [quiet ; 

Kath. 1 pray you, husband, be not so dis- 
The meat was wi-ll, if vou were so contented. 
Pet. 1 tell thee, Kate, 'twas burnt and 
dried away ; 
And I expres.Hly .im forbid to touch it, 
Fur it engenders choler, plantelh anger; 
And better 'twere, that bi)th of us did fast, — 
Since, ot ourselves, ourselves are choleric,— 
Than leed it with such over roasted llesh. 
lie patient; tomorrow it shall be mended. 
And, for iliis ninht, we'll fast toi coMjpan> :— 
Come, 1 will bring thee to thy bridal chamber. 
{Exeunt Pkiiuchiu, Katuauina, 
and Curt lit. I 



Nath. [Advancing.] Peter, didst ever »e« 
the like ? 

Peter. He kills her in her own humour. 
Jie-enter Curtis. 

Cm, Where is he? 

Curt. In her chamber, 
Making a sermon of contincncy to her: 
And rails, and swears, and rates; that she, 
poor soul, [speak ; 

Knows not which way to stand, to look, to 
And sits as one new-risen from a dream. 
Away, away ! for he is condng hither. [ Ejceunt, 
lie-enter P j;t r u c h i o. 

Pet. Thus have I politicly begun my reign. 
And 'tis my hope to end successfully : 
My falcon now is sharp, and passing empty } 
And, till she sli>op,she. must not belull-go»ged. 
For then she never looks upon her luret. 
Another way 1 have to man my hagnard t, 
To make her c(»me, and know her keeper's call, 
That is, — to watch her, as we watch these kites. 
That bate$, and beat, and will not be obedient. 
She eat no meat today, nor none shall eat; 
Last night she slept not, nor to-night ^' " shall 
As with the meat, some nnd«'served faui. [not; 
I'll find about the making of the bed ; 
And here I'll fling the pillow, there the bolster. 
This way the coverlet, another way tin* 
Ay, and amid this luniy,I intend ||, [sheets: — 
That all is done in reverend care of her; 
And, in conclusitni, she shall watch all night: 
And, if she chance to nod, I'll rail, and brawl. 
And with the clamour keep her still awake. 
This is a way to kill a wife with kindness ; 
And thus I'll curb her mad and headstrong 

humour : — 
He that knows better how to tame a shrew. 
Now let him speak : 'tis charity to shew. 

[Ejiit, 

SCENE II. Padua. Before B',\\A\^{a*» House, , 

Enter Than to and Hour ens lo. 
Tra. Is't possible, friend Licio, that liianca 
I)(Mh fancy any other but Lucentio? 
i tell yon, sir, she bears me fair in hand. 

Hor. Sir, to satisfy you in what I have said. 
Stand by, and mark the manner of his teach- 
ing. [They stand aside. 
Enter Bianca and Licentio. 
Luc. Now, mistress, profit you in what you 
read ? [me that. 
Bian. What, master, read you? first resolve 
Euc. I read that 1 profess, the art to Inv •. 
Bum. And may you prove, sir, master of 

your art. 
Euc. VV hile you, sweet dear, prove mistress 
of my heart. ['I'hey retire. 

Hor. Quick proceeders, marry! Now, tell 
me, 1 pray, 
You that durst swear that your mistress Bianca 
Lovi'd none in the world so well as Lucentio. 
Tra. () despilelul love! unconstant woman 
I tell thee. Licio, this is wonderful, [kind I— 
lior. Mistake no niore; lam not Licio, 



• A word coined by Shakspeare to express the noise made by a person healed and fatigued 

t A tiling stuffed to look like the game which the hawk was to pursue. 

To tame my wild hawk. § Flutter. Fretcud. 



Sr,-,n' II.] 



TAMIiNQ OF THE SIIRKW. 



297 



l%(>r n mu.sician, as I seem to be; 
\\\\X Olio that Bcorn to live in this disguise, 
Vor »urh n one ai leaves a ijentUMnaii, 
And makes a },'0<l ofsnrii a cnllion* : 
Know, sir, that I am <allM — Mtntensio. 

Wrt. Si}i;nior Iloitensio, I have often heard 
Or yt»ur entire atieotion to Hianca ; [ncNJ, 

And diiice mine eyes are witness of her iight- 
1 will with yon, — if you be so contented, — 
Forswear Hiancn and her love for ever. 

Jlor. Sec, how ihey ki88 and court I 

Siunior Lucentio, 
Here is my hand, and here I firmly vow — 
Never to woi» her more ; but do forswear her. 
As one unworthy all the foi mer favours 
lli;it 1 have fondly flatter'd her withal. 

'I'm, And here i take the like unfeigned 
oath, — [treat: 

Me'er to marry with her though slie would en- 
Fieonherl see, how beastly she doth court 
him. [forsworn I 

Tlor. 'Would, all the world, but he, had quite 
l'\»r me, — that 1 may siiuly kee|) mine oath, 
I will be married to a wealthy widow, [me, 
Kre ihrcedays pass; which hath as long loveil 
Am I have U)ved this proiul disdainlul h;!ggard : 
AikI so farewell, nignior Luoentio. — 
Kindness in women, not their beauteous lookii. 
Shall win my love : — and so 1 take my leave, 
In resolution as 1 swore before. 

{Kilt MoKTKNsio. — LucKNTio and 
Hi an(;a adtutncc. 
Tra. Mistress Hiama, bless you with such 
As Mongeth to a lover's blessed case! [grace 
Nay, 1 have ta'en you na|)<|)ing, gentle love; 
And have forsworn you, uiili llorteiisio. 
Itian. Tranio, you jest ; liut have you both 
Tra, Mistress, we have. [forsworn me? 
Jaic, 'J'hen we are rid of Licio. 

Tra. I'faith, lie'll have a lusty widow now, 
That shall be woo'd and wedded in a day. 
Jiian. Cod give liimjoyi 
7';v/. Ay, and lic'll tame her. 
Jiian. Hi- says so, Tranio. 

'J'ra. 'Faith, he is gone unto the tanung- 
school. [such a place t 

Jiuin. The taming-school I what, is there 
Tra. Ay, mistress, and Petruchio is the 
master ; 
Tluit teacheth tricks eleven and twenty long, — 
'Jo tame a shrew, and cliarm her chattering 
tongue. 
tlhti'r HiONDnr.t-o, runniitf,. 
liiov, mauler, master, I have watcli'd so 
That I'm dog-weary ; but at last I spied [long 
An ancient anirell coining down the hill, 
Will serve the turn. 
I Tra. What is he, BiondelloT 

I Jiion. Master, a merraianlti, or a pcMlantt, 

I I know not what; but formal in apparel, 
Jm gait and countenance surely like a father. 
I.Hc. Aiul what of him, Tranio Y 
'I'ra. If he be credulous, and trust my tale, 
I IMI make him glad to seem Vincentio ; 
Aiid give assurance to Baptistu Minola, 



As if he were the right Vincentio. 

Take in your love, and then let me alone. 

{F.xeunt Luckntio and Bianca. 
I'jiiter a Pedant. 

Pvd. (Jod flave you, sir I 

Tra. And you, sir I you arc welcome. 

Travel you far on, or are you at the furthest? 

I*ed. Sir, at the furtliest for a week or two: 
Kut then ui) further; and as far as Koine; 
And so to 'I'ripoly, if God lend me life. 

Tra. What countryman, 1 prayt 

/'«Y/. Of Mantua. 

Tia. Of M:nitua, sir? — marry. Cod forbid I 
And come to Padua, careless of your life? 

Ped. My life, sir I how, 1 pray? for that 
goes hard. 

Tra. 'Tis death for any one in Mantua 
To come to I'adua ; Know you not the causet 
Your shi|)s are staid at Venice ; and the duko 
( For private (piarrel 'Iwixt yourduke and him,) 
Math publish'd and proclaim'<l it o|>enly : 
'Tis marvi I ; but that you're but uewly come. 
Yon might have heard it else proclalm'd about. 

I*ttl. Alas, sir. it is worse for m« than so; 
I'\)r I have bills for money by exchange 
From Floitnee, and must here <leliver them. 

Tra, Well, sir, to do you com tesy. 
This will 1 do, and this will 1 ailvise you ; — 
First, t«dl me, have you ever been at Pisa f 

lUd. Ay, sir, in Pisa have 1 often been; 
Pisa, renowned for grave citizens. [tio? 

Tra. Among them, know jou one Vinceii- 

Pid. 1 know him not, but I have hear<l of 
A merchant of incomparable wealth. [him; 

Tra. Jle is my father, sir; and, soolh to say. 
In countenance somewhat doth resemble you. 

liion. As much as an apple d«)th an ovslcr, 
and all one. {Aside, 

Tra. To save your life in this extremity. 
This favour will I do you for his sake ; 
And think it not the worst of all your fortunes, 
I'liat you are like to sir Vincentio. 
His name and credit shall you undertake. 
And in my houseyou shall befrien<lly lodged ;— 
Look, that you take upon you as you should; 
^ ()u understand me, sir; — so shall you stay 
Till you have done your business in the city: 
If this be courtesy, nir, accept of it. 

I^t'd. (),sir, 1 do ; and will repute you ever 
The patron of my life and liberty. [good. 

Tra. Then go with me, to make the matter 
This, by the way, I let you undeisiandl — 
My father is here look'd for every day, 
Tt> pass assurance of a dower in marriage 
'Tvvixt me and one IJaptista's daughter here: 
In all these circumstances I'll instruct you : 
(Jo with iiie^sir,to clothe you as becomes you. 

[ I'Jueunt. 

SCENE HI. A Jioom ifi Vctrucli\o*9 If oitse* 

/'Jnicr Katiiarina ajtd Guvmio. 

Gru. No, uo; forsooth; 1 tiare not, for ray 

life. [appears : 

Kath. The more my wrong, the more his gpvl« 

What, did he marry 4ie to famish mo? 



• Dfspicablf fellow, t Mcfienger. t A merchant, or a schoolmaster. 



298 



SHAKSPEARE. 



{Act IV. 



Beggars, that come UDto my fatheF's door, 
I'pon entreaty, have a present alms ; 
If not, elsewhere they m-eet with charity : 
But I, — w ho never knew how to entreat, — 
Am starved for meat, giddy for lack of sleep : 
With oaths kept waking, a-id with brawling 
fed : [wants, 

And that which spites me more than all these 
He does it under name of perfect love; 
As who should say, — if I should sleep, or eat, 
Twere deadly sickness, or else present death. — 
I pr'ythee go, and get me some repast ; 
I care not what, so it be wholesome tood. 

Gru. What say you to a neat's foot? 

Kath. 'Tis passing good ; I pr'ythee let me 
have it. 

Gru. I fear, it is too choleric a meat : — 
How say you to a fat tripe, finely broil'd 1 

Kath. I like it well ; good Grumio, fetch 
it me. 

Gru. 1 cannot tell ; I fear, 'tis choleric. 
What say you to a piece of beef, and mustard 1 

Kath. A dish that I do love to feed upon. 

Gru. Ay, but the mustard is too hot a little. 

Kath. VVhy, then the beef, and let the mus- 
tard rest. [the mustard, 

Gru. Nay, then 1 will not ; you shall have 
Or else you get no beef of Grumio. [wilt. 

Kath. Then both, or one, or any thing thou 

Grw.Why,then the mustard without the beef. 

Kath. Go, get thee gone, thou false delud- 
ing slave, {litats him. 
That fee<i'st me with the very name of meat ; 
Sorrow on thee, and all the pack of you. 
That triumph thus upon my misery ! 
Go, get thee gone, 1 say. 
Enter Petruchio tti^A a dish of meat ; 
and HoRTENSio. 

Pet. How fares my Kate? What, sweeting, 

Hor. Mistress, what cheer? [all amort*? 

Kath. 'Faith, as cold as can be. 

Pet. Pluck up thy spirits, look cheerfully 

upon me. 

Here, love ; thou see'st how diligent I am, 

To dress thy meat myself, and bring it thee ; 

\Set}i the dish on a table. 

I am sure, sweet Kate, this kindness merits 

thanks. [not ; 

What, not a word ? Nay, then, thou lovest it 

And all my pains is sorted to no proof: 

Here, take away this dish. 

Kath. 'Pray you, let it stand. 

Pet. The poorest service is repaid with 
thanks ; 
And so shall mine, before you touch the meat. 

Kath. 1 thank you, sir. [blame ! 

Hor. Signior Petrucliio, fie ! you are to 
Clome, mistress Kate, Pll bear you company. 

Pet. Eat it up all, Hortensio, if thou lovest 
me. — \^Aside. 

Much good do it unto thy gentle heart 1 
Kate, eat apace: — And now, my honey love. 
Will we return unto thy father's house ; 
And revel it as bravely as the best, 
VViih silken coats, and caps, and golden rings, 



With ruffs, and cufls, and farthingales, and 
things; [bravery t. 

With scarfs, and fans, and double change of 
With amber bracelets, beads, and ail ihis 
knavery. [leisure. 

What, hast thoa dined? The tailor stays thy 
To deck thy body with his ruffling j treasure. 

Enter Tailor. 
Come, tailor, let us see these ornaments ; 

Enter Haberdasher. 
Lay forth the gown. — What news with yon, 
sir? [speak. 

Hab. Here is the cap your worship did be- 

Pet. Why, this was moulded on a purringer ; 
A velvet dish;— fie, fie! 'tis lewd and filthy: 
Why, 'tis a cockle, or a walnut-shell, 
A knack, a toy, a trick, a baby's cap ; 
Away with it, come, let me have a bigger. 

Kath. Pll have no bigger ; this doth fit the 
time, » 

And gentlewomen wear such caps as these. 

Pel. W^hen you are gentle, you shall have 
And not till then. [one too, 

Hor. 'iihat will not be in haste. {Aside, 

Kath. Why, sir, I trust, I may have leave 
to speak ; 
And speak I will ; I am no child, no babe: 
Your betters have endured me say my mind ; 
And, if you cannot, best you stop your ears. 
My tongue will tell the anger of njy heart ; 
Or else my heart, concealing it, will break : ' 
And, rather than it shall, 1 will be free i 

Even to the uttermost, as I please, in words. P 

Pet. W hy, thou say'st true ; it is a paltry ' 
Acustard-coftin§,a bauble, a silken pie: [cap; 
I love thee well, in that thou likest it not. 

Kath. Love me, or love me not, I like the 
And it I will have, or I will have none. [cap ; 

Pet. Thy gown? why, ay: — Come, tailor, 
let us see't. 

meroy, God! what masking stuff is here? 
What's this? asleeve? 'tis like ademi-cannon : 
What I up and down, carved like an apple-tart? 
Here's suip,andnip,andcut,andslish, and slash. 
Like to a censer || in a barber's shop:— [this? 
Why, what, o' devil's name, tailor, call'st thou 

Hor. 1 see, she's like to have neither cap 

nor gown. {A.^ide. 

Tai. Vou bid me make it orderly and well. 

According to the fashion, and the time. 

Pet. Marry, and did ; but if you be remem- 

1 did not bid you mar it to the time. [ber'd. 
Go, hop me over every kennel home. 
For you shall hop without my custom, sir: 
I'll none of it ; hence, make your best of it. 

Kath. 1 never saw a better-fashion'd gown. 
More quaintf, more pleasing, nor more com- 
mendable : 
Belike, you mean to make a puppet of me. 

Pet. Why, true; he means to make a pup 
pet of thee. 

Tui. She says, your trorship means to make 
a puppet of her. [thou thread. 

Pit. O monslrouB arrogance! Thou liest. 
Thou thimble. 



• Dispirited ; a gallicism. + Finery. % Rustling. i A coffin was the culinary 

'•crm for raise(i crust. |1 These censers resembled our brasUrs in shape. II Curiou*. 



Scene III.] 



TA-MING OF THE SHREW. 



299 



Thott yard, three-quarters, half-yard, quarter, 

nail. 
Thou flea, thou nit, thou winter-cricket thou :— 
Braved in mine own house with a skein of 

thread ! 
Away, thou rag, thou quantity, thou remnant ; 
Or 1 shall so be-mete* thee with thy yard, 
As thou shalt think on prating whilst thou ii vest! 
I tell thee, I, that thou hast marrM her gown. 

Tai. Your worship is deceived ; the gown 
Just as my mnster had direction : [is made 
Grumio gave order how it should be done. 

Gru, 1 gave him no order, I gave him the 
stuff. [made? 

Tai. But how did you desire it should be 

Gru. Marry, sir, with needle and thread. 

Tai. But did you not request to have it cut? 

Gru. Thou hast faced many things t. 

Tai, I have. 

Gru. Face not me : thou hast braved many 
men ; brave not me ; I will neither be faced 
nor braved. I say unto thee, — 1 bid thy mas- 
ter cut out the gown ; but 1 did not bid him 
cut it to pieces: etgo, thou liest. 

Tai. Why, here is the note of the fashion 
to testify. 

Pet. Read it. 
. Gru. The note lies in his throat, if he say 
I 'said so. 

Tai. Imprimis, a loose bodied gown : 

Gru. Master, if ever I said loose-bodied 
gown, sew me in the skirts of it, and beat me 
to death with a bottom of brown thread: I 
•aid, a gown. 

Pet. Proceed. 

Tai. Vf^itli a small compassed capeXi 

Gru. I confess the cape. 

Tai. With a trunk sleeve ; 

Gru. I confess two sleeves. 

Tai. The sleeves curiously cut. 

Pet. Ay, there's the villany. 

Gru. Error i'the bill, sir ; error i'the bill. I 
CJmmanded the sleeves should be cut out, and 
eewed up again; and that I'll prove upon thee, 
chough thy little linger be armed in a thimble. 

Tai. This is true, that I say ; an 1 had thee 
in place where, thou shouldst know it. 

Gru. I am for thee straight : take thou the 
bill, give me thy mete-yard j, and spare not me. 

Hor. God-a-mercy, Grumio! then he shall 
have no odds. 

Pet. Well, sir, in brief, the gown is not for 
me. 

Gru. You are i'the right, sir ; 'tis for my 
mistress. 

Pet. Go, take it up unto thy master's use. 

Gru. Villain, not for thy h>e : Take up my 
mistress' gown for thy mast.er's use ! 

Pet. Why, sir, what's your conceit in that? 

Gru. O, sir, the conceit is deeper than you 
think for : 
7 ake up my mistress' gown to his master's use ! 
O, fie, fie, fie! 

Pet. hi ortensio, say thou wilt see the tailor 
paiu :— ' [Asiae. 



Go take it hence ; begone, and say no more. 

Hor. Tailor, I'll pay thee for thy gown to- 
morrow. 
Take no unkindness of his hasty words : 
Away, 1 say ; commend me to thy master. 

[Exit Tailor. 

Pet. Well, come, my Kate; we will unto 
your father's. 
Even in these honest mean habiliments ; 
Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor: 
For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich ; 
And as the sun breaks through the darkest 

clouds. 
So honour peerethfl in the meanest habit. 
What, is the jay more precious than the lark. 
Because his feathers are more beautiful? 
Or is the adder better than the eel, 
Because his painted skin contents the eye? 
O, no, good Kate ; neither art thou the worse 
For this poor furniture, and mean array. 
If thuu account's! it shame, lay it on me : 
And therefore, frolic ; we will hence forthwith. 
To feast and sport us at thy father's house.— 
Co, call my men, and let us straight to him; 
And bring our horses unto Long-lane end, 
There will we iiiount,and thither walk on foot.— - 
Let's see ; I think, 'tis now some seven o'clock. 
And well we may come there b> dinner time. 

Kath. I dare assure you, sir, 'tis almost two ; 
And 'twill be supper time, ere you come there. 

Pet. It shall be seven, ere I go to horse: 
Look, what I speak, or do, or think to do, 
Yoa are still crossing it. — Sirs, let't alone : 
I will not go to-day ; and ere I do. 
It shall be what o'clock I say it is. 

Hor. Why, so ! this gallant will commana 
the sun. [Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. Padua. Before Baptista's 

House. 

Enter Tranio, and the Pedant dressed like 

ViNCENTlO. 

Tra. Sir, this is the house ; Please it you, 
that I call ? 

Ped. Ay, what else? and, but I be deceived, 
Signior Baptista may remember me. 
Near twentx' years ago, in Genoa, where 
W^e were lodgers at the Pegasus. 

7>a. 'Tis well ; 

And hold your own, in any case, with such 
Austerity as 'longeih to a father. 
Enter Biondf^i.lo. 

Ped. I warrant you : But, sir, here comes 
'Twere good, he were school'd. [your boy ; 

Tra. Fear you not him. Sirrah, Hiondello, 
Now do your duty throughly, I advise you ; 
Imagine 'twere the right Vincentio. 

Eton. Tut ! fear not me. 

Tra. Bat hast thou done thine errand to 
Baptista? [Venice; 

Bion. 1 told him, that your father was at 
And that you look'd for him this day in Padua. 

Tra. Thou'rt a tall IF fellow; hold thee that 

to drink. [sir. — 

Here comes Baptista: — set your countenance. 



Ba-measure. 



t Turned up many garments with facings. J A round cape. 

$ Measuring-yard. [, Appuaseth. ^1 Brave. 



300 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IT 



Enter Baptista and Lucentio. 
Signior Baptista, you are happily met : — 
Sir, [7b tlie Pedant.] 
This is the gentleman I told yon of; 
I pray you, stand good father to me now. 
Give me Bianca for my patrimony. 

Ped. Soft, son !— 
Sir, by your leave ; having come to Padua 
To gather in some debts, my son Lucenlio 
Made me acquainted with a weighty cause 
Of love between your daughter and himself: 
And, — for the good report I hear of you ; 
And for the love he beareth to your daughter, 
And she to him, — to stay him not too long, 
I am content, in a good father's care, [like 
To have him matched; and, — if you please to 
No worse than I, sir, — uptm some agreement, 
Me shall you find most ready and most willing 
With one consent to have her so bestovv'd ; 
For curious* I cannot be with you, 
Signior Baptista, of whom I hear so well. 

Bay. Sir, pardon me in what I have to say :~ 
Your plainness, and your shortness, please me 
Right true it is, your son Lucentio here [well. 
Doth love my daughter, and she loveth him. 
Or both dissemble deeply their affections : 
And, therefore, if you say no more tjian this, 
That like a father you will deal with him, 
And passt my daughter a sufficient dower. 
The match is fully made, and all is done : 
Yonrson shall havemy daughter with consent. 

Tra. I thank you, sir. Where then do you 
know best. 
We be affiedi ; and such assurance ta'en, 
As shall with either part's agreement stand? 

Bay. Not in my house, Lucentio ; for, you 
know. 
Pitchers have ears, and I have many servants : 
Besides, old Gremio is heark'ning still : 
And, happily ^, we might be interruptfd. 

Tra. Then at my lodging, an it like you, sir ; 
There doth my father lie ; and there, this night, 
We'll pass the business privately and well : 
Send for your daughter by your servant here, 
My boy shall fetch the scrivener presently. 
The worst is this, — that, at so slender warning. 
You're like to have a thin and slender pittance. 

Buy. It likes me well : — Carabio, hie you 
home. 
And bid Bianca make her ready straight ; 
And, if you will, tell what halh happened: — 
Lucentio's father is arrivM in Padua, 
And how she's like to be Lucentio's wife. 

L,uc. I pray the gods she may, with all my 
heart I [gone. 

Tra, Dally not with the gods, but get thee 
Signior Baptista, shall I lead the way? 
Welcome ! one mess is like to be your cheer : 
Come, sir ; we'll better it in Pisa. 

Bap, I follow yon. 

[^'aewTi/TRANio, Pedant, an</ liAPXisTA. 

Bion. Cambio. — 

L,uc. What say'st thou, Biondello? 

Bion. You saw my master wink and laugh 
apon you T 



Luc, Biondello, what of that i 

Bion. 'Faith nothing ; but he has left ra« 
here behind, to expound the meaning or 
nioral || of his signs and tokens. 

Luc. I pray thee, moralize them. 

Bion, Then thus. Baptista is safe, talking 
with the deceiving father of a deceitful son. 

Luc. And what of him 1 

Bion. His daughter is to be brought by 
you to the supper. 

IjUC. And then ? — 

Bion. I'he old priest at Saint Luke's church 
is at your command at all hours. 

Luc. And what of all this I 

Bion. I cannot tell ; except they are busied 
about a counterfeit assurance: Take you assur- 
ance of her, cum privilegio ad imyrtmendum 
solum : to the church ; — take the priest, clerk, 
and some sufficient honest witnesses : 
If this be not that you look for, I have no 

more to say, 
But, bid Bianca farewell for ever and a day. 

\(iioing, 

Luc. Hear'st thou, Biondello? 

Bion. I cannot tany : I knew a wench 
married in an afternoon as she went to the 
garden for parsley to stuff a rabbit ; and so 
may you, sir ; and so adieu, sir. My mastei 
hath appointed me to go to Saint Luke's, to 
bid the priest be ready to come against you 
come with your appendix. \^Exit, 

Luc. I may, and will, if she be so con- 
tented : [doubt % 
She will be pleased, then wherefore should I 
Hap what hap may, I'll roundly go about her; 
Iw shall go hard, if Cambio go without her. 

SCENE V. A public Road, 
Enter Petruchio, Kathari.na, and Hoit 

TENSIO. 

Pet. C|)me on, o' God's name ; once more 
toward our father's. [moon ! 

Good Lord, how bright and goodly shineA the 
Kath. The moon I the sun ; it is not moon- 
light now. 
Pet. 1 say , it is the moon that shines so bright. 
Kath. 1 know, it is the sun that shines so 
bright. [myself. 

Pet. Now, by my mother's son, and that's 
It shall be moon, or star, or what 1 list. 
Or ere I journey to your father's house : — 
Go on, and fetch our horses back again. — 
Evermore cross'd, and cross'd ; nothing but 
cross'd I 
Hor. Say as he says, or we shall never go. 
Kath. Forward, I pray, since we have com* 
so far. 
And be it moon, or sun, or what you please : 
And if you please to call it a rush candle, , 

Henceforth 1 vow it shall be so for me. 
Pet, I say, it is the moon. 
Kath. I know it is. 

Pet. Nay, then you lie; it is the blessei 



r 



* Scmpaions. 



t Assure or convey. 
U Secret 



t Betrothed, 
purpose. 



$ AccidenLikiiy. 



Srene. T.] 



TAMING OF THE SHREW. 



801 



Kaih. Then, God bebless*d,it is the blessed 
But son it is not, when you say it is not ; [sun : 
/Vnd the moon changes, even as your mind. 
What you will have it named, even that it is ; 
And so It shall be so, for Katharine. 

Hor. Petruchio.gothy ways; the field is won. 

Pet, \V ell, forward, forward : thus the bowl 
should run. 
And not unluckily ac;ainst the bias. — 
But soft ; what company is coming here? 

Enter Vincentio, in a travelling dress. 
Good-morrow, gentle mistress : Where away ? 
[To Vincentio. 
Tell me, sweet Kate, and tell me truly too, 
flast thou beheld a fresher gentlewoman? 
Such war of white and red within her cheeks! 
What stars do spangle heaven with such beauty, 
As those two eyes become that heavenly face? — 
Pair lovely maid ,once more good day to thee : — 
)5 weet Kate, embrace her for her beauty's sake. 

Hor. 'A will make the man mad, to make 
a woman of him. 

Kath. Young budding virgin, fair, and 
fresh, and sweet. 
Whither away ; or where is thy abode ? 
Happy the parents of so fair a child ; 
H-ippier the man, whom favourable stars 
Allot thee for his lovely bed-feilow ! 

Pet. Why, how now, Kate I I hope thou 
art Hot mad : 
This is a man, old, wrinkled, faded, wither'd; 
And not a maiden, as thou say'st he is. 

Kath. Pardon, old father, my mistaking eyes. 
That have b^en so bedazzled with the sun. 
That every thing I look on seemeth green : 
Now I perceive, thou art a reverend father ; 
Pardon, I pray thee, for my mad mistaking. 



Pet. Do, good old grandsire ; and, withal, 
make known 
Which way thou travellest : if along with us. 
We shall be joyful of thy company. 

Vin. Fair sir, — and you my merry mistress, — 
That with your strange encounter much 
amazed me ; [Pisa ; 

My nameiscallM — Vincentio; my dwelling — 
And bound I am to Padua ; there to visit 
A son of mine, which long J have not seen. 

Pet. What is his name? 

Vin. Lucentio, gentle sir. 

Pet. Happily met; the happier for thy son. 
And now by law, as well as reverend age, 
1 may entitle thee — my loving father ; 
The sister to my wife, this gentlewoman. 
Thy son by this hath married : Wonder not. 
Nor be not grieved ; she is of good esteem. 
Her dowry wealthy, and of worthy birth ; 
Beside, so qualified as may beseem 
The spouse of any noble gentleman. 
Let me embrace with old Vincentio : 
And wander we to see thy honest son. 
Who will of thy arrival be full joyous, [sure, 

Vin. But is this true? or is it else your plea- 
Like pleasant travellers, to break a jest 
Upon the company you overtake ? 

Hor. I do assure thee, father, so it is. 

Pet. Come, go along, and see the truth hereof; 
For our first merriment hath made thee jealous. 
{Exeunt Petruchio, Katharina, and 
Vincentio. 

Hor. Well, Petruchio, this hath put me in 
heart. 
Have to my widow ; and if she b* fro ward. 
Then hast thou taught Hortensio to be unto- 
ward. [Exit, 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. Padna. Before Lucentio's 
House, 

Enter on one side Biondello, Lucentio, 
and Bianca; Grkmio walking on tf^e 
other side. 

Bion. Softly and swiftly, sir ; for the priest 
is ready. 

Luc. I fly, Biondello : but they may chance 
to need thee at home, therefore leave us. 

Bion. Nay, faith, Pll see the church o' your 
back ; and then come back to my master as 
soon as I can. 

{Exeunt Lucentio, Bianca, and 
Biondello. 
Gre. I marvel Cambio comes not all this 
while. 
Enter Petruchio, Katharina, Vincen- 
tio, find Attendants. 
Pet. Sir, here's the door, this is Lucentio's 
house, [place; 

My father's bears more toward the market- 
Thither must I, and here I leave you, ?ir. 
Vin. You shall not choose but drink before 
you go; 
1 think, 1 shall command yonr welcome liere, 
Aud, by all lii;elihood, some cheer is tow »rd. 

{i\llOC^S. 



Gre. They're busy within, you were best 
knock louder. 

Enter Pedant above, at a window. 

Ped. What's he, that knocks as he would 
beat down the gate ! 

Vin. Is signior Lucentio within, sir ? 

Ped, He's within, sir, but not to be spoken 
withal. 

Vin. What if a man bring him a hundred 
pound or two, to make merry withal ? 

Ped, Keep your hundred pounds to your- 
self; he shall need none, so long as I live. 

Pet. Nay, I told you, your son was beloved 
in Padua. — Do you hear, sir? — to leave fri- 
volous circumstances, — I pray you, tell sig- 
nior Lucentio, that his father is come from 
Pisa, and is here at the door to speak with 
him. 

Ped. Thou liest; his father is come from 
Pisa, and here looking out at the window. 

Vin. Art thou his t'ather ? 

Ped. Ay, sir ; so his mother says, if I may 
believe her. 

Pet. Why, how now, gentleman ! [To 
Vincen.1 why, this is flat knavery, to take 
upon >ou another man's name. 

Pei!. La> hands on the villain ; I believe 

2 n 



302 



SHAKSPEARE. 



An r. 



'a means to cozeu somebody in this city under 
my countenance. 

He-enter Biondello. 

Bion. I have seen them in the church 
together ; God send 'em g»)od shipping !— But 
who is here ? mine old master, Yincentio 1 
uow we are undone, and brought to nothing. 

Fin. Come hither, crack hemp. 

[Seeing Biondello. 

Bion. I hope, I may choose, sir. 

ViJt. Come hither, you rogue ; What, have 
you forgot me ? 

Bion. Forgot you ? no, sir : I could not 
forget you, for I never saw you before in all 
my life. 

Fin. What, you notorious villain, didst 
thou never see thy master's father, Yincentio? 

BioK. What, my old, worshipful old mas- 
ter ? yes, marry, sir ; see where he looks out 
of the window. 

Fift. Is't so, indeed ? [Beats Biondello. 

Bion. Help, help, help 1 here's a madman 
will murder me. [Exit. 

Fed. Help, son! help, signior Baptista! 

[Exit y from tin ivindow. 

Pet. Pr'ythee, Kate, let's stand aside, and 
Bce the end of this controversy. [They retire. 
Re-enter Pedant 6e/o?t;; Baptista, Tranio, 
and Servants. 

Tra. Sir, what are you, that offer to beat 
nay servant? 

Fin. What am I, sir? nay, what are you, 
sir -J — O immortal gods! O fine villain! A 
fcilken doublet I a velvet hose ! a scarlet cloak I 
and a copatain hat* !— O, I am undone ' 1 am 
undone ! while 1 pi y the good husband at 
home, my son and my servant spend all at 
the university. 

Tra. How now ! what's the matter? 

Bap. What, is the man lunatic ? 

Tra. Sir, you seem a sober ancient gentle- 
man by your habit, but your words show yo« 
a madman ; Why, sir, what concerns it you, 
if I wear pearl and gold ? I thank my good 
father, I am able to maintain it. 

Fin. Thy father? O, villain ! he is a lail- 
maker in Bergamo. 

Bap. You mistake, sir ; you mistake, sir : 
Pray, what do you think is his name ? 

Vin. His name? as if I knew not his name : 
I have brought him up ever since he was 
three years old, and his name is — Tranio. 

Ped. Away, away, mad ass! hib name is 
Lucentio ; and he is mine only son, and heir 
to the lands of me, signior Yincentio. 

Fin. Lucentio! O, he hath murdered his 
master!— Lay hold on him, J charge you, in 
the duke's name:— O, my son, my son !— teil 
me. thou villain, where is my son Lucentio? 

Tru. Call forth an officer: [Enter one with 
an Officer.] Carry this mad knave to the 
gaol :— Father Baptista, 1 charge you see, 
that he be forth-coming. 

Fin. Carry me to the gaol! 

Ore. Stay,office.r; he shall not goto prison. 



Bap, Talk not, signior Gremio ; 1 say, 1« 
shall go to prison. 

Gre. Take heed, signior Baptista, lest yoa 
be conev-catchedt in this business; I dare 
swear, this is the right Yincentio. 

Ped. Swear, if thou darest. 

Gre. Nay, I dare not swear it. 

Tra. Then thou wert best say, that I aw 
not Lucentio. 

Gre. Y es, 1 know thee to be signior Lucentio . 

Bap. Away with the dotard ; to the gaoi 
with him. 

Fin. Thus strangers may be haled and abused: 
O monstrous villain ! 

Re-enter Biondello, with Lucentio, 
and BiANCA. 

Bion. O, we are spoiled, and — Yonder he 
is ; deny him, forswear him, or else we are 
all undone. 

Luc. Pardon, sweet father. [Kneeling, 

Fin. Lives my sweetest son? 

[Biondello, Tranio, and Pedant rww oz^^ 

Biun. Pardon, dear father. [Kneeling. 

B<(p. How hast thou off^ended ?— 

Where is Lucentio? 

Luc. Here's Lucentio, 

Right son unto the right Yincentio; 
That have by marriage made thy daughter mine, 
While counterfeit supposes blear'd thine eynej. 

Gre. Here's packing j, with a witness, to 
deceive us all ! 

Fin. Where is that damned villain, Tranio, 
That faced and braved me in this matter so ? 

Bap. Why, tell me, is not this my Cambio ? 

Bian. Cambio is changed into Lucentio. 

Luc. Love wrought these miracles. Bian- 
ca's love 
Made me exchange my state with Tranio, 
Whilehedid bear my countenance inthe town; 
And happily I have arrived at last 
Unto the wished haven of my bliss: — 
What Tranio did, myself enforced him to; 
Then pardon him, sweet father, for my sake. 
. Fhi. 1*11 slit the villain's nose, that would 
have sent me to the gaol. 

Bap. Butdoyouhear,sir?[roLucENTio.J 
Have you married my daughter without ask- 
ing my good will? 

Ki//. Fear not, Baptista; we will content 
you, go to : But 1 will in, to be revenged for 
this villany. . [^■*{- 

Bap. And I, to sound the depth of thn 
knavery. [Eiit. 

Luc. Look not pale, Bianca ; thy father 
will not frown. [Eieunt hvc. and Bian. 

Gre. My cake is dough 1| : But Pil iu among 
the rest ; 
Out of hope of all,— but my share of the feast. 

[Ei£ic, 

Petruchio and Katharina advance. 

Kath. Husband, let's follow, to see the end 
of this ado. 

Pet. First kiss me, Kate, and we will. 

Kath. What, in the midst of the street? 

Pet, What, art thou ashamed of me ? 



• A hat with a conical crown. + Cheated. i Deceived thy eyes, 

f Tricking, anderhand contrivances. H A proverbialexpression, repeated altera djs.ippoiiUmeiu 



Scene /.] 



TAMING OF THE SHREW. 



303 



Katii. No, sir; God forbid: — but ashamed 

to kiss. [sirrah, let's away. 

Pet. Why, then let's home again :— Come, 

Kath. Nay, I will give thee a kiss: now 

pray thee, vove, stay. [Knte ; 

Pet. Is not this well? — Come, my sweet 

Better once than never, for never too late. 

Exeunt. 

SCENE II. ARoominlxiZQnixo'iHouse. 
A Banquet set out. Enter Baptista, Vin- 
CENTio, Gremio, the Pedant, Locentio, 
BiANCA, Petruchio, Kathakina, Hor. 
TENSio, and Widow. Tranio, Bion- 
UELLO, Grumio, and Others, attending. 
Luc. At last, though long, our jarring notes 
agree : 
And time it is, when raging war is done. 
To smile at 'scapes and perils overblown. — 
My ftiir Bianca, bid my father welcome. 
While I with self-same kindness welcome thine: 
Brother Petruchio, — sister Katharina, — 
And thou, Hortensio, with thy loving widow, — 
Feast with the best, and welcome to my house ; 
My banquet* is to close our stomachs up, 
After our great good cheej : Pray yoa sit down ; 
For now we sit to chat, as well as eat. 

[They sit at table. 
Pet. Nothing but sit and sit, and eat and eat ! 
Bap. Padua atfords this kindness, son Pe- 
truchio. 
Pet. Padua aflfords nothing but what is kind. 
Hor. For both our sakes, I would that word 
were true. [widow. 

Pet. Now, for my life, Hortensio fears t his 
PVid. Then never trust me if I be afeard. 
Pet. You are sensible, and yet you miss my 
sense; 
I mean, Hortensio is afeard of yoti. 

Wid. He that is giddy, thinks tli« world 

turns round. 
Pet. Roundly replied. 
Kath. Mistress, how mean you that? 

Wid. Thus I conceive by him. [tensio that? 
Pet. Conceives by mel — How likes Hor- 
Hor. My widow says, thus she conceives 

her tale. 
Pet, Very well mended : Kiss him for that, 

good widow. [turns round : 

Kath. He that is giddy, thinks the world 
I pray you, tell me what you meant by that. 
iVid. Your husband, being troubled with a 
shrew, 
Measures my husband's sorrow by his woe : 
And now you know my meaning. 
Kath. A very mean meaning. 
Wid. Right, I mean you. 

Kath. And I am mean, indeed, respecting 
Pet. To her, Kate ! [you. 

Hor. To her, widow ! [her down. 

Pet. A hundred marks, my Kate does put 
Hor. That's my office. [lad. 

Pit. Spoke like an officer: — Ha* to thee, 
[Drinks to Hh)rtensio. 
Bap. How likes Gremio these quick-witted 
folks ? 



Gre. Believe me, sir, they butt together well, 

Bian. 11 ead , and butt ? an hasty-witted body 

Would say, your head and butt were head and 

horn. [you? 

Vin. Ay, mistress bride, hat^i that awakcn'd 

Bian. Ay, but not frighted me ; therefore 
I'll sleep again. [have begun. 

Pet. Nay, that you shall not ; since you 
Have at you for a bitter jest or two. [bush. 

Bian. Am I your bird? I mean to shift my 
And then pursue me as you draw your bow :— • 
You are welcome all. 
[Exeunt Bianca, Katharina, and Widow. 

Pet. She hath prevented me. — Here, signior 
Tranio, 
This bird yon aim'd at, though you hit her not; 
Therefore a health to all that shot and miss'd. 

Tra. O, sir, Luceutio slipp'd me like his 

greyhound, [master. 

Which runs himself, and catches for his 

Pet. A good swiftj simile, but something 
currish. [self; 

Tra. 'Tis well, sir, that you hunted for your- 
'Tis thought, your deer does hold you at a bay. 

Bap, () ho, Petruchio, Tranio hits you now. 

Luc. I thank thee for that gird), good Tranio, 

Hor. Confess, confess, hath he not hit yuu 
here? 

Pet. 'A has a little gall'd me, I confess ; 
And, as the jest did glance away from me, 
'Tis ten to one it maim'd you two outright. 

Bap. Now, in good sadness, son Petruchio, 
I think thou hast the veriest shrew of all. 

Pet. Well, I say — no : and therefore, for 
Let's each one send unto his wife ; [assurance. 
And he, whose wife is most obedient 
To come at first when he doth send for her. 
Shall win the wager which we will propose. 

Hor. Content: What is the wager? 

Luc. Twenty crowns. 

Pet. Twenty crowns! 
I'H venture so much on my hawk, or hound. 
But twenty times so much upon my wife. 

Luc. A hundred then. 

Hor. Content. 

Pet. A match ; 'tis done. 

Hor. Who shall begin ? 

Liic. That will I. Go, 

Biondello, bid your mistress come to me. 

Bion. I go. [Exit. 

Bap. Son, I will be your half, Bianca 
comes. [self. 

Luc. I'll have no halves ; I'll bear it all my- 
Reeuter Biondello. 
How now ! what news ? 

Bion. Sir, my mistress sends you word 
That she is busy, and she cannot come. 

Pet. How ! she is busy, and she cannot come* 
Is that an answer? 

G/"e. Ay, and a kind one too : 

Pray God, sir, your wife send you not a worse. 

Pet. I hope, better. [wife 

Hor. Sirrah, Biondello, go, and entreat my 
To cometo me forthwith. [£j:i^ Bion del?. o.] 

Pet. O, ho ! «ntreat her ! 

Nay, then she must needs come. 

• A banquet was a refection consisting of fruit, cakes, &c. t Dreads. ; Witty. § Sarcasm, 



304 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act V 



Hor. I am afraid, sir, 

Do what you can, yours will not be entreated. 

Reenter Biondello. 
Now Where's my wife? [in hand ; 

Bion. She say*, you have some goodly jest 
She will not come;' she bids you come to her. 
Pet. Worse and worse; she will not come! 
Intolerable, not to be endured ! [O vile. 

Sirrah, Grumio, go to your mistress; 
Say, I command her come to me. 

[Exit Grumio. 
Hor, I know her answer. 
Pet, What V 

Hor, She will not come. 

Pet, The fouler fortune mine, and there 
an end. 

Enter Katharina. 

Ba'p, Now, by my holidame, here comes 

Katharina. [forme? 

Kath. What is your will, sir, that you send 

Pet. Where is your sister, and Hortensio's 

wife ? 

Kath. They sit conferring by the parlour fire. 

Pet, Go fetch them hither; if they deny to 

come, [bands : 

Swinge me them soundly forth unto their hus- 

Away, I say, and bring them hither straight. 

\Exit Katharina. 

Luc. Here ia a wonder, if you talk of a 

wonder. 
Hor. And so it is ; I wonder what it bodes. 
Pet. Marry, peace it bodes, and love, and 
qniet life. 
An awful rule, and right supremacy; [happy. 
And, to be short, what not, that's sweet and 
Bap. Now fair befal thee, good Petruchio! 
The wager thou hast won ; and I will add 
Lnto their Josses twenty thousand crowns; 
/iHother dowry to another daughter. 
For she is changed, as she had never been. 

Pet. Nay, I will win my wager better yet; 
And show more sign of her obedience. 
Her new-built virtue and obedience. 
Re-enter Katharina, uith Bianca, and 

Widow. 
See, where she comes ; and brings your fro- 

ward wives 
As prisoners to her womanly persuasion. — 
Katharine, that cap of yours becomes you not ; 
Off with that bauble, throw it under foot. 
[Katharina 'puLls off her cap, and 
throws it down. 
fVid, Lord, let me never have a cause to sigh. 
Till 1 be brought to such a silly pass! 

Bian. Fie! whatafoolishduty call you this? 

Luc. 1 would, your duty were as foolish too: 

The wisdom of your duty, fair Bianca, 

Hath cost me an hundred crowns since sup. 

per-time [duty. 

Bian. The more fool you, for laying on my 

Pet, Katharine, I charge thee, tell these 

headstrong women [bands. 

W hat duty they do owe their lords and hns- 

l\ id. Come, come, you're mocking, we will 

have no telling. [her. 

Pet, Gome on, 1 say; and first begin with 



Vfld. She shall not. 

Pet. I say, she shall : — and ftrst begin with 
her. [kind brow; 

Kath, Fie, fie! nnknit that threatening un- 
And dart not scornful glances trotn those eyes. 
To wound thy lord, thy king, thy governor: 
It blots thy beauty, as frosts bite the meads ; 
Confounds thy fame, as whirlwinds shake fair 
And in no sense is meet, or amiable, [buds; 
A woman moved, is like a fountain troubled, 
Muddy, ill-seeming, thick, bereft or' beamy ; 
And, while it is so, none so dry or thirsty 
Will deign to sip, or touch one drop of it. 
Thy husband is thy lord, thy life, thy keeper, 
Thy head, thy sovereign ; one that cares for the 3, 
And for thy maintenance : commits his body 
To painful labour, both by sea and land; 
To watch the night in storms, the d£.y in coJ<4 
While thou liest warm at home, secure and safe 
And craves no other tribute at thy handa, 
But love, fair looks, and true obedience; — 
Too little payment for so great a debt. 
Such duty as the subject owes the prince. 
Even such, a woman oweth to her husbands 
And, when she's froward, peevish, sullen, soui;, 
And not obedient to Ijis honest will, 
VVh;it is she, but a foul contending rebel. 
And graceless traitor to her loving lord I — 
I am ashamed, that women are so simple 
To offer w^ar, where they should kneel for pe.ac«| 
Or seek for rule, supremacy, and sway, 
When they are bound to serve, love, and obey. 
Why are our bofijes soft, and weak, and smootk 
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world ; 
But that our soft conditions * and our hearts. 
Should well agree with our external parts? 
Come, come, you frowardand unable worms! 
IMy mind haih been as big as one of yours. 
My heart as great; my reason, haply, more. 
To bandy word for word, and frown for frown: 
But now, 1 see our lances are but straws; 
Our strength as weak, our weakness past com- 
pare, — 
That seeming to be most, which we least are. 
Then vail your stomachs t, for it is no boot; 
And place your hands below your husband's 
In token of w hich duty, if he please, [foot : 
My hand is ready, may it do him ease. 
Pet. Why, there's a wench! — Come on, and 
kiss me, Kate. [shalt ha't. 

Luc. Well, go thy ways, old lad ; for thou 
Vin. 'Tis a good hearing, when children 

are toward. 
Luc. But a harsh hearing, when women 
are fro ward. 

Pet. Come, Kate, we'll to bed : 

We three are married, but you two are sped, 

'Twas I won the wager, though you hit the 

white; \l^o Lucentio. 

And, being a winner, God give you good night I 

[Eieunt PETRUCHio«/«rf Kath. 

Hor, Now go thy ways, thou hast tamed a 

curst shrew. 
Luc. 'Tis a wonder, by your leave, sh« 
will be tamed so. {Exeunt* 



• Geutle tempers. t Abate your spirits. 



WINTER'S TALE. 



^^r^ou^ rcprc0enuti. 



Lkontes, King of SicUia, 
Mamillius, his son. 



A.NTIGONUS, lai„i7i 

Cleomknes, r^^^^^' 
Dion, ) 



Sicilian Lords. 



An old S>he^her6,repufed/atherofPerdlta, 

Clown, his son. 

Servant to the old shepherd, 

AuTOLYCus, a rogue. 

Time, as Chorus, 



Another Sicilian Lord. 
RoGERO, a Sicilian gentleman. 
An Attendant on the young prince Manullius. 
Ofticei-s of a court itf judicature, 
PoLiXENESj A'mg of Bohemia, 
Florizel, his son. 
Archidamus, a Bohemian lord, 
A Mariner. 
Gaoler. 

Lords, Ladies, and A ttendants; Satyrs for a dance ; Shepherds , Shepherdesses, Guards, Ac. 
Scene f — sometimes in Sicilia, sometimes in Bohemia, 



Hermione, Queen to Leontes. 

Peri3ita, daughter to Leontes and Her- 

mione. 
Paulina, trife to Antigonus. 

TlV-MkerSU, Vtteniingthe Queen. 
Dorcas, } 'shepherdesses. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. Sicilia. An Antechamber in 
Leontes' Palace. 

Enter Camillo and Archidamus. 

Arch, If you shall chance, Camillo, to visit 
Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my 
services are now on foot, yon shall see, as I 
have said, great ditference betwixt our Bohe- 
mia, and your Sicilia. 

Cam. 1 think, this coming summer, the king 
of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation 
which he justly owes him. 

Arch. Wherein our entertainment shall 
shame us, we will be justified in our loves : 
for, indeed, — 

Cum. 'Beseech yon, 

Arch. Verily, I speak it in the freedom of 
my knowledge: we cannot with such magnifi- 
cence — in so rare — I know not what to say. 

We will give you sleepy drinks ; that your 
senses, unintelligent of our insufficience, may, 
though ihey cannot praise us, as little accuse us. 

Cam. You pay a great deal too dear, for 
what's given freely. 

Arch. Believe me, I speak as my under- 
standing instructs me, and as mine honesty 
puts it to utterance. 

Cam. Sicilia cannot shew himself over-kind 
to Bohemia. They were trained together in 
their childhoods; and there rooted betwixt 
them then such an affection, which cannot 
choose but branch now. Since their more 
mature dignities, and royal necessities, made 
beparation of their society, their encounters. 



though not personal, have been royally attor- 
nied*, with interchange of gifts, letters, loving 
embassies; that they have seemed to be to- 
gether, though absent ; shook hands as over a 
vastt ; and embraced, as it were, from the ends 
of opposed winds. The heavens continue their 
loves! 

Arch. I think, there is not in the world 
either malice, or matter, to alter it. You have 
an unspeakable comfort of your young prince 
Maraillius ; it is a gentleman of the greatest 
promise, that ever came into my note. 

Cam. I very well agree with you in the 
hopes of him: it is a gallant child; one that, 
indeed, physics the subject j, makes old hearts 
fresh : they, that went on crutches ere he was 
born, desire yet their life, to see him a man. 

Arch. Would they else be content to die? 

Cam, Yes; if there were no other excuse 
why they should desire to live. 

Arch. If the king had no son, they would 
desire to live on crutches till he had one. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE II. The same. A Room of State 
in the Palace. 

Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Hermione, 
Mamillius, Camillo, awd Attendants. 
Pol, Nine changes of the watery star have 
been ' [throne 

The shepherd's note, since we have left our 
Without a b«rden : time as long again 
Would be fiird up, my brother, with oni 
And yet we should, for perpetuity, [thanks 



Nobly supplied by substitution of embassies. t Wide wast»3 of country. 

i Affords a cordial to the state. 



316 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Ac* I, 



Go hence in debt : And therefore, 4ike a cipher, 
Yet standing in-rich place, I multiply, 
With one we-thank-you, many thousands more 
Tliat go before it. 

Leon, Stay your thanks awhile ; 

^^1^ And pay them when you part. 

Pol. Sir, that's to morrow, [chance, 

I am qnestionM by my fears, of what may 
Or breed upon our absence: That may blow 
No sneapiiig* winds at home, to make us say, 
Tnis is put forth too truly I Besides, I have 
To tire your royalty. [stay'd 

Leon We are tougher, brother. 

Than you can put us to't. 

Pol. No longer stay. 

Leon One seven-night longer. 

PoL Very sooth, to-morrow. 

Leon. We'll part the time between's tlien : 
I'll no gain-sayuig. [and in that 

Pol. Press me not, 'beseech you, so; 

There is no tongue that moves, none, none 
i'the world, [now, 

So soon as yours, could win me : so it should 
Were there necessity in your request, although 
Twere needful I denied it. My affairs 
Doevendragme homeward: which to hinder. 
Were in your love, a whip to me; my stay, 
T») you a charge, and trouble: to save both. 
Farewell, our brother. 

Leon, Tongue-tied, our queen? speak you. 

Her. I had thought, sir, to have held my 
peace, until [You, sir, 

You had drawn oaths from him, not to stay. 
Charge him toocoUlly : Tell him, you are sure, 
All in Bohemia's well : this satisfiction 
The bj'-gone day proclaimM: say this to him. 
He's beat from his best waid. 

Leon. Well said, Hermione. 

Her. To tell, he longs to see his son, were 
strong : 
But let him say so then, and let him go; 
But let him swear so, and he shall not stay, 
We'll thwack him hence with distaffs — . 
Yet of your royal presence \To Polix.] I'll 

adventure 
The borrow of a week. When at Bohemia 
Yoa take my lord, Pll give him my com- 
mission. 
To let him there a month, behind the gest t 
PrefixM for his parting : yet, good deed I, 

Leontes, 
I love thee not a jar^ o' the clock behind 
What lady she her lord. — You'll stay? 

Pol. No, madam. 

Her. Nay, but you will 1 

Pol. I may not, verily. 

Her. Verily! 
You put me oft with limber || vows : But I, 
Though you would seek to unsphere the stars 

with oailis, 
Should yet say, Sir^ no going. Verily, 
Yon shall ml go ; a lady's verily is 
As ptftenl as a lord's. Will you go yet? 
Force me to keep you as a prisoner. 



Not like a guest ; so you ^hall pay your fees, 
W^hen you depart, and save your thanks. 
How say yoat [verily. 

My prisoner? or my guest? by your dread 
One of them you shall be. 

Pol. Your guest then, madam : 

To be your prisoner, should import offending ; 
Which is for me less easy to commit. 
Than you to punish. 

Her. Not your gaoler then, 

But your kind hostess. Come, Pll question you 
Of my Lord's tricks, and yours, when you 
You were pretty lordings^ then, [were boys; 

Pol. We were, fair queen, [behind. 

Two lads, that thought there was no more 
But such a day to-morrow as to-day. 
And to be boy eternal. [two ? 

Her. Was not my lord the verier wag o' the 

Pol. We were as twinn'd lambs, that did 
frisk i' the sun, [changc<i. 

And bleat the one at the other: what we 
Was innocence for innocence ; we knew not 
The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor dream'd 
That any did : Had we pursued that life, 
And our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd 
With stronger blood, we should have auswer'd 

heaven 
Boldly, Not guilty ; the imposition clear'd. 
Hereditary ours**. 

Her. By this we gather. 

You have tripp'd since. 

Pol. O my most sacred lady, [for 

Temptations have since then been born to us : 
In those unfledged days was my wife a girl : 
Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes 
Of my young play-fellow. 

Her. Grace to boot ! 

Of this make no conclusion ; lest you say. 
Your queen and I are devils : Yet, go on ; 
The otierices we have made you do, we'll 

answer; 
If you first sinn'd with us, and that with ns 
You did continue fault, and that you slipp'dnot 
With any but with us. 

L'On, Is he won yet ? 

Her. He'll stay, my lord. 

Leon, At my request, he would not. 

Hermione, my dearest, thou never spokest 
To better purpose. 

Her. Never? 

Leon. Never, but once. 

Her. What? have I twice said well? when 

was't before ? [make us 

I pr'ythee, tell me: Cram us with praise, and 

As fat as tame things: One good deed, dying 

tongueless. 
Slaughters a thousand, waiting upon that. 
Our prais s are our wages : Yon may ride us. 
With one soft kiss, a thousand furlongs, ere 
With spur we heat an acre But to the goal ; — 
My last good was, to entreat his stay ; 
What was my first ? it has an elder sister. 
Or I mistake you: O, would her name were 
Grace I 



Nipping. t Gests were the names of the stages where the king appointed to lie 

during a royal prof^ress. j Indeed. wTick. U Flimsy 

*^ A diminntive of lords. *• Settiue aside oneinal sin. 



Scene //.] 



WINTER S TALE. 



307 



But once befcre I spoke to the purpose: 

Nay, let me have't; I long. [When? 

Leon. Why, that was when 

Three ciabbed months had sour*d themselves 

to death, 
Ere I could make thee open thy white hand. 
And clap thyself my love ; theu didst thou 
/ am yours for ever. [ntter, 

Her. It is Grace, indeed. — 

"Why, lo you now, 1 have spoke to the purpose 

twice : 
The one for ever earn'd a royal husband ; 
The other, for some while a friend. 

[Giving her hand to Polixenes. 
Leon. Too hot, too hot: [Aside, 

To mingle friendship far, is mingling bloods. 
\hA\e tremor cordis* on me: — my heart 

dances; 
But not for joy, — not joy. —This entertainment 
May a free face put on ; derive a liberty 
From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom. 
And well become the agent: it may, I grant: 
But to be paddling palms, and pinching fingers, 
As now they are ; and making practised smiles, 
As ill a looking-glass ; — and then to sigh, as 
'twere [meut 

Thf mort o* the deert; O, that is entertain- 
My bosom likes not, nor my brows. — Mamil- 
Art thou my boy % [lius, 

Mam. Ay, my good lord. 

Leon, I'fecks 1 

Why that's mybawcockj. What, hast smutch'd 
thy nose? — [captain. 

They say, it's a copy out of mine. Come, 
We must be neat ; not neat, but cleanly, cap- 
tain : 
And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf. 
Are all call'd, neat. — Still virginalling) 

Observing Polixenes inid Hlrmione. 
Upon his palm? — Hovf now, you wanton calf? 
Art thou my calf? 
Mam, Yes, if you will, my lord. 

Leon. Thou want'st a rough pash, and the 
shoots that I havelj, 
To be full like me : — yet, they say, we are 
Almost as like as egi^s ; women say so, 
That will say any thing : But were they false 
As o*er-died blacks, as wind, as waters ; false 
As (lice are to be wished, by one that fixes 
No bourn ^ twixt his and mine ; yet were it 
true [page, 

To say this boy were like me. — Come, sir 
Look on me with your welkin** eye: Sweet 
villain! [may'tbe? 

|: Most dear's* ! my collop! — Can thy dam? — 
' Affection! thy intention stabs the centres 
I Thou dost make possible, things not so held 
I Communicat'st with dreams;— -(How can this 
jl With what's unreal thou coactive art, [be?) — 
I And lellow'st nothing: Then, 'tis very cre- 
dent +t. [thoudo.st; 
Thou may'st co-join with something; and 



(And that beyond commission ; and I find it). 
And that to the infcctii>n of my brains. 
And hardening of my brow s. 

Pul. What means Sicilia? 

Her. He something seems unsettled. 

Pol. How, my lord 1 

What cheer? howis't with you, best 'rother'* 

Her. You look. 

As if you held a brow of much distraction : 
Are you moved, my lord ? 

Leon. No, in good earnest. — 

How sometimes nature will betray its folly. 
Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime 
To harder bosoms I Looking on the lioes 
Of my boy's face, methoughts, I did recoil 
Twenty -three years ; and saw myself u» 

breechM, 
In my green velvet coat ; my dagger muzzled. 
Lest it should bite its master, and so prove. 
As ornaments oft do, too dangerous. 
How like, methongnt, I then was to this kernel, 
Jhis squash jl, this gentleman: — Mine honest 
Will you take eggs for money §§? [friend. 

Mam. No, my lord, Pil tight. 

Leon. You will? why, happy man be his 
dole Jill ! — My brother, 
Are you so fond of your young prince, as we 
Do seem to be of oars ? 

Pol. If at home, sir, 

He's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter: 
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy; 
My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all : 
He makes a July's day short as December; 
And, with his varying childness, cures in mc 
Thoughts that woidd thick my blood. 

Leon. So stat^ds this squire 

OflRced with me : We two will walk, my lord. 
And leave you to your graver steps.— Her- 

mione, [welcome 

How thou lovest us, show in our brother's 
Let what is dear in Sicily, be cheap: 
Next to thyself, and my young rover, he's 
Apparent HU to my heart. 

Her. If you would seek us. 

We are yours i'the garden : Shall's attend you 
there? [you'll be found, 

Leon. To your own bents dispose you ; 
Be you beneath the sky : — I am angling now. 
Though you perceive me not how I give line. 
Go to, go to ! 

[Aside. Observing Pol. a«6?HER. 
How she holds up the neb***, the bill to himl 
And arms her with the boldness of a wife 
To her allowing ttt husband! Gone already; 
Inch-thick, knee-deep; o'er head and ears a 

fork'd one ijj. 

[Exeunt Pol. Her. «wrf Attendants. 
Go, play, boy, play ; — thy mother plays, and I 
Play too; but so disgraced a part, whose issue 
Will hiss me to my grave; contempt and 
clamour [There have been. 

Will be my knell. — Go, play, boy, play ; — 



• Trembling of the heart. t The tune played at the death of the deer. t Hearty fellow. 

% i. e.y Playing with her fingers as if on a spinnet. || Thou wantest a rough head, and the 

budding horns that I have. IT Boundary. *♦ Blue. ft Credible. Ij Pea-cod. 

1 $? Will you be cajoled? |||1 May his share of life be an happy one! %^ Heir apparent 

u^:xt cliiin^nt. •** Mouth. ttt Approving. Z'7. A h«M?i'>d »u,p. ;; cru-koi'l. 



508 



SHAKSPE4RE. 



[Act /. 



Or I am mach deceived, cuckolds ere now; 
And many a man there is, even at this present, 
Now, while I speak tliis, holds his wife by 
the arm, [absence. 

That little thinks she has been sinictd in his 
And his pond fish'd by his next nei^hhonr, by 
Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there's com- 
lortin't, [open'd, 

Whiles other men have gates; and those g<ites 
As mine, against their will : Should all despair. 
That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind 
Would hang themselves. Physic for't there is 

none ; 
It is a bawdy planet, that will strike [think it. 
Where 'tis predominant; and 'tis powerful. 
From east, west, north, and south: Be it con- 
cluded, 
No barricado for a belly ; know it; 
It will let in and out the enemy. 
With bag and baggage: many a thousand of us 
Have the disease, and feel't not. — How now, 
hoyi 

Mam. I am like you, they say. 

Leon. Why that's some comfort. — 

What! Camillo there? 

Cam. Ay, my good lord. 

Leon. Go play, Mamillius ; thou'rt an honest 
man. — {Exit Mamillius. 

Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. 

Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor 
When you cast out, it still came home, [hoki : 

IjCOH. Didst note it? 

Cajn. He would not stay at your petitions ; 
His business more material. [made 

Leon. Didst perceive it? — 

They're here with me already; whispering, 
tSicUla is a so-forth : 'Tis far gone, [rounding*. 
When I shall gusit it last. — How came't, Ca- 
That he did stay ? [miilo. 

Cam. At the good queen's entreaty. 

Leo?i. At the queen's, be't : good, should be 
But so it is, it is not. Was this taken [pertinent ; 
By any understanding pate but thine? 
For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in [is't. 
More than the common blocks: — Not noted 
But of the finer natures? by some severals, 
Oj b*>ad-piece extraordinary? lower messes J 
Ferchance, are to this business purblind : say. 

Cam. Business, my lord? 1 think, most un- 
derstand 
Bohemia stays here longer. 

Leon. Ha? 

Cam. Stays here longer. 

Leon. Ay, but why? [treaties 

Caw. To satisfy your highness, and the en- 
Of our most gracious mistress. 

I. eon. Satisfy 

The entreaties of your mistress? satisfy? — 

L«'i that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, 
With all the nearest things to my heart, as well 
^fy chamber-councils: wherein, priest-like, 

thi>u 
Hast cleansed my bosom ; I from thee departed 
ri\y penitent reform'd : but we have been 
Deceived in thy integrity, deceived 

• To round in the ear was to tell secretly, 
o box is to hamstriug. 



In that which seems so. 

Cam. Be it forbid, my lord! 

Leon. To bide npon't; — Thou art not ho- 
nest: or. 
If thou inclinest that way, thou art a coward; 
Which hoxee^ honesty behind, restraining 
From course required: Or else thou must be 

counted 
A servant, grafted in my serious trust. 
And therein jiegligent; or else a fool, [drawn. 
That seest a game play'd home, the rid. siaktt 
And takest it all for jest. 

Cam. My gracious lord, 

I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful; 
In every one of these no man is free, 
But that his negligence, his folly, fear, 
Amongst the inhnite doings of the world. 
Sometime puts forth : in your affairs, my lord 
If ever T were wilful-negligent. 
It was my folly ; if industriously 
I play'd the fool, it was my negligence. 
Not weighing well the end ; if ever fearful 
To do a thing, where I the issue doubted. 
Whereof the execution did cry out 
Against the non-performance, 'twas a fear 
Which oft aflfccis the wisest : these, my lord. 
Are such allow'd infirmities, that honesty 
Is never free of. But, 'beseech your grace. 
Be plainer with me ; let me know my trespasii 
By its own visage: if I then deny it, 
*Tis none of mine. 

Leon. Have not you seen, Camillo, 

(But that's past doubt: you have; or your eye« 

glass 
Is thicker ihan a cuckold's horn ;) or heard, 
(For, to a vision so apparent, rumour 
Cannot be mute,) or thought, (for cogitation 
Resides not in that man, that does not think it,) 
My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess, 
(Or else be impudently negative, [si<y» 

To have nor eyes, nor ears, nor thought,) ilicn 
My wife's a hobby-horse; deserves a name 
As rank as any flax-wench, that pnis to 
Before her troth-plight : say it, and justify it. 

Cam. 1 would not be a stander-by, to hear 
My sovereign mistress clouded so, without 
My present vengeance taken : 'shrew my heart. 
You never spoke what did become you less 
Than this ; which to reiterate, were sin 
As deep as that, though true. 

Leon. Is whispering nothing? 

Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? 
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career 
Of laughter with a sigh? (a note infallible 
Of breaking honesty :) horsing foot on foot? 
Skulking in corners? wishing clocks more 
swift? [t>liird 

Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all e>e8 
With the pin and web||, but theirs, theirs only, 
That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing? 
Why, then the world, and all that's in't, is 

nothing ; 
The covering sky is nothing ; Bohemia nothing 
My wife is nothing; nor nothing have thca 

nothings, > 

t Taste. t Inferiors in rank. ' 

II Disorders of the eye. ^ 



Scene IJ.] 



WINTER'S TALE. 



309 



If this be nothing. 

C/fm. Good ray lord, be cnred 

Of this diseased opinion, and betimes ; 
For 'tis most dangerous. 
Leon. Say, it be ; 'tis true. 

Cam. No, no, my lord. 
Leon. It is; you lie, you lie: 

I sriy, thou liest, Camillo, and 1 hate thee; 
IVt)in)Mnce thee a gross lout, a mindless slave; 
Or else a hovering temporizer, that 
Canst with tiiine eyes at once see good and evil. 
Inclining to them both: were my wife*s liver 
Infected as iier life, she would not live 
The running of one glass*. 

Cam. Who does infect her? 

Leon. Why he, that wears her like her 
medal, hansiing 
Abont his neck, Bohemia: who — if I 
Had servants true about me: that bare eyes 
To see alike mine honour as their profits, [that 
Their own particular thrifts, — they would do 
Which should undo more doin-^: Ay, and thou. 
His cup-bearer, — whom I from meaner form 
Have bench'd. and rear'd to worship; who 
may'st see [heaven, 

Plainly, as heaven sees earth, and earth sees 
How 1 am galled,— inight'st bespice a cup, 
"i'o eive mine enemy a lasting vvmk; 
Which draught to me were cordial. 

Cam. Sir, my lord, 

I could do this ; and that with no rash + potion, 
But with a ling'ring dram, that should not work 
Mdliciously; like poison: bui I cannot 
Believe this crack to be in my dread mistress. 
So sovereignly being honourable. 

1 have loved thee, 

Leon. Alake't thy question, and go rot ! 

Dost think, I am so muddy, so unsettled. 
To appoint myself in this vexation? sully 
Ihe purity and whiteness of my sheets,[spotted. 
Which to preserve is sleep; which being 
Is goads, thorns, nertles, tails of wasps? 
Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son. 
Who, I do think is mine, and love as mine; 
Without ripe moving to 't? Would I do this? 
Could man so blench j? 

Cam. I must believe you, sir ; 

I do : and will fetch off Bohemia for't: [ness 
Provided, that when he's removed your higli- 
Will take again your queen, as yours at first; 
Even for your son's sake; and, thereby, for 

sealing 
The injury of tongues, in courts and kingdoms 
Known and allied to yours, 

Leon. Thou dost advise me, 

Even so as I mine own course have set down: 
I'll give no blemish to her honour, none. 

Cum. My lord. 
Go then ; and with a countenance as clear [mia, 
As friendship wears at feasts, keep w^ith Bohe- 
And with your queen : I am his cupbearer; 
If from me he have wholesome beverage. 
Account me not your servant. 

Leon. This is all : 

Do't and thou hast the one half of my heart; 



Do»t not, thou split'st thine own. 

Cam. V\\ do't, my lord. 

Leon. I will seem friendly as thou hast ad- 
vised me. S^blxit. 
Cam. O miserable lady! — But, for me, 
What case stand I in? I must t'e the poisoner 
Of g*)0(l Polixenes: and tny ground lo do't 
Is the obedience to a master; one, 
Who, in rebe lion with tiimself, will have 
All that are his, so too. — To do this deed, 
Promotion follows: If I could find example 
Of thousands, that had struck anointed kings. 
And rtourish'd after, I'd not do't : but since [one, 
Nor brass nor stone, nor parchment, bears not 
Let villany itself forswear't. I must 
Forsake the court : to do't, or no, is certain 
To me a break-neck. Happy star, reign now 
Here comes Bohemia. 

Enter Polixenes. 
Pol. This is strange ! methinks. 

My favour here begins to warp. Is ot speak ? 

Good day, Camilio. 
Cam. Hail, most royal sir I 

PoL. What is the news i' the court? 
Cam. None rare, my lord. 

Pol. The king hath on him such a counte- 
nance, 
As he had lost some province, and a region. 
Loved as he loves himself: even mow 1 met him 
.VVith customary compliment ; whrn he. 
Watting his eyes to the contrary, and falling 
A lip of much contempt, speeds from me; and 
So leaves me, to consider what is breeding, 
That changes thus his manners. 
Cam. I dare not know, my lord. 
Pol. How! dare not? do not. Do you 
know, and dare not 
Be intelligent to me \ 'Tis thereabouts ; 
For, to yourself, what yon do know, you must; 
And cannot say, yuu dare not. Good Camillo, 
Your chani'.ed complexions are to me a mirror, 
Which sht)ws me mine changed too: tor ] 

must be 
A party in this alteration, finding 
Myself thus alter'd with it. 

Cam. There is a sickness 

Which puts some of us in distemper; but 
I cannot name the disease; and it is caught 
Of you that yet are well. 

PoL How ! caught of me ? 

Make me not sighted like the basilisk: [better 
I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the 

By my regard, but kill'd none so. Cannllo, 

As you are certainly a gentleman ; thereto 
Clerk-like, experienced, which no less adorns 
Our gentry, than our parents' noble names, 
In whose success 1| we are gentle H, — 1 beseech 
you, [knowledge 

If you know aught which does behove aiy 
Thereof to be inform'd, imprison it not 
In ignorant concealment. 

Cam. I iTiay not answer. 

Pol. Asicknesscaughtofme,andyet J welh 
I must be answer'd. — Dost thou hear, Caiaiilo 
I conjure thee, by all the parts of man. 



• Hour-glass, t Hasty. J Maliciously, with effects openly hurtful, § e.f.. Could an] "j^ap 
if*omt ort from propriety? [j For succession, IF Gentle was opposed to simple; well Horn 



310 



SHAKSPEARE. 



Avt ir 



Which honour does acknowledge, — whereof 

the least 
Is not this suit of mine, — that thou declare 
What incidcncy thou dost guess of harm 
Is creeping toward me; how far ott, how near; 
Which way to be prevented, if to be; 
If not, how best to bear it. 

(\im. Sir, I'll tell you; 

Since I am charged in honour, and by him- 
That I think honouraDle: Therefore,"mark my 

counsel ; 
Which must be even as swiftly follow'd, as 
I mean to utter it; or both yourself and me 
Cry, lostf and so good-night. 

Pol. On, good Camillo. 

Cam. I am appointed Him to murder you*. 

PoL By whom, Camillo \ 

Cam. By the king. 

Pol. For what 1 

Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence 
he swears, 
As he had seen't, or been an instrument 
To vicet you to*t, — that you have touchM his 
Forbiddenly. [queen 

Pol. O, then my best blood turn 

To an infected jelly ; and my name 
Be yoked with his, that did betray the best! 
Turn then my frtshest reputation to 
A savour, tliat may strike the dullest nostril 
Where I arrive; and my approach be shunn*d, 
Nay, hfited too, worse than the great'st infec- 
That e'er was heard, or read ! [tion 

Cam. Swear his thought over 

By each particular star in heaven, and 
By all their influences, you may as well 
Forbid the sea for to obey the moon, 
As or, by oath, remove, or counsel, shake, 
The fabric of his foliy ; whose foundation 
\s piled upon his faith j, and will continue 
The standing of his body. 



Pol. How should this grow ? 

Cam. I know not : but, I am sure, *iis safer 

to [born. 

Avoid what's grown, than qnestion how 'lis 
If therefore you dare trust my honesty, — 
That lies enclosed in this trunk, which yon 
Shall bear along impavvn'd, — away to-night. 
Your followers I will whisper to the business; 
And will, by twos and threes,Ht several posterns. 
Cleat them o* the city : For myself, I'll |)ut 
My fortunes to your service, which are here 
By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain ; 
For, by the honour of my parents, i 
Have utter'd truth : which if vou seek to prove^ 
I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer 
Than onecondemu'd by the king's own mouih 
His execution sworn. [thereon 

Pol. I do believe thee : 

I saw his heart in his face. Give me thy hand; 
Be pilot to me, and thy places shall 
Still ncighb(Uir mine ; My ships are ready, and 
My people did expect my hence departure 
'I'wo days ago.— i his jealousy 
Is for a precious creature : as she's rare, 
Must it be great; and, as his person's mighty^ 
Must it be viol nt; and as he does conceive 
He is dishonour'd by a man which ever 
Profess'd to him, why, his revenges must [me . 
In that be made more bitter. Fear o'ershades 
Good expediiion be my friend, and ct>mfort 
The gracious queen, part of his theme, bu' 

nothino 
Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo; 
I will respect ihee as a father, if 
Thou beai'st my life oti hence : 1 et us avoid. 

Cam. It is in mine authority, to command 
The keys of all the posterns : Please you 

hii^hness 
To take the urgent hour: come, sir, away. 

lEa:eunt 



ACT 11. 



SCENE I. The same. 



^/tf^rHFRMiONE, MAMiLLius,«wd Ladics. 

//<r. Take the boy to you: he so troubles 
'Tis past enduring. ['"^j 

1 Ludy. Come, my gracious lord, 

Shall 1 be your play-fellow? 

Mam. ^o, I'll none of you. 

1 Lad];. Why, my sweet lord ? [as it 
Mum. Voull kiss me hard ; and speak to me 

[ were a baby still.— 1 love >ou better. 

2 Ijudy. And why so, my good lord \ 
Mum. f^ot for because 

Your brows are blacker; yet black brows, 

they say. 
Become some women best ; «o that there be 

not 
Too much hair there, but in a semi-circle. 
Or half-moon made with a pen. 
2 Ludu, Who taught you this ? 

• /. f., I an) tin- person appointed, Af, 



M(im. I learn'd it out of women's faces. — 
What colour are your eye-brows I [Pray now 

1 Lady. Blue, my lord. 
Mam. ]Say,thal's a mock: I have seen n 

lady's nose 
That has been blue, but not her eye-brows. 

2 J.uay. Hark ye: 
Tlie queen, your mother, rounds apace : we shall 
Present or.r services to a fine .lew piince. 
One of these days: and then you'd wanton 
If we would have you. [with us, 

1 Ladii. She is spread of late 

Into a goodly bulk: Good lime encwmter her ! 

Her. What wisdom stirs amongst you i 
Come, sir, now 
I am for you again: Pray you, sit by us. 
And tell 's a tale. 

Mum. Merry, or sad, shall't be? 

Htr. As merry as you will. 

Mam. A sad tale's best for winter 



t Prw 



i s<!t!.d \M'. 



Scene I,] 



WINTER'S TALE. 



311 



"^ have one of sprites and goblins. 

Her* Let's have that, sir. 

Come on, sit down: — Come on, and do your 

best [ful at it. 

To fritjht me with j'our sprites : you're power- 

Mam. There was a man, 

Her. Nay, come, sit down ; then on. 

Mam. Dwelt by a church-yard ; — I will tell 
Yon crickets shall not hear it. [it softly ; 

Her. Come on then, 

And give*t me in mine ear. 
Enter Leontes, Antigonus, Lords, and 
Others. 

Leon. Was he met there? his train? Ca- 
millo with him? [them; never 

1 Lord. Behind the tuft of pines I met 
Saw I men scour so on their way : I eyed them 
Even to their ships. 

Leon. How bless*d am I 

In my just censure*? in my true opinion ? — 
Alack, for lesser knowledge t! How accursed, 
In beitig so blest! — There may be in the cnp 
A spider J stfep'd,and one may drink ; depart, 
And yet partake no venom ; for his knowledge 
Is not infected: but if one present 
'JMieabhorr'd ingredient to his eye, make known 
How he hath drank, he cracks his gorge, his 
sides, [the spider. 

With violent hefts $:— I have drank and seen 
C imillo was his help in this, his pander: — 
There is a plot against my life, my crown ; 
All's true that is mistrusted : — that false villain, 
Whom I employ*d, was pre-employ'd by hinv: 
He has discover*d my design, and I 
Remain a pinch'd thing || ; yea, a very trick 
For them to play at will :--How came the 
bo easily open? [posterns 

1 Lord. By his great authority ; 

Which often hath no less prevail'd than so. 
On your command. 

Leon. I know't too well. 

Give me the boy ; I am glad, you did not nurse 
him: [you 

Though he does bear some signs of me, yet 
Have too much blood in him. 

Her. Whatis this? sport? 

Leon. Bear the boy hence, he shall not 
come about her; 
Away with him :— and let her s.port herself 
With that she's big with ; for 'lis Polixeues 
Has made thee swell thus. 

Her. But I'd say, he had not, 

And, I'll be sworn, yon would believe my 
Howe'er you lean to the nay ward. [saying, 

Leon, You, my fords. 

Look on her, mark her well ; be but about 
To say, slie is a goodly lady, and 
The justice of your hearts will thereto add, 
^Tis pity she's not ho7iest, honour ti hie: 
Praise her but for this her wJthout-door form, 
(Which, on my faith, deserves high speech,) 
and straight [brands. 

The shrug, the hum, or ha; these petty 



That calumny doth use : — O, I am out. 
That mercy does ; for calumny will sear IT 
Virtue itself: — these shrugs, these hums, and 
ha's, Llween, 

When you have said, she's goodly, come be- 
Ere you can say she's honest : But be it known 
From him that has most cause to grieve it 
She's an adultress. [should be, 

Her. Should a villain say so, 

The most replenish'd villain in the world, 
He were as much more villain : you, my lord. 
Do but mistake. 

Leon. You have mistook, my lady, 

Poiixenes for Leontes : O thou thing, 
Which I'll not call a creature of thy place. 
Lest barbr^rism, making me the precedent. 
Should a like language use to all degrees. 
And mannerly distingnishment leave out 
Betwixt the prince and beggar! — I have said> 
She's iin adultress ; I have said with whom : 
More, she's a traitor; and Camillo is 
A federary ** with her ; and one that knows 
What she should shame •<) know herself, 
Buttt with her most vile principal, that she's 
A bed-swerver, even as bad as those 
That vulgars give bold titles ; ay, and privy 
To this their late escape. 

Her. ISio, by my life 

Privy to none of this : How will this grieve 
you, [that 

When you shall come to clearer knovdedge. 
You thus have pnblish'd me ? Gentle my lord. 
You scarce can right me throughly then, to say 
You did mistake. 

Leon. No, no ; if I mistake 

In those foundations which I build upon, 
The centre is not big enough to bear 
A schoolboy's top. — Away with her to prison ; 
He, who shall speak for her, is afar ott guilty x;, 
Bot that he speaks ^6. 

her. There's some ill planet reigns : 

I must be patient, till the heavens look 
With an aspect more favourable. — Good my 
I am not prone to weeping, as our sex [lords, 
Commonly are; the want of which vain dew. 
Perchance, shall dry your pities : but I have 
That honourable grief lodged here, which 
burns [lord-, 

Worse than tears drown : Beseech you all, my 
With thoughts so qualified as your charities 
Shall best instruct you, measure me ; — and so 
The king's will be perform'd ! 

Leon. Shall I be heard? 

[To the Guards. 

Her, Who is't, that goes with me?— 'Be- 
seech your highness, 
My women may be with me; for, you see, 
My plight requires it. Do not weep, good 
fools ; [mistress 

There is no cause : when you shall know, youi 
j Has deserved pi ison. then abound in tears, 
1 As I come out: this action, I now^ go on, 
i Is for my better grace. — Adieu, my lord : 



* Judgment. t O that my knowledge were less. t Spiders were esteemed poisonous 

m our author's time. ^ Heavines. |j A thing pinched out of clouts, a puppet. 

11 Brand as nfamous. *» Confederate. tt Only. +* ^^ 

§^ In merely speaking. 



, i pnppe 
: Remotely guilty 



812 



SHAKSPEARE. 



Act IL 



i never wish*d to see you sorry ; now, [leave. 

1 trust, I shall. My women, come ; you have 

Lteon. Go, do our bidding ; henc*-. 

[Kieunt Queen afid Ladies. 

1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, call the 

queen again. [ justice 

Ant. Be certain what you do, sir ; lest y<»ur 

Prove violence j in the which three great ones 

sutler. 
Yourself, your queen, your son. 

1 Lord. For her, my lord, — 

I dare my life lay down, and will do't, sir. 
Please you to accept it, that the queen is spotless 
Pihe eyes of heaven, and to you; 1 mean, 
In this which you accuse her. 

Ant. If it prove 

She's otherwise, Pll keep my stables* where 
1 lod^e my wite; I'll go in couples with her; 
Than when I feel, and see her, no further trust 

her; 
For every inch of woman in the world, 
Ay, every dram of woman's tlesh, is false. 
If she be. 

Leon. Hold your peaces. 
1 Lord. Good my lord — 

Ant. It is for you we speak^not for ourselves: 
You are abused, and by some putter-on +, 
U hat will be damn'd for't; 'would I knew the 
villain, [tiaw'd, — 

I would land-damn him : Be she honour- 
I have ihree daughters; the eldest is eleven ; 
J he second, and the third, nine, an<l some five; 
If this prove true, they'll pay for't: by mine 

honour, 
I'll gehl them all; fourteen they shall not see, 
To bring false generations: they are co-heirs; 
And I hid rather glib myself, than they 
Should not produce fair issue. 

Leon. Cease ; no more. 

You smell this business with a sense as cold 
As is a (lead man's nose: 1 see't, and feei't. 
As you feel doing thus ; and see withal 
Ihe instruments that feel. 

Ant. If it be so, 

"We need no grave to bury honesty ; 
There's not a grain of it, the face to sweeten 
Of the whole dungy earth. 
Leon. What .'lack I credit? 

1 Lord. I had rather you did lack than I, 
my lord, [me 

Upon this ground : and more it would content 
To have her honour true, than your suspicion; 
Be blamed for't how you might. 

Leon. \\ liy, what need we 

Commune with you of this? but rather follow 
Our forceful instiiiation? Our prerogative [ness 
Calls not your counsels; but our natural good- 
Imparisthis: which, — if you (or stupified, 
Or seeming so in skill,) cannot, or will not, 
Kelish as truth, like us; inform yourselves, 
We need no more of your advice: the matter, 
1 he loss, the gain, the ordering on't, is all 
Properly ours. 

Ant. And I wish, my liege, 

You had only in your silent judgment tried it, 
\\ ithout more overture. I 



Leon. How could that be? 

Either thou art most ignorant by age, 
Or ihou wert born a fool. Camilio's flighty 
Added to their familiarity, 
(Which was as gross as ever lonch'd coniecture 
That lack'd sight only, nought for approbationj 
But only seeing, all oihei circumsiances 
Made up to the deed,) doth push on this pro 
Yet, for a greater conhrmation, [ceeding. 

(For, in an act of this im portance, 'twere [post 
Most piteous to be wild,) I have despatch'd if 
To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple, 
Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know 
Of stutf'd sufficiency^: ISow, from the oracl< 
They will bring all ; whose spiritual counsel haf 
Shall stop, or spur me. Have I done well ? 

1 Lord. Well done, my lord. [mor« 

Leon. Though 1 am satisfied, and need nc 
Than what I know, yet shall the oracle 
Give rest to the minds of others; such as he, 
Whose ignorant credulity will not [good 

Come up to the truth : So have we thought i* 
From our free person she should be confined ; 
Lest that the treachery of the two, fled hence. 
Be left her to perform. Come, follow us ; 
We are to speak in public: for this business 
Will raise us all. 

Ant. \^Aside.'\ To laughter, as I take it, 
If the good truth were known. \Lxeunt. 

SCENE IL The same. The outer Room 

of a Prison. 

£'//?er Paulina aw</ Attendants. 

Paul. The keeper of the prison,— call to 

him ; {Exit an Attendant. 

Let him have knowledge who I am. — Good 

lady ! 
No court in Europe is too good tor thee, [sir, 
What dost thou then in prison ^ — Now, good 

Pe-tnter Attendant, ivith the Keeper. 
You know me, do you not? 

Keep. For a worthy lady. 

And one whom I much honour. 

Paul. Pray yoa, then, 

Conduct me to the queen. 

Keep. I may not, madam ; to the cortrary 
I have express commandment. 

Paul. Here'r tdo. 

To lock up honesty and honour from 

The access of gentle visitors ! Is it 1* wful. 

Pray you, to see her women? any of them \ 
Emilia? 

Keep. So please yoQ, madam, to put 
Apart these your attendants, I shall brings 
Emilia forth. 

Paul. I pray now, call her. * 

Withdraw yourselves. {Exeunt Attend.. 

Keep. And, madam, 

I mu.st be present at your conference. 

Paul. Well.beitso.pr'ythee, [ExifK-eey^s 
Here's such ado to make no stain a stain. 
As passes colouring. 

Pi-enter Keeper, uith Emilia. 
Dear gentlewoman,liowfares our gracious ladyt 

Emit. As well as one so great, and so forh^rn, 
May hold together : On her frights, and grief* 



Take mv st:it!OU 



t In.'^tlg'^tor. 



Proof. 



i Of: 



litii's more than snffirient. 



Sreve II,] 



WINTKIIS TALE. 



313 



^V'hich never tender lady hath borne greater.) 
She is, something before her time, deliverM. 

Paul. A boy? 

EinU. A daughter ; and a goodly babe, 

Lusty, and like to live : ihe queen receives 
Much comfort in't : says, My poor prisoner ^ 
I am innocent as you. 

Paul. I dare be sworn : 

These dangerous unsafe lunes * o' the king! 

beshrew them ! 
He must be told on't, and he shall : the office 
Becomes a woman best ; I'll take't upon me : 
If I prove honey-mouth'd, let my tongue 
And never to my red-look'd anger be [blister ; 
The trumpet any more : — Pray you, Emilia, 
Commeod my best obedience to the queen ; 
If she dares trust me with her little babe, 
I'll show't the king, and undertake to be 
Her advocate to ih' loudest : We do not know 
How he may soften at the sight o' the child; 
1 he silence often of pure innocence 
)*ersuades, when speaking fails. 

Emtl. Most worthy madam, 

Ttour honour, and your goodness, is so evident. 
That your free undertaking cannot miss 
A thriving issue; there is no lady living. 
So meet for this great errand : Please your la- 
To visit the next room, I'll presently [dyship 
Acquaint the queen of your most noble olFer; 
Who, but to-day, hammer'd of this design ; 
But durst not tempt a minister of honour. 
Lest she should be denied. 

Paul. Tell her, Emilia, 

V\\ use that tongue I have : if wit flow from it, 
As boldness from my bosom, let it not be 
I shall do good. [doubted 

Emil. Now be yon blest for it ! 

I'll to the queen: Please you, come something 
nearer. [the babe, 

Keef. Madam, iPt please the queen to send 
I know not what I shall incur, to pass it. 
Having no warrant. 

Paul, You need not fear it, sir : 

The child was prisoner to the womb ; and is, 
By law and process of great nature, thence 
Free'd and enfranchis'd : not a party to 
The anger of the king; nor guilty of. 
If any be, the trespass of the queen. 

Keep. I do believe it. 

Paul. Do not you fear : upon 

Mine honour, I will stand 'twixt you and 

danger. {Exeunt. 

SCENE III. The same. A Room in the 

Palace. 
Enter Leontes, Anfigonus, Lords, aiid 
other Attendants. 
Leon, Nor ni2:ht, nor day, no rest : It is 
but weakness 
To bear the matter thus ; mere weakness, if 
The cause were not in being ; — part o' the cause, 
She, the adultress : — for the harlot kin<r 
Is quite beyond mine arm, out ot the blank 
And level t of my bi ain, plot- proof : bPit she 
I ''.an hook to me: Say, that sin- '.vcre gone, 
G:ven to the tire, a moiety of m> rest 



Might come to me again.- 
1 Atten. 



Who's there ? 
My lord? 
{Advancing. 

Leon. How does the boy ? 

1 Atten. He took good rest to-night ^ 

'Tis hoped, his sickness is discharged. 

Leon. To see 

His nobleness! 

Conceiving the dishonour of his mother, 
fie straight declined, droop'd, took it deeply ; 
Fasten'd and fix*d the shame on*t in himself; 
Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep, 
And downright languish'd. — Leave me solely;: 
— go, [no thought of him ; — 

See how he fares. [Exit Attend.]— Fie, tie! 
The very thought of my revenges that way 
Recoil upon me : in hin»self too miizhty ; 
And in his parties, his alliance, — Let him be. 
Until a time may serve : for present vengeaiice, 
Take it on her. Camillo and Polixenes 
Laugh at me ; makethtirpa?time at my sorrow: 
T^hey should not laugh, if I could reach them ; 
Shall she, within my power, [nor 

Enter Paulina, tiUh a Child- 

1 Lord. You must not enter. 

Paul. Nay, rather, gobd my lords, be se- 
cond to me : 
Fear you his tyrannous passion more, alis, 
Than the queen's life ? a gracious innocent soul ; 
More free, than he is jealous. 

Ant, That's enough. 

1 Atten. Madam.hehath notsleptfo-night; 
None should come at him. [cotnmamied 

Paul. Not so hot, Hood .<ir ; 

I come to bring him s<loep. 'Tis such as y<'U, — 
That creep like shadows by hini, and (\i.) sIeIi 
At each his needless heavings, — such as you 
Nourish the cause of his awaking : I 
Do come with words as nied'cinal as true; 
Honest, as either ; t-.> purge him of that humour. 
That presses him from sleep. 

Leon. What noise there, ho? 

Paul. No noise, my lord ; l-ut needful ( onfer- 
About some gossips for y our highne.-^s. [ence, 

Leon. How? — ; 

Away with that audacious lady : Antigonus, 
I charged thee, that she should not come about 
I knew, she would* ['•'«', 

Ant. I told her so, my lord, 

On your displeasure's peril, and on mine. 
She should not visit you. 

Leon. What, canst not rule her ? 

Paul. From all dishonesty, he can: in this, 
(Unless he take the course t^al you have done. 
Commit me, for committing honour,) trust it. 
He shall not rule me. 

Ant. Lo you now ; you hear! 

When she will take the rein, 1 let her run ; 
But she'll not stumble. 

Paul. Good my liege, I come, — 

And, I beseech yon, hear me, who profess 
Myself your h-yal servant, your physician, 
Your most obedient counsellor: yet that dare 
Less appear so, in coii.fortiiTg your evils ^, 
Than such as most se^n yours: — 1 say, 1 coiu« 
From your _oo!l iine^n. 



Frenzies. 



t Mar! and aim. 



\ Amne. 



Al»etnng vour ili coMises.. 
t E 



31 i 



SHAKSPEAllE. 



[Are 11, 



Lfon, Good queen! 

Paid Good queen, my lord, good queen: I 
say, »0()d queen ; 
And would hy coinbal mrike hergood,so were I 
A inan, the worst* about you. 

Jjioit. Force her hence. 

Paul. Let him, that makes but trifles of his 
eyes, 
y\r%\ hnnd me : on mine own accord, I'll off; 
Hut, first. I'll do my errand. — The good queen, 
F'or she isgood, hntli brought you forthadaugh- 
Here 'tis ; commends it to your blessing, [ter ; 
[Laying down tin Child. 

JjCon. Out I 

A mmkindt witch! Hence with her, out o' 
A most intelligeucing bawd! [door: 

Paul. Not so: 

I am as ignorant in that, as you 
In so entitling me: and no less honest [rant, 
1 ban you are iDad ; wliich is enough, I'll war- 
As I his world goes, to p^tss for honest. 

Leoti. Traitors! 

Will you not push her out? Give her the bas- 
tard : — [man-tired I, unroosted 
Thou, dotard, [To An tigoms.j thou art wo- 
By thy dame Partlet here, — take up the 

bastard ; 
Take't up, I say ; give't to thy crone §. 

Paul. For ever 

Un venerable be thy hands, if thou [neg8 

Tikest up the princess, by that forced jj base- 
Which he has put upon't! 

Iaoh. He dreads his wife. 

Paul. So, I would, you did; then, 'twere 
past all doubt. 
You'd call your chddren yours. 

Jjcoti. A nest of traitors ! 

Ant. I am none, by this good li^iht. 

Paul. Nor I : nor any. 

But one, that's here; and that's himself: for he 
The sacred hon(iur of himself, his queen's, 
Hi5 hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander, 
Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; and 

will not 
fFor, as the case now stands, it is a curse 
He cannot be compell'd to' ) once remove 
The rout of his opinion, which is rotten. 
As ever oak, or stone, was sound. 

Leon. Acallat^, 

Of boundless tongue; who late hath heather 

husband, 
And now baits me ! — This brat is none of mine ; 
It is the issue of Polixenes: 
Hence with it, an^ together with the dam, 
Coiiimit them to the fire. 

Paul. It is yours; [charge, 

And, might we lay the old proverb to your 
bo like you 'tis the worse. — heboid, my lords, 
Altlioiigh the -print be little, the whole matter 
And copy of the father: eye, nose, lip, [valley. 
The trick of his frown, his forehead; nay, the 
The pr-tiy dimples of his chin, and cheek; his 
fernilfs ; finger : — 

The very mould and frame of hand, uail, 



And, thou, good goddess nature, which liai»t 

made it 
So like to him that got it, if thou hast [colo'irs 
The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all 
j No yellow** in't ; lest she suspect as he does, 
: Her children not her husband's! 

Leon. A gross hag I — 

And, Lozel+t, thou art worthy to be hang'd. 
That vvilt not stay her tongue. 

Ant . Hang all the husbands. 

That cannot do that feat, you'll leave yourself 
Hardly one subject. 

Leon. Once more, lake her hence 

Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lonl 
Can do no more. 

Leon. I'll have thee burn'd. 

Paul. I care not: 

It is an heretic, that makes the fire, [t> rant ; 
Not she which burns in't. I'll not call ^ou 
But this most cruel usage of your queen 
(Not able to produce more accusation [savours 
Than your own weak-hinged fancy,) sometliiug 
Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you. 
Yea, scandalous to the world. 

Leon. On your allegiance, 

Out of the chamber with her. Were I a tyrant 
Where were her life? she durst not call me so 
If she did know me one. Away with her. [gone 

Paul. I pray you do not push me; I'll be 
Look to your babe, my lord ; 'tis yours : Jove 
send her [hands ? — 

A better guiding spirit! — What need these 
You, that are thus so tender o'er his follies, 
W ill never do him good, not one of you. 
So, so : — Farewell ; we are gone. [Eait, 

Leon. Thou, traitor, hast set on thy wife lo 
this.— 
My child? away with't! — even thou, that hast 
A heart so tender o'er it, take it hence. 
And see it instantly consumed with fire; 
Even thou, and none but thou. Take it up 

straight: 
Within this hour bring me word 'tis done, 
(And by good testimony,) or I'll seize thy life. 
With what thou else call'st thine : If thou refuse. 
And wilt encounter with my wrath, say so; 
The bastard brains with these my proper haudi 
Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire; 
For thou sett'st on thy wife. 

Ant, I did not, sir: 

These lords, my noble fellows, if they please. 
Can clear me in't. 

1 Lord. We can ; my royal liege. 

He is not guilty of her coming hither. 

Leofi. You are liars all. [better credit : 

1 Lord. 'Beseech your highness, give us 
We have always truly served you ; and beseech 
So to esteem of us : And on our knees we bt -i, 
(As recompense of our dear services, purpose; 
Past, and to come,) that you do change tiiis 
Which, being so horrible, so bloody, must 
Lead on to some foul issue: We ali kneel. 

Leon, I am a feather for each wind mat 
blows : — 



Lo'.vr^t. + Masculine. { Pecked by a woman; hen pecked. § Worn-out old woniaiu 
;i f need u f.ilse ; uiiciea witii violence to truth. H Trull. •• The colour of jealou^^y. 
V Worin'.w* fellow. 



Scene 111.^ 



WINTEH'S TALE. 



315 



.Shall I live on, to see this bastard kneel 
And call me father \ Better burn it now, 
Than curge it then. But, be it; let it live: 
It shall not neither. — You, sir, come you 
hither; [To Antigonus. 

Yon, that have been so tenderly officious 
With lady Margery, your midwife, there. 
To save this bastard's life ; — for 'tis a bastard, 
•So sure as this beard's gray, — what will yon 
To save this brat's life ? [adventure 

Ant. Any thing, my lord. 

That my ability may under[i;o. 
jlnd nobleness impose: at least, thus much; 
I'll pawn the little blood which I have left. 
To SHve the innocent: any thing possible. 

Leon. It shall be possible: Swear by this 
fhcm wilt perform my bidding. [sword*, 

Ant. I will, my lord. 

Leon. Mark, and perform it ; (seest thou ?) 
i)f any point iu't shall not only be [for the fail 
Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongued wife ; 
Whom, for this time, we pardon. We enjoin 

thee. 
As thou are liegeman to us, that thou carry [it 
Tais female bastard hence; and that thou bear 
To some remote and desert place, quite out 
Of our dominions ; and that there thou leave it, 
W ithout more mercy, to its own protection, 
And favour of the climate. As by strange 

fortune 
U came to us, 1 do in justice charge thee, — 
On thy soul's peril, and thy body's torture, — 
1 hat thou commend it strangely to some place f. 



Where chance may nurse, or end it : Take it np. 

Ant. 1 swear to do this, though a present 

death [babe : 

Had been more merciful — Come on, poor 

Some powerful spirit ijistruct the kites and 

ravens. 
To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say, 
Casting their savageness aside, have done 
Like offices of pity. — Sir, be prosperous 
In more than this deed doth require! and 

blessing, 
Against this cruelty, fight on thy side. 
Poor thing, condenm'd to loss ! 

\Exit^ with the Child. 

Leon. No, I'll not rear 

Another's issue, 

1 Atten. Please your highness, posts. 

From those you sent to the oracle, are come 
An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion, [landed. 
Being well arrived from Delphos, are both 
Hasting to the court. 

1 Lord. So please you, sir, their speed 

Hath been beyond account. 

Leon. Twenty-three days 

They have been absent : 'Tis good speed ; fore- 
The great Apollo suddenly will have [tels, 
The truth of this appear. Prepare you lords; 
Summon a session, that we may arraign 
Our most disloyal lady : for, as she hath 
Been publicly accused, so shall she have 
A just and open trial. While she lives, 
My heart will be a burden to me. Leave me. 
And think upon my bidding. {Exeunt, 



ACT III. 



SCENE L The same. A street in some 

Town, 

Enter Cleomenes and Dion. 

Cleo. The climate's delicate ; the air most 
sweet; 
Fertile the isle ; the temple much surpassing 
The common praise it bears. 

Dion. I shall report. 

For most it caught me, the celestial habits, 
(Methink.s, I so should term them), and the 

reverence 
Of the grave wearer*. O, the sacrifice! 
How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly 
It was i' the oflfering ! 

Cleo. But, of all , the burst 

And the ear-deafening voice o* the oracle. 
Kin to Jove's thunder, so surprised my sense, 
That I was nothing. 

Dion. If the event o'the journey 

Prove as successful to the queen, — U, be't 

so! — 
As it hath been to us, rare, pleasant, speedy, 
The time is worth the use on'tl. 

Cl'eo. Great Apollo, 

Turn all to the best! These proclamations. 
So forcing faults upon Hermione, 
I little like. 



Dion. The violent carriage of it 

Will clear, or end, the business: When the 

oracle, 
(Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up) 
Shall the contents discover, something rare, 
Even§ then will rush to knowledge. Go, — 

fresh horses ; — 
And gracious be the issue ! {Exeunt, 

SCENE U.—Thesame. A Court of Justice. 

Leonies, Lords, and Officers, appear prO' 

perly seated. 

Leon, This sessions (to our great grief, we 
pronounce). 
Even pushes 'gainst our heart: The party tried, 
The daughter of a king ; our wife ; and one 
Of us too much beloved. — Let us be clear'd 
Of being tyrannous, since we so openly 
Proceedinjuitice; which shall have due course 

Even § to the guilt, or the purgation. 

Produce the pi isoner. 

Offi. It is his highness' pleasure, that the queen 
Appear in person herein court. — Silence ! 
Hekmione is brought in, guarded ; Pauli 
NA U7id IjmW^?,, attending. 

Leon. Read the indictment. 

Offi. Hermione, queen to the worthy Leou- 
tes, king of Sicilia, thou art here accused 



* U was anciently a practice to swear by the crow at the hilt of a sword, t i. e.. Commit it to 
ftome place yis a sti anger. + i.e.. Our journey has recompensed us the time we spent in it. § Equal. 



816 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Acf 111. 



and nr r a; gned of high treason, in commit ting 1 know noi liow it lasies; though it_be dishM 

adultery uith rolixenes, kini^, of Bohemi.i; Ft>r me to try how: all I know ofii, 

an(l conxpi/ iiig uith Cainillo to take anuii/ Is, that i-^millo was an honest man; 

the lite of our sorerei^n lord tlie kin^, thy X\u\, why he left your conn, the yods thenv 

royal hiiahand ; the'pfttence* whenoj fHing | Wotting no morethan I, are iguorrint. [selves, 
6// cii cumatances partly laid open, tUou,\ Leon. Yon knew of his departure, as you 

Hermione, contrary to the faith and alle- know 

gianve vf a true subject, didst counsel and What you have undertaken to do in his ab- 

aidttiemy/or their better safety, to^/iy away Her. Sir, [sencc. 

by night. Yon speak a I mgnage that I understand not : 

//^er. Since what 1 am to say, mnst be but that iMy life stands in the level j of your di earns, 

Which contradicts my accusation; and Which I'll lay down. 

The iestimoi:y on my pa:t, no other [boot me Leon. Your actions are my dreams ; 

But what c»)mes fiom myself; it shall scarce You had a bastard by Polixenes, [all shami". 

To say, .\of guilty : m'me integrity. And 1 but dream'd it: — As you were pi-t 

Being counted falsehood t, shall, as I express it, (Those of your factil are so,) so past all fruih 

Be so received. But thus, — If powers divine Which to deny, concerns more than avails : 

Behold our human actions, (as they do,) For as 

I doubt not, then, but innocence sh.ill make Thy brat hath been cast out, like to itself. 

False accusation blush, and tyranny [know. No father ownini; it, (which is, indeed, 

Tremble at patience. — You, my lord, best More criminal in thee, tlian it,) so thou 

iWlio least will seem to do so,) my past life Shalt feel our justice ; in whose easiest p.i*- 

lath been as continent, as chaste, as true. Look for no less than death. [saL"J, 

As I am now unhappy; which is more Her. Sir, spare your threats; 

Than hi>tory can pal tern, though devised, The bug, which you would fright me with, I 

And play'd, to takespectator> : For behold me. To me can life be no commodity : [seeh. 

A fellow of the royal bed, which owej The crown and comfort of my life, your fa- 

A moiety of the throne, a great king's daughter, I do give lost ; for I do feel it gone, [vour. 

The mother to a hopeful prince, — htre sianding But know not how it went: My second jo> , 

To prate and talk for life, and honour, 'fore And first-fruits of my body, from his presence, 

Who pleasetocomeand hear. Forlife, I prizeit I am barre»i, like one infectious : My thud 

As I weiy:h grief, which I would spare: for comfort, 

Tis a derivative from me to mine, [honour. Starred most unluckily ^, is from my breast 

And only that I stand for. I appeal The innocent millv in its most innocent moiiih 

To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes Haled out to murder : Myself on every post 

Came to your court, how I was in your grace, Proclaim'dastrumpet; With immodeslhatrt-d. 

How nieiited to be so; since he came, The child-bed privilejie denied, which 'longs 

With what encounter so uncurrent I To women of all fashion : — Lastly, hurried 

Have straiuM,toappi'ar thus: if one jot beyond Hereto this place, i*theopen air, before 

The bound of honour ; or, in act, or will, I have got strength of limit *♦. Now, my liege, 

Tiial way inclining; harden'd be the hearts Tell me what blessings I have here alive, 

Of all that hear me, and my uear*st of kin That I should fear to die? Therefore, proceed. 

Cry, fie upon my grave! But yet hear this; mistake me not; No ' 

Leon. I ne'er heard yet, life, 

Tliat any of these bolder vices wanted I prize it not a straw : — but for mine honour. 

Less impudence to gainsay what they did, (Which I would free,) if 1 shall be condemi** * 

Than to perform it first. Upon surmises; all proofs sleeping else, 

J/er. That's true enough But what your jealousies awake; I tell yoti. 

Though 'tis a saying, sir, not due to me. *Tis rigour, and not law. Your honours all, 

Leon. You will not own it. I do refer me to the oracle; 

Hf'r. More than mistress of, Apollo be my judge. 

Which comes to me in n;.me of fault, I must 1 Lord. This your request 

At all acknowledge. For Polixenes, [not Is altogether just : therefore, bring forth, 

(VN ith whom I am accused,) I do confess, And in Apollo's name, his oracle. 

I loved him, as in honour he require<l ; {Eieunt certain Officers. 

With such a kind of love, as might become Her. The emperor of Russia was my father: 

A Itdy like me : with a love, even such, O, that he were alive, and here beholding 

So, and no other,.as yourself commanded : His daughter's trial ! that he did but see 

WMiich not to have d<»ne, 1 think, had been in The flatness of my misery; yet with eyes 

Both disobedience and ingratitude, [me Of pity, not revengcl 

To you, and toward your friend ; whose love Re-euter Officers with Cllomenes and 

had spoke DiON. 

Even since it could speak, from an infant, OJfi, You here shall swear upon this swont 

That it was yours. Now,for conspiracy, [freely. That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have [of justice 

• Scheme laid. t Treachery. j Own, possess. $ Is within the reach. H They who 

have done like yon. ^ III starred; born under an inauspicious planet. ♦• ». c. The 
Uv^t«« of stiengih which it u cni.t»>M..(r\ to iicqiiin- beioit \\<v.n»;; .ire »utfered to go abroad 

«.l«rcluUi-bc iilui; 



Scene Il.\ 



WINTER'S TALE. 



Sir 



Been both at Deiphos ; and from thence have 

brought 
This seal'd-up oracle, by the hand deliverM 
Of great Apollo's priest; and that, since then, 
You have not dared to break the holy seal, 
Nor read the secrets in't. 

Cleo. Dion, All this we swear. 

heon. Break up the seals, and read. 

Offi, \Reads.'\ ^^xmxowt is chaste. Po- 
lixenes blameless, Camiilo a true subject, 
Leontes a Jealous tyrant, his innocent babe 
truly begotten; and the king shall live 
without an heir, if that, uhich is lost, be 
not found. 

Lords, Now blessed be the great A.pollo ! 

Her, Praised! 

Leon, JHast thou read truth 1 

Offi. Ay, my lord; even so 

As it is here set down. 

Leon, There is no truth at all i'the oracle : 

The sessions shall proceed ; this is mere false- 

Enter a Servant, hastily, [hood. 

Serv, My lord the king, the king ! 

Leon. What is the business ? 

Serv. O sir, I shall be hated to report it : 
The prince your son, with mere conceit and 
Of the queen's speed *, is gone. [fear 

Leon. How ! gone? 

Serv, Is dead. [themselves 

Leon. Apollo's angry ; and the heavens 
Do strike at my injustice [Hermion >-: Joints] 
How now there 1 [ — Look down, 

Paul. This news is mortal to the queen : 
And see what death is doing. 

Leon. Take her hence : 

Herheartisbuto'ercharged; shewill recover. — 
I have too much believed mine own suspi- 
'Beseech you, tenderly apply to her [cion : — 
Some remedies for life.— Apollo, pnrdon 
[Exeunt yAV 1.1 i< A and Ladies, ?/7YA Herm. 
My great profaneness 'gainst thine oracle! — 
I*li reconcile me to Polixenes; 
New woo my queen: recall the good Camiilo; 
Whom I proclaim a man of truth, of mercy ; 
For, being transported by my jealousies 
To bloody thoughts and to revenge, I chose 
Camiilo for the minister, to poison 
My friend Polixenes : which had been done, 
But that the good mind of Camiilo tardied 
My swift command, thonghIwithdtath,andwith 
Reward, did threaten and encourage him, 
Net doingit,and being done: he, most humane, 
And till'd with honour, to my kingly guest 
Unclasp'd my practice ; quit his fortunes 
here, [hazard 

Which you knew great; and to the certain 
Of all incertainties himself commended*. 
No richer than his honour: — How he glisters 
Thorough my rust ! and how his piety 
Does my deeds make the blacker! 
Re-enter Paulina. 

Paul. Woe the while I 

P, cut my lace; leit my heart, cracking it. 
Break too ! 

1 Lord. What fit is this, good lady ? 



Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast 

forme? [boiling 

What wheels? racks? fires? What flaying 
In leads, or oils? what old, or newer torture 
Must I receive; whose every word deserves 
To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny 
Together working with thy jealousies,— 
Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle 
For girls of nine! 0,think,what they have done. 
And then run mad, indeed ; stark mad J for all 
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it. 
Thatthou betray'dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing; 
That did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant. 
And damnable ungrateful : nor was't much. 
Thou would'st have poison'd good Camillo's 

. honour, 
To have him kill a king; poor trespasses, 
More monstrous standing by : whereof 1 reckon 
The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter. 
To be or none, or little; though a devil 
Would have shed water outof firej,ere done't: 
iN'or is't directly laid to thee, the death 
Of the young prince; whose honourable 

thoughts [heart 

(Thoughts high for one so tender,) cleft the 
That could conceive, a gross and foolish sire 
Blemish'd his gracious dam : this is not, no, • 
Laid to thy answer: But the last,— O, lords. 
When I have said, cry, woe! — the queen, the 

queen, [vengeance for't 

The sweetest, dearest, creature's dead ; and 
Not dropp'd down yet. 

1 Lord. The higher powers forbid ? 

Paul. I say, she's dead ; Pli swear't : if 

word, nor oath. 
Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring 
Tincture, or lustre, in her lip, her eye, 
Heat outwardly, or breatli within, I'll serve you 
As 1 would do the gods. — liUt, O thou tyrant! 
Do not repent these things; for they aie heavier 
Than all thy woes can stir : therefore betake 
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees [thee 
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting. 
Upon a barren mountain, and .^-till \^ inter 
In storm perpetual, could not move the gods 
To look that way thou wert. 

Leon. Go on, go on : 

Thou canst not speak too much: I have de- 
All tongues to talk their bitterest. [served 
1 Lord. Say no more; 

Howe'er the business goes, you have made 
I'the boldness of your speech. [fault 

Paul. I am sorry for't ; them. 

All faults I make, when 1 shall come to know 
I do repent: Alas, I have show'd too much 
The rashness of a woman : he is touch'd 
To the noble heart.— What's gone, and what's 

past help, 
Should be past grief : Do not receive afHictioa 
At my petition, I beseech you; rather 
Let me be punish'd, that have minded yon 
Ofwhatyoushouldforget. Now,i:oodm> liege. 
Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman: 
The love I bore your queen,— lo, fool again! — 
I'll speak of her no more, nor of your children; 



• Of th« event of the queen's trial. i Committed. J i. e., A devil would have sheri 

tears of pity, ere he would have perpetrated such an action. 

2 E 3 



SiH 



SH4KJSPK \Ki: 



[Act 11 L 



I'll not remeniber you of my own lord, 
Who is losl too : Tnke ^our patience to you, 
And I'll say nothing. 

IjCOh, Th»)U didst speak but well, [better 
When most the truth ; which I receive much 
Than to be pitied of thee. Pr'ythee, brin^ me 
To the dead bodies of my queen, and son: 
One ^rr\ve shall be for both; upon them shall 
The causes of their death appear, unto 
Our shame perpetual : Once a day I'll visit 
The chapel where they lie; and tears, shed 
Shall be my recreation : So long as [there, 
Nature will bear up with this exercise. 
So long I daily vow to use it. Come, 
And lead me to these sorrows. \Exeunt. 

SCENE III. Bohemia. A desert Country 

near the Sea. 

Enter Antigonus, with the Child; and a 

Mariner. 

Ant. Thou art perfect* then, our ship hath 
The deserts of Bohemia? [touch'd upon 

Mar, Ay, my lord; and fear 

We have landed in ill time: the skies look 
grimly, [science, 

And threaten present blusters. In my con- 
The heavens with that we have in hand are 
And frown upon us. ['iigry, 

Ant. Their sacred wills be done ! — Go, get 
abruad ; -► 

Look to thy bark; I'll not be long, before 
I call upon thee. 

Mar. Make your best haste ; and go not 
Too far i'the land : 'tis like to be loud weather ; 
Besides, this place is famous for the creatures 
Of prey, that keep upon't. 

Ant. Go thou away: 

I'll follow instantly. 

Mar, I am glad at heart 

To be so rid o'the business. [Exit. 

Ant. Come, poor babe: 

I have heard, (but not believed,) the spirits of 

the dead 
May walk again: if such thing be, thy mother 
Appear'd to me last night; for ne'er was dream 
So like a waking. To me comes a creature, 
Sometimes her head on one side, some another ; 
I never saw a vessel of like sorrow, 
So fiU'd, and so becoming : in pure white robes, 
Like very sanctity, she did approach 
My cabin where 1 lay : thrice bow'd before me ; 
And, gasping to begin some speech, her eyes 
Became two spouts: the fury spent, anon 
Did this break from her : Good Antigonus, 
Since Jute, against thy bettt^r (Hspoyition, 
N'lih made thy person for the turouer-out 
Of my poor babe, according to thine oath, — 
t* Luces nmote enough are in Bohemia, 
There weep, and leane it crying ; and, for, 
J s counted lost for ever, Perdita, [the babe 
J yr'ytlice, call' t ; for this ungentle business. 
Put on thee by my lord, thou m\r shall see 
Tiiyivifc Paulina mor^".- — and so, witli shrieks 
She melted into air. Affrighted much, 
1 did in time collect myself; and thought [toys: 
This was so, and no slumber. Dreams are 



Vet, for this once, ^ta, sup«Msiitionsly, 
I will be squared by this. 1 do believe, 
Hermione hath sufferM death; and that 
Apollo would, this being indeed the issue 
Of king Polixenes, it should here be laid, 
Either for life, or death, upon the earth 
Of its right father. — Blossom, speed thee well! 
[Laying down the Chiid. 
There lie; and there thy character t: there 
these ; [flaying dotvn a Bundlt. 

Which may, if fortune please, both breed 

thee, pretty, [Poor wretch, '\ 

And still rest thine. The storm begins: — 

That, for thy mother's fault, art thus exposed 
To loss,and what may follow ! — Weep I cannot. 
But my heart bleeds : and most accursed am 1, 
To be by oath enjoin'd to this. — Farewell! 
The day frowns more and more ; thou art 
A lullaby too rough : I never saw [like to have 
The heavens so dim by day. A savage cla- 
n)our! — 

Well may I get aboard ! Thisin the chase ; 

I am gone for ever. [Exit, pur sued by a Bear 
Enter an old Shepherd. 

Shep. I would, there were no age between 
ten and three-and-twenty ; or that youth 
would sleep out the rest: for there is nothing 
in the between but getting wenches with child, 
wronging the ancientry, stealin^^:, fightinsj;. — 

Hark you now! Would any but these boil- 

ed brains of nineteen, and two-and-twent) , 
hunt this weather? They have scared away 
two of my best sheep ; which, I fear, the wolf 
will sooner tind, than the master: if any 
where I have them, 'tis by the sea-side, 
browzing on ivy. Good luck, an't be thy 
will! what have we here? [Taking up the 
Child.] Mercy on's, a barnej; a very pretty 
barne ! A boy, or a child v^, I wonder? A 
pretty one ; a very pretty one : Sure, some 
scape : though I am not bookish, yet I can 
read waiting-gentlewoman in the scape. This 
has been some stair-work, some trunk-work, 
some behind-door-work : they were warmer 
that got this, than the poor thing is here. I'll 
take it up for pity : yet I'll tarry till my son 
come ; he halloed but even now. Whoa, ho 
hoa ! Enter Clown. 

Clo, Hilloa, lea ! 

Shpp. What, art so near ? If thou'lt see a 
thing to talk on when thou art dead and rot- 
ten, come hither. What ailest thou, man ? 

Clo, I have seen two such sights, by sea, 
and by land ; — but I am not to say, it is a sea, 
for it is now the sky ; betwixt the firmament 
and it, you cannot thrust a bodkin's point. 

Shcp. Why, boy, how is it ? 

Cio. I would, you did but see how it 
chafes, how it rages, how it takes up the 
shore ! but that's not to the point : O, the 
mo»t piteous cry of the poor souls! sometimes 
to see 'em, and not to see *em : now the ship 
boring the moon with her main-mast ; and 
anon swallowed with yest and froth, as youd 
thrust a cork into a hogshead. And then for 
the land service, — To see how the bear tore 



* Well assured. + The writing afterward discovered with Peirdit.i. J Child. $ Fc^naie iwfaat 



Scene 111. I 



WIJNTKR S TALE. 



319 



out his shoulder-bone ; how he cried to me 
for help, and said, his name was Antigonus, 
a nobleman : — But to make an end of the 
ship : — to see how the sea flap-dragoned * it : 
— but, tirst, how the poor souls ronred, and 
the sea mocked them ; — and how the poor 
gentleman roared, and the bear mocked him, 
both roaring louder than the sea, or weather. 

Sliep. *Nameof mercy, when WHS this, boy? 

Olo, Now, now ; I have not winked since 
I saw these sights : the men are not yet cold 
under water, nor the bear half dined on the 
gentleman ; he's at it now. 

Shep, Would I had been by, to have helped 
the old man! 

Clo. I would you had been by the ship side, 
to have helped her; there your charily would 
have lacked footing. [Aside. 

She-p. Heavy matters ! heavy matters ! but 
look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself ; 
thou met'st with things dying, I with things 
new born. Here's a sight for thee ; look thee, 
a bearing-cloth t for a squire's child! Look 
thee here : take up, take up, boy ; open't. 



So, let's see; It was told me, I should be rich 
by the fairies : this is some changeling j— 
open't: What's within, boy ? 

Clo, You're a made old man; if the sins cf 
your youth are forgiven you, you're well to 
live. Gold ! all gold ! 

She-p. This is fairy gold, boy, and 'twill 
prove so : up with it, keep it close ; home, 
home, the next § way. We are lucky, boy; 
and to be so still, requires nothing but se- 
crecy.— Let my sheep go : — Come, good boy, 
the next way home. 

Clo. Go you the next way with your find- 
ings ; I'd go see if the bear be gone from the 
gentleman, and how much he hath eaten : 
they are never curst H, but when they are hun- 
gry : if there be any of him left, I'll bury it. 

Shep. That's a good deed : If thou may'st 
discern by that which is left of him, what he 
is, fetch me to the sight of him. 

do. Marry, will I ; and you shall help to 
put him i'the ground. 

Shep. 'Tis a lucky day, boy ; and we'll do 
good deeds on't. [Exeunt, 



ACT IV. 



Enter Time, as Chorus, 
Time. I,— that please some, try all ; both 
joy, and terror, [error, — 

Of good and bad ; that make, and unfold 
Now take upon me, in the name of Time, 
To use my wings. Impute it not a crime. 
To me, or my swift passage, that I slide [tried 
O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth un- 
Of that wide gapIT ; since it is in my power 
To o'erthrow law, and in one self-born hour 
To plant and o'erwhelm custom : Let me pass 
The same I am, ere ancient'st order was, 
Or vvhat is now received : I witness to 
The times that brought them in ; so shall I do 
To the freshest things now reigning ; and make 
The glistering of this present, as my tale [stale 
Now seems to it. Your patience this allowing, 
I turn my glass ; and give my scene such 

growings 
As you had slept between. Leontes leaving 
The eflfects of his fond jealousies ; so grieving, 
That he shuts up himself; imagine me**. 
Gentle spectators, that I now may be 
In fair Bohemia ; and remember well, 
I mentioned a son o'lhe king's, which Florizel 
I now name to you ; and with speed so pace 
To speak of Perdita, now grown in grace 
Equal with wond'ring : What of her ensues, 
I list not prophesy ; but let Time's news 
Be known, when 'tis brought forth : —a shep- 
herd's daughter. 
And what to her adheres, which follows after, 
Is the argument +t of time : Of this allow jj 
h' ever you have spent time worse ere now : 



If never yet, that Time himself doth say, 
He wishes earnestly, you never may. [Exit, 

SCENE I. The same. A Room in the Pa- 
lace of Polixenes . 
Enter Polixenes and Camillo. 

Pol. 1 pray thee, good Camillo, be no 
more importunate : 'tis a sickness, denying 
thee any thing ; a death, to grant this. 

Cayn. It i^ fifteen years, since I saw my 
country : though I have, for the most part, 
been aired a!»road, I desire to lay my bones 
there. Besides, the penitent king, my mas- 
ter, hath sent for me : to whose feeling sor- 
rows I might be some allay, or I o'erween i^ 
to think so ; which is another spur to my de- 
parture. 

Pol. As thou lovest me, Camillo, wipe not 
out the rest of thy services, by leaving me 
now : the need I have of thee, thine own good- 
ness hath made; better not to have had thee, 
than thus to want thee ; thou, having; made 
me businesses, which none, without thee can 
sulficiently manage, must either stay to exe- 
cute them thyself, or take away with thee the 
very services thou hast done: which if I have 
not enough considered, (as too much I cannot) 
to be more thankful to thee, shall be my 
study; and my profit therein, the heaping 
friendships ij||. Of that fatai country Sicilia, 
pr'ythee speak no more : whose very naujiug 
punislies nie with the remembrance oi that 
penitent, as thou call'st him, and reconciled 
king, my brother ; whose loss of his most 



* Swallowed. + The mantle in which a child was cariied to be baptized. % Some child 
left behind by the fairies, in the room of one which they had stolen. § Nearest, 

fl Mischievous. % i. e., Leave unexamined the progress of the intermediate time wl ich 

Ailed up the gap in Perdita's story. •» Imagine for me. tt Subject. JJ A.ppr< ve. 

^^ Think too highly. i||| Friendly offices. 



320 



SHAKSPEARE 



[Art IV. 



precious queen, and children, are even now 
to be afresh lamented. Say to me, when 
sawVt thou the prince Florizel my son 1 
King" are no less unhappy, their issue not 
beina; gracious, than they are in losinp them, 
when they have approved their virtues. 

Cam. Sir, it is three days, since I saw the 
prince : What his happier affairs may be, are 
to me unknown : but I have, missin£;ly, not- 
ed*, he is of late much retired from court: 
and is less frequent to his princely exercises, 
than formerly he hath appeared. 

Pol. I have considered so much, Camiilo; 
and with some care ; so far, that I have eyes 
under my service, which look upon his re- 
moved ness : from whom I have this intelli- 
gence ; That he is seldom from the house of a 
most homely shepherd; a man, they say, that 
from very nothing, and beyond the imagina- 
tion of his neighbours, is grown into an un- 
speakable estate. 

Cam. I have heard, sir, of such a man, who 
hath a daughter of most rare note : the report 
of her is extended more, than can be thought 
to begin from such a cottage. 

Pol. That's likewise part of my intelli- 
gence. But, I fear the angle that plucks our 
son thither. Thou shall accompany us to the 
place: where we will, not appearing what 
we are, have some question t with the shep- 
herd ; from whose simplicity, I think it not 
uneasy to get the canse of my son*£ resort thi- 
ther. Pr'ythee, be my present partner in tlds 
business, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia, 

Cam. I willingly obey your command. 

Pol. My best Camiilo I — We must disguise 
ourselves. {Exeunt, 

SCENE II. The same. A Road near the 
Shepherd's Cottage, 
Enter Autolycus, iinging: 
When daffodils begin to peer^ 

PVith, heigh ! the doxy over the dale, — 
Why, then comes in the stveet oHhe year ; 

For the red blood reigns in the winter* s 
pale j. 
The tvhile sheet bleaching on the hedge^ — 

With, hey ! the sweet birds, O how they 
Doth Si t my pugging § tooth on edge; [sing ? 

For a quart oj ale is a dish for a king. 
The lark, that lirra-llrra chants, — [jay : — 

With, hf^y! with-, hey the thrush and the 
Are sujumer songs for me and my aunts \\, 

While tee lie tumhling In the hay. 
I have served prince Flori?el, and, in my 
time, wore three-pile IT; but now I am out of 
service : 
But shall I go mourn for that, my dear ? 

The pale moon shines by night : 
And when I wander here and there^ 

I then do most go right. 



If tinkers may have leave to live. 

And bear the sow-skin budgets- 
Then my acconiit I well may give, 

And 171 the stocks avouch it. 
My traffick is sheets ; when the kite builds, 
look to lesser linen. My father named me, 
Autolycus ; who, being, as I am, littered 
under Mercury, was likewise a snapper-up of 
unconsidered trifles : With die, and drab, I 
purchased this caparison ; and my revenue is 
the silly cheat** : Gallows, and knock, are too 
powerful on the highway : beating, and hang- 
ing, are terrors to me ; for the life to come, I 
sleep out the thought of it— A prize! a prize 1 
Enter Clown 

Clo. Let me see : — Every *leven wether — 
todstt; every tod yields-— pound and odd shil- 
ling : tifteen hundred shorn, — What comei 
the wool to ? {Aside. 

Aut. If the springe hold, the cock's mine. 

Clo. I cannot do't without counters j;. — 
Let me see ; what I am to buy for our sheep- 
shearing feast? Three pound of sugar ; five 

pound of currants ; rice What will this 

sister of mine do with rice? But my father 
hath made her mistres;* of the feast, and she 
lays it on. She hath made me four-and- 
tw^enty nosegays for the shearers : three-man 
song-men§§ all, and very good ones ; but they 
are most of them means 111! and bases : but one 
Puritan amongst them, and he sings psalms to 
hornpipes. 1 must have sajffroti, to colour 
the warden pies 5!l[; mace, — dates, — none; 
that's out of my note : nutmegs, seven ; a 
race, or two, of ginger ; but that I may beg } 
—four pound of prunes, and as many of 
ruisnis o'the sun. 

Aut. O, that ever I was born ! 

[Grovelling on the ground, 

Clo. I'the name of me, 

Aut. O, help me, help me! pluck but oflf 
these rags ; and then, death, death ! 

Clo. Alack, poor soul! thou hast need of 
more rags to lay on thee, rather than have 
these otf. 

Aut. O, sir, the loathsomeness of them of- 
fends me more than the stripes I have re- 
ceived; which are mighty ones and millions. 

Clo. Alas! poor man! a million of beating 
may come to a great matler. 

Aut. 1 am robbed, sir, and beaten; my 
money and apparel taken from me, and these 
detestable things put upon me. 

Clo. What, by a horse-man, or a foot-man? 

Aut. A foot-man, sweet sir, a foot-man. 

Clo. Indeed, he should be a foot-man, by 
the garments he hath left with thee; if this be 
a horse-man'a coat, it hath seen very hot ser- 
vice. Lend me thy hand, I'll help thee: come, 
lend me thy hand. [Helping him up, 

Aut. O! good sir, tenderly, ohl 



• Observed at intervals. t Talk. J i. e.. The spring blood reigns over the parts lately 
under the dooiinion of winter. § Thievish. f) Doxies. 1l Rich velvet. ♦• Piokinti 
pockets. +1 Every eleven sheep will produce a tod or 28 pounds of wool. tt Circul.ir 

pieces of ha*;'' metal anciently used by the illiterate to adjust their reckonings. ^S Sii'^en 

of catcUe* in thee parts. \^ Tenors. f ^ A species uf pears. 



Scene II,] 



WINTER S TALE. 



32} 



Clo, Alas, poor soul. 

Aiit. O, good sir, softly, good sir: I fear, sir, 
my shoulder-bktde is out. 

Clo. How now? canst stand? 

Ajit. Softly, dear sir; [Picks his pocket.] 
good sir, softly : you ha* done me a charitable 
office. 

do. Dost lack any money? 1 have a little 
money for thee. 

Aut, No, good sweet sir ; no, I beseech you, 
sir: I have a kinsman not past three quarters 
of a mile hence, unto whom I was going ; I 
shall there have money, or any thing I want: 
Offer me no money, I pray you ; that kills my 
heart. 

Clo. What manner of fellow was he that 
robbed you? 

Ai/t. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go 
about with trol-my-dames* : I knew him once 
a servant of the prince ; I cannot tell, good sir, 
for which of his virtues it was, but he was 
certainly whipped out of the court. 

Clo. His vices, you would say; there's no 
virtue whipped out of the court: they cherish 
it, to make it stay there; and yet it will no 
more but abide +. 

Aut. Vices I would say, sir. I know this 
man well: he hath been since an ape-bearer; 
then a process-server, a bailiff; then he com- 
passed a motion! of the prodigal son, and 
married a tinker's wife within a mile where 
my land and living lies; and, having tiown 
iiver many knavish professions, he settled oi^y 
n rogue: some call him Antolycus. 

Clo. Out upon him! Prig§, for my life, 
prig: he haunts wakes, fairs, and bear-baitings. 

Ant. Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the 
vogue, that put me into this apparel. 

Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bo- 
hemia; if you had but looked big, and spit at 
nim, he'd have run. 

Aut. I must confess to you, sir, I am no 
fighier : 1 am false of heart that way; and that 
he knew, 1 warrant him. 

Clo. Hosv do you now? 

Aut. Sweet sir, much better than I was; I 
can stand, and walk : 1 will even take my leave 
of you, and pHce softly towards my kinsman's. 

C'lo. Shall I bring thee on the w^ay? 

Aut. No, good-faced sir; no, sweet sir. 

( lo. Then fare thee well; I must go buy 
spices for our sheep-shearing. 

Aut. Prosper you, sweet sir ! — [Exit Clown, 
Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your 
spice. I'll be with you at your sheep-shearing 
too : If 1 make not this cheat bring out an- 
other, and the shearers prove sheep, let me be 
unrolled, and my name put in the book of virtue! 
Jog on,Jo:i on, the foot path tray, 
And merrily hent\ the stile-a: 
A merry heart goes all the day, 
Your sad tires in a mile-a. 

[Exit. 



SCENE III.— 7%e same, A Shepherd's Cot 

tage. 

Enter Florizel and Perdita. 

Flo. These your unusual weeds to each part 
of you 
Do give a life : no shepherdess ; butFlora, [ing 
Peering in April's front. This your sheeo-sliear- 
Is as a meeting of the petty gods, 
And you the queen on't. 

Per. Sir, my gracious lord, 

To chide at your extremes IF, it not becomes 
nie ; [self, 

O, pardon, that I jiame them ; your high 
The gracious mark** o'the land, you have ob- 
scured [maid. 

With a swain*3 wearing; and me, poor lowly 
Most goddess-like prank'd-f+up: But that our 
In every mess have folly, and the feeders [feasts 
Digest it with a custom, I should blush 
To see you so attired ; sworn, I think. 
To show myself a glass. 

Flo. I bless the time. 

When my good falcon made her flight across 
Thy father's ground. 

Per. Now Jove afford you cause! 

Tome, the differencejj forges dread; your great- 
ness [ble 
Hath not been used to fear. Even now I trem- 
To think, your father, by some accident. 
Should pass this way, as you did : O, the fates! 
How would he look, to see his work, so noble 
Vilely bound up? What would he say? Or how 
Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behoW 
The sternness of his presence? 

Flo. Apprehend 

Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves. 
Humbling their deities to love, have taken 
The shapes of beasts upon them : Jupiter [tune 
Became a bull, and bellowM; the green Nep 
Aram, and bleated; and the fire-rob'd god, 
Golden Apollo, a poor humble swain. 
As I seem now: Their transformations 
Were never for a piece of beauty rarer; 
Nor in a way so chaste: since my desires 
Run not before mine honour; nor my lusts 
Burn hotter than my faith. 

Per. O but, dear sir. 

Your resolution cannot hold, when 'tis 
Oppos'd,asit must be, by the power o'the king 
One of these two must be necessities. 
Which then will speakj that you must change 
Or I my life. [this purpose, 

Flo. Thou dearest Perdita, [not 

With these forc'di^ thoughts, I pr'ythee.darken 
The mirth o'the feast: Or I'll be tiiine,my fair. 
Or not my father's: for I cannat be 
Mine own, nor any thing to any, if 
I be not thine: to this I am most constant, 
Though destiny say, no. Be merry, gentle; 
Strangle such thoughts as these, with anything 
That you behold the while. Your guests are 
coming : 



• The machine used in the game of pigeon-holes. + Sojourn. % Puppet-show. 
$ Thief. ll Take hold of. IF Excesses. ** Object of all men's notice, 
tt Dressed with ostentation. JJ i. e,, Of station. ^$ Far fetched. 



322 



I^HAKSPEARE. 



[Act rr. 



Lift up yonr countenance : as it were the day 
Of celebration of that nuptial, which 
We two have sworn shall come. 

Per. O lady fortune. 

Stand you auspicious ! 

Enter Shepherd, with Polixenes and Ca- 
M.IL.LO, d/yguLstd ; Clown, Mupsa, Dor- 
cas, ajid Others. 

Flo. See, your guests approach : 

Address yourself to entertain them sprightly. 
And let's be red with mirth. 

She}). Fie, daughter! when my old wife 
lived, upon 
This day, she was both pantler, butler, cook ; 
Both dame and servant: welcomed all; 
served all : [now here, 

Would sing her song, and dance her turn : 
At upper end o'the table, now i'lhe middle ; 
On his shoulder, and his: her face o' fire [it. 
With labour ; and the thing,she took to quench 
{She would to each one sip : You are retired. 
As if you were a feasted one, and not 
Th2 hostess of ihe meeting: Pray you bid 
These unknown friends to us welcome : for 

it is 
A way to make us better friends, more known. 
Come, quench your blushes ; and present 
yourself [Come on, 

That wliich you are mistress o'lhe feast: 
And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing. 
As your good flock shall prosper. 

Per. Welcome, sir! [ro Pol. 

It is my father's will, I should take on me 
The hostess-ship o'lhe day: — You're welcome, 
sir 1 [Y'o Camillo. 

Give me those flowers there, Dorcas. — Reve- 
rend sirs. 
For you there's rosemary, and rue; these keep 
Seeming, and savour*, all the winter long: 
Grace and remembrance be to you both. 
And welcome to our shearing! 

PoL Shepherdess, 

(A fair one are you,) well you fit our ages 
With flowers of winter. 

Ptr. Sir, the year growing ancient, — 

Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth 
Of trembling winter, — the fairest tlowers 

o'the season 
Are our carnations, and streak'd gillyflowers. 
Which some call nature's bastards : of that kind 
Our rustic garden's barren ; and I care not 
To get slips of them. 

PoL. Wherefore, gentle maiden. 

Do yoQ neglect them t 

Per. Fort I have heard it said. 

There is an art, which, in their piedness shares 
With great creating nature. 

PoL Say, there be ; 

Yet nature is made better by no mean. 
But nature makes that mean: so, o'er that art, 
\V hich, you say, adds to nature, is an art 
That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we 
A ffeniler scion to the wildest stock; [marry 
Ar.d make conceive a bark of baser kind 
By bud of nobler race; This is an art 



Which does mend nature, — change it rather : 

The art itself is nature. [but 

Per. So it is. [flowers, 

Pol. Then make your garden rich in gilly- 

And do not call them bastards. 

Per. I'll not put 

The dibble t in earth to set one slip of them : 
>io more than, were 1 painted, I would wish 
This youth should say, 'twere well; and only 
therefore [you ; 

Desire to breed by me. — Here's flowers for 
Hot lavender, minis, savory, marjoram ; 
The marigold, that goes to bed with the sun. 
And with him rises weeping ; these are flowers 
Of middle summer.and, lihink,they are given 
To men of middle age You are very welcome. 
Cam. I should leave grazing, were I of your 
And only live by gazing. [flock. 

Per. Out, alas! 

You'd be so lean, that blasts of January 
Would blow you through and through. -Now, 
my fairest friend, [that mit;ht 

I would, 1 had some flowers o'the spring. 
Become your time of day; and yours, and 

yours ; 
That wear upon your virgin branches yet 
Your maidenheads growing : — O Proserpma, 
For the flowers now, that, frighted, thou lei'st 
From Dis's J waggon ! datfodiis, [fall 

J hat come before ihe swallow dares, and take 
The winds of March with beauty; violets,dim. 
But svveeier than the lids of Juno's eyes. 
Or Cytherea's breath; pale primroses. 
That die unmarried, ere ihey can behold 
Bright Phoibus in his strength, a malady 
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips, and 
The crown imperial ; lilies of all kinds. 
The flower-de-luce being one ! 0,these 1 lack, 
To make you garlands of; and, my sweet 
To strew him o'er and O'er. [friend, 

Flo. What? like a corse? 

Per. Nojlikeabank, for love to lie and play 
Not like a corse: or if, — not to be buried, [on ; 
But quick i|, and in mine arms. Come, take 

your flowers: 
Methinks, I play as I have seen them do 
In Whitsun' pastorals: sure, this robe of mine 
Does change my disposition. 

Flo. What you do. 

Still betters what is done. When you speak, 

sweet, 
I'd have you do it ever: when you sing, 
I'd have you buy and sell so; so give alms; 
Pray so ; and, for the ordering your attairs. 
To sing them too : When you do dance, I 

wish you 
A wave o'the sea, that you might ever do 
Nothing but that; move still, still so, and own 
No other function: Each your doing, 
So singular in each particular, [deeds, 

Crowns what you are doing in the present 
That all your acts are queens. 

Per. O Doricles, 

Your praises are too large: but that your 
youth, 



* Likenrs? and smell. t Because that. t A tool to •et pirtnts. $ Pluto. 1) Livi 



7/7 



WIVTER S TALE. 



S2f 



AiKi tlieti U' uluo(i,\\i;icAitaii l\ p< epstbrouiih il, 
])<» plainly irive yon out an nnstain'd shepherd ; 
With wisdom 1 miiiltt fenr, my Doricles, 
Yon woo'd me the false way. 

Flo. I think, yon have 

As little skill to fear, as I have pnrpose 
Toputyo ito't. — Bnt, come; onrd mce, Tpray : 
Your hand, my Perdita : so turtles pair. 
That never mean to part. 

Per. I'll swear for 'em. 

Pol. This is the prettiest low-born lass, that 

evor [soems, 

Ran on the 2reen-sward * ; nothing she does, or 

But smacks of something greater than herself; 

Too noble for this place. 

Cam. He tells her something, [she is 

That makes her blood look ont: Good sooth, 
The queen of curds and cream. 

Clo. Come on, strike up. 

Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress : marry. 
To mend her kissing with. — [garlic. 

Mop. Now, in good time! 

Clo. Not a word, a word ; we stand upon 
onr manners.— 
Come, strike up. [Music. 

Here a dance of Shepherds and She])Jierd- 
esses. 

Pol. Pray, good shepherd, what [daughter? 
Fair swain is this, which dances with yonr 

Shej). They call him Doricles, and he boasts 
himself 
To have a worthy feeding + : bnt I have it 
Upon his own report, and I believe it; 
He looks like sooth i: He says, he loves my 

daughter ; 
I think so too, for never gazed the moon 
Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read. 
As 'twere, my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain, 
1 think, there is not half a kiss to choost-, 
Who loves another best. 

Pol. She dances featly §. 

Shep. So she does any thing; though I report 
That should be silent: if young Doricles [it. 
Do light upon her, she shall bring him that 
Which he not dreams of. 

Enter n Servant. 

Serv. O master, if you did but hear the 
pedlar at the door, yon would never dance 
again after a tabor and pipe; no, the bagpipe 
could not move you : he sings several tunes 
taster than you'll tell money; he utters them 
as he had eaten ballads, and all men's ears 
tjrow to his tunes. 

Clo. He could never come better : he shall 
come in: I love a ballad but even too well; 
it it be doleful matter, merrily set down, or 
a very pleasant thing indeed, .and sung la- 
mentably. 

Serv. He hath songs, for man, or woman, 
of all sizes; no milliner can so fit his cus- 
tomers with gloves: he has the prettiest love- 
Bongs for maids; so without bawdry, which is 



strange ; with such delicate ^urdcr.s of dildOm 
and fadings ; jump her and tfiw.n'^ htr; 
and where some stretch-mouth'd rascal would, 
as it were, mean mischief, and break a foul 
gap into the matter, he m^kes the maid to 
; nsv.er. If hoop, do me no hirm, good man; 
puts him off, slights him, with Whoop, do me 
no harm, good man. 

Pol. This is a brave fellow. 

Via, Believe me, thou talkest of an admir- 
able conceited fellow. Has he any unbraided 
wares 11? 

Serv. He hath ribands of all the colours 
1' the rainbow; points, more than all the law- 
yers in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though 
they come to him by the gross; inkles II, cad- 
disses**, cambrics, lawns : why, he sings them 
over, as they were gods or goddesses; you 
would think, a smock were a she-angel ; he 
so chants to the sleeve-hand ft, and the work 
about the square on't:|:j. 

Clo. Pr'yth e, bring him in; and let him 
approach singing. 

Per. Forewarn him, that he use no scur- 
rilous words in his tunes. 

Clo. You have of these pedlars, that have 
more in 'em than you*d think, sister. 

Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to think. 

Enter Autolyci's, singing. 
Lawn, as v. kite as driven snotv ; 
Cyprus y black as e*er tvas crow ; 
Gloves y as sweet as damask roses $ 
Masks for J aces, and for ?ioses ; 
Bugle bracelet, necklace-am'fer. 
Perfume for a lady's chamber §§. 
Golden guolfs, and stoinacherSy 
F-^r my lads to give their dears , 
Pins and poking-sticks of steely 
If hat maids lack from head to heel: 
Come, bay of me, come ; come buy, come 
Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry; [buy. 
Come, buy, ^.c. 
Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsa. thou 
should*st take no money of me; but being in- 
thralled as I am, it will also be the bondage 
of certain ribands and gloves. 

Map. I was promised tiiem against the 
fieast ; but they come not too late now. 

Dor. He hath promised you more than that, 
or there be liars. 

Mop. He hath paid you all he promised 
you: may be, he has paid you more; which 
will shame you to give him aiiain. 

Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? 
will they wear their plackets, where they 
should bear their faces? Is there not milk- 
ing-time, when you are going to bed, or kiln 
holel^^i, to whistle off these secrets ; but you 
must be tittle-tattling before all onr guests? 
'Tis well they are whispering : Clamour your 
tongues***, and not a word more. 



• Green turf. t A valu.able tract of pasturage. j Truth. § Neatly. |1 Plain goods- 

f Worsted galloon. ** A kind of tape, ff The cuffs. +t The work about the bosom. 

^ Amber of which necklaces were made fit to perfume a lady's chamber. %^ Fi'-e-place 

tor drying malt ; still a noted gossiping^p'.ace. •♦• lUig a dumb peal. 



324 



SHAKSPKARE. 



\Acf 7K 



Mop. I have done. Come, you promised 
mc a tawdry lace*, and a pair of sweet gloves. 

Clo. Have I not told thee, how I was co- 
rened by the way, and lost all my money 1 

Aut. And, indeed, sir, there are cozeners a- 
broad ; therefore it behoves men to be wary. 

Clo. Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose 
nothing here. 

Aut. I hope so, sir ; for I have about ine 
many parcels of charge. 

Clo. What hast here? ballads? 

Mop, Pray now, buy some : I love a bal- 
lad in print, a'-life ; for then we are sure they 
are true. 

Aut. Here's one to a very doleful tune. 
How a usurer's wife was brought to bed of 
twenty money-bags at a burden; and how 
ihe longed to eat adders* heads, and toads car- 
bonadoed. 

Mop. Is it true, think you ? 

Aut. Very true ; and but a month old. 

Dor. Bless me from marrying a usurer ! 

Aut. Here's the midwife's name to't, one 
mistress Taleporter ; and five or six honest 
wives' that were present : Why should 1 carry 
lies abroad ? 

Mop. 'Pray you now, buy it. 

Clo, Come on, lay it by : And let's first see 
more ballads ; we'll buy the other things anon. 

Aut. Here's another ballad, of a fish, that 
appeared upon the coast, on Wednesday the 
fourscore of April, forty thousand fathom 
above water, and sung this ballad against the 
hard hearts of maids : it was thought, she was 
a woman, and was turned into a cold fish, for 
she would not exchange flesh with one thatlov- 
ed her : The ballad is very pitiful, and as true. 

Dor. Is it true too, think you 1 

Aut. Five justices' hands at it; and wit- 
nesses, more than my pack will hold. 

Clo. Lay it by too : Another. 

Aut. This is a merry ballad ; but a very 
pretty one. 

Mop. Let's have some merry ones. 

Aut. Why this is a passing merry one ; and 
goes to the tune of, Tuo maids wooing a 
viati : there's scarce a maid westward, but 
ghe sings it ; 'tis in request, I can tell you. 

Mop. We can both sing it ; if thou'lt bear 
a part, thou shalt hear ; 'tis in three parts. 

Dor. We had the tune on't a month ago. 

Aut. I can bear my part; you must know, 
'tis my occupation : have at it with you. 

SONG. 

A. Get you hence, for I must go; 
ffliere, it Jits jiot you to knoiv. 

D. Whither? M. O, whit her? D. Whither; 
M. It becomes tky oath full well. 
Thou to me thy secrets tell. 

D. Me too, let me go thither, 
M. Or thou go* St to the grange, or mill : 
D. //' to eitUer, thou dost ill. 

A. Neither. D. What, neither? A. Nei- 
D. Thou hast sworn my love to be ; [ther. 



M. Thou hast stvorn it more to me : 

Then, whither go*st ? say, whither? 

Clo. We'll have this song out anon by our- 
selves ; My father and the gentleman are in 
sad f talk, and we'll not trouble them : Come, 
bring away thy pack after me. Wenches, I'll 
buy for you both : — Pedlar, let's have the first 
choice. — Follow me, girls. i 

Aut. And you shall pay well for 'em. [Aside, ^ 

Will you buy any tape, 

Or lace for your cape, 
My da nty duck, my dear-a ? * 

Any silk, any thread, 

Any toys for your head. 
Of the ?iew's't; and finest, finest wear-a? 

Come to the pedlar ; ' 

Money's a meddler. 
That doth utter % all men*s ware-a, 

[Exeunt Clown, Autolycds, Dorcas, 
a7id MopsA. 

Enter a Servant. 

Serv> Master, there is three carters, three 
shepherds, three neat-herds, three swine* 
herds, that have made themselves all men of 
hair$; they call themselves saltiers || : and 
they have a dance which the wenches say is 
a gallimaufry IT of gambols, because they are 
not in't ; but they themselves are o'the mind, 
(if it be not too rough for some, that know lit- 
tle but bowling,) it will please plentifully- 

Shep. Away ! we'll none on't ; here ha* 
been too much humble foolery already :— 1 
know, sir, we weary you. 

Pol. You weary those that refresh us : 
Pray, let's see these four threes of herdsmen. 

Serv. One three of them, by their own re- 
port, sir, hath danced before the king ; and 
not the worst of the three, but jumps twelve 
foot and a half by the squire **. 

Shep. Leave your praiing; since these 
good men are pleased, let them come in ; but 
quickly now. 

Serv Why, they stay at door, sir. [Exit. 
Reenter Sei\3ini, with Twelve Rustics ha- 
bited like Satyrs. They ciance, and then 

exeunt. 

Pol. O, father, you'll know more of that 
hereafter.— [them.-- 

Is it not too far gone?— Tis time to part 
He's simple, and tells much. [Aside.]— How 
now, fair shepherd ? take 

Your heart is full of something, that <loei 
Yuur mind from feasting. Sooth, when 1 

was young, 
And handed love, as you do, I was wont 
To load my she with knacks : I would have 

ransaek'd 
The pedlar's silken treasury, and have pour'd 
To her acceptance ; you have let him go, [it 
And nothing marled ff with him : if your lass 
Interpretation should abuse ; and call this 
Your lack of love, or bounty : you were strait- 
For a reply, at least, if you make a care [ed JJ 
Of happy holding her. 



• A lace to wear about the head or waist. t Serious. J Vend. $ Dressed themselvei 
in habits imitating hair. ij Satyrs. ^ Medley. ♦* Foot rule. ft Bought, lidflickea 

it Put to difficulties. 



I 



Scene JIJ,] 



WINTER S TALE. 



325 



Flo. Old sir, I know 

She prizes not such trifles as these are : 
The gifts, she looks from me, are pack'd and 

lock'd 
Up in my heart ; which I have civen already. 
But not deliver'd. — O, hear me breathe my life 
Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem, 
Hath sometime loved : I take thy hand ; this 

hand, 
As soft as dove's down, and as white as it ; 
Or Ethiopian's tooth, or the fann'd snow. 
That's bolted* by the northern blasts twice 

Pol. What follows this 1~~ [o'er. 

How prettily the young swain seems to wash 
The hand was fair before! — I have put you 
But to your protestation ; let me hear [out . — 
What you profess. 

Flo. Do, and be witness to't. 

Pol, And this my neighbour too? 

' Flo. And he, and more 

Thafi he, and men; the earth, the heavens, and 

all: [narch. 

That, — were 1 crown'd the most imperial mo- 

Thereof most worthy ; were I the fairest youth 

That ever made eye swerve ; had force, and 

knowledge, [them. 

More than was ever man's,— I would not prize 

Without her love: for her, employ them all ; 

Commend them, and condemn them, to her 

Or to their own perdition. [service, 

Pol. Fairly oflfer'd. 

Cam. This shows a sound affection. 
^ Shep. But, my daughter. 

Say you the like to him? 

Per. I cannot speak 

So well, nothing so well ; no, nor mean better : 
By the pattern of mine own thoughts 1 cut out 
The purity of his. 

Shep. Take hands, a bargain ; 

And, friends unknown you shall bear witness 
I give my daughter to him, and will make [to't : 
Her portion equal his. 

Flo. O, that must be 

Pthe virtue of your daughter : one being dead, 
I shall have more than you can dream of yet; 
Enough then for your wonder: But, come on. 
Contract us 'fore these witnesses. 

Shep. Come, your hand : 

And, daughter, yours. 

Pol. Soft, swain, awhile, 'beseech you ; 
Have you a father? 

Flo. I h a ve : But what of him ? 

Pol. Knows he of this? 

Flo. He neither does, nor shall. 

Pol. Methinks, a father 
J\ at the nuptial of his son, a guest 
That best becomes the table. Pray you, once 
Is not your father grown incapable [more; 
Of reasonable affairs? is he not stupid 
With age, and altering rheums ? Can he speak ? 
hear? [estate t? 

Know man from man? dispute his own 
Lies he not bed-rid ? and again does nothing, 
But what he did being childish? 

^lo- No, good sir ; 



He has his health, and ampler strength, indeed. 
Than most have of his age. 

Pol. By my white beard. 

You offer him, if this be so, a wrong 
Something unfilial: Reason, my son, [son. 
Should choose himself a wife ; but as good rea- 
The father, (all whose joy is nothing else 
But fair posterity,) should hold some counsel 
In such a business. 

Flo. I yield all this ; 

But, for some other reasons, my grave sir, 
Which 'tis not fit you know, 1 not acquaint 
My father of this business. 

Pol. Let him know't. 

Flo. He shall not. 

Pol. Pr'ythee, let him. 

F/o. No, he must not. 

Shep. Let him, my son ; he shall not need 
At knowing of thy choice. [to gritve 

Fio. Come, come he must not : — 

Mark our contract. 

Pol. Mark your divorce, young sir. 

{Discovering himse/f. 
Whom son I dare not call ; thou art too base 
To be acknowledged : Thou a sceptre's beir, 
That thus affect'st a sheep-hook! — Thou old 

traitor, 
I am sorry, that, by hanging thee, I can but 
Shorten thy life one week. — And thou, frt sh 
piece tnovv 

Of excellent witchcraft ; who, of force, must 
The royal fool thou copest with ; 

Shep. O, my heart I 

Pol. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with 
briers, and made [boy. — 

More homely than thy state. — For thee, fond 
If I may ever know, thou dost but sigh. 
That ihou no more shalt see this knack, (as never 
I mean thon shalt,) we'll bar thee from succes- 
Not hold thee of our blood, no not our kin. [sion 
Far j than Deucalion off : — Mark thou my 
words; [time. 

Follow us to the court, — Thou churl, for this 
Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee 
From the dead blow of it. — And you, enchant- 
ment, — 
Worthy enough a herdsman; yea, him too. 
That makes himself, but for our honour therein. 
Unworthy ihee, — if ever, henceforth, thou 
These rural latches^ to his entrance open. 
Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, 
I will devise a death as cruel for thee. 
As thou art tender to't. [Exit* 

Per. Even here undone ! 

I was not much afeard : for once, or twice, 
[ was about to speak; and tell him plainly, 
The selfsame sun, that shines upon his court, 
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but 
Looks on alike. — W ill't please you, sir, be gone? 
[To Florizel. 
I told you, what would come of this: 'Be- 
seech you, [mine, — 
Of your own state take care : this dream of 
Being now awake, I'll queen it no inch further. 
But milk my ewes, and weep. 



• The sieve me<\ to separate flour from bran is called a bolting cloth, 
affairs. ^j Further. i Door^. 



t Talk over hi-s 



329 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act JV 



(jdm. Why, how now, father? 

Spenk, ere thou diest. 

Skep. I cannot speak, nor think. 

Nor dare to know that which 1 know. — O, sir, 
[To Floiuzel. 
You have undone a man of fourscore three. 
That tiiou^hi to fill his grave in quiet ; yea, 
To die upon the bed my father died, 
To lie chise by his honest bones : bui now fme 
Some hangman must put on my shroud, and lay 
Where no priest shovels-in dust. — O cursed 
wretch I [To Peru it a. 

That knew'&t this was the prince, and would'st 

adventure 
To mingle faith with him.— Undone! undone! 
If I might die within lhi3 hour, I have lived 
To die when I desire. [Exit. 

Flo. Why look you so upon me ? 

I am but sorry, not afeard ; delay'd. 
But nothing alter'd : What I was, I am ; 
More straining on, for plucking back ; not 
My leash * unwillingly. [following 

Cam. tJracious my lord. 

You know your father's temper: at this time 
He will allow no speech, — which, I do guess, 
You do not purpose to him ; — and as hardly 
Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear: 
Then till the fury of his highness settle, 
Come not before him. 

Flo. 1 not purpose it. 

I think, Camillo. 

Cam. Even he, my lord. 

Per. How often have I told you, 'twould be 
How often said, my dignity would last [thus? 
But till 'twere known? 

Flo. It cannot fail, but by 

The violation of my faith ; And then 
Let nature crush the sides o'the earth together, 
And mar the seeds within I— Lift up thy looks: — 
From my succession wipe me, father! I 
Am heir to my affection. 

Cum. Be advised. 

Flo. lam; and by my fancy + : ifmyreason 
Will thereto be obedient, 1 have rea-on ; 
If not, my senses, better pleased with madness. 
Do bid it welcome. 

Cam. This is desperate, sir. 

Flo. So call it : but it does fulfil my vow ; 
I needs must think it honesty. Camillo, 
Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may 
Be thereat gle-in'd ; for all the sun sees, or [hide 
The close earth wombs, or the profound seas 
In unknown fnthoms, will I break my oath 
To this my f.iir beloved : Thereiore, 1 pray yon, 
As you have e'er been my father's honourM 
friend, [not 

When he shall miss me, (as, in f.tith, I mean 
To see him any morej cast your viood counsels 
Upon his passion: Let myself and fortune, 
Tug for tie time to come This you may know. 
And so deliver, — i am put :o sea 
With her, whom here I cannot hold on shore; 
And, most opportune to our need, I have 
A vessel rides fast by, but not prepared 
For tliis design. What course 1 mean to hold. 



Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor 
Concern me the reporting. 

Cam. O, my lord, 

I would your spirit were easier for advice. 
Or stronger for your need. 

Flo. Hark, Perdita. [Takes her aside, 

I'll hear you by and by. [To Camillo. 

Cam. He's irremovable. 

Resolved for flight : Now were I happy, if 
His going I couki frame to serve my turn ; 
Save him from danger, do him love and honour; 
Purchase the sight aj^ain of dear Siiilia, 
And that unhappy king, my master, whom 
I so much thirst to see. 

Flo. Now, good Camillo, 

I am so fraught with curious business, that 
I leave out ceremony. [Going 

(am. Sir, I think, 

You have heard of my poor services, i'thelovo 
That I have borne your father ? 

Flo. Very nobly 

Have you deserved : it is my father's music. 
To speak your deeds ; not little of his care 
To have them recompensed as thought on. 

Cfi7n. Well, my lord. 

If you may please to think I love the king ; 
And, through him, what is nearest to him, 

which is 
Your gracious self ; embrace but my direction 
(If your more ponderous and settled project 
May sutfer alteration,) on mine honour [iug 
I'll point you where yon shallliave such receiv- 
As shall become your highness ; where you may 
Enjoy your mistress ; (from ihe whom, I see. 
There's no disjunction to be made, but by, 
As heavens forfend ! your ruin :) marry her ; 
And (with my best endeavours, in your ab- 
sence,) 
Your discontenting J father strive to qualify. 
And bring him up to liking. 

Flo. Howr, Camillo, 

May this, almost a miracle, be done f [man. 
That I may call thee something more than 
And, after that, trust to thee. 

Cam. Have you thought on 

A place, whereto you'll go i 

tlo. Not any yet : 

But as the unthonght-on accident j is guilty 
To what we wildly do; so we profess 
Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and fliet 
Of' every wind that blows. 

(^am. Then list to me : [purpose 

This follows, — if you will not change youi 
But undergo this flight ; — Make for Sicilia ; 
And there present yourself, and your f.df 

princess, 
(For 5o, I see, she must be,) 'fore Leontes; 
She shall be habited, as it becomes 
The partner of your bed. Methinks, I see 
Leontes opening his free arms, and weeping 
His welcomes forth : asks thee, the son, foi 

giveness. 
As 'twere i'the father's person : kisses the handi 
(,)f your fresh princess : o'er and o'er fKvides hi n 
Twixt his unliinduessaudhisi-.jndnesa ; the one 



* A ieadiug itring. 



t Love. 



t For diarontented. 



accident is the unexpected discovery made by Polivfues. 



^ This unthoogbt-oi^ 



cue 111.] 



WINTER'S TALE. 



3-27 



le chides to hell, and bids the other grow, 
caster than thought, or time. 

Flo, Worthy Cainilio, 

What colour for my visitation shall I 
Hold up before him ? 

Cam. Sent by the king your father 

To greet him, and to give him comforts. Sir, 
The manner of your bearing towards him, with 
What you, as from your father, shall deliver 
Things known betwixt us three, I'll write you 
down : [ting *, 

The which shall point you forth at every sit- 
l^hat you must say ; that he shall not perceive. 
But that you have your father's bosom there. 
And speak his very heart. 

Flo. I am bound to you : 

There is some sap in thi?. 

Cam, A course more promising 

Than a wild dedication of yourselves [certain, 
To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores; most 
To miseries enough : no hope to help you ; 
But, as you shake off one, to take another : 
Kothing so certain as your anchors : who 
Do their best office, if they can but stay you 
Where you'll be loath to be: Besides you know 
Prosperity's the very bond of love ; [gether 
Whose fresh complexion and whose heart to 
Affliction altera. 

Per. One of these is true : 

I think, affliction may subdue the cheek, 
But not take in f the mind. 

Cani. Yea, say you so? 

There shall not, at your father's house, these 
Be born another such. [seven years, 

Flo. My good C ami Ho, 

She is as forward of her breeding, as 
I'llie rear of birih. 

Cam. I cannot say, 'tis pity 

She lacks instructions ; for she seems a mistress 
To most that teach. 

Per. Your pardon, sir, for this ; 

rii blush you thanks. 

Flo. My prettiest Perdita. [lo, — 

But, O, the thorns we stand upon ! — Camil- 
Preserver of my father, now of me ; 
The iiiedicin of our house ! — how shall we do 1 
We are not furnish'd like Bohemia's son ; 
In or shall appear in Sicily 

Cam. My lord. 

Fear none of this : I think, you know, my for 
Do all lie there : it shall be so my care [tunes 
To have you royally appointed, as if [sir, 

The scene you play, were mine. For instance. 
That you may know you shall not want,— one 
word. [They talk aside. 

Enter Autolycds. 

Aut, Ha, ha! what a fool honesty is! and 
trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentle- 
man ! I have sold all my trumpery : not a 
counterfeit stone, not a riband, glass, poman- 
der j, brooch, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, 
glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-ring, to keep 
my pack from fasting: they throng who 
should buy first ; as if my trinkets had been 



hallowed, and brought a benediction to the 
buyer: by which means, I saw whose purse 
was best in picture ; and, what I saw, to njy 
good use, I remembered. My clown (who 
wants but something to be a reasonable man,) 
grew so in love with the wenches' song, that 
he would not stir his pettitoes, till he had both 
tune and words ; which so drew the rest of 
the herd to me, that all their other senses stuck 
in ears : you might have pinched a placket, it 
was senseless ; 'twas nothing, to geld a cod- 
piece of a purse ; I would have filed keys off, 
that hung in chains : no hearing, no feeling, 
but my sir's song, and admiring the nothing 
of it So that, in this time of lethargy, i 
picked and cut most of their festival purses : 
and had not the old man come in with a 
whoobub against his daughter and the king's 
son, and scared my choughs i from the chaff, 
I had not left a purse alive in the whole army. 
[Camillo, Fi.oRizEL, and Perdita, 
coniefortrard. [there 

Cam. Nay, but my letters by this means being 
So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt. 

Flo. And those that you'll procure from 
king Leontes, 

Cam. Shall satisfy your father. 

Per. Happy be you ! 

All, that you speak, shows fair. 

Cam. Who have we here? 

[Seewg AuTOLYCUS. 
We'll make an instrument of this ; omit 
Nothing, may give us aid. 

Aut. If they have overheard me now, ■ 
why hanging. [Aside. 

Cam. How now, good fellow ? Why shak- 
estthouso? Fear not man; here's no harm 
intended to thee. 

Aut. I am a poor fellow, sir. 

Cam. Why, be so still ; here's nobody will 
steal that from thee : Yet, for the outside of 
thy poverty, we must make an exchange : 
therefore, disease thee instantly, (thou must 
think, there's necessity in t,) and change gar- 
ments with this gentleman : Though the pen- 
nyworth, on his side, be the worst, yet hold 
thee, there's some boot||. 

Aut. 1 ara a poor fellow, sir : — I know ye 
well enough. [.4si'/^. 

Cam. Kay, pr'ythee, despatch: the gentle- 
man is half flayedH already. 

Aut. Are you in earnest, sir? — I smell the 
trick of it.— {Askie, 

Flo. Despatch, I pr'ythee. 

Avt. Inneed, I have had earnest; but 1 
cannot with conscience take it. 

Cam. Unbuckle, unbuckle. — 

[Flo. and AuiOL. exchafige garments. 
Fortunate mistress, — let my prophecy 
Come home to you !— you must retire yourself 
Into some covert : take your sweetheart's hat, 
And pluck it o'er your brows ; muffle } our face ; 
Dismantle you : and as you can, disliken 
The truth of your own seeming; that you may. 



• The council-days were called the sittings. f Conquer. t A littie baJ? made of per 

fumes, and worn to prevent infection in times of plague. $ Birds. Someihin 

over and above. ^ Stripped. 



328 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IF 



(For I do fear eyes over you,) to shipboard 
Get iindescried. 

Per. I see, the play so lies. 

That I must bear a part. 

Cam, No remedy. — 

Have you done there? 

Flo. Should I now meet my father. 

He would not call me son. 

C(im. Nay, you shall have 

No hat: — Come, lady, come. — Farewell, my 

Aut. Adieu, sir. [friend. 

Fio. Perdita, what have we twain forgot? 
Pray you, a woril. [They converse upart. 

Cam. What I do next, shall be, to tell the 
king [Aside. 

Of this escape, and whither they are bound ; 
Wherein, my hope is, I shall so prevail. 
To force him after: in whose company 
I shall review Sicilia; for whose sight 
I have a woman's longing. 

Flo. Fortune speed us! — 

Thus we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side. 

Cam. The swifter speed, the better. 

Exeunt Florizel, Perdita, and 
Camillo. 

Aut. I understand the business, I hear it : 
To have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble 
hand, is necessary for a cut-purse; a good nose 
is requisite also, to smell out work for the 
other senses. 1 see, this is the time that the 
unjust man doth thrive. What an exchange 
had this been, without boot I what a boot is 
here, with this exchange 1 Sure, the gods do 
this year connive at us, and we m;iy do auy 
thing extempore. The prince himself is about 
a piece of iniquity ; stealing away from his 
father, with his clog at his heels ; If I thought 
it were not a piece of honesty to acquaint the 
king withal, I would do't : I hold it the more 
knavery to conceal it : and therein am I con- 
slant to my profession. 

Enter Clown and Shepherd. 
Aside, aside ; — here is more matter for a hot 
brain : Every lane's end, every shop, church, 
session, hanging, yields a careful man work. 

Clo. See, see ; what a mnn you are now I 
there is no other way, but to tell the king she's 
a changeling, and none of your flesh and blood. 

S/iep. Nay, but hear me. 

Clo. Nay, but hear me. 

Skep. Go to then. 

Clo. She being none of your flesh and blood, 
your flesh and blood has not offended the 
king ; and, so, your flesh and blood is not to 
be punished by him. Show those things you 
found about her^ those secret things, all but 
wliat she has with her : This being done, let 
tht: law go whittle ; 1 warrant you. 

Shep. I will tell the king all, every word, 
yea, and his son's pranks too ; who, I may 
sny, is no honest man neither to his father, nor 
to me, to go about to make me the king's 
broiher-in-law. 

Clo. Indeed, broth( r-in-law was the furthest 
ott you could have been to him ; and then your 



blood had been the dearer, by I know hov» 
much an ounce. 

Aut. Very wisely; puppies! \ Aside. 

Shep. Well; let us to the king; there is 
that in this fardel ♦, will make him scratch 
his beard. 

Aut. 1 know not what impediment this 
complaint may be to the flight of my master. 

Clo. *Pray heartily he be at palace. 

Aut. Though 1 am not naturally honest, I 
am so sometimes by chance : — Let me pocktt 
up my pedlar's excrement t--[7\/ Are* o^ his 
false beard.] How now, rustics'? whither 
arc you bound ? 

Shep. To the palace, an it like your worship. 

Aut. Your affairs there ? what .' with whonj ? 
the condition of that fardel, the place of your 
dwelling, your names, your ages, of what hav- 
ing j, breeding, and any thing that is fitting to 
be known, discover. 

Clo. We are but plain fellows, sir. 

Aut. A lie ; you are rough and hairy: Let me 
have no lying; it becomes none but tradesmen, 
and they often give us soldiers the lie: but we 
pay them forit with stamped coin, not stabbing 
steel ; thereforp they do not give us the lie. 

Clo. Your worship had like to have given 
us one, if you had not taken yourself with the 
manner $. 

Shep. Are you a com tier, an't like yon, sir ? 

Aut. Whether it like me, or no, I am a 
courtier. See'st thou not the air ot the court, 
in these enfoldings? hath not my gait in it, the 
measure of the court jj? receives not thy nose 
court-odour from me ? reflect 1 not on thy base- 
ness, cuurt-conlenipt? Think'st thou, for that I 
insinuate, or tozelT from thee thy business, I 
am therefore no courtier? I am courtier, cap- 
a-p^ ; and one that will either push on, or 
pluck back thy business there : whereupon I 
command thee to open thy affair. 

Shep. My business, sir, is to the king. 

Aut. What advocate hast thou to him? 

Shep. I know not, an't like you. 

Clo. AdvocHte's the court-word for a phea 
sant ; say, you have none. 

Shep. None, sir ; I have no pheasant, cock, 
nor hen. 

Ant. How bless'd are we, that are not 
simple men ! 

Yet nature might have made me as these are. 
Therefore Pll not disdain. 

Clo. This cannot be but a great courtier. 

Shep. His garments are rich, but he wears 
them not handsomely. 

(Ho. He seems to be the more noble in being 
fant;»stical ; a great man, Pll warrant ; 1 know, 
by the picking on's teeth. 

Aut. The fardel there? what's i'the fardel ? 
Wherefore that box? 

Shep. Sir, there lies such secrets in this far^ 
del, and box, which none must know but the 
king ; and which he shall know within this 
hour, if 1 may come to the speech of him. 

Aut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour. 



• Bundle, parcel. t His false beard. t Estate, property. $ In the f^ct. 
II The stately tread of courtier*. H I cajole or force. 



Scene 111, 



WINTER'S TALE. 



329 



Shep. Why, sir? 

Aiit. The king is not at the palace; he is 
gone aboard a new ship to purge melancholy, 
and air himself: For, if thou be'st capable of 
things serious, thou must know, the king is 
full of grief. 

Shep. So 'tis said, sir; about his son, that 
should have married a shepherd's daughter. 

Auf:, If that shepherd be not in hand-fast, 
let him fly ; the curses he shall have, the tor- 
tures he shall feel, will break the back of man> 
the heart of monster. 

Clo. Think you so, sir? 

Aut. Not he alone shall suffer what wit can 
make heavy, and vengeance bitter ; but those 
that are germane * to him, though removed 
liMy times, shall all come under the hangman : 
which though it be great pity, yet it is neces- 
sary. An old sheep-whistling rogue, a ram- 
tender, to offer to have his daughter come into 
gr ice! Some say, he shall be stoned ; but that 
death is too soft tor him, say I ; Draw our 
throne into a sheep-cote! all deaths are too 
few, the sharpest too easy. 

Clo, Has the old man e*er a son, sir, do you 
hear, an't like you, sir'/ 

Aut. He has a son, who shall be flayed 
alive; then 'nointed over with honey, set on 
the head of a wasp's nest ; then stand, till he 
be three quarters and a dram dead : then re- 
covered again with aqua-vitae, or some other 
hot infusion: then, raw as he is, and in the 
hottest day prognostication proclaims f, shall 
lie be set against a brick wall, the sun looking 
^^ith a southward eye upon him ; where he is 
to behold him, with flies blown to death. But 
M hat talk we of these traitorly rascals, whose 
miseries are to be smiled at, their offences 
being so capital? Tell me, (for you seem to 
be honest plain men,) what you have to the 
king : being something gently considered +, Pll 
bring you where he is aboard, tender your 
persons to his presence, whisper him in your 
behalfs ; and, if it be in man, besides the king, 
to effect your suits, here is man, shall do it. 

Clo, He seems to be of great authority: 



close with him, give him gold ; and though au- 
thority be a stubborn bear, yet he is oft fed by 
the nose with gold: show the inside of your 
purse to the outside of his hand, and no more 
ado : Remember stoned, and flayed alive. 

Shep. An't please you, sir, to undertake the 
business for us, here is that gold I have : I'll 
make it as much more ; and leave this young 
man in pawn, till I bring it you. 

Aut. After I have done what I promised? 

Shep. Ay, sir. 

Aut, Well, give me the moiety :— 'Are you 
a party in this business? 

Clo. In some sort, sir : but though my case be 
a pitiful one, 1 hope I shall not be flayed out of it. 

Aut. O, that's the case of the shepherd's 
son: — Hang him, he'll be made an example. 

Clo. Comfort, good comfort: we must to 
the king, and show our strant^e sights ; he must 
know, 'tis none of your daughter nor my sis- 
ter; we are gone else. Sir, 1 will give you 
as much as this old man does, when the bnsi 
ness is performed; and remain, as he says 
your pawn, till it be brought you. 

Aut. I will trust you. Walk before toward 
the sea-side; go on the right hand; I will but 
look upon the hedge, and follow you. 

Clo. We are blessed in this man, as I may 
say, even blessed. 

Shep. liet's before, as he bids us: he was 
provided to dousgood. [Ex. Shep. and Clo. 

Aut, If I had a mind to be honest, I see, 
fortune would not suffer me; she drops booties 
in my mouth. I am courted now with a 
double occasion; gold, and a means to do the 
prince my master good ; which, who knows 
how that may turn back to my advancement? 
I will bring these two moles, these blind ones, 
aboard him : if he think it fit to shore them 
again, and that the complaint they have to the 
king concerns him nothing, let him call me, 
rogue, for being so far officious; for I am 
proof against that title, and what shame else 
belontjs to't : To him will I present them, 
there mav be matter in it. 

{Exit, 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. Sicilia. A Room in the Palace 
of Leoptes. 

JEw^er Leontes,, Cleomenes, Dion, Pau- 
lina, and Others. 

Cleo, Sir, you have done enough, and have 

perform'd 
A saint-like sorrow : no fault could you make. 
Which you have not redeem'd; indeed, paid 

down [last. 

More penitence, than done trespass: At the 
Do, as the heavens have done; forget your 
With them, forgive yourself. [evil; 

l^ton. Whilst I remember 

Her, and her virtues, I cannot forget 
Wy blemishes in theui; and so still think of 



The wrong I did myself: which was so much, 
That heirless it hath made my kingdom ; and 
Destroy'd the sweet'st companion, that e'er 
Bred his hopes out of. [man 

Paul, True, too true, my lord : 

If, one by one, you wedded all the world. 
Or, from the all that are, took something good. 
To make a perfect woman ; she, you kill'd. 
Would be uuparallel'd. 

L,fon. I think so. Kill'd! 

She I kill'd? 1 did so: but thou strikest me 
Sorely to say I did ; it is as bitter [good now. 
Upon thy tongue, as in my thought: Now, 
Say so but seldom. 

('leo. Not at all, good lady : [would 

You might iiave spoken a thonsan(l things that 



' Related. t The hottest day foretold in the almanac. 



t B*'in«: handsomely bribed. 
2F3 



330 



SHAKSPE4RE. 



[Art K 



Have done the time more benefit, and graced 
Yonr kindness belter. 

Paul. You are one of those, 

WoiiKi have him wed ag>fin. 

Dion. If yon would not so, 

You pity not the state, nor the remembrance 
Of his most sovereign dame; consider little. 
What dangers, by his Highness' fail of issue, 
May drop upon his kingdom, and devour 
Incettain lookers-on. What were more holy, 
Than to rejoice, the former queen is well * J 
AV hat holler, than, — for royalty's repair, 
For present comfort and for future good, — 
To bless the bed of majesty again 
AVith a sweet fellow to't 1 

Paul. There is none worthy, 

Respecting her that's gone. Besides, the gods 
Mill have fulfill'd their secret purposes : 
For has not the divine Apollo said, 
Is't not the tenour of his oracle. 
That kine; Leontes shall not have an heir, 
Till his lost child be found I which, that it shall. 
Is all as monstrous to our human reason. 
As my Antigonus to break his grave, 
And come again to me ; who, on my life. 
Did perish with the infant. Tis your counsel. 
My lord should to the heavens be contrary, 
Oppose agninst their wills. — Care not for 
issue; [7Y) Leontes. 

The crown will find an heir: Gre;it Alexander 
Left his to the worthiest; so his successor 
Was like to be the best. 

Leon. Good Paulina, — 
Who hast the memory of Hermione, 
I know, in honour, — O, that ever [ [now. 
Had squared me to thy counsel! — then, even 
1 might have Jook'd upon my queen's full.eyes ; 
Have taken treasure from her lips, 

Paul. And left them 

More rich, for what they yielded. 

Leon, Thou speak'st truth. 

No more such wives ; therefore, no wife ; one 

worse. 
And better used, would make her sainted spirit 
Again possess her corpse ; and, on this stage 
(VVhere we olfenders now appear,) soul- 
Begin, 4«d why to me? [vexed, 

Paul. Had she such power. 

She had just cause. 

Leon. She had; and would incenset me 
To murder her I married. 

Paul. I should so: 

Were I the ghost that walk'd, I'd bid you mark 
Her eye ; and tell me, for what dull part in't 
You chose her: then I'd shriek, that even your 
ears [followM 

ShouM riftt to hear me ; and the words that 
Should be, Remember 7nine. 

Lfon. Stars, very stars, 

And all eyes else dead coaUl — fear thou no 
I'll have no wife, Paulina. [wife, 

Paul. Will you swear 

Never to marry, but by my free leave? 

Li on. Never, Paulina: so be bless'd my 
spirit I 



Piiul. Then, good my lords, bear witness to 

Cleo. You tempt him over much, [his oath. 

Paul. Unless another. 

As like Hermione as is her picture, 
AftVont j his eye. 

Cleo. Good madam, — 

Paul. 1 have done. 

Yet, if my lord will marry, — if you will, sir, 
No remedy, bat you will; give me the oJlice 
To choose you a queen : she shall not be so 

young 
As was your former; but she shall be such. 
As, walk'd } our first queen's ghost, it should 
To see her in your arms. [take joy 

Leon. My true Paulina, 

We shall not marry, till thou bidd'st us. 

Paul. That 

Shall be, when your first queen's agun in 
Never till then. [breath ; 

Enter a Gentleman. 

Gent. One that gives out himself prince 
Florizel, 
Son of Polixenes, with his princess, (she 
The fairest I have yet beheld,^ desires access 
To your high presence. 

Leon. What with him ? he comes not 
Like to his father's greatness : his approa. h, 
So out of circumstance, and sudden, tells us 
'Tis not a visitation framed, but forced 
By need, and accident What train ? 

Gent. But few. 

And those but mean. 

Leon. His princess, say you, with him? 

Gent. Ay; the most peerless piece of earth, 
That e'er the sun shone- bright on. [I think, 

Paul. O Hermione, 

As every present time doth boast itself 
Above a better, gone; so must thy grave 
Give way to what's seen now. Sir, you yourself 
Have said, and writ so, (but your writing now 
Is colder than that theme ||,) Sue Uad ?iot been^ 
Norwas not to be equaU'd;— thus youv\er&e 
Flow'd with her beauty once ; 'tis shrewdly 
To say, you have seen a better. [ebb'd, 

Gent, Pardon, madam. 

The one I have almost forgot ; (your pardon.) 
The other, when she has obtaiu'd your eye, 
Will have your tongue too. This is such a 

creature, 
Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal 
Of all professors else : make proselytes 
Of who she but bid follow. 

Paul. How ? not women ? 

Gent. Women will love her, that she is a 
woman 
More worth than any man ; men, that she is 
The rarest of all women. 

Leon, Go, Cleomenes: 

Yourself, assisted with yourhonour'd friends. 

Bring them to our embracement. — Still 'tis 

strange, 

[Exe'nit Cleo., Lords, and Gentlemen. 

He thus should steal upon us. 

Paul. Had our prince, 

(Jewel of children,) seen this hour,be had pair'd 



• At rest, dead. t Instigate. t Split. § Meet. 

U i. e. Than the corse of Hermione, the subject of yonr writing. 



Scene //J 



\vimi:r's talk 



S31 



Well with this lord; there was not full a 
Between their births. [month 

Leon, Pr*ythee, nomore; thou know*st 
He dies to me again, when talk'd of: sure, 
"W'hen I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches 
"Will bring me to consider that, which may 

Unfurnish me of reason. — They are come. 

ite-ewier CleomeneSjWz^^Fi.orizeLjPer- 
dita, and Attendants. 
Yonr mother was most trneto wedlock, prince ; 
For she did print your royal father off, 
Conceiving you : Were I but twenty-one, 
Your father's image is so hit in you, 
His very air, that I should call you brother, 
As I did him ; and speak of something, wildly 
By us perform'd before. Most dearly welcome ! 
And your fair princess, goddess ! — O, alas! 
I lost a couple, that 'twixc heaven and earth 
Might thus have stood, begetting wonder, as 
You, gracious couple, do! and then I lost 
(All mine own folly,) the society, 
Amity too, of your brave father; whom, 
Though bearing misery, I desire my life 
Once more to look upon. 

Flo. By his command 

Have 1 here touch'd Sicilia : and from him 
Give you all greetings, that a king, at friend, 
Can send his brother: and, but intirmity 
(Which waitsupon worn times,) hath sometliing 
ilis wish'd ability, he had himself [seized 
The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and his 
Measur'd to look upon you ; whom he loves 
(He bade me say so,) more than all the scep- 
And those that bear them, living. [trcs, 

Leon. O, my brother, 

(Good gentleman !) the wrongs I have done 

thee, stir 
Afresh within me; and these thy offices. 
So rarely kind, are as interpreters [ther, 

Of my behindhand slackness! — Welcome hi- 
As is the spring to the earth. And hath he too 
Exposed this paragon to the fearful usage 
(At least, ungentle,) of the dreadful Neptune, 
To greet a man, not worth her pains ; much less 
Th€ adventure of her person \ 

Flo. Good my lord. 

She came from Libya. 

Leon. Where the warlike Smalus, 

That noble honour'd lord, is fear'd and loved I 

Flo. Most royal sir, from thence ; from him 

whose daughter [thence 

His tears proclaim'd his, parting with her 

(A prosperous south-wind friendly,) we have 

cross'd. 
To execute the charge ray father gave me. 
Pint visiting your highness: My best train 
I have from your Sicilian sliores dismiss'd; 
Who for Bohemia bend, to signify 
Not only my success in Libya, sir, 
But my arrival, and my wife's, in safety 
Here, where we are. 

Leon. The blessed gods 

Purge all infection from our air, wtiilst you 
Uo climate here! You have a holy father, 
A graceful * gentleman ; against whoj»€ person. 



So sacred as it is, I have done sin : 
For which the heavens taking angry note, 
Have lert me issueless ; and your father's bless'd 
(As he from heaven merits it,) with you, (been. 
Worthy his goodness. What might I have 
Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on. 
Such goodly things as you? 

Enter a Lord. 

Lord. Most noble sir, 

That, which I shall report, will bear no credit. 
Were not the proof so nigh. Please you great sir, 
Bohemia greetii you from himself, by me: 
Desires you to attach t his son; who has 
(His dignity and duty both cast cff,) 
Fled from his father, from his hopes, and will 
A shepherd's daughter. 

Leon. Where's Bohemia? speak. 

Lord. Here in the city ; I now came from 
him. 
I speak amazedly ; and it becomes 
My marvel, and my message. To yonr conrl 
W hiles he was hastening, (in 1 he chase, it seems. 
Of this fair couple,) meets he on the way 
The father of this seeming lady, and 
Her brother, having both their country quitted 
With this young prince. , 

Flo. Camillo has betray'd me; 

Whose honour, and whose honesty, till now. 
Endured all weathers. 

Lord. Lay't so, to his charge ; 

He's with the king your father. 

Leon. Who? Camillo? 

Lord. Camillo, sir; I spake with him ; who 
now 
Has these poor men in question J. Never saw I 
Wretches so quake : they kneel, they kiss the 

earth ; 
Forswear themselves as often as they speak: 
Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them 
With divers deaths in death. 

Per. O, my poor fathci ! — 

The heaven sets spies upon us, will not have 
Our contract celebrated. 

Leon. You are married? 

Flo. We are not, sir, nor are we like to be; 
The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first: — 
The odds for high and low's alike §. 

Leon. My lord. 

Is this the daughter of a king? 

Flo, She is. 

When once she is my wife. [speed, 

Leon. That once, 1 see, by yonr good lather's 
Will come on very slowly. I am sorry, 
Most sorry, you have broken from his liking. 
Where yof. were tied in duty: and as sorry. 
Your choice is not so rich in worth \\ as beauty, 
Tliat you might well enjoy her. 

Fio. Dear, lookup: 

Though fortune, visible an enemy, 
Should chase us, with my father; power no jot 
Hath she, to change our loves. — 'Beseech you, 
Remember since yt>u owed no more to lin)e [sir. 
Than 1 do now: with thought of such atteciiuus. 
Step forth mine advocate; at your request. 
My father will grant precious things as trifles. 



' Full of ffrace and virtue. t Seize, arrest. 

% A quibble on the false dice so called. 



X Conversation. 
Descent or wealth. 



.3:? 2 



SIJAKSPEARE. 



[Ace p 



Leo?i. Would he do so, I'd beg your precious 
mistress, 
Which he counts but a trifle. 

Pavi. Sir, my liece, 

Your eye hath too much youth iii't: not a month 
'Fore your queen died, she was more worth 
Than what you look on now. [such gaze* 

Leon. I thought of her. 

Even in these looks I made.— But your petition 
[ToFlorizel. 
Is yet unanswer'd : I will to your father; 
Your honour not (»'erthrown by your desires, 
1 am a friend to them, and you: upon which 

errand 
I now go toward him; therefore, follow rhe 
And njark what way I make : Come, good my 
lord. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. Tltesame. Before the Palace. 
Enter AuTOLYCUs and a Gentleman. 

Aut. 'Beseech you, sir, were you present at 
this relation? 

1 Gent. I was by at the opening of the fardel, 
heard the old shepherd deliver the manner how 
he found it: whereupon, after a little amazed- 
ness, we were aM commanded out of the cham- 
ber; only this,methought I heard the shepherd 
say, he found the child. [it. 

Atit. I would most gladly know the issue of 

1 GeJit. I make a broken delivery of the 
business : — But the changes I perceived in the 
king, and Camillo, were very notes of admi 
ration : they seemed almost, with staring on 
one another, to tear the cases of their eyes : 
there was speech in their dumbness, language 
in their very gesture ; they looked, as they had 
heard of a world ransomed, or one destroyed : 
A notable passion of wonder appeared in them : 
but the wisest l)eholder, that knew no more but 
seeing, could not say, if the importance* were 
joy , or sorrow : but in the extremity of the oue, 
it must needs be 

Enter another Gentleman. 
Here comes a gentleman, that, happily, knows 
The news, Rogero? [more: 

2 Gent. Nothing but bonfires : The oracle is 
fulfilled ; the king's daughter is found : such a 
deal of wonder is broken out within this hour, 
that ballad-makers cannot be able to express it. 

Enter a third Gentleman. 
Here comes the lady Paulina's steward ; he can 
deliver you more. — How goes it now, sir? this 
news, which is called true, is so like an old tale, 
that the verity of it is in strong suspicion : Has 
the king found his heir? 

3 Gent. Most true; if ever truth were preg- 
nant by circumstance: that, which you hear, 
you'll swear you see, there is such unity in the 
proofs. I he mantle of queen llermione :— her 
jewel about the neck of it : — the letters of An- 
tigoniis, found with it, which they know to be 
his character: — the majesty of the (reature,in 
resemblance of the mother :— the attectiont of 
nobleness, which nature shows above her breed- 
ing, — and many other evidences, proclaim her. 



with all certainty, to be the king's daughter. 
Did you see the meeting of the two kings I 

2 Gent. No. 

3 Gent. Then have you lost a sight, which wa* | 
to be seen, cannot be spoken of. J here might 
you have beheld one joy crown another; so, 
and in such manner, that, it seemed, sorrow 
wept to take leave of them ; for their joy waded 
in tears. Theie was casting up of eyes, holding 
up of hands; with countenance of such dis- 
traction, that they were to be known by gar- 
ment, not by favour |. Our king, being ready to 
leap out of himself for joy of his found daughter; 
as if that joy were now become a loss, cries, 
Oy thy mot her y thy mother ! then asks Bohemia 
forgiveness ; then embraces his son-in-law ; then 
again worries lie his daughter, with clipping o 
her; now he thanks the old shepherd, which 
stands by , like a weather-bitten conduit of many 
kings' reigns. I never heard of such another 
encounter, which lames report to follow it, and 
undoes description to do it. 

2 Gent. What, pray you, became of Antigo- 
nus, that carried hence the child? 

3 Gent. Like an old tale still; which will 
have matter to rehearse,though credit be asleep, 
and not an ear open : He was torn to pieces 
with a bear; tnis avouches the shepherd's son; 
who has not only his innocence, (which seems 
much,) to justify him, hut a handkerchief, and 
rings, of his, that Paulina knows. 

1 Gent. What became of his bark, and hi* 
followers? 

3 Gent. Wrecked, the same instant of theit 
master's death ; and in the view of tiie shep 
herd : so that all the instruments, which aided 
to expose the chiid,were even then lost, when 
it was found. But, O, the noble combat, that, 
'twixt joy and sorrow, was fought in Paulina! 
She had one eye declined for the loss of her 
husband ; another elevated that the oracle 
was fulfilled: She lifted the princess from the 
earth; and so locks her in embracing, as if she 
would pin her to her heart, that she might no 
more be in danger of losing. 

1 Gent. The dignity of this act was worth the 
audience of kings and princes ; for by such was 
it acted. 

3 Gent, One of the prettiest touches of all, 
and that which angled for mine eyes (caught 
the water though not the fish,)^was, when at 
the relation of the queen's death, with the 
manner how she came to it, (bravely coafessed, 
and lamented by the king,) how attentiveness 
wounded his daughter: till, from one sign ot 
dolour to another, she did, with an alas! I 
would fain say, bleed tears; for, I am sure, 
my heart wept blood. Who was most marble 
there ||, changed colour ; some swooned, all sor- 
rowed : if all the world could have seen it, the 
woe had been universal. 

1 Gent. Are they returned to the court? 

2 Gent. No: the princess, hearing of her 
mother's statue, which is in the keeping of , 
Paulina, a piece many years in doing, anj 



• The thmg imported. t Disposition or quality. t Cornlenance,fe.iiuies. 

j Embracing. H Most petrifud with w^udtr. 



Scene //.]• 



WINTER'S TALE. 



S33 



now newly performed by that rare Italian mas- 
ter, Julio Romano ; who, had he himself eter- 
nity, and could put breath into his work, would 
beguile nature of her custom, so perfectly he is 
her ape : he so near to Hermione hath done 
Herniione, that, they say, one would speak to 
her, and stand in hope of answer : thither, with 
all greediness of affection, are they gone; and 
there they intend to sup. 

2 Gent. I thought, she had some great matter 
therein hand ; for she hath privately, twice or 
thrice a day, ever since the death of Hermione, 
visited that removed* house. Shall we thither, 
and with our company piece the rejoicing? 

1 Gent. Who would be thence, that has the 
benefit of access? every wink of an eye, some 
new grace will be born : our absence makes us 
unthrifty to our knowledge. Let's along. 

\_Exeunt Gentlemen. 

Aut. Now, had I not the dash of my former 
life in me, would preferment drop on my head. 
1 brought the old man and his son aboanl the 
prince ; told him, I heard him talk of a fardel, 
and I know not what: but he, at that time, over- 
fond of the shepherd's daughter, (so he then 
took her to be,) who began to be much sea- 
sick, and himself little better, extremity of 
weather continuing, this mystery remained 
undiscovered. But 'tis all one to me : for had 
I been the finder-out of this secret, it would 
«iot have relished among my other discredits. 

Enter Shepherd and Clown. 
Here come those I have done good to, against 
my will, and already appearing in the blossoms 
of their fortune. 

Shtj). Come, boy ; I am past more children ; 
but thy sons and daughters will be all gentle- 
men born» 

Clo. You are well met, sir: You denied to 
fight with me this other day, because I was no 
gentleman born: See you these clothes ? say , you 
see them not, and think me still no gentleman 
born : you were best say, these robes are not 
gentlemen born. Give me the lie; do; and 
try whether I am not now a gentleman born. 

Aut, I know, you are now, sir, a gentleman 
born. 

Clo, Ay, and have been so any time these 
four hours. 

Shep. And so have I, boy. 

Clo. So you have:— but 1 was a gentleman 
born before my father: for the king's son took 
me by the hand, and called me, brother; and 
then the two kings called my father, brother; 
and then the prince, my brother, and the 
princess, my sister, called my father, father; 
and so we wept: and there was the first gen- 
tleman-like tears that ever we shed. 

Shep. We may live, son, to shed many more. 

Clo. Ay ; or else 'twere hard luck, being in 
Eo preposterous estate as we are. 

Aut. I humbly beseech yon, sir, to pardon 
me all the faults I have committed to your 
worship, and to give me your good report to 
the prince my master. 



Shep. 'Pr'ythee, son, do; folr we must be 
gentle, now we are gentlemen. 

Clo. Thou wilt amend thy life? 

Aut. Ay, an it like your good worship. 

Clo. Give me thy hand : 1 will swear to the 
prince, thou art as honest a true fellow as any 
is in Bohemia. 

Shep. You may say it, but not swear it. 

C^o, Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? 
Let boors and frank lins+ say it, I'll swear it. 

Shep. How if it be false, son? 

Clo. If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman 
may swear it, in the behalf of his friend :— And 
I'll swear to the prince, thou art a tallj fellow 
of thy hands, and that thou wilt not be drunk ; 
but 1 know, thou art no tall fellow of thy 
hands, and that thou wilt be drunk; but I'll 
swear It : and I would, thou would'st be a tall 
fellow of thy hands. 

Aut. I will prove so, sir, to my power, 

Clo. Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow : 
If I do not wonder, how thou darest venture 
to be drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust me 
not. — H ark ! the kings and the princes, our kin- 
dred, are going to see the queen's picture. Come, 
follow us : we'll be thy good masters. {Exeunt, 

SCENE III. The same. A Room in Pau- 
lina's House, 
Enter Leontes, Polixenes, Florizel, 

Perdita, Camillo, Paulina, Lords, and 

Attendants. 

Leon. O grave and good Paulina, the great 
That I have had of thee! [comfort 

Paul. What, sovereign sir, 

I did not well, I meant well : All my services. 
You have paid home : but that you have 
vouchsafed [contracted 

With your crovt'n'd brother, and these your 
Heirs of yourkingdoms, my poor house to visit. 
It is a surplus of your grace, which never 
My life may last to answer. 

Leon. O Paulina, 

We honour you with trouble: But we came 
To see the statue of our queen : your gallery 
Have we pass'd through, not without much 
In many singularities ; but we saw not [content 
That which my daughter came to look upon. 
The statue of her mother. 

Paul. As she lived peerless. 

So her dead likeness, I do well believe. 
Excels whatever yet you look'd upon, 
Or hand of man hath done ; therefore I keep it 
Lonely, apart : But here it is : prepare 
To see the life as lively mock'd, as ever [well. 
Still ^leep mock'd death : behold ; and say, 'tis 
[Paulina undrutos a Curtain, and dis 
covers a statue, 
I like your silence, it the more shows off" 
Your wonder: But yet speak; — first, you, my 
Comes it not something near? [lie^e. 

Leon. Her natural posture! — 

Chide me, dear stone; that I may say, inched 
Thou art Hermione: or, rather, thou art she» 
In thy not chiding; for she was as tender 
As infancy, and grace. — But yet, Paulina, 



• Remote. 



t Yeomen. 



t Stotit. 



33 4< 



S'JAICSPKARK. 



[Ari P, 



HtTinioue wasnot SO inach wrinkled; nothing 
So aued, as this seems. 

Pol. O, not by much. [lence; 

PaiiL So much the more our carver's excel- 
Which lets go by some sixteen years, and 
As she lived now. [makes her 

Leon. As now she might have done, 

So much to my good comfort, as it is 
Now piercing to my soul. O, thus *he stood, 
Even with such lite of majesty, (warm lire, 
Asnowitcohlly stands,) when first 1 woo'd her! 
1 am ashamed : Does not the stone rebuke me, 
For being more stone thanit?—0, royal piece, 
I'here's m.igic in thy majesty; which has 
My evils conjured to remembrance ; and 
Fr«)m thy admiring daugliter took the spirits, 
Standing like stone with thee! 

Per. And give me leave ; 

And do not say, 'tis superstition, that 
I kneel, and then implore her blessing. — Lady, 
Dear queen, that ended when 1 but began. 
Give me that hand of yours, to kiss. 

Paul. O, patience; 

The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour's 
"Sot dry. [laid on ; 

Cam. My lord, yonr sorrow was too sore 
Which sixteen winters cannot blow away, 
So many summers, dry: scarce any joy 
iJid ever so long live; no sorrow. 
But kill'd itself much sooner. 

Pol. Dear my brother, 

Let him, that was the causeof this, have power 
To take oft so much grief from you, as he 
Will piece up in himself. 

Paul. Indeed, my lord. 

If I had thought, the sight of my poor image 
Would thus have wrought* you, (for the stone 
I'd not have show'd it. [is mine) 

Leon. Do not draw the curtain. 

Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't; lest 
May think, anon, it moves. [your fancy 

Leon. Let be, let be. [ready — 

Would I were dead, but that, methinks al- 
What was he, that did makeUf — See. my 
lord, [those veins 

Would you not deem, it breathed? and that 
Did verily bear blood? 

Pol. Masterly done : 

The very life seems warm upon her lip. [in'tf 

Leon. The fixure of her eye has motion 
Asl we are mock'd with art. 

Paul. I'll draw the curtain ; 

My lord's almost so far transported, that 
He'll think, anon, it lives. 

Leon. () sweet Paulina, 

Make me to think so twenty years together; 
No settled senses of the world can match 
The pleasme of that madness. Let 't alone. 

Paul. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd 
I could afflict you further [you : but 

Leon. Do, Paulina; 

For this affliction has a taste as sweet 
As any cordial comfort. — Still, methinks, [sel 
There is an air comes from her : What fine chi- 
Could ever yet cut breath? Let no man mock 
Fur 1 will kiss her. [me. 



Paul. Good my lord, forbear : 

The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; 
You'll mar it, if you kiss it; stain your own 
With oily pdintiug : Shall I draw the curtain! 

Leon. No, not these twenty years. 

Per. So long could I 

Stand by, a looker-on. 

Paul. Either forbear. 

Quit presently the chapel ; or resolve you 
For more amazement : If you can behold it, 
I'll make the- statue move indeed ; descend, 
And lake you by the hand : but then you'll 
(Which I protest against,) I am assisted [think. 
By wicked powers. 

Leon. What you can make her do, 

I am content to look on : what to speak, 
I am content to hear ; for 'tis as easy 
To make her speak, as move. 

Paul. It is required, [still ; 

You do awake your faith : Then, all stand 
Or those, that think it is unlawful business 
I am about, let them depart. 

Lton. Proceed; 

No foot shall stir. 

Paul. Music; awake her: Btrike.— 

[Music, 
'Tis time ; descend ; be stone no more : ap- 
proach ; 
Strike all that look upon with marvel. Come ; 
I'll fill your grave up : stir; nay, come away : 
Bequeath to death your numbness, for from him 
Dear life redeems you — Y ouperceive,she stirs : 
[ H E R .M u ) N E conies down from the Pedestal, 
Start not: her actions shall be holy, as. 
You hear, my spell is lawful : do not shun her. 
Until you see her die again; for then 
You kill her double : N ay, present your hand : 
When she was young, you woo'd her; now, in 
Is she become the suitor. [age, 

Jjeon. O, she's warm! [Embracing her. 
If this be magic, let it be an art 
Lawful as eating. 

Pol. She embraces him. 

Cam. She hangs about his neck ; 
If she pertain to life, let her speak too. 

Pol. Ay, and make't manifest where she 
Or, how stolen from the dead ? [has lived, 

Paul, That she is living. 

Were it but told yoo, should be hooted al 
Like an old tale; but it appears, she lives, 
Though yet she speak not. Mark a little while. — 
Please you to interpose, fair madam ; kneel. 
And pray your mother's blessing. — Turn, good 
Our Perdita is found. [lady ; 

Presenting P£RDiTA,ft'Ao kneels to Her- 

MI ONE. 

Her. You gods, look down, 

And from your sacred vials pour your graces 
Upon my daughter's head! — Tell me, mine own, 
W here hast thou been preserved where lived? 

how found 
Thy father's court? for thou shalt hear, that 
Knowing by Paulina, that the oracle [I, — 
Gave hope thou M-ast in being, — have pre- 
M>self, to see the issue. [^et vt-t] 

Puul, There's time enough for that ; 



Woiked agitated, f ».^..Thouyh her eye bf^ fixed it seems to hare motion i'.: it. \ Af ii 



^^:fne JII,'\ 



WIJXTE& S TALE. 



3.3.5 



I>-*t they desire, upoD this push to trouble 
Your joys with like relation. — Go together, 
You precious winners* all; your exultation 
Partake+to every one. I, an old turtle. 
Will wing me to some witlier'd bough; and 
My mate, that's never to be found again, [there 
Lament till I am lost. 

Leon. O peace, Paulina ; 

Thou should'st a husband take by my consent, 
As I by thine, a wife : this is a match, [mine ; 
And made between's my vows. Thou hast found 
J.'ut how, is to be question'd : for I saw her. 
As I thought, dead ; and have, in vain, said 

many 
A prayer upon her grave: I'll not seek far 
(For him, I partly know his mind,) to find thee < 



An honourable husband : — Come, Camillo, 
And take her by the hand : whose worth, and 
Is richly noted; and here justified [honesty. 
By us, a pair of kings. — Let's from this place.— 
What? — Look upon my brother: — both your 

pardons. 
That e'er I put between your holy looks 
My ill suspicion. — This your son-in-law. 
And son unto the king, (whom heavens di- 
recting,) [Una, 
I3 troth-plight to your daughter. — Good Pau- 
Lead us from hence; where we may leisurely 
Each one demand, and answer to his part 
Perform'd in this wide gap of time, since first 
We were dissever'd ; Hastily lead away. 

{Exeunt. 



• You who by this discovery have gained what yon desired. 



f Participate, 



j This play, as Dr. Warbnrton justly observes, is, with all its absurdities, verv entertainijig. 
I The character of Autolycus is naturaUy conceived, and strongly reore^nted. — Johnson. 



COMEDY OF ERRORS. 



^crgon^ veprc^catcti^ 



So LIN us, duke of Ephesus, 
iEGEON, a merchant of Syracuse. 
AntifholusJ^^^,.^ Ij-Qll^ers, and sons to 
oj tpnesus, {^gg^n ^,nd yEmilia, but un- 

oJ .Syracuse,) 
^%^V^ '^ 1 twin brothers, and Attend- 

Syracuse, J 
Balthazar, a merchant. 



Angelo, a goldsmith. 

A Merchant, friend to Antipholus of SyrtP- 

cuse. 
Pinch, a schoolmaster, and a conjurer. 

Mm ILIA, wife to ^geon, an abbess at Ephe 

sus. 
ADRi/ifi\,wifetoAntipholus of Ephesus. 
LuciANA, her sister. 
Luce, her servatit, 
A Courtezan. 



Gaoler, Officers, and other Attendants, 
Scene, — Ephesus, 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. A Hall in the Duke's Palace. 

Enter Duke, uEgeon, Gaoler, Officer, and 
other Attendants. 

JEg. Proceed, Solinus, to procure my fall, 
And, bj' thedoomof death, end woes and all. 

Duke, Merchant of Syracusa,plead no more ; 
I am not partial, to infringe our laws : 
The enmity and discord, which of late [duke 
Sprunaj from the rancorotjs outrage of your 
It) merchants, our well-dealing countrymen,— 
Who, wanting gilders* to redeem their lives, 
Have seal'd his rigorous statutes with their 

blood*, — 
Excludes all pity from our threat'ning looks. 
For, since the mortal and intestine jars 
Twixt thy seditious countrymen and us. 
It hath in solemn synods been decreed, 
JJoth by the Syracusans and ourselves, 
To ailmit no traffic to our adverse towns : 
]Say, more. 

If' any born at Ephesus, be seen 
At any Syracusan martsf and fairs. 
Again, If any Syracusan born, 
Come to the bay of Ephesus, he dies, 
His goods confiscate to the duke's dispose; 
links* a thousand marks be levied. 
To quit the penalty, and to ransnme him. 
Thy substance, valued at the highest rate, 
Cannot amount unto a hundred marks ; 
Therefore, by law thou art condemn'*! to die, 

yEge. Yet this my comlort ; when your 
words are done, 
My woeji end likewise with the evening sun. 

Oukt. Well, Syracusan, say, in brief, the 
cause 
Why ihou departedst from thy native home ; 
And for what cause thou cam'st to Ephesus. 

j£gt. A heavier task could not have been 
iio pored, 



Than I to speak my griefs unspeakable : 
Yet, that the world may witness, that my end 
Was wrought by nature:, not by vile offence, 
I'll utter what my sorrow gives me leave. 
In Syracusa was I born ; and wed 
Unto a woman, happy but for me. 
And by me too, had not our hap been bad. 
With her 5 lived in joy ; our wealth increased, 
By prosperous voyages I often made 
To Epidamnuin, till my factor's death; 
And he (great care of goo<ls at random left) 
Drew me from kind embracements of my 
spouse : [old 

From whom my absence was not six months 
Before herself (almiSt at fainting, under 
The pleasing punisnment that women bear,) 
Had made provision for her following me. 
And soon, and safe, arrived where I was. 
There she had not been long, but she became 
A joyful mother of two goodly sons ; [other. 
And, which was strange, the one so like the 
As could not be disiingiiishd but by names. 
That very hour, and in the self-same inn, 
A poor mean woman was delivered 
Of such a burden, male twins, both alike: 
Those, for their parents were exceeding poor, 
[ bought, and brought up to attend m> sons. 
My wife, not meanly proud of tMo such boys, 
Made daily motions for our home return : 
Unwilling I agreed ; alas, too soon. 
We came aboard : 

A league from Epidamnnm had we sail'd. 
Before the alwaya-wind-obeying deep 
Gave any tragic instance of our harm : 
Hut longer did we not retain much hope; 
Fur what obscured light the heavens did grant 
Did but convey unto our fearful minds 
A douhtful warrant of immediate death; 
SV hich. tnough myself would gladly have eiTV 
Yet the incessant weepings of njy wife,[brac*;d 



• Aauie of a coin. 



t Markets. 



Natural afiectiou. 



dCtfWC /.. 



COMEDY OF EHHORS. 



S37 



Weeping before for what she saw most come. 
And piteoas plainings of the pretty babes, 
That monrn'd for fashion, ignorant what to fear, 
Forced me to seek delays for them and me. 
And this it was, — for other means was none. — 
The sailors son^ht for safety by our boat, 
And left the ship, then sinking-ripe, to us : 
My wife, more careful for the latter-born, 
Had fastened him unto a small spare mast, 
Such as sea-faring men provide for storms ; 
To him one of the other twins was bound. 
Whilst I had been like heedful of the other. 
The children thus disposed, my wife and I, 
Fixing our eyes on whom our care was fix'd, 
Fasten'd ourselves at either end the mast ; 
And floating straight, obedient to the stream. 
Were carried towards Corinth, as we thought 
At length the sun, gazing upon the earth. 
Dispersed those vapours that offended us ; 
And, by the benefit of his wish'd light. 
The seas wax'd calm, and we discovered 
Two ships from far making amain to us. 
Of Corinth that, of Epidaurus this : 
But ere they came, — O, let me say no more ! 
Gather the sequel by that went before. [ofFso ; 
Duke. ]Say. forward, old man, do not break 
For wc may pity, though not pardon ihee. 

JEge. O, had the gods done so, I had not now 
Worthily term'd them merciless to usl 
For, ere the ships could meet by twice five 

leagues. 
We were encounterM by a mighty rock ; 
Which being violently borne upon, 
Our helpful ship was splitted in the midst. 
So that, in this unjust divorce ( f us. 
Fortune had left to L oth of us alike 
What to delight in, what to sorrow for. 
Her part, poor soul ! seeming as burdened 
With lesser weight, but not with lesser woe. 
Was carried with more speed before the wind ; 
And in our sight they three were taken up 
By fishermen of Corinth, as we thought. 
At length, another ship had seized on us! 
And, knowing whom it was their hap to save, 
Gave helpful welcome to their shipwrecked 

guests ; 
And would have reft * the fishers of their prey, 
Had not their bark been very slow of sail. 
And therefore homeward did they bend their 

course. — 
Thus have you heard me gever'd from my bliss ; 
That by misfortunes was my life prolong'd. 
To tell sad stories of my own mishaps. 

Dukp. And, for the sake of them thou sor- 
Do me the favour to dilate at full [row est for, 
What hath befall'n of them, and thee, till now. 
^gc. My youngest boy, and yet my eldest 
At eighteen years became inquisitive [care. 
After his brother ; and importuned me. 
That his attendant, (for his case was like, 
Uett of his brothei-, but reiain'd his name,) 
Might bear him company in the quest of him : 
Whom whilst 1 laboured of a love to see, 
I hazarded the loss of whom I loved. 
Five summers have 1 spent in furthest Greece, 



Roaming clean + through the boiwids of Asia, 
And, coasting homeward, came to Ephesus ; 
Hopeless to find, yet loth to leave unsought, 
Or that, or any place that harbours men. 
But here must end the story of my life ; 
And happy were I inmy timely death. 
Could all my travels warrant me tht^y live. ^ 

Duke. Hapless ^^gcon, whom the fates have 
To bear the extremity of dire mishap ! [mark'tj 
Now, trust me, were it not against our laws, 
Aijainst my crown, my oath, my <lignit> , 
Which princes, would they, may not disannul. 
My soul should sue as advocate for thee. 
But, thou^ji thou art adjudged to the death, 
And passed s>entence may not be recalled, 
But to our honour's great disparagement. 
Yet will I favour thee in what I can : 
Therefore, merchant, I'll limit thee this day. 
To seek thy help by beneficial help : 
Try all the friends thou hast in Ephesus ; 
Beg thou, or borrow, to make up the sum. 
And live ; if not, then thou art doona'd to die : — 
Gaoler, take him to thy custody. 

Gaol. I will, my lord. 

JSge, Hopeless, and helpless, doth ^geou 
wend j: 
But to procrastinate his lifeless end. [Exeu?ir, 

SCENE II. A public Place. 

Enter Antipholus and Duomio of Syra* 

cuse and a Merchant. 

Mer. Therefore, give out, you are of Epidarrv- 
num. 
Lest that your goods too soon be confiscate. 
This very day, a Syracusan merchant 
Is 'apprehended for arrival here ; 
And, not being able to buy out his life. 
According to the statute of the town. 
Dies ere the weary sun set in the west. 
There is your money that I had to keep. [ho?t, 

Arit.S. Gobear it to the Centaury, where \\e 
And stay there, Dromio, till I come to thee. 
Within this hour it will be dinner-time : 
Till that, I'll view the manners of the town. 
Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings, 
And thei4 return, and sleep within mine inn; 
For with long travel I am stiff and weary. 
Get thee away. [your won!, 

Dro. »y. Many a man would take you at 
And go indeed, having so good a mean. 

[£j77Dro. S. 

Ant. S. Atn>sty villainj|,Bir ; that very ott. 
When I am dull with care and melancholy, 
Lightens my humour with his merry jests. 
What, will you walk with me about the »own, 
And then go to my inn, and dine with me ? 

Mer. \ am invited, sir, to certain merchants. 
Of whom I hope to make much benefit ; 
I crave your pardon. Soon, at five o'clock, 
Please you, PU meet with you upon the mart IT, 
And afterwards consort you till bed-time; 
My present business calls me from you now. 

Ant. 'V. Farewell till then : 1 will go lose 
myself, 
And wander up and down, to view the ciiy. 



Deprived. f Clear, completely. J Go. f The sign of their hoteh 
% Exchange, maiket-place 



! I, e, S<*rviii.'L. 



838 



SHAKSPEAHE. 



[Act /, 



ATer Sir, I commtucl yon to your own 
coriient. [£xit Merchant. 

Ant. ^y. He that commends me to mine own 
content, 
Commends ine to the thing I cannot get. 
I to the world am like a drop of water, 
TiiHt in the ocean seeks another drop; - 
Who, falling there to find his fellow forth, 
Tnseen, inqnisitive, confounds himself: 
So I, to tind a mother, and a brother. 
In quest of them, unhappy, lose myself. 

Enter Dromio of Ephesus. 
Here comes the almanack of my tine date, — 
What now? How chance, thoa art returned so 
soon ? [too late : 

Dro. E. Returned so soon ! ratherapproach'd 
The capon burns, the pig falls from the spit ; 
The clock has strucken twelve upon the bell. 
My mistress made it one upon my cheek: 
She Is so hot, because the meat is cold ; 
The meat is cold, because you come not home ; 
You come not home because you have no 

stomach ; 
You have no stomach, having broke your fast; 
But we, that know what 'tis to fast and pray. 
Are penitent for your default to-day. [I pray; 
Ant. S. Stop in your wind, sir ; tell me this, 
Where have you left the money that 1 gave you? 
Dro, E. O, — six-pence, that I had ©'Wed- 
nesday last. 
To pay the saddler for my mistress* crupper ; — 
The saddler had it, sir, I kept it not. 

A7it. S. 1 am not in a sportive humour now : 
le!l me, and dally not, where is the money? 
We being strangers here, how dar'st tkou trust 
So great a charge from thine own custody ? 
Dro. E. I pray you jest, sir, as you sit at 
dinner : 
I from my mistress come to you in post; 
If I return, I shall be post indeed ; 
For she will score your fault upon my pate. 
Methinks, your maw, like mine, should be 

your clock, 
And strike you home without a messenger. 
Ant. S. Come, Oromio, come, these jest* 
are out of season. 



Reserve them till a merrier hour than this : 
Where is the gold I gave in charge to thee? 
D/ 0. E. To me, sir? why you gave no gold 
to me. [your foolishnps. 

Ant. S. Come on, sir knave, have done 
And tell me, how thou hastdisposed thy charge. 
Dro. E. My charge was but to fetch you 
from the mart [ner ; 

Home to your house, the Phoenix, sir, to din- 
My mistress, and her sister, stay for you. 
Ant. S. Now, as I am a christian, answer 
me, [money ; 

In what safe place you have bestow'd my | 
Or I shall break that merry sconce • of yours, , 
That stands on tricks when I am undisposed : 
Where is the thousand marks thou hadst of nief 
Dro. E. I have some marks of yours upon 
my pate, [ders, 

Some of my mistress* marks upon my shoul- 
But not a thousand marks between you both. — 
If I should pay your worship those again, 
Perchance, you will not bear them patiently. 
Ant. S. Thy mistress' marks ! what mistress, 
slave, hast thou? [at the Phoenix. 

Dro* E. Your worship's wife, my mistress 
She that doth fast,till yon come home to dinner. 
And prays, that you will hie you home to din- 
ner, [my face. 
Ant. S. Whfit, wilt thou flout n>e thus umo 
Being forbid ? There, take you that, sir knave. 
Dro, E. What njean you, sir? for God's 
sake, hold your hands ; 
Nay, an you will not, sir, I'll take my heel?. 
{Exit Dromio, E. 
Ant. S. Upon my life, by »ome device or 
other, 
The villain is o'er-raughtt of all my money. 
They say, this town is full of cozenage ; 
As, nimble jugglers, that deceive the eye. 
Dark-working sorcerers, that change the mind 
Soul-killing witches, that deform the body; 
Disguised cheaters, prating mountebanks. 
And many such-like liberties of sin : 
If it prove so, I will be gone the sooner. 
I'll to the Centaur, to go seek this slave ; 
I greatly fear, my money is not safe. \^Exit 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. A public place. 

Enter Adriana, and Luciana. 

Adr. Neither my husband, nor the slave 
return'd, 
That in such haste I sent to seek his master 1 
Sure, Luciana, it is two o*clock. 

J^uc. Perhaps, some merchant hath invited 
him, [dinner. 

And from the mart he*s somewhere gone to 
Good sisUr, let us dii:e, and never fret : 
A man is master of his liberty : 
Time is their master ; and, when they see time. 
They'll yo, or come : If so, be patient, sister. 
Adr. Why should their liberty than ours be 
morct 

• Head. 



Luc, Because their business still lies ont 
o'docr. 

Adr. Look, when I serve him so, he takes 
it ill. 

Luc. O, know, he is the bridle of your will. 

Adr. There's none, but asses, will be bridled 
so. [woe. 

Luc. Why, headstrong liberty is lash'd m iih 
There*^s nothing, situate under heaven's eye. 
But hath his bound, in earth, in sea, and sky ; 
The beasts, the tishes, and the winged fov\ 1?, 
Are their males* subject, an(i at their control? : 
Men, more divme, the masters of all these, 
Lords of the wide world, and wild waU'rr *^a». 
Indued with intellectual sense and souls 
Of more pre-eminence than tish and fowls, 

f Over-rcachetl. 



Scene /.] 



COMEDY OF ERRORS. 



339 



Are masters to their females, and their lords : 

Then let your will attend on their accords- 

Adr. This servitude makes you to keep 

unwed, [bed. 

Luc. N ot this, but troubles of the marriage 

Adr. But, were you wedded, you would 

bear some sway. 
/aic. Ere I learn love, I'll practise to obey. 
Adr. How if your husband start some other 
where? [forbear. 

LtUC. Till he come home again, I would 
Adr. Patience, unmoved, no marvel though 
she pause ; 
They can be meek, that have no other cause. 
A wretched soul, bruis'd with adversity. 
We bid be quiet, when we hear it cry ; 
But were we burden'd with like weight of 
pain, [plain : 

As much, or more, we should ourselves com- 
So thou, that hast no unkind mate to grieve 
thee, [lieve me : 

With urging helpless patience wouldst re- 
Bnt, if thou live to see like right bereft, 
This fool-begged patience in thee will be left. 
Luc, Well, I will marry one day, but to 
try ; [nigh. 

Here comes yo^ir man, now is your husband 
Enter Dromio o/' Ephesus. 
Adr. Say , is your tardy master now at hand? 
Dro. E. Nay, he is at two hands with me, 
and that niy two ears can witness. 
Adr. Say, didst thou speak with him? 

know'st thou his mind? 
Dro. E. Ay, ay, he told his mind upon 
mine ear: 
Beshrew his hand, 1 scarce could understand it. 
Luc. Spake he so doubtfully, thou couldst 
not feel his meaning? 

Dro. E. Nay, he struck so plainly I could 
too well feel his blows ; and withal so doubt- 
fully, that I could scarce understand them*. 

Adr. But say, 1 pr'ythee, is he coming home? 
It seems, he hath great care to please his wife. 
Dro. E. Why, mistress, sure my master is 
horn-mad. 
Adr. Horn-mad, thou villain I 
Dro. E. I mean not cuckold-mad ; but, sure, 
he's stark mad : 
"When I desired him to come home to dinner. 
He ask'd me for a thousand marks in gold : 
*T'ts dinner-time,qyx€>ih.l-^ My geld, quoth he. 
Your meat doth burn, quoth I; My gold, 
quoth he : [quoth he : 

H'ill you come home? quoth I; My gold. 
Where is the thousand marks I gave thee, 
villain? [quoth he: 

The pig, quoth I, is burn'd ; My gold, 
Ify mistress, sir, quoth I ; Hang up thy 
mistress : [tress^! 

t know not thy mistress ; out on thy mis- 
Luc. Quoth who? 

Dro. E. Quoth my master: [mistress; — 
t know, quoth he, no house, no wife, no 
%p that my errand, due unto my tongue, 
I thavk him, I bear home upon my shoulders ; 



For, in conclusion, he did beat me there. 

Adr. Go back again, thou slave, and fetch 
him home. [home! 

Dro. E. Go back again, and be new beateu 
For God's ?ake, send some other messengtr. 

Adr. Back, slave, or I will break thy pate 
across. [other beating: 

Dro. E. And he vvill bless that cross with 
Between you I shall have a hol> head. 

Adr. Hence, prating peasant ; tVtch thy 
master home. [with me, 

Dro. E. Am I so round with you, as you 
That like a football you do spurn me thus? 
You spurn me hence, and he will spurn me 

hither: 
If I last in this service, you must case me in 
leather. [Exit. 

Luc. Fie, how impatience Jow'reth in your 
face. [grace, 

Adr. His company must do his minions 
Whilst 1 at home starve for a merry look. 
Hath homely age the allurinii beauty took 
From my poor cheek? then hehatli wasted it: 
Are my discourses dull? barren my wit? 
If voluble and sharp discourse be marr'd, 
Unkindness blunts it, more than marble hard. 
Do their ^y vestments his aflections bait? 
That's not my fault, lie's master of my state: 
What riiins are in me, that can be found 
By him not ruined? then is he the ground 
Of my defeatures! : My decayed fairt 
A sunny look of his would soon repair : 
But, too unruly deer, he breaks (he pale, 
And feeds from home ; poor 1 am but his 
stale ^. [hence. 

Luc. Self-arming jealousy !— fie, beat it 
[dispense. 

Adr. Unfeeling fools can with such w rongs 
I know his eye doth homage otherwhere ; 
Or else, what letsjl, it but he would be here? 
Sister, yon know, he promised me a chain ; — 
Would that alone alone he would detain. 
So he would keep fair quarter with his bed ! 
I see, the jewel, best enamelled, 
Will lose his beauty ; and though gold 'bides 

still. 
That others touch, yet often touching will 
Wear gold : and so no man, that hath a name. 
But falsehood and corruption doth it shame. 
Since that my beauty cannot please his eye, '\ 
I'll weep what's left away, and weeping die. f 

Luc. How many fond fools serve mad ( 
jealousy ! [Exeunt.) 

SCENE II. The same. 
Enter Antipholus o/" Syracuse. 
Ant. S. The gold, I gave to Dromio, is laid op 
Safe at the Centaur; and the heedful slave 
Is wander'd forth, in care to seek me out. 
By computation, and mine host's report, 
I could not speak with Dromio, since at first 
I sent him from the mart : See, here he comes. 

Enter Dromio o/ Syracuse. 
How now, sir 1 is your merry humour alter'd 
As you love strokes, so jest with me again. 



€., Scarce stand under them. 



t Alteration of features. 

or ll(>i : r. il HillllPl t. 



X Fair, for fairness. 



340 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act It, 



Yon know no Centaur? you received no gold ? 
Your mistress sent to have me home to dinner? 
My house was at the I'hoenix ? Wast thou mad. 
That ihus so madly thou didst answer me I 

Dro. S. What answer, sir? when spake I 
such a word? [hour since. 

Anf. S. Even now, even here, not half an 

Dro, S. I did not see you since you sent 

me hence, [gave me. 

Home to the Centaur, with the gold you 

Ant. S. Villain, thou didst deny the gold's 
receipt; 
And told'st me of a mistress, and a dinner; 
For which, I hope, thou felt'st I was displeased. 

Dro S' I am glad to see you in this merry 

vein : [tell me. 

What means this jest? I pray you, master, 

Ant. S. Yea, dost thou jeer, and flout me 
in the teeth? 
Think'st thou, I jest? Hold, take thou that, 
and that. [Beating him. 

Dro. S. Hold, sir, for God's sake: now 
your jest is earnest: 
Upon what bargain do you give it me? 

Ant. S. Because that 1 familiarly sometimes 
Do use you for my fool, and chat with you. 
Your sauciness will jest upon my love, 
And make a common of my serious hours *- 
When the sun shines, let foolish gnafs make 
sport, [beams. 

But creep in crannies, when he hides his 
If you will jest with me, know my aspectt. 
And fashion your demeanour to my looks. 
Or I will beat this method in your sconce. 

Dro. .y. Sconce, call you it? so you would 
leave battering, I had rather have it a head : 
an you use these blows long, I must get a 
sconce for my head, and insconcei it too ; or 
else I shall seek my wit in my shoulders. But, 
1 pray, sir, why am I beaten? 

Ant. iV. Dost thou not know? 

Dro.S. Nothing, sir; but that I am beaten. 

Ant. S. Shall Ttell you why? 

Dro. S. Ay, sir, and wherefore ; for, they 
say, every why haih a wherefore. 

Ant. S. Why, first,— for flouting me ; and 
then, wherefore, — 
lor urging it the second time to me. 

Dro. S. Was there ever any man thus beat- 
en out of season ! 
When, in the why, and the wherefore, is nei- 
ther rhyme nor reason ? — 
Well, sir, I thank you. 

Ant. S. Thank nie, sir? for what? 

Dro. y. Marry, sir, for this something that 
you gave me for nothing. 

Ant. S. I'll make you amends next, to give 
you nothing for something. But say, sir, is it 
dinner-time? 

Dro. .V. No, sir ; I think, the meat wants 
that 1 have. 

Ant. S. In good time, sir, what's that? 

Dro. S. Basting. 

Ant. S\ W ell, sir, then 'twill be dry. 

Vro. y. If it be, sir, I pray you eat none of it. 

i. e., Intrude on them when yoa please, 
a fortificatioQ. 



A7tt. S. Your reason? 

Dro. S. Lest it make you choleric, and 
purchase me another dry basting. 

A/tt. S. Well, sir, learn to jest in good time; 
There's a time for all things. 

Dro. S. 1 durst have denied that, before you 
were so choleric. 

Ant. S. By what rule, sir? 

Dro. S. Marry, sir, by a rule as plain as the 
plain bald pate of father Time himself. 

Ant. S. Let's hear it. 

Dro. S. There's no time for a man to reco- 
ver his hair, that grows bald by nature. 

A7it. S. May he not do it by fine and reco- 
very ? 

Dro, S. Yes, to pay a fine for a peruke, 
and recover the lost hair of another man. 

Ant. S. Why is time such a nijjgard of hair, 
being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement? 

Dro. S. Because it is a blessing that he be- 
stows on beasts : and what he hath scanted 
men in hair, he hath given them in wit. 

Ant. S. Why, but there's many a man hath 
more hair than wit. 

Dro. S. N ot a man of those, but he hath the 
wit to lose his hair. 

A/it. S. Why, thou didst conclude hairy 
men plain dealers without wit. 

Dro. S. The plainer dealer, the sooner lost! 
Yet he loseth it in w kind of jollity. 

Ant. S. For what reason? 

Dro. S. For two ; and sound ones too. 

Ant. S. Nay, not sound, I pray you. 

Dro. S. Sure ones, then. 

Ant. S. Nay, not sure, in a thing falsing. 

Dro. ^y. Certain ones then. 

Ant. S. Name them. 

Dro.S. The one, to save the money that he 
spends in tiring ; the other, that at dinner they 
should not drop in his porridge. 

Ant. ,S. You would all this time have prov- 
ed, there is no time for all things. 

Dro.S. Marry, and did, sir; namely, no 
time to recover hair lost by nature. 

Ant.S. But your reason was not substan- 
tial, why there is no time to recover. 

Dro. S. Thus I mend it : Time himself is 
bald, and therefore, to the world's end, will 
have bald followers. 

Ant.S. 1 knew, 'twould be a bald conclu- 
sion : But soft ! who wafts ^ us yonder ? 
Enter Adriana and Luciana. 

Adr. Ay, ay, Antipholus, look strange, and 
frown ; 
Some other mistress hath thy sweet aspects 
I am not Adriana, nor thy wife. 
The time was once, when thou unurged wouldst 

vow 
That never words were music to thine ear. 
That never object pleasing in thine eye, 
That never touch well-welcome to thy hand, 
That never meat sweet savour'd in thy taste, 
UnlessIspake,look'd,tonch'd,orcarve(l to thee. 
How come» it now, my hiisband,oh,howcomes 
That thou art then estranged from thyself? [it, 



t Study my countenance. 
§ Beckons. 



{ A .sconce was 



IS 

I 



Scene '/.] 



COMEDY OF ERRORS. 



,S4i 



Thyself I call it^ '^^m^ »^ange to me. 

That, undividabf% imoi^porate, 

Am better than thy devir self \s better part. 

Ah, do not tear away thyself from me ; 

For know, my love, as easy may'st thou fall 

A drop of water in tlie breakinij ^ulf, 

And take unmingled thenre that drop again. 

Without addition, or diminishing, 

As take from me thyself, asid not me too. 

How dearly would it touch thee to the quick, 

Shouldst thou but hear I were licentious? 

And thai this body, consecrate to thee. 

By ruffian lust should be contaminate? [me, 

Wouldst thou not spit at me, and spurn at 

And hurl the name of husband in my face, 

And tear the stain'd skin oflf my harlot brow, 

And from my false hand cut the wedding ring, 

And break it with a deep-divorcing vow ? 

I know thou canst; and therefore, see, thou 

I am possess'd with an adulterate blot ; [do it. 

My blood is mingled with the crime of lust: 

For, if we two be one, and thou play false, 

I do digest the poison of thy flesh. 

Being sirunipeted by ihy contagion. [bed; 

Keep then fair league and truce with thy true 

I live dis-stain'd, thou undishonoured. 

Ant. S'» Plead you to me, fair dame? I know 
In Ephesus I am but two hours old, [you not : 
As strange unto your town, as to your talk ; 
Who, eve^y word by all my wit being scann'd, 
Want wij In all one word to understand. 

Z/UC, Fie,brother ! how the world is changed 
with you : 
When were you wont to use my sister thus f 
She sent for you by Dromio home to dinner. 

Ant.S. By Dromio? 

I>ro, S. By mel [from him,— 

Adr. By thee : and this thou didst return 
That he did bi4ffet thee, and, in his blows 
Ueny'd my house for his, me for his wife. 

Ant.S. Did you converse, sir, with this 
gentlewoman? 
What is the course and drift of your compdct? 

Dro.S. l,sir? I never saw her till lins time. 

Ant.S. Villain, thou liest ; for even her very 
Didst thou deliver to me on the mart, [words 

JJro.S. I never spake with her inall mylife. 

Ant. S. Howcau she thus then call us by our 
Unless it be by inspiration? [names, 

Adr. How ill agrees it with your gravity. 
To counterfeit thus grossly with your slave. 
Abetting him to thwart me in my mood ? 
Be it my w rong, you are from me exempt, 
But wrong not that wrong with a more con- 
tempt. 



Come, I will fasten on this sleeve of thme : 
Thou art an elm, my husband, I a vine ; 
Whose weakness, married to thy stronger state. 
Makes me with thy strength to communicate : 
If aught possess thee* from me, it is dress. 
Usurping ivy, brier, or idle * moss ; 
Who, all for want of pruning, with ititrusion 
Infect thy sap, and live on thy confusion. 
Ant. S. To me she speaks ; she moves me 
for her theme : 
What, was I married to her in my dream ? 
Or sleep I now, and think I hear ail this? 
What error drives our eyes and ears amiss? 
Until I know this sure uncertainty, 
1*11 entertain the offer*d fallacy. 
JjUC, Dromio, go bid the servants spread 
for dinner. [siimer. 

Dro. S. O, for my beads ! I cross me for a 
This is the fairy land ; — O, spite of spites ! — 
We talk with goblins, owls, and elvish sprites ; 
If we obey them not, this will ensue, [blue. 
They'll suck our breath, or pinch us black and 
Luc. Why pratest thou to thyself, and ar- 
swer'st not ? [sot I 

Dromio, thou drone, thou snail, thou slug, thou 
Dro. S. I am transformed, master, am not I? 
Ant.S. I think, thou art, in mind, and so am I. 
Dro.S. Nay, master, both in mind, an.; in my 
Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form, [shape. 
Dro. S. No, I am an ape. [ass. 

Luc. If thou art changed to aught, 'tis to an 
Dro.S. Tis true; she rides me, and I long 
for grass. 
*Tis so, T am an ass ; else it could never be, 
But I should know her as well as she knows me. 
Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a fool. 
To put the finger in the eye and weep, [scorn. — 
Whilst man, and master, laugh my woes to 
Come, sir, to dinner ; Dromio, keep the gate :— 
Husband, I'll dine above with you to-day. 
And shrive t you of a thousand idle pranks : 
Sirrah, if any ask you for your master. 
Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter.^ 
Come, sister : — Dromio, play the porter well. 

A7it. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? 
Sleeping or waking? mad, or well-ad vis'd i 
Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd! 
I'll say as they say, and persever so. 
And in this mist at ail adventures go. 
Dro. S, Master, shall I be porter at the gatet 
Adr, Ay ; and let none enter, lest I break 

your pate. 
Luc, Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too 
late. [Exeunt 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. The same. 



Bwfer Antipholus o/* Ephesus, Dromio (t/* 
Ephesus, Angelo, and Balthazar. 

A7it. E. Good signior Angelo, you must 
excuse us all; 



My wife is shrewish, when I keep not hoursi 
Say, that I lingered with you at your shop. 
To see the making of her carkanetj. 
And that to-morrow you will bring it home. 
But here's a villain, that would face me dowr 
1 He met me on the mart; and that I beat him. 



• Unfertile. 



t Absolve. 



1 A necklace strung with pearls. 
2 G 3 



342 



SHAKSPEA.RE. 



[Act UU 



And charged bim with a tbuusaod marks in 

gold; 

And that I did deny my wife and house : — 

Thoa drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by 

thisT [what I know : 

Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but 1 know 

That you beat me at tbe mart, 1 have your hand 

to show : 
If the skin were parchment, and the blows you 
gave were ink, [think. 

Your own handwriting would tell you what I 
Ant. E. I think, thou art an ass. 
JJro, E. Marry, so it doth appear 

By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear. 
I sheuld kick, being kick'd ; and, being at that 
pass, [of an ass. 

You would keep from my heels, and beware 
Ant> E. You are sad, signior Balthazar: 
'Pray God our cheer [come here. 

May answer my good will, and your good wel* 
Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and 
your welcome dear. [or fish. 

Ant. E. O, signior Balthazar, either at flesh 
A table full of welcome makes scarce one 
dainty dish. [churl affords. 

Bal, Good meat, sir, is common ; that every 
Ant. E. And welcome more common; for 
that's nothing but words, [a merry feast. 
Bal, Small cheer,and great welcome, makes 
Ant. E. Ay, to a niggardly host, and more 
sparing guest: [good part; 

But though my cates* be mean, take tliem in 
Better cheer may you have, but not with better 
heart. [us in. 

But, soft ; my door is lock'd ; Go bid them let 
Dro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely , Gil- 
lian, Jen' ! [pon, coxcomb, idiot, p itch j ! 
Dro. S. \iiithin.] Momef, malt-horse, ca- 
Either get thee from the door, or sit down at 
the hatch : [for such store. 

Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou call'st 
When one is one too many i Go, get thee from 
the door. [My master stays in the street. 
Dro. E. What patch is made our porter? 
Dro. S, Let him walk from whence became, 
lest he catch cold on's feet. [the door. 
Ant, E. Who talks within there? ho, open 
Dro.S. Rij;ht, sir, I'll tell you when, an 

you'll tell me wherefore. 

Aut, E. Wherefoie? for my dinner; I have 

not dined to day. [again, when \ou may. 

Dro. S. Nor to-<lay here you must not ; come 

Ant. E. What art thou, that keep'st me out 

from the house I owe j? 

Dro. S. The porter for this time, sir, and my 

name is Dromio. [othce and my name ; 

Dro. E. villain,lbon hasistoleij both nujie 

The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle 

blame. 
Tf thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place. 
Thou wouldst have changed thy face for a 
name, or thy name for an a^s. 
Luce, {within.] What a coillj is there? 

Dromio, who are tliose at the gate? 
Dro. E. Let my master in. Luce. 



Luce, Faith no ; he comes too late ; 

And so tell your master. 

Dro. E. O Lord, I must laujjh :— 

Have at you with a proverb.— Shall I set m 

my staff? [When? can you lell I 

Luce. Have at yon with another: that's, — 
Dro. S. If thy name be call'd Luce, Luce, 

thou hast answer'd him well. 
Ant, E. Do you hear, you minion? you'll 

let us in, I hope? 
Luce, I thought to have ask'd yon. 
Dro. S. And you said, no. 

Dro. E. So, come, help; well struck; there 

was blow for blow. 
Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in. 
Luce, Can you tell for whose sake? 

Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard. 
Luce, Let bim knock till it akc. 

Ant. E. You'll cry lor this, minion, if 1 beiit 

the door down. [slocks in the town I 
Luce, What needs all that, and a pair of 
Adr. [ivithin.^ Who is that at the door, that 

keeps all this noise ? [with unruly bo) s. 
Dm. S. By my troth, yotir town is troubled 
Ant. E. Are you there, wife? yon might 

have come before. [the door. 

Adr, Your wife, sir knave ! go, get you from 
Dro. E. If you were in pain, master, this 

knave w(»ulci go sore. 
Ang, Here is neither cheer, sir, nor wel- 
come; we would fain have either. 
Bal. In debating which was best, we shall 

partH with neither. 
Dro. E. They stand at the door, master; bid 

them welcon)e hither, [we cannot get in. 
Ant, E. There is someihing in the wind, that 
Dro. E. You wonb'. say so, master, if your 

garments were thin, [here in the cold : 
Your cake here is warm within; you stand 
It would make a man mad as a buck, to be so 

bought and sold**. [ope the gale. 

Ant. E. Go, fetch me something, I'll break 
Dro. S. Break any breaking here, and I'll 

break your knave's pale. 
Dro, E. A man may break a word with you, 

sir ; and words are but wind ; [behind. 

Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not 

J)ro. .y. It seems, thou wantest breaking ; 

Out upon thee, hind I 
Dro, E. liere's too much, out upon thee! I 

pray thee, let me in. 
Dro. S, Ay, when fowls have no feathers, 

and fish have no tin. [a crow. 

Ant. E. Well, I'll break in ; Go borrow me 
Dro. E. A crow without a feather; master, 

mean you so? [a feather: 

For a fish without a fin, there's a fowl without 
If a crow help us in, sirrah, we'll pluck a crow 

together. [crow. 

Ant, E. Go, get thee gone, fetch me an iron 
Bal, Have patience, sir : O, let it not be so 
Herein you war against your reputation. 
And draw within the compass of suspect 
The unviolated honour of your wife. [dom. 
Once this, — Your long experience of her \vi»- 



Diahes of meat. 

H Bustle, iqn»ull, 



t Blockhead. 

f llave part. 



t Fool 



% I own, am owner of. 
A proverbi'*' j^luase. 



Sce?ie 7. J 



COMEDY OF ERRORS 



345 



Her sober virtue, years, and modesty, 
Plead on her part some canse to you unknown ; 
And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse 
Why at this time the doors are made * against 

you. 
Be ruled by me; depart in patience, 
And let us to the Tiger all to dinner: 
And, about evening, come yourself alone, 
To know the reason of this strange restraint. 
If by strong hand you offer to break in. 
Now in the stirring passage of the day, 
A vulgar comment will be made on it ; 
And that supposed by the common rout 
Against your yet ungalled estimation. 
That may with foul intrusion enter in, [dead : 
And dwell upon your grave when you are 
For slander lives upon succession; 
For ever housed, where it once gets possession. 
Ant. E. You have prevail'd; I will depart 

in quiet. 
And, in despite of mirth, mean to be merry. 
1 know a wench of excellent discourse, — 
Pretty and witty ; wild, and, yet too, gentle ; — 
There will we dine: this woman that 1 mean, 
My wife (but, I protest, without desert,) 
Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal : 
To her will we to dinner. — Get you home. 
And fetch the chain; by thist, I know, 'tis 
Bring it, I pray you, to the Porcupine ; [made : 
For there's the house ; that chain will I bestow 
(Be it for nothing but to spite my wife,) 
Upon mine hostess there : good sir, make haste : 
Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, 
Pll knock elsewhere, to see if they'll disdain 

me. [hence. 

Ang. Pll meet you at that place, some hour 
Ant. E. Do so; This jest shall cost me some 

expense. {Exeunt. 

SCENE II. The same. 

Enter Luciana, and Antipholus of 
Syracuse. 

Luc. And may it be that you have quite forgot 

A husband's office? shall, Antipholus, hate. 
Even in the spring of love, thy love-springst 

Shall love, in building, grow so ruinate ? [rot I 
If you did wed my sister for her wealth. 

Then, for her wealth's sake, use her with 
more kindness : 
Or, if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth ; 

Muffle your false love with some show of 
blindness : 
Let not my sister read it in your eye; 

Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator; 
Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty; 

Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger: 
Bear a fair presence, though your heart be 
tainted ; 

Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint; 
Be secret- false : What need she be acquainted? 

What simple thief brags of his own attaint? 
Tis double wrong, to truant with your bed, 

And let her read it in thy looks at board : 
Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed ; 



III deeds are doubled with an evil M'ord, 
Alas, poor women ! make us but believe. 

Being compact of credit^, that you love ns ; 
Though others h3 ve the arm, show us the sleeve; 

We in your motion turn, and you may move 
Then, gentle brother, get you in again ; [us. 

Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife : 
*Tis holy sport, to be a little vain |1, [strife. 

When the sweet breath of flattery conquers 
Ant. S. Sweet mistress, (what your name is 
else, I know not. 

Nor by what wonder you do hit on mine). 

Less, in your knowledge, and your grace, you 

show not, [divine. 

Than our earth's wonder; more than earth 
Teach me, dear creature, how to think and 
speak ; 

Lay open to my earthy gross conceit, 
Smoiher'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak, 

The folded meaning of your words' deceit. 
Against my soul's pure truth why labour you. 

To make it wander in an unknown field? 
Are you a god ? would you create me new ? 

Transform me then, and to your power I'll 
But if that I am I, then well I know, [yield. 

Your weeping sister is nu wife of mine. 
Nor to her bed no homage do I owe; 

Far more, far more, to you do I decline. 
O, train me not, sweet mermaid IF, with thy 
note, 

To drown me in thy sister's flood of tears; 
Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote : [hai i s 

Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden 
And as a bed Pll take thee, and there lie; 

And, \r\ that glorious supposition, think 
He gains by death, that hath such means to 
die': — [sink! 

Let love, being light, be drowned if she 

Luc. What are you mad, that you do reason 
so? [not know. 

Ant. S. Not mad, but mated ** ; how, 1 <io 

Luc. It is a fault that springeth from jotir 
eye. [being b\ . 

Ant. a. For gazing on your beams, fair sun, 

Luc. Gaze where you should, and that will 
clear your siijht. [on night. 

Aiit. S. As good to wink, sweet love, as look 

Luc. Why call you me love? call my sisur 

Ant. iV. Thy sister's sister. [so. 

Luc. That's my sister. 

Ant. S. No; 

It is thyself, mine own self's better part ; 
Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's deaier 

heart ; 
My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim. 
My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim. 

Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be. 

Ant. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for 1 aim 
thee : 
Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life ; 
Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife : 
Give me thy hand. 

Luc. O, soft, sir, hold yon still ; 

I'll fetch my sister, to get her good will. 

[Exit Luc. 



• t. e.. Made fast. f By this time. % Love-sprin8;8 ire young plants or shoots of love. 

S%. e. Being made altogether of < rednlity. I| Vain, is light of tongue. H MfimwU f<» 

siren. *• i. t . Confounded. 



au 



SHAKSPEARE. 



{Act III. 



Enter, ^rom the house of Antipholus of 
tpliesus, Dkomio of Syracuse. 

Ant. iV. Why, how now, Dromio? where 
runn'st thou so f^st ? 

Dro. S. Do you know me, sir? am I Dro- 
miot am I your man ? am 1 myself? 

Ant. S. Thou art Dromio, thou art my rrian, 
thou art thyself 

Dro. S. I am an ass, I am a woman's man, 
and besides myself. 

Ant. S\ Wl>at woman's man? and how be- 
Bide? tliyself ? 

Vro. S. Marry, sir, besides myself, I am 
due to a woman ; one that claims me, one that 
haunts me, one that will have me. 

Ant. S. What chiim lays she to thee? 

Dro. S. Marry, sir, such claim as you would 
lay to your horse ; and she would have me as' 
a beast : not that, I being a beast, she would 
have me ; but that she, being a very beastly 
creature, lays claim to me. 

Ant.S. What is she? 

Dro. S, A very reverent body ; ay, such a 
one as a man may not speak of without he say, 
sir-reverence: I have but lean luck in the 
match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage? 

Ant. A'. How dost thou mean, a fat marriage? 

Dro. S. Marry, sir, she's the kitchen-wench, 
and all grease; and 1 know not what use to 
put her to, but to make a lamp of her, and 
run from her by her own light. I warrant, 
her rags, and the tallow in them, will burn a 
Poland winter: if she lives till doomsday, 
she'll burn a week longer than the whole world. 

Ant. S. W^hat complexion is she of? 

Dro. S. Swart *, like my shoe, but her face 
nothing like so clean kept: For why? she 
sweats, a man may go over shoes in the grime 
of it. 

Ant. iS, That's a fault that water will mend. 

Dro. S. No, sir, 'tis in grain ; Noah's flood 
could not do it. 

Ant. S'. What's her name? 

Dro S. Nell, sir; — but her name and three 
quarters, that is, an ell and three quarters, will 
not measure her from hip to hip. 

Ant. S. Then she bears .some breadth? 

Dro. .V. No longer from head to toot, than 
fram hip to hip : she is spherical, like a globe; 
I could find out countiies in her. [Ireland { 

Ant. S. In what part of her body stands 

Dro. S. Marry, sir, in her buttocks; I found 
it out by the bogs. 

A7it.S. Where Scotland? 

Dro. S I found it by the barrenness ; hard, 
in the palm of the hand. 

Ant.S. Where France? 

Dro. .y. In her forehead; arm'd and re- 
verti d, making war against her hair. 

Ant. S. Where England ? 

Dro. S. I look'd for the chalky cliffs, but 
T could tind no whiteness in them : but I guess, 
it »ft.ou in her chin, by the salt rheum that 
ran between France and it. 

A /it. S. Where Spain? 

Dro. .V. Faith, I saw it not; bat I felt it, 
hot iu her breath . 



Ant. S>. Where America, the Indies? 

Dro. S. O, sir, upon her nose, all o'er em- 

bellish'd with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, 

j declining their rich aspect to the hot breath 

of Spain; who sent whole armadas of car- 

rackst to be ballast at her nose. [landsl 

Ant.S. Where stood Belgia, the Nithtr- 

Dro. S. O, sir, 1 did not look so low. To 
conclude, this drudge, or diviner, lai I clainn 
to me: call'd me Dromio; swore, I wa> a*» 
sur'd t to her; told me what privy marks f 
had about me, as the mark of my shoulder, 
the mole in my neck, the great wart on my 
left arm, that I, amazed, ran from her as a 
witch: and, I think, if my breast had not 
been made of faith, and my henrt of steel, she 
had iransform'd me to acurtail-dog,and made 
me turn i'the wheel §. [road ; 

Ant. S. Go, hie thee presently, post to the 
And if the wind blow any way from shore, 
I will not harbour in this town to-night. 
If any bark put forth, come to the mart, 
Where I will walk, till thou return to me. 
If every one know us, and we know none, 
'Ti5 lime, I think, to trudge, pack, and be 
gone. [for life, 

Dro. .y. As from a bear a man would run 
So fly I from her tliat would be my wife. [Kiit. 

Ant. S. There's none but witches do inha- 
bit here, 
And therefore'tishigh time that I were hence. 
She, thatdolh call me husband, even my soul 
Doth for a wife abhor : hut her fair sister, 
Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace^ 
Of such enchanting presence and discourse. 
Hath almost made nie traitor to myself: 
But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong, 
I'll stop mine ears against the mermaid's song, 
£;'/<^er Ancelo. 

Ang, Master Antipholus? 

Ant. S. kyj . th.u's my name. [chain; 

Ang. 1 know it well, sir: Lo, here is the 
I thought to haveta'en you at the Porcupine: 
The chain unhnishM made me stay thus long. 

Ant. S. What is your will, that 1 shall do 
with this ? [it for you, 

Ang. What please yourself, sir ; I have made 

Ant. S. Made it for me, sir! 1 bespoke it 
not. [y*>" have: 

Ang Not once, nor twice, but twenty times 
Go home with it, and please your wife withal ; 
And soon at supper-time I'll visit you, 
And then receive my money for the chain. 

Ant. S. 1 pray you, sir, receive the money 
now, 
For fear you ne'er see chain, nor money, more. 

A7ig. Vou are a merry man, sir; fare you 
well. [Kxit. 

Ant. S. what I should think of this, I can- 
not tell; 
Bat this I think, there's no man is so vain. 
That would refuse so fair an offer'd chain. 
I see, a man here needs not live by shifts, 
When in the streets he meets such golden gifts. 
I'll to the mart, and there for Dronno stay ; 
If any ship put out, then straight away. 



• Swarthy, 



♦ Large ships. 



X Affjanced. 



i A turnsnit. 



COMEDY OF ERRORS. 



345 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. The same. 



Enter a Merchant, Angelo, and an Officer. 

Mer. Yoa know, since Pentecost the sum 
is due, 
And since I have not much imp6rtun*d you; 
Ni'T now I had not, but that I am bound 
To Persia, and want gilders* for my voyage: 
Therefore make present satisfaction, 
Or I'll attach you by this officer. 

Ang. Even just the sum that I do owe to you, 
Is growing t to me by Antipholus : 
And, in the instant thit I met with you. 
He had of me a chain ; at five o'clock, 
1 shall receive the money for the same : 
Pleaseth you walk with me down to his house, 
1 will discharge my bond, and thank you too. 
Enter Antipholus o/Ephesus, and 
Dromio o/Ephesus. 

Off. That labour may you save ; see where 
he comes. [go thou 

Ant. E. While I go to the goldsmith's house. 
And buy a rope's end ; that will I bestow 
Among my wife and her confederates, 
For locking me out of my doors by day. — 
But soft, I see the goldsmith : — get thee gone ; 
Buy thou a rope, and bring it home to me. 

Dro. E. I buy a thousand pound a year ! 
I buy a rope! [lixtt Dromio. 

Ant. E. A man is well holp up, that trusts to 
I promised your presence, and the chain ; [you : 
But neither chain, nor goldsmith, came to me : 
Belike, you thought our love would last too 
long, [c '.me not. 

If it were chain*d together; and therefore 

Ang. Saving your merry humour, here's 
the note. [carat ; 

How much your chain weighs to the utmost 
Thefinenessof the gold, and chargeful fashion ; 
Which doth amount to three odd ducats more 
That I stand debted to this gentleman ; 
1 pray you, se€ him presently discharged. 
For he is bound to sea, and stays but for it. 

Ant. E. I am not furnish'd with the present 
money ; 
Besides, I have some business in the town : 
Good signior, take the stranger to my house. 
And with you take the chain, and bid my wife 
Disburse the sum on the receipt thereof; 
Perchance, I will j be there as soon as you. 

Ang. Then you will bring the chain to her 
yourself? [not time enough. 

Ant. E. No ; bear it with you, lest I come 

Ang. Well, sir, I will: Have you the chain 
about you? [have ; 

Ant. E. An if I have not, sir, I hope you 
Or else you may return without your money. 

Ang. Nay, come, I pray you, sir, give me 
the chain; 
^oth wind and tide stays for this gentleman, 
And I, to blame, have held him here too long. 

Ant. E. Good lord, you uie this dalliance, 
to excuse 



Your breach of promise to the Porcupine : 
I should have chid you for not bringing it. 
But, like a shrew, you first begin to brawl. 

Mer. The hour steals on ; I pray you, sir, de- 
spatch, [chain — 

Ang. You hear, howhe imp6rtunesme : the 

A7it. E. Why, give it to my wife, and fetch 
your money. [even now ; 

Ang. Come, come, you know, I gave it you 

Either send the chain, or send me by some 

token. [of breath : 

A7it. E. Fie! now you run this humour out 

Come, Where's the chain? I pray you let me 

see it. [liance ; 

Mer. My business cannot brook this dai- 
Good sir, say, whe'r you'll answer me, or no : 
If not, I'll leave him to the officer. 

Ant. E. I answer you I What should I an- 
swer you ? [chain. 

Ang. The money, that yon owe me for the 

Ant. E. 1 owe you none, till I receive the 
chain. [sini e. 

Ang. You know, I gave it you half an hour 

A7it. E- You gave me none ; you wrong me 
much to say so. 

Ang. You wrong me more, sir, in denying it : 
Consider, how it stands upon my credit. 

jMer. Well, officer, arrest him at my suit. 

Off I do; and charge you in the duke's 
name, to obey me. 

Ang. This touches me in reputation : — 
Either consent to pay this sum for me. 
Or I attach you by this officer. [had 

Ant. E. Consent to pay thee that I never 
Arrest me, foolish fellow, if thou darest. 

Ang. Here is thy fee ; arrest him officer ; 
I would not spare my brother in this case. 
If he should scorn me so apparently. 

Off. I do arrest you, sir ; you hear the suit. 

Ant. E. I do obey thee, till I give thee bail : — 
But, sirrah, you shall buy this sport as dear 
As ail the metal in your shop will answer. 

Ang. Sir, sir, I shall have law in Ephesus, 
To your notorious shame, I doubt it not. 
Enter Dromio of Syracuse. 

Dro. S. Master, there is a bark of Epidam- 
num. 
That stays but till her owner comes aboard, 
And then, sir, bears away : our fraughtage j, sir 
I have conveyed aboard ; and I have bought 
The oil, the balsamum, and aqua-vitae. 
The ship is in her trim ; the merry wind 
Blows fair from land : they stay for nought at 
But for their owner, master, and yourself, [all. 

Ant. E. How now! a madman! Why thou 
peevish || sheep. 
What ship of Epidamnum stays for me? 

Dro. S. A ship you sent me to, to hire waf 
tage^. [a rope; 

A fit. E. Thou drunken slave, I sent thee for 
And told thee to what purpose and what end, 

Dro. <y. You sent me. sir, for a rope's end as 
You sent me to the b -.y , sir, fi.r a D trk. [&oon : 



• A coin. 



t Accruing 



I r.hall. 



j Treight, cargo. 



11 Silly. 



T Carriage 



34S 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act ir. 



Ant, £.'. I will debate this matter at more 

leisure, 
And leach your ears to listen with more heed. 
To Adriana, vill.iin, hie thee straig;ht : 
Give her tliis key, and tell her, in the desk 
T liai's cc\ei-*J o'ei" with Turkish tapestry, 
TluMe is a purse of ducats : let her send it;. 
Tell her, i am arresietl ir* the street, 
And that shall bail me : JHcthv^^*lave ; begone. 
Oil, othcer, to prison till it come. 
{Exeunt Merchant, Ang. Officer, «wrfA:!T. E. 
IJro. A'. To Adriana! that is where he dined. 
Where Dowsabel did claim me for her husband : 
She is too big, 1 hope, lor me to compass. 
Thither I must, although against my will. 
For servants must their masters' minds fulfil. 

{Exit* 
SCENE 11. The same. 

Enter XnKi.K^K and Luciana. 

Adr. Ah, Luciana, did he tempt thee so? 
Mighi'st thou perceive austerely in his eye 
Tliat he did plead in earnest yea or no ? [rily? 
Look'd he or red, or pale; or sad, or mer- 
What observation mad'st thou in this case. 
Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face * I 
Luc, First, he denied yoa had in him no 
right. [my spite. 

Adr. He meant, he did me none ; the more 
IjUC. Then swore he, that he was a stranger 
here. [sworn he were. 

Adr. And true he swore, though yet for- 
IjUC, Then pleaded 1 for you. 
Aiir, And what said he? 

JLuc. That love I begg'd for you, be begg'd 
of me. [thy love? 

Adr, With what persuasion did he tempt 
Luc. AVith words, that in an honest suit 
might move. [speech. 

First, he did praise my beauty ; then, my 
Adr, Didst speak hiin fair? 
Luc, Have patience, I beseech. 

Adr. I cannot, nor I will not, hold me still ; 
My tongue, though not my heart, shall have his 
He is deformed, crooked, old, and seret, [will. 
Ill-faced, worse-bodied, shapeless every where; 
Vicious, ungentle, foolish, blunt, unkind; 
Stigmatical in making;, worse in mind, [one? 
lAic. V\ ho would be jealous then of such a 
No evil lo«t is wail'd when it is gone. 

Adr, Ah! but 1 think him better than I say. 
And yet would herein others* eyes were 
worse : 
Far from her nest the lapwing cries away $; 
My heart prays for him, though my tongue 
do rurse. 

Enter Dromio o/'Syracuse. 
J)ro. S. Here, go ; the desk, tl»e purse, 

sweet no A, make haste. 
Lttc. How hast thou lost thy breath? 
J)ro. S. By running fast. 

Adr. Where is thy master,Dromio? is he well? 



Vro. S. No, he's in tartar limbo, worse 
than hell: 
A devil in an everlasting garment 1| hath him, 
One, whose hard heart is button'd up with 
A fiend, a fairy, pitiless and rough ; [steel; 

A wolf, nay, worse, a fellow all in buff; 
A back friend, a shoulder-clapper, one that 
C)untermands {lands; 

The passages of alleys, creeks, and »iarrow 
A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry- 
foot well ; [souls to helllT. 
One that before the judgment carries j;oor 
Adr. Why, man, what is the matter? 
Dro. S. I do not know the matter? he is 
'rested on the case. [whose suit. 
Adr. What, is he arrested? tell me, at 
Dro. S. I know not at whose suit he is ar- 
rested, well ; [that can I tell i 
But he's in a suit of buflF, which 'rested hiin. 
Will you send him, mistress, redemption, the 
money in the desk? 
Adr. Go fetch it, sister. — ^This I wonder at. 
[Exit Luciana. 
That he, unknown to me, should be in debt : 
Tell me, was he arrested ou a band *• ? [thing ; 
DrO: .y. Not on a band, but ou a stronger 
A chain, a chain ; do you not hear it ring? 
Adr. What, the chain? 
Dro. S. No, no, the bell : 'tis time, that J 
were gone. [strikes one. 
It was two ere I left him, and now the clock 
Adr. The hours come back! that did 1 nevei 
hear. [a'turns back for very fear. 
Dro. S. O yes. If any hour meet a sergeant, 
Adr. As if time were in debt! how fondly 

dost thou reason? 
Dro. M. Time is a very bankrupt, and owe> 
more than he's worth to season. [say 
Nay, he's a thief too : Have you not heard men 
That time comes stealing on by night and day ? 
If he be in debt, and theft, and a sergeant in 
the way, day? 

Hath he not reason to turn back an hour in a 
Enter Luciana. 
Adr. Go, Dromio; there's the money, bear 
it straight; 
And bring thy master home immediately. 
Come, sister; I am press'ddown with conceit ft; 
Conceit, my comfort, and my injury. 

[Exeunt* 

SCENE in. The same. 
Enter Antipholus tf Syracuse. 
Ajit. S'. There's not a man I meet, but doth 
salute me 
As if I were their well-acquainted friend; 
And every one doth call mc by my name. 
Some tender money to me, some invite me; 
Some other give me thanks for kindnesses; 
Some oft'er me commodities to buy : 
Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop. 
And show'd me silks that he had bought for me, 

• An allusion to the redness of the northern lights, likened to the appearance of armies, 
t Dry, withered. j Marked by nature with deformity. ' § Who crieth mo>l 

mlu-re her nist is n Jt. |i The otfi- ers in those days were clad in biitf, which is aUo a 

C4iil cxprt'bto.on fo; a man's skin. ^ Hell was the cant term for prison. •• «. €., Boud 

It Fancilol coueeption. 



&'ct7ie 111.] 



COMEDY OF ERRORS* 



347 



And, therewiihal took mtHsuie of my body, 
t me, these are but imaginary wiles, 
And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here. 
Enter Dromio o/' Syracuse. 
Dro. S. Master, here's the guld you sent me 
for: What, have you got the picture of old 
A'lam new appareli'd? 

A7it. S. What gold is this? what Adam dost 
th«'u mean? 

Di'o, S. Not that Adam, that kept the pa- 
radise, but that Adam, thai keeps the prison : 
be that ^oes in the calf's-skin that was kill'd for 
tlie prodigal ; he that came behind you, sir, like 
an evil angel, and bid you forsake your liberty. 
A/tt. S. I understand thee not. 
Dro. S. No? why, 'tis a plain case : he that 
went like a bass-viol, in a case ot leather; the 
man, sir, that, when gentlemen are tired, gives 
them a fob, and 'rests them; he, sir, that takes 
pity on decayed men, and gives them suits of 
<iurance; he that sets up his rest to do more 
exploits with his mace, than a morris-])ike. 
A'lt. S. What! thou mean'st an oflficer? 
Dro. S. Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band ; 
he, that brings any man to answer it, that breaks 
liis band: one that thinks a man always going 
to bed, and says, God give you good rest. 

Ant. S, Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. 
Is there any ship puts forth to-night? may we 
be gone? 

Dro. S. Why, sir, I brought you word an 
hour since, that the bark Expedition put forth 
fo night; and then were yoa hindered by the 
•ergeant, to tarry for the hoy. Delay : Here are 
the angek that you sent for, to deliver you. 

Ant.S. The fellow is distract, and so am I; 
4nd here we wander in illusions; 
^oiue blessed power deliver us from hence! 
Enter a Courtezan, 
r'owr. Well met, well met, master Antipholus. 
^ see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now; 
Is that the chain, you promised me to-day ? 

Ant.S. Satan, avoid ! I charge thee tempt 
lie not! 

Dro. S. Master, is this mistress Satan? 
Ant. S. It is the devil. 
Dro. S. Nay , she is worse, she is the devil's 
dam; and here she com^s in the habit of a 
light wench; and thereof comes, that the 
wenches say, God damn me, that's as much 
as to say, God make ?ite a light wench. It is 
written, they appear to men like angels of 
Imht: light is an effect of fire, and fire will 
burn ; er'go, light wenches will burn ; Come 
not near her. 
(Jour. Your man and you are marvellous 
merry, sir. [here* 

Will you go with me? We'll mend our dinner 
Dro. S. Master, if you do, expect spoon 
meat, or bespea-k a long spoon. 
Ant. S. Why, Dromio? 
Dro. S. Marry, he must have a long spoon, 
that must eat with the devil. 
Ant. »y. Avoid then, fiend I what tell'st thou 
nse of supping? 
9hou art, as you are all, a sorceress : 



I conjure thee to Leave me, and be gone. 
Cour. Give me the ring of mine you had at 
dinner. 
Or, for my diamond, the chain yonpromis'd* 
And I'll be gone, sir, and not trouble you. 
Dro, S. Some devils ask but the paring of 
one's nail, 
A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin, 
A nut, a cherry-stone: but she, more covetous. 
Would have a chain. 

Master, be wise; and if you give it her, [it. 
The devil will shake herchain, and fright us with 
Cour. 1 pray you, sir, my ring, or else the 
I hope you do not mean to cheat me so. [chain: 
Ant. S. Avauntjthou witch! Come Dromio 
let us go. [tress that you know 

Dro.S. Fly pride, says the peacock: Mis 
{Exeunt Ant. and Dro 
Cour. Now, out ofdoubt, Antipholus is mad 
Else would he never so demean himself: 
A ring he hath of mine worth forty ducats. 
And for the same he promis'd me a chain I 
Both one, and other, he denies me now. 
The reason that I gather he is mad, 
(Besides this present instance of his rage,) 
Is a mad tale, he told to-day atdinner, [trance, 
Of his own doors being shut against his en- 
Belike, his wife, acquainted with his fits. 
On purpose shut the doors against his way. 
My way is now, to hie home to his house. 
And tell his wife, that, being lunatic, 
He rush'd into my house, and took perforce 
My ring away : This course I fittest choose ; 
For forty ducats is too much to lose. \^Exit, 
SCENE IV. The same. 
Enter Aktivholvs of Ephesus, and an 

Officer. 
Ant. E. Fear me not, man, I will not break 
away ; 
I'll give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money 
To warrant thee, as I am 'rested for. 
My wife is in a wayward mood to-day : 
And will not lightly trust the messenger. 
That I should be attachM in Ephesus: 
I tell you, 'twill sound harshly in her ears. — 
Enter Dromio o/'Ephesusfri^Aa rope's end. 
Here comes my man ; 1 think, he brings the 

n.oney. 

How now, sir? have you that I sent you for? 

Dro. E, Here's that, I warrant yon, will pay 

Ant. E» But Where's the money l [them all *, 

Dro. E. Why, sir, I gave the money for the 

rope. 

Ant. E. Five hundred ducats, villain, for a 

rope? [the rate. 

Dro.E. I'll serve you, sir, five hundred at 

Ant.E. To what end did I bid thee hie 

thee home? [end am I return'd, 

Dro.E. To a rope's end, sir; and to that 

Ant. E. And to that end, sir, I will welcome 

you. [Beating him. 

Off. Good sir, be patient. [in adversity. 

i)ro. E. Nay, 'tis for me to be patient ; I am 

Off. Good now, hold thy tongue, [his hands. 

Dro.E, Nay, rather persuade him to hold 



* Corbet them alL 



348 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act n. 



Ant. E, Thou whoreson, senteless villain ! 
Dro. E. I would I were senseless, sir, that 
I might not feel your blows. 

Ant. E. Thou art sensible in nothing but 
bJ«>ws. and i»o iti an ass. 

Dro. E. I am an ass, indeed ; you "may 
prove it by my long ears. I have served him 
from the hour ot my nativity to this instant, 
and have nothing at his hands for my service, 
biu b/iows : when I am cold, he heats me with 
hp'atiug : when 1 am warm, he cOv)ls me with 
'oeating : I am waked with it, when 1 sleep; 
raised with it, when I sit ; driven out of doors 
with it, when I go from home; welcomed 
home with it, when I return: nay, I bear it 
on my shoulders, as a beggar wont her brat ; 
Rnd, I think, when he hath lamed me, 1 shall 
beg with it from door to door. 
Enter Knyiw^ii, Luciana, and the Cour- 
tezan, wvYA Pinch, and Others. 
Ant. E. Come, go along ; my wife is com- 
ing yonder. 
Dro. E. IViistress, resyice fnem^ respect 
your end ; or rather the prophecy, like the 
oarrot. Beware the rope*s end. 
Aiit.E. Wilt thou still talk? [Beats him. 
Cour. How say you now? is not your hus- 
band mad ? 
Adr. His incivility confirms no less. — 
Bood doctor Pinch, yon are a conjurer ; 
Establish him in his true sense again. 
f^nd 1 wilt please yon what you will demand. 
LiUC. Alas, how fiery and how sharp he looks 
Cour. Mark, how he trembles in his ecstasy ! 
Pinch, Give mc your hand, and let me feel 
your pulse. [your ear. 

Ant. E. There is my hand, and let it feel 
Pinch. I charge thee, Satan, housed within 
this man, 
Co yield possession to my holy prayers, 
^nd to thy stale of darkness hie thee straight ; 
^ c6njure thee by all the saints in heaven. 
Ant, E. Peace, doting wizard, peace ; I am 
not mad. [soul I 

Adr. O, that thon wert Dot, poor distressed 
Ant.E. You minion you, are these your 
customers 1 
Did this companion * with a saffron face 
Revel and feast it at my house to-day, 
Whilst upon me the guilty doora were shut. 
And I denied to enter in my house? 

Adr. O, husband, God doth know, you 

dined at home. 

Where 'would you had remain'd until this time, 

Free from these slanders, and this open shame? 

Ant.r. I dined at home! Thou villain, what 

says'tthou? [at home. 

Dro. F. Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine 

Ant. E. Were not my doors lock'd up, and 

I shut out? [you shut out. 

Dro.F. Perdyt, yoordoors were lock'd, and 

Ant. E. And did not she herself revile me 

there ? [there. 

Dro.E. Sans fable |, she herself reviled you 



Ant» E. Did not her kitchen maid rail, 

taunt, and scorn me? 
Dro. E. Certes §, she did ; the kitchen-ves- 
tal scorn'd you. [thence? 
Ant. E. And did not I in rage depart from 
Dro.E. In verity you did ; — my bones bear 
witness, 
That since have felt the vigour of his rage. 
Adr. Is*t good to soothe him in these con- 
traries? [vein. 
Pinch. It is uo shame ; the fellow finas his 
And,yieldinii to him,humouis well his frenzy. 
Ant.E. Thou hast subornM the goldsmith 

to arrest me. 
Adr. Aids, I sent you money to redeem 
By Dromio here, who came in haste for it. [yoa 
Dro.E. Money by me? heart' and good-will 
you might, 
But,snrely master, not a rag of money, [ducats! 
Ajit.E. V^ewl^iX not thou to her for a pnrsf of 
Adr. He came to me, and I deliver'd it. [did. 
Luc. And I am witness with her, that she 
Dro. E. God and the rope-maker, bear me 
Tliat Iwas sent for nothing but a rope! [witness. 
Pinch. Mistress, both man and master is 
possess'd ; 
I know it by their pale and deadly looks : 
They must be bound and laid in some dark 
room. [forth to-day. 

Ant. E. Say, wherefore didst thou lock me 
And why dost thou deny the bag of gold ? 
Adr. I did not, gentle husband, lock thee 
forth. [gold ; 

Dro. E. And, gentle master, I receiv'd no 
But I confess, sir, that we were lock'd out. 
Adr. Di.-^sembliug villain, thou speak'stfalse 
in both. [in all; 

Ant. E Dissembling harlot, thou art false 
And art confe<lerate with a damned pack. 
To make a loathsome aliject scorn of me : 
But with these nails PU pluck out these false 

eyts, 
That would behold in me this shameful sport. 
[PiNCH una his ct^ssistants bind Ant. 
atid Dromio. 
Adr. O, bind him, bind him, let him not 
come near me. [within him. 

Pinch. More company ; — the fiend is strong 
Euc. Ah me, poor man, how pale and wan 
he looks! [gaoler, thou, 

Ant.E. What, will you murder me ? Thoa 
I am thy prisoner; wilt thou suffer them 
To make a rescue ? 

Off'. Masters, let him go; 

He is my prisoner, and you shall not have him- 
Pinch. Go, bind this man, for he is frantic 

too. 
Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peevish || offi- 
Hast thou delight to see a wretched man [cerl 
Do outrage and displeasureto himself? 

Ojf. He is my prisoner ; if 1 let him go. 
The debt he owes, will be required of me. 

Adr. I will discharge thee, ere I go from 
Bear me forthwith unto hi* creditor, [thee 



• Fellow. 



♦ A corruption of the French oath — pardieu* 
c CcrUiitiv. U Foolish. 



j Without a fable. 



Scene l^.} 



COMEDY OF ERRORS. 



349 



And, knowing how the debt grows, I will pay 
II Good master doctor, see him safe convey'd [it. 
I Home to my house. — O most unhappy day I 
1 Ant. E. O most unhappy * strumpet ! 

£)ro. E. Master, l*m here entered in bond 

for you. [thou mad me ? 

Ani.E. Out on thee, villain ! wherefore doBt 

Dro. E. Will you be Dound for nothing ? be 

mad. 

Good master : cry, the devil. — [talk ! 

IjUC^ God help, poor souls, how idly do they 

AdTf Go bear him hence. — Sister, go you 

with me.— 

[Eaeufit Pinch and Assistants, with 
Ant. and Dro. 
Say now, whose suit is he arrested at 1 [him ? 
Off. One Angelo, a goldsmith : Do you know 
Adr» I know the man : What is the sum he 
Off. Two hundred ducats. [owes ? 

Adr, Say, how grows it due ? [him, 

Off. Due for a chain, yonr husband had of 
Adr. He did bespeak a chain for me, but 
had it not. [to-day 

Cour. When as your husband, all in rage. 
Came to my house, and took aw'ay my ring, 
(The ring 1 saw upon his finger now,) 
, Straight after, did 1 meet him with a chain. 



Adr. It may be so, but I did never see it: — 

Come, gaoler, bring me where the gold&mith 

I long to know the ti uth hereof at large, [ij,. 

Enter Antipholus of Syracuse, uith his 

rapier drawn, and Dr'cmio o/ Syracuse. 

Luc. (jod, for thy mercy! they are loose 

again. [call more help, 

Adr. And come with naked swords : let's 

To have them bound again. 

Off. Away, they'll kill us. 

{Exeunt Officer, Adr.^//^/ Luc. 

Ant. S. I see, these witches are afraid of 

swords. [ran from you. 

Dri). S. She, that would be your wife, now 

Ant. S. Come to the Centaur : fetch our 

stufft from thence : 

I long, that we were safe and sound aboard. 

Dro. S. Faith, stay here this night, they will 
surely do us no harm ; you saw, they speak us 
fair, give us gold : methinks, they are such a 
gentle nation, that but for the mountain of mad 
flesh that claims marriage of me, Lcould find ;o 
my heart to stay here still, and turn witch. 

Ant. S. I will not stay to-night for ail X\\e 
Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard, [town ; 

{Exeunt. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. The same. 
Enter Merchant and Angelo. 

Ang. I am sorry, sir, that I have hinder*d 
Put, I protest, he had the chain of me, [you ; 
Though most dishonestly he doth deny it. 

Mer. How is the man esteem'd here in the 

Ang. Of very reverendreputation, sir, [city? 
Of credit infinite, highly beloved, 
St-cond to none that fives here in the city ; 
Eis word might bear my wealth at any time. 

Mer. Speak softly : yonder, as I think, he 
walks. 
Mnter Antipholus and Dromio of Syra- 
cuse. 

Ang. 'Tis so ; and that self chaia about his 
neck, [have. 

V. hich he forswore, most monstrously, to 
(-'ood sir draw near to me, I'll speak to him. 
$" gnior Antipholus, I wonder much [trouble ; 
J ;;^t you would put me to this shame and 
And not without some scandal to yourself, 
V. ith circumstance, and oaths, so to deny 
This chain, which now you wear so openly: 
S«*sitles the charge, the shame, imprisonment. 
You have done wrong to this my honest friend ; 
V^ ho, but for staying on our controversy, 
H d hoisted sail, and put to sea to-day ; 
This chain you had of me, can you deny it? 

Ant. S. I think, I had ; I never did deny it 

Mrr. Yes, that you did, sir; and forswore 
it loo. [swear it ? 

A /it. iS'. Who heard me to deny it, or for- 



Mer, These cars of mine, thon knowest, did 
hear thee: 
Fie on thee, wretch 1 'tis pity that thou livest 
To walk where any honest men resort. 

Atir. S. Thou art a villain, to impeach me 
thus : 
I'll prove mine honour and mine honesty 
Against thee presently, if thou daresl stand. 
Aler. I dare, and do defy thee for a villain. 
[They draw. 
Enter Adriana, Luciana, Courtesan, and 
others. [is mad; — 

Adr. Hold, hnrt him not, for God's sake : he 
Some get within him j, take his sword away : 
Bind IJromio too, and bear them to my house. 
Dro. S. Run, master, run ; for God's sake, 
take a house j. 
This is some priory ; — In, or we are spoil'd. 
[^Exeunt Ant. and Drom. to the Priory. 
Enter the Abbess. 
Abb. Be quiet, peopte ; Wherefo*-e throng 
you hither? [hence: 

Adr. To fetch my poor distracted husband 
Let us come in, that we may bind him fast, 
.And bear him home for his recovery. 

Ang. I kne.w, he was not in his perfect wits. 

Mer. I am sorry now, that I did draw on hiw. 

Abb. How long hath this possession held the 

man? [sad, 

Adr. This week he hath been heavy, sour, 

And much, much different from the man h« 

But, till this afternoon, his passion [was^ 

Ne'er brake into extremity of rage. 



' Unhappy for unlucky, i. e., mi. chievom. 

grapple with him ^ i.e.. 



i Baggage. 
Go into 1 house. 
2H 



X i •«., Close. 



350 



SIlAKSPEAilE. 



[Act V, 



Abb. Hath he not lost much wealth by , It is a branch and parcel + of mine oav,h, 
reck at sea? [eye | A charitable duty of my order ; 



Bnry*d some dear frie»»d? Hath not else Lis 
Stray'd his affection in unlawful love? 
A sin prevailing much in youthful men, 
U ho ^ive their eyis the liberty of gnzing. 
Which of these sorrows is he subject to? " 

Acir. To none of thtse, except it be the last ; 

Namely, some love, that drew him oft from 

home. \\\HU. 

Abh. You should for that have reprehended 

Adr. Why, so I did, 

Abh. Ay, but not rough enough. 

Adr. As roughlv as my modesty would let 

Abb. Haply, in private. [me- 

Adr. And in assemblies too. 

j4bb. Ay, but not enough. 

Adr. It was the copy * of our conference : 
In bed, he slept not for my urging it; 
At board, he f«^ not for my urging it ; 
Alone, it was the subject of my theme; 
In company, I often glanced it: 
Still did 1 tell him it was vile and bad. [mad : 

Abo. And thereof came it, that the man was 
Tlie venom clamours of a jealous woman 
Toison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. 
It seems his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing: 
And thereof comes it that his head is light. 
Thou say'st, his meat was sauced with thy up- 
Unquiet meals make ill digestions, [braidings : 
Thereof the raging fire of fever bred ; 
And what's a tever but a tit of madness? 
Thou say'st, his spoits were hinder'd by thy 

brawls : 
Sweet recreation barr*d, what doth ensue, 
But moody and dull melancholy, 
(Kinsman to giim and comfortless despair ;) 
And, at her heels, a huge infectious troop 
Of pale distemperatures, and foes to life .' 
In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest 
To be disturb'd, would mad or man, or beast ; 
The consequence is then, thy jealous fits 
Have scared thy husband from the use of wits. 

JLuc. She never reprehended him but mildly, 
When he <lemean'd himself rough, rude, and 

wildly, — 
Why bear ) ou these rebukes, and answer not ? 

Adr. She did betray me to my own reproof. 
Good people, enter, and lay hold on him. 

Abb. No, not a creature enters in my house. 

Adr. Then, let your servants bring my hus- 
band forth. [tuary. 

Abb. Neither; betook this place for sanc- 
And it shall privilege him from your hands. 
Till I have brought him to his wiis again. 
Or lose my labour in assaying it. 

At/r. i will attend m> husband, .be his nurse. 
Diet his sickness, for it is my oflice, 
And will have no attorney but myself; 
And therefore let m- have hini home with me. 

Abb. Be patient : for I will not let him stir, 
Till I have us'd the approved means I have. 
With wholesome 8y<ups, drugs, and holy 

prayers. 
Tc maLe of him a formal man again f: | 



Therefore depart, and leave him here with me. 

Adr, 1 wil! not hence, and leave my husband 
And ill it doth beseem your holiness, [here ; 
To st parate the husban-i and the wife. 

Abb. He quiet, and depart, thou shait not have 
him. [Kiit Abbess 

Luc. Complain unto the duke of this in 
dipnity. [feet, 

Adr. Come, go ; I will fall prostrate at his 
And never rise until my tears and prayers 
Have won his grace to come in person hither, 
And take perforce my husband from the aDbess 

Mer. By this, I think, the dial points at five: 
Anon, I am sure, the duke himself in person 
Comes this way to the melancholy vale; 
The place of death and sorry § execution. 
Behind the ditches of the abbey here. 

Ang. Upon what cause i 

Mer. To see a reverend Syracusan mer- 
Who put unluckily into this bay [chant. 

Against the laws and statutes of this town. 
Beheaded publicly for his offence. 

Af/g. See, where they come ; we will behold 
his death. [abbey. 

Luc. Kneel to the duke, before he pass the 
Enter Duke attended ; JEg eon bare-lieaded; 

until the Headsman and other Ol^icers. 

Duke- Yet once again proclaim it publicly. 
If any friend will pay the su»u for him, 
He shall not die, so much we tender him. 

Adr. Justice, most sacred duke, against the 
abbess I [lady; 

Duke. She is a virtuous and a reverend 
It cannot be, that she hath done thee wrong. 

Adr. May it please your grace, Antipholus, 
my husband, — 
Whom I made lord of me and all I had, 
At your important |1 letters,— this ill day 
A most outrageous fit of madness took him; 
Tliat desperately he hurried through the street 
(With him his bondman, all as mad as he,) 
Doing displeasure to the citizens 
By rushing in their houses, bearing thence J 
Rings, jewels, any thing his rage did like. 
Once did I get him bound i.iid sent him home, 
Whilst to take orderU for the wrongs 1 went. 
That here and there his fury had couimitted. 
Anon, I wot** not by what strong escape, 
He broke from those that had the guard of him; 
And, with his mad attendant and himself, 
Each one with ireful passioh, with drawn 
Met us again, and, madly bent on us, [swords. 
Chased us away; till raising of more aid, 
We came again to hind them : then they fled 
Into this abbey, whither we pursued them ; 
And here the abbess shuts the gates on us. 
And will not suffer us to fetch him out, [hence. 
Nor send him forth, that we may bear him 
Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy com- 
mand, [help. 
Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for 

Duke. Long since, thy husband served m« 
in my wars; 



' The theme. f i. f., To bring him back to his senses. 

Ij Importanate. % e. r., To take me i8ure:>. 



t Part. 
*• Kuow. 



$Sad. 



i 



Srnie /.] 



COMEDY OF ERRORS. 



351 



And I to thee engaged a prince's word, 
W hen thou didst make him master of thy bed, 
To do him all the trrace and good I could. — 
Go, some of you, knock at the abbey gate, 
And bid the lady abbess come to me; 
1 wili determine this, before I siir. 
Enter a Servant. 
Serv. O mistress, mistress, shift and save 
yourself I 
My master and his man are both broke loose, 
Beaten the maids a-row *,and bound the doctor, 
Whose beard they have sioged oflf with brands 
And ever as it blazed they threw on him [of fire; 
Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair: 
My master preaches patience to him, while 
His man with scissors nicks him+ like a fool : 
And, sure, unJess you send soiiiC present lielp, 
Betw-^cn them they will kill the conjurer. 
Adr. Peace, fool, thy master and his man 
are here ; 
And that is false thou dost report to us. 

Serv. Mistress, upon my life, I tell you true ; 
I have not breathed almost, since 1 did see it. 
He cries for you, and vows, if he can take you, 
To scorch your face and to disfigure you : 

[Cry vithin. 

Hark, hark, I hear him, mistress; fly, be gone. 

Duke, Come, stand by me, fear nothing : 

Guard with halberds. 
Adr. Ah me, it is my husband ! Witness you. 
That he is borne about invisible: 
Even now we housed him in the abbey here; 
And now he's there, past thought of human 
reason. 
Enter Antifholus and Dromio of 
Ephesus. 
Ant. E. Justice, most gracious duke, oh, 
grant me justice] 
Even for the service that long since I did thee. 
When I bestrid thee in the wars, and took 
Deop scars to save thy life; even for the blood 
Thit then I lost for thee, now grant me justice. 
^ge. Unless the fear of deaih doth make me 
I see my son Antipholus and Dromio. [dote. 
Ant. E. Justice, sweet prince, against that 
woman there. 
She whom thou gavest to me to be my wife ; 
That hath abused and dishonour'd me. 
Even in the strength and height of injury ! 
Beyond imagination is the wrong. 
That she this day hath shameless thrown on me. 
Duke. Discover how, and thou shalt find me 
i, just. [doors upon me, 

'I Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the 
j While she with harlots j feasted in my house. 
Duke. A grievous fault: Say, woman, didst 
thou so? [my sister, 

Adr. No, my good lord; — myself, he, and 
' To-day did dine together: So befal my soul, 
I As this is false, he burdens me withal ! [night, 
' Luc Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on 

► Bnt she tells to your liighness simple truth ! 
I Ang. O perjured woman! They are both for- 
I sworn. 

i In this the madman justly chargeth them. 



Ant. E. My liege, I am advised what I say ; 
Neither disturb'd with the eflect of wine. 
Nor heady-rash, provoked with raging ire, 
Albeit, my wrongs might make one wiser mad. 
This woman lock'd me out this day fa onj dinner; 
That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with 
Could witness it, for he WHS with me then ; [her 
Who parted Mith me to go fetch a chain, 
Projnising to bring it to the Porcupine, 
Where i3althaxar and 1 did dine together. 
Our dinner done, and he not coming thither, 
I went to seek him : in the street I met him; 
And in his company, that gentleman, [down. 
There did this perjured goldsmith swear me 
That 1 this day of him received the chain, 
Which, God he knows, 1 saw not : for the which. 
He did arrest me with an officer. 
I did obey ; and sent my peasant home 
For certain ducats: he with none return'd. 
Then fairly I bespoke the officer, 
lo go in pel son with me to my house. 
By the way we met 
My wife, her sister, and a rabble more 
Ot vile confederates; along with them 
They brought one Pinch ; a himgry lean-faced 
A mere anatomy, a mountebank, [villain, 

A thread-bare juLigier, and a fortune-teller; 
A needy, hollow-eyed, sharp-looking wretch, 
A living dead man: this pernicious slave, 
Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer; 
And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse. 
And with no face, as. 'twere, outfacing me, 
Cries out, I was possessM : then altogether 
They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence. 
And in a dark and dankish vault at home 
There lelt me and my man, both bound together; 
Till gnawing with njy teeth my bonds in sunder, 
I gain'd my freedom, and inmiediately 
Ran hither to your grace ; whom 1 beseech 
To give me ample satisfaction 
For these deep shames and great indignities. 

Aug. My lord, in truth, thus far 1 witness 
with him ; 
That he dined not at home but was lock'd out. 

Duke. But had he such a chain ofthee,or no? 

Ang. He had, my lord r and when he ran in 
here, 
These people saw the chain about his neck. 

Mer Besides, I will be sworn, these ears of 
mine 
Heard you confess you had the chain of him. 
After you first forswore it on the mart, 
And, thereupon, I drew my sword on you ; 
And then you fied into this abbey here. 
From whence,! think, you are come by miracle. 

Ant. E. I never came within these abbey 
walls. 
Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me: 
I never saw the chain, so help me heaven! 
And this is false, you burden me withal, [this! 

Duke. Why, what an intricate impeach is 
I think, you all have drank of Circe's cup. 
If here >ou housed him, here he would ha^a 

been ; [coldly :■ 

If he were mad, he would not plead » 



• i. e.. Successively, one after anorher, + i. e.. Cuts his hair close. 1 Harkv 

*vas a term of reproach applied to sheats among men, as well as to wantons among women. 



352 



SHAKSPEARE- 



[Act r. 



You say, he dined at heme ; the goldsmith here 

Denies that saying : — Sirrah, what say you ? 

JJro. E. Sir, he dined with her there, at the 

Porcupine. [tliat ring. 

Cour. He did ; and from my finger snatch'd 

Ant. E. *Tis true, my liege, this ring I had 

of her. [here? 

Duke. Saw*8t thou him enter at the abbey 

Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your 

grace. [abbess hither ; 

Duke. Why, this i« strange : Go call the 

I think you are all mated*, or stark mad. 

[Exit an Attendant. 
j^ge. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak 
a word ; 
Haply I see a friend will save my life. 
And pay the sum that may deliver me. 

Duke. Speak freely, Syrapusaa, what thou 
wilt. [pholus? 

j^ge. Is not your name, sir, callM Anti- 
Aud is not that your bondman Dromio? 
Dro. E. Within this hour I was his bond- 
man, sir. 
But he, I thank him, gnaw*d in two my cords ; 
Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound. 
^ge, I am sure, you both of you remember 
me. [by you ; 

Dro. E. Ourselves we do remember, sir. 
For lately we were bound as you are now. 
"iou are not Pinch*8 patient, are you, sir? 
^Ege, Why look you strange on me ? you 
know me well. [now. 

Ant. E. I never saw you in my life, till 
jEge. Oh ! grief hath changed me, since you 
saw me last ; 
And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand 
Have written strange defeatures t in my face : 
But tell me yet, dost thou not know my voice ? 
A)it. E. Neither. 

^ge, Dromio, nor thou ? 

Dro. E. No, trust me, sir, nor I. 
■^ge. I am sure, thou dost. 

Dro. E. Ay, sir? but I am sure, 1 do not ; 
and whatsoever a man denies, you are now 
bound to believe him. 
^ge. Not know my voice! O, time's ex 
tremity ! [tongue. 

Hast thou so crack'd and splitted my poor 
III seven short years, that here my only son 
Knows not my feeble key of untuned cares ? 
'J liough now this grained I face of mine be hid 
Ju sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow. 
And all the conduits of my blood froze up ; 
Yet hath my Hight of life some rai mory. 
My wasting lamp some fading glimmer left. 
My dull deaf ears a little use to hear : 
All these old witnesses (I cannot err,) 
Tell me, thou art my son Antipholus. 

Ant, E. I never saw my father in my life. 
j^ge. But seven years since, in SyracHsa, 
boy, [son, 

Thou know'st, we parted: but, perhaps, my 
Titou shamest to acknowledge me in misery. 
Ant. E. The duke, and ail that know me in 
the city, 



Can witness with me that it is not so ; 
I ne'er saw Syracosa in my life. 

Duke. I tell thee, Syracusan, twenty year* 
Have I been patron to Antipholus, 
During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa : 
I see, thy age and dangers make thee dote. 
Enter the Abbess, with Antipholus Syra- 
cusan, and Dromio Syracusan. 
Ahh. Most mighty duke, behold a man much 
wrong'd. \^AU gather to see him, 

Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes de- 
ceive me. [other ; 
Duke. One of these men is Genius to the 
And so of these : Which is the natural man. 
And which the spirit ? Who deciphers them ? 
Dro. S. I, sir, am Dromio ; command him 
away. [stay. 
Dro. E. I, sir, am Dromio ; pray, let me 
Ant. iS'. iEgeon, art thou not? or else his 
ghost? [him here? 
Dro. S. O, my old master ! who hath bound 
Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose hi» 
bonds. 
And gain a husband by his liberty : — 
Speak, old ^Egeon, if thou be'st the man 
That hadst a wife once call'd .Emilia, 
That bore thee at a burden two fair sons : 

0, if thou be'st the same .Egeon, speak, 
And speak unto the same /Emilia { 

^ge. If I dream not, thou art ^Emilia ; 
If thou art she, tell me, where is that son 
That floated with thee on the fatal raft I 

Ahb. By men of Epidamnum, he, and I, 
And the twin Dromio, all were taken up ; 
But, by and by, rude fishermen of Corinth 
By force took Dromio and my son from them. 
And me they left with those of Epidamnum: 
What then became of them, 1 cannot tell ; 

1, to this fortune that you see me in. [right $ ; 
Dukf. Why, here begins his morning story 

These two Antipliolus's, these two so like, 
And these two Dromio's, one in semblance,— 
Besides her urging of her wreck at sea, — 
These are the parents to these children. 
Which accidentally are met together. 
Antipholus, thou camest from Corinth first. 
Ant. S. No, sir, not i ; I came from Syra- 
cuse, [is which. 
Duke. Stay, stand apart ; I know not which 
Ant. E. I came from Corinth, my most 

gracious lord. 
Dro. E. And I with him. [famous warrior. 
Ant. E. Brought to this town with that most 
Duke Msnaphon, your most renowned uncle. 
Adr. Which of you two diddine with me to- 
Ant. S. I, gentle mistress. day? 

Adr. And are not you my husband ? 

Ant. E. No, I say nay to that. 
Ant. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so ; 
And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here. 
Did call me brother: — What I told you then^ 
I hope, I shall have leisure to make good ; 
If this be not a dream, I see, and hear. [me. 
Aug. That is the chain, sir, which you had of 
Ant, S. I think it be, sir ; I deny it not. 



• Confounded. t Alteration of features. % Furrowed, lined. 

^ The morning story is what N/isin\ tells the Duke in the first scene of this play. 



Scene /.] 



COMEDY OF ERRORS. 



353 



Ant* E. And you, sir, for this chain arrested 

Aug. \ think I did, sir; 1 deny it not. [me. 

Adr. 1 sent you money, sir, to be your bail, 
Bv Droniio ; but I think he brought it not. 

Dro. E. Mo, none by me. 

Ant. S. This purse of ducats I received from 
And Dromio my man did bring them me : [you, 
I see, we still did meet each other's man, 
And I was ta'en for him, and he for me. 
And thereupon these errors are arose. 

Ant* E. These ducats pawn I for my father 
here. [life. 

Duke, It shall not need, thy father hath his 

Cour, Sir, I must have that diamond from 
you. [my good cheer. 

Ant, E. There, take it ; and much thanks for 

Abb. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the 
To go with us into tlie abbey here, [pains 

And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes : — 
And all that are assembled in this place. 
That by this sympathized one day's error 
Have suffer'd wrong, go, keep us company. 
And we shall make full satisfaction. — 
Twenty-five years have I but ijone in travail 
Of yon, my sons ; nor, till this present hour. 
My heavy burdens are delivered : — 
The duke, my husband, and my children both. 
And you, the calendars of their nativity. 
Go to a gossip's feast, and go with me ; 
After so long grief, such nativity I 



Duke. With all my heart, I'll gossip at this 
feast. 
[Exeunt Duke, Abbess, ^Egeon, Conr- 
tezan, Merchant, Angelo, and At 
tendants. [shipboard? 

Dro. S. Master, shall I fetch yonr stuff from 
Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast 
thou embark'd? [the Centaur. 

Dro, S. Your goods, that lay at host, sir, in 
Ant. S. He speaks to me; I am your master, 
Dromio : 
Come, go with us ; we'll look to that anon : 
Embrace thy brother, there, rejoice with him. 
[Exeunt Antipholus S. and E. 
Adr. and Luc. [house, 
Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your master's 
That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner ; 
She now shall be my sister, not my wife. 
Dro. E. Methinks, you are my glass, and not 
my brother : 
I see by you, I am a sweet-faced youth. 
Will you walk in to see their gossiping? 

Dro. S. Not I, sir; you are my elrler. [itl 
Dro. E. That's a question : how shall we try 
Dro. S. We will draw cuts for the senior : 
till then, lead thou first. 

Dro, E. Nay, then thus: [brother: 

We came into the world, like brother and 

And now let's go hand in hand, not one before 

another. [Exeunt 



On a careful revision of the foregoing scenes, I do not hesitate to pronounce them the compo- 
gition of two very unequal writers. Shakspeare had undoubtedly a share in them ; but that 
the entire play was no work of his, is an opinion which (as Benedick says) '* fire cannot melt 
out of me ; I will die in it at the stake.*' Thus, as we are informed by Aulus Gellius, Lib. III. 
Cap. 3., some plays were absolutely ascribed to Plautus, which in truth had only been (retrac- 
tutcE et ex'politcE) retouched and polished by him. 

In this comedy we find more intricacy of plot than distinction of character; and our atten- 
tion is less forcibly engaged, because we can guess in great measure how the denoiiemt,«t 
will be brought about. Yet the subject appears to have been reluctantly dismissed, even .a 
this last and unnecessary scene, where the same mistakes are continued, till the power of 
affording entertainment is entirely lost. — Steevens. 



,Az 



MACBETH. 



^cr^on^ tepregenteD* 



Duncan, King of Scotland. 
Malcolm 



his sans. 

Generals of the King's 
army. 



' noblemen of Scotland. 



Si WARD, Earl of Northumberland, Gene' 

ral of tti£ English forces. 
Young SiWARD, Ms son. 
Seyton, an officer attending on Macbeth* 
Son to MacdnfF. 

An English Docfor. A Scotch Doctor. 
A Soldier. A Porter. An old Man. 



DONALBAIN, 

Macbeth, 

Banquo, 

Macduff, 

l.ENOX, 

ROSSE, 

Mejnteth, 
Angus, J 

Cathness, -^ 
Fleanck, son to Banquo. 

Lords, Gentlemen, Officers, Soldiers, Murderers, Attendants, and Messengers ; 
Ghost of Banquo, and several other A'pyaritioiu. 

Scene, — in the end of the fourth act, lies in England ; through the rest of the play, in 
Scotland ; and, chiefiy, at Mucbeth*^ castle. 



Lady Macbeth. 

Lady Macduff. 

Gentlewoman, attending on Lady Macbeth, 

Hecate, and three li^itches, 

the 



ACT I. 

Thunder and 



SCENE I. An open Place^ 
Lightning. 
Enter three Witches. 

1 Witch. When shall we three meet again 
In r.hnn^ef liijhtuing, or in rain? 

2 Wi, ch. \\ lien the hurlyburly's • done. 
When the battk's lost and won : 

3 Witchs That will be ere set of sun. 

1 Witch. Where the place ? 

2 Witch. Upon the heath : 

3 Witch. There to meet with Macbeth. 
I Witch. 1 come, Graymalkin! 

All. Paddock calls : — Anon. — 
Fair is foul, and foul is fair: 
Hover through the fog and filthy air. 

[Witches vanish. 
SCENE IL A Camp near Fores. 
Aletruni withhi. Enter King Duncan, 

Malcolm, Donalbain, Lenox, with 

Attendants, nifeti?ig a bleeding Soldier. 

fj?tn. What bloody man is that? He can 
Asseemclh by his plight, of the revolt [report, 
The newest state. 

Alal. 1 his is the Serjeant, 

Who. like a eood and hardy soldier, foueht 
'Gainst my captivity . — Hail, brave friend! 
Say to the king the knowledge of the broil. 
As thoo didst leave it. 

Siild. Doubtfully it stood ; 

As two spent swimniers, that do cling together, 
And choke their art. The merciless Macdon- 
( Worthy to be a rebel; for, to that, [waid 
Ihe innltiplyiug vilianies of nature 



Do swarm upon him,) from the western isles 
Or Kernes and Gailowglasses is supplied+; 
And foitnne, on his damned quarrelj smiling, 
Show'd like a rebel's whore: But all's too weak: 
For brave Macbeth, (well he deserves that 

nanje,) 
Disdaining fortune, with his brandish'd steel. 
Which smoked with bloody execution. 
Like valour's minion. 

Carved out his passage, till he faced the slave; 
And ne'er shook hands, nor bade farewell to 

him, [chaps. 

Till he unseam'd him from the nave to the 

And fix'd his head upon our battlements. 

JJun. O valiant cousin! worthy gentleman! 

Sold, As whence the sun 'gins his reflection 

Shipwrecking storms and direful thunders 

break; [to come. 

So from that spring, whence comfort seeni'd 
Discomfort $sweli8. Mark, king of Scotland, 

mark : 
No sooner justice had, with valour arm'd, 
Compcll'd these skipping Kernes to trust their 

heels, 
But the Norweyan lord, surveying vantage, 
With furbish'd arms, and new supplies of men. 
Began a fresh assault. 

Da7i. Dismay'd not this 

Our captains, Macbeth and Banquo? 

Sold. Yes ; 

As sparrows, eagles; or the hare, the lion. 
If 1 say sooth 11, 1 must report they were 
As cannons overcharged with double cracks 
So they 



• Tumnlt. 



»».<», Supplied with licjV.t and hpavy>^rmed troops* 

'ri.<- .,i.';.-.-itr \i' lOMiloi:. i'liUh. 



+ C.iuse. 



Scene J I.] 



MACBETH. 



355 



Doubly redoubled strokes upon the foe: 
Exceptthey meant to baihein reeking wounds, 
Or memorize anollier Golgotha*, 

I cannot tell ; 

But I am faint, my gashes cry for help. 
Dun. So well thy words become thee, as 
thy wounds ; 
They smack of honour both : — Go, get hini 
surgeons. [txit Soldier attended. 

Enter Rosse. 
Who comes here ? 
Mai. The worthy thane of Rosse. 



So should he look. 
That seems to speak things strange. 

Rosse. God save the king ! 

Dun. Whence earnest thou, worthy thane? 

Rosse. From Fife, great king. 
Where the Norweyan banners fioutf the sky, 
And fan our people cold. 
Norway himself, with terrible numbers. 
Assisted by that most disloyal traitor 
The thane of Cawdor, 'gan a dismal conflict : 
Till that Bellona's bridegroom;, lappM in proof§. 
Confronted him with self-comparisons. 
Point against point rebellious, arm 'gainst arm, 
Curbing his lavish spirit : And, to conclude. 
The victory fell on us : 

Dun. Great happiness! 

Ro'ise. That now • 

Sweno, the Norways' king, cravescomposifion; 
Nor would we deign him burial of his men, 
Till he disbursed, at Saint Colmcs' inch. 
Ten thousand dollars to our general use. 

Dun. No more that thane of Cawdor shall 
deceive [death, 

Oar bosom interest : — Go, pronounce his 
And with his former title greet Macbeth. 

Rosse. I'll see it done. 

Du?i. What he hath lost, noble Macbeth 
hath won. [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. A Heath. 
Thunder. Enter the three Wifches. 

1 Witch. Where hast thou been, sister? 

2 Witch. Killing swine. 
Z Witch. Sister, where thou? [her lap, 

1 Witch. A sailor's wife had chestnuts in 
A.nd mounch'd,an(l mounch'd,and mounch'd: — 

Give me, quoth 1 : [cries, 

Aroint thee\\,witch! the rump-fed ronyonH 
rier husband's to Aleppo gone, master o* the 
But in a sieve I'll thither sail, [Tiger : 

And, like a rat \^ithout a tail, 
,ril do, I'll do, and I'll do. 

2 Witch. I'll give thee a WJod. 
1 Witch. Thou art kind. 

3 Witch. And I another. 
1 Witch. I myself have all the other; 

And the very ports they blow. 
All the quarters that they know 
I* the shipman's card**. 
1 will drain him dry as hay : 

• Make another Golgotha as memorable as the fir:^t. t Mock. % Shakspeare means Mars. 

$ Defended by armour of proof. |1 Avanat, begone. V A scurvy woman fed on offaU. 

f^» Sailor's chart. ft Accursed. Jf Prophetic sist-ers. $$ Supernatural, spirituaL 

iiil Estate. nil Rapinrously^affectcd. 



Sleep shall, neither night nor day. 
Hang upon his pent-house lid ; 
He shall live a man forbid+t ; 
Weary sev'n nights, nine times nine, 
Sh.ill he dwindle, peak, and pine: 
Though his bark cannot be lost. 
Vet it shall be tempest-toss'd. 
Look what I have. 

2 Witch. Show me, show me. 

i Witch. Here I have a pilot's thnrab, 
Wreck'd as he did homeward come. 

{Drum within 

3 Witch. A drum, a drum : .., 
Macbeth doth come. 

Alt. The weird sisters Jt» hand in hand. 
Posters of the sea and land. 
Thus do go about, about; 
Thrice to thine, and thrice to mine, 
And thrice again, to make up nine: 
Peace ! — the charm's wound up. 

Enter Macbeth and Banquo. 

Macb. So foul aad fair a day I have nol 
seen. [are these, 

Ban. How far is't call'd to Fores?— Whal 
So wither'd and so wild in their attire ; 
That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, 
And yet are on't? Live jou? or are you aughi 
That man may question? You seem to un- 
derstand me. 
By each at once her choppy finger laying 
Upon herskinny lips : — You should be women. 
And yet your beards forbid me to interpret 
That you are so. 

Macb. Speak, if you can ; — What are you? 

1 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, 
thane of Glamis ! [thane of Cawdor I 

2 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! hail to thee, 

3 Witch. All hail, Macbeth! that shalt be 
king hereafter. [to fear 

Ba7i. Good sir, why do you start; and seem 
Things that do sound so fair? — Pthe name of 
Are ye fantastical ^), or that indeed [truth. 

Which outwardly ye show? My noble partner 
You greet with present grace, and great pre- 
Of noble havingllll, and of royal hope, [diction 
Thathe seems rapt lllf withal; to me you speak 

not : 
If you can look into the seeds of time, [not ; 
And say which grain will grow, and which will 
Speak then to me, who neither beg, nor fear. 
Your favours, nor your hate. 

1 Witch. Hail! 

2 Witch. Hail ! 

3 Witch. Hail! 

1 Witch. Lesser than Macbeth, and greater, 

2 Witch. Not so happy, yet much happier. 

3 Witch. Thou shalt get kingSjthough thou b« 
So, all hail, Macbeth, and Banquo! [none: 

1 Witch. Banquo, and Macbfth, all hail! 

Macb. Stay, you imperfect speakers, tell me 

more: [Glamis; 

By Sinel's death, I know, I am thane of 

But how of Cawdor? the thane of Cawdor l:'"-98. 



356 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Arf i. 



A prosperous gentleman ; and, to be king, 
Stands not within the prospect of belief. 
No more than to be Cawdor. Say, from whence 
Yon owe this strange intelligence f or why 
Upon this blasted heatl» you stop our way 
With such prophetic greeting? — Speak, I 
charge you. [Witches vanish. 

San. The earth hath bubbles, as the water 

has, [vanished? 

And these are of them : — Whither are they 

Macb. Into the air ; and what seem'd corpo- 
ral, melted [staid ! 
As breath into the wind. — 'Would they had 

Ban, Were such things here, as we do speak 
Or have we eaten of the insane root*, [about? 
That takes the reason prisoner ? 

Alac, Your children shall be kings. 

Ban. You shall be king. 

Much, And thane of Cawdor too ; went it 
not so 1 [Who's here 1 

Ban. To the self-same tune, and words. 
iiVe^er RossE aiid Angus. 

Ross£. The king hath happily received, Mac- 
beth, 
The news of thy success: and when he reads 
Thy personal venture in the rebels' fight. 
His wonders and his praises do contend, [that, 
Which should be thine, or his : Silenced with 
In viewing o'er the rest o'the self-same day, 
He finds thee in the stout Norweyan ranks, 
Nothing afeard of what thyself didst make, 
Strange images of death. As thick as talet. 
Came post with post; and every one did bear 
Thy praises in his kingdom's great defence, 
And ponr'd them down before hirn. 

A ng. We are sent, 

To give thee, from our royal master, thanks; 
To herald thee into his sight, not pay thee. 

Rosse. An<l, for an earnest of a greater ho- 
nour, dor : 
He bade me, from him, call thee thane of C'aw- 
In which addition J, hail, most worthy thane! 
For it is thine. 

Ban. What, can the devil speak true? 

Macb. The thane of Cawdor lives ; Why 
In borrowed robes ? [do you dress me 

A.ng. Who was the thane, lives yet ; 

But under heavy judgment bears ihat life 
Which he deserves to lose. Vv liether he was 
Combined with Norway ; or did line the rebel 
With hidden help and vantage ; or that with 
both [not ; 

He labour'd in his country's wreck, I know 
Bat treasons capital, confess'd, and proved, 
Have overthrown him. 

Macb. Gl tmis, and tliane of Cawdor : 

The greatest is behind. — 1 hanks ror } our pains. 
Do you not hope your chiliren shall be kines. 
When those that gave the thane of Cawdor to 
Promised no less to them? fme. 

Ban, That, tnistea home, i 

Might yet enkindle $ you unto the crown, j 



Besides the thane of Cawdor. But 'tis strange: 
And oftentimes, to win us to our harm, 
The instruments of darkness tell us truths; 
Win us with honest trifles, to betray us 
In deepest consequence. — 
Cousins, a word, I pray you. 

Macb, Two truths are told, 

^s happy prologues to the swelling act 
Of the imperial theme. — 1 thank you, gentle- 
This supernatural soliciting || [men. — ' 

Cannot be ill ; cannot be good : — If ill. 
Why hath it given me earnest of success, 
Commencing in a truth ? I am thane of Cawdorr 
If good, why do I yield to that suggestion U 
Whose horrid image doth unfix my hair, 
And rnake my seated ** heart knock at my ribg, 
Against the use of nature ? Present fears 
Are less than horrible imaginings : [tical. 

My thought, whose murder yet is but fantaa- 
Shakes so my singlestateof man, that function 
Is smother'd in surmise tt ; and nothing is, 
But what is not. 

Ban. Look, how our partner's rapt. 

Macb. If chance will have me king, why. 
Without my stir. [chance may crown me 

Ban. New honours come upon him 

Like onr strange garments ; cleave not to th»-ir 
But with the aid of use. [mould, 

Macb. Come what come njay ; 

Time and the hour Jf runs through the roughest 

day. [leisure: 

Ban. Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your 

Macb. Give me your favour §j: — my dull 
brain was wrought [pains 

With things forgotten. Kind eentlemen, your 
Are register'd where every day I turn 
The leaf to read them. — Let us toward the 
king. — [time. 

Think upon w^hat hath chanced : and, at mora 
The interim having weighed it, let us speak 
Our free hearts each to other. 

Ban. Very gladly. 

Macb, Till then, enough — Come, friends. 
[Ea:€unt 

SCENE IV. Fores. A Room in the Palace, 

Flourish. Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Do 

NALBAiN, Lenox, and Attendants. 

Dun. Is execution done on Cawdor? Are not 
Those in commiasion yet return'd ? 

Mai. My liege. 

They are not yet comeback. But 1 have spcke 
With one that saw him die : who did report, 
That very rrankly he confess'd his treasons ; 
Imulured vour highness' pardon ; and set forth 
A deep repentance : nothing in his life 
Became him, like the leaving it; he died 
As one that had been studied in his death. 
To throw away the dearest thing he owed |(H, 
As 'twere a careless trifie. 

IJnn. There's no art, 

To find the mind's construction in the face I^H 



• The root which makes insane. t As fast as they could be counted. | Title 

$ Stimulate. || Incitement. H Temptation. •* Firmly fixed. tt Tlie 

powers of action are oppressed by conjecture. fj: Time and opportunity. i^ Pardon, 

fH Owned, possessed. ^H We cannot construe the disposition ot the mind by Ibv \'u\m*> 

uients of the face. f 



Scene IV.] 



MACBETH. 



357 



He was a gentleman on whom I built 
An absolute trust. — O worthiest cousin! 

Enter Macbeth, Banquo, Kosse, and 
Angus. 
The sin of ray ingratitude even now 
Wa.s heavy on me : Thou art so far before, 
That swiftest wing of recompense is slow 
To overtake thee. 'Would thou hadst less de- 
served; [ment 
That the proportion both of thanks and pay- 
Mifijht hive been mine! only I have left to say. 
More is thy due than more than all can pay. 

Macb. The service and the loyalty I owe, 
In doing it, pays itself. Your hii^hn^ss* part 
Is toreseive our (hities: and our duties 
Are to your throne and state, children and ser- 
vants [every thin? 
Which do but what they should, by doing 
Safe toward your k)ve and honour. 

Dun. Welcome hither: 

I have begun to plant thee, and will labour 
To make theefull of growing*. — Noble Banquo, 
Th it hast no less deserved, nor must be known 
No less to have done so, let me infold thee, 
And hold thee to my heart. 

Ban, Thereif I grow. 

The harvest is your own. 

Dim. My plenteous joys. 

Wanton in fulness, seek to hide themselves 
In drops of sorrow. — Sons, kinsmen, thanes. 
And you whose places are the nearest, know, 
We will establish our estate upon [after. 

Our eldest, Malcolm; whom we name here- 
1 he prince of Cumberland : which honour must 
Not, unaccompanied, invest him only, 
But signs of nobleness, 1 ke stars, shall shine 
On all deservers — From hence to Inverness, 
And bind us further to you. [for you : 

Macb. The rest is laboi'r, which is not used 
ril be myself the harbinger, and make joyful 
The hearing of my wife with your approach ; 
So, humbly take my leave. 

Dun. My worthy Cawdor ! 

Macb. The prince of Cumberland! — That is 
a step. [Aside. 

On which I must fall down, or else o'er-leap, 
For in my way it lies. Stars, hide your fires! 
Let not light see my black and deep desires : 
The eye wink at the hand ! yet let that be. 
Which the eye fears, when it is done, to see. 

[Exit. 

Dun. True, Worthy Banquo; he is full so 
And in his commendations I am fed ; [valiantf ; 
It is a banquet to me. Let us after him, 
Whose care is gone before to bid us welcome : 
Ir is a peerless kinsman. [Flourish. Exeunt, 

SCENE V. Inverness. A Room in Macbeth's 

Castle. 
Enter Lady Macbeth, reading a letter. 

Lady M. They met 'me in the day of suc- 
cess ; a?id J have learned by the perfect est 
report X, th,i'y have more in them than mor- 
tal knowledge. When 1 burned in desire 



to gnestioTi them further, they made then^ 
seines — air, into which they vanished* 
Whiles I stood rapt in the uondcr of it, 
catne mis sire *!§ from the king, who all-hail- 
ed me. Thane of Cawdor; by which title, 
before, these weird sisters saluted me, and 
referred me to the coming on of time, with. 
Rail, king that shall be! This have I thought 
good to deliver thee, my dearest partner of 
greatness ; that thou mightest not lose the 
dues of rejoicing, by being ignorant of what 
greatness is promised thee. Lay it to thy 
heart, and farewell. 

Glamis thou art, and Cawdor; and shalt be 
What thou art promised: — Yet do I fear thy na- 
ture ; 
It is too full o' the milk of human kindness. 
To catch the nearest way : Thou wouldst be 
Art not without ambition ; but without [great ; 
The illness should attend it. What thou 

wouldst highly, [false. 

That wouldst thou holily; wouldst not play 
And yet wouldst wrongly win : thou'dst have 

great Glamis, [have it ; 

That which cries. Thus thou must do, if thou 
And that whichrather thou dost fear to do. 
Than wishest should be undone. Hie thee 

hither. 
That I mny pour my spirits in thine ear. 
And chastise with the valour of my tongue, 
All that impedes thee from the golden round|[. 
Which fate and metaphysicallT aid doth seem 
To have thee crown'd withal. What is your 

tidings? 

Enter an Attendant. 
Attend. T\:\e King comes here to-night. 
Liudy M. Thou'rt mad to say it : 

Is not thy master with him? who were't so. 
Would have informed for preparation. 
Attend. So please you, it is true ; our thane 

is coming : 
One of my fellows had the speed of him ; 
Who, almost dead for breath, had scarcely 
Than would make up his message. [more 

Lady M. Give him tending 

He brines great news. The raven himself is 

hoarse, [Exit Attendant. 

That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan 
rndfer my battlements. Come,c<)me,you spirits 
That tend on mortal** thoughts, unsex me here; 
And fill me, from the crown to the toe, top- 
Of direst cruelty! make thick my blood, [full 
Stop up the access and passage to remorse tt ; 
That no compunctious visitings of nature 
Shake my fell purpose, nor keep peace between 
Theeffect,and it! Cometo my woman's breasts, 
And take my milk for gall ; you murdering mi- 
Whereverin your sightless substances [nisteis. 
You wait on nature's mischief! Come, thick 

night. 
And paliil thee in the dunnest smoke of hell I 
That my keen knife §^ see not the wound it 

makes; [dark, 

Nor heaven peep through the blauket of the 



• Exuberant. t Full as valiant as described. $ The best intelligence. $ Messengers. 

I Diddem. % Supernatural. *• Murderous. tt Pity. XX Wrap as in a mantle 

$j Knife anciently meant a sword or dagger. 



35S 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act i 



To cry, Hold, Hold! Great Glamis ! worthy 

(lawdor ! 

Enter Macbeth. 
Greater than both, by the all-hail hereafter! 
Thy luittrs havetraniported me beyond 
This ignorant present*; and I feel now 
The future in the instant, 

Macb. My dearest love, 

Duncan comes here to-night. 

J^ady M. And when goes hence! 

Much. To-morrow, — as he purpost-s. 
^ Lady M. O, never 

Sh.ill sun that morrow see ! 
Your face, my thane,isasa book, where men 
May read strange matters : To beguile the time. 
Look like the time ; bear welcome in your eye. 
Your hand, your tongue: look like the inno- 
cent flower, 
Bnt be the serpent under it. He that's coming 
Must be provided for: and you shall put 
This night's great business into my despatch ; 
Which shall to all our nights and days to come 
Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom. 

Macb. We will speak further. 

Lady M. Only look op clear; 

To alter favour + ever is to fear : 
Leave all the rest to me. {Exeunt. 

SCENE \' I. The same. Before the Castle. 
Hautboys. Servants of Macbeth attending. 
Enter Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, 

Banquo, Lenox, Macdlff, Rosse, An- 
gus, flrwrf Attendants. 

Dun. This casrlehaih a pleasant ser^t•, the air 
Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself 
Unto our gentle senses. 

Bun. This guest of summer. 

The temple-hanniing niariiet, does approve. 
By his loved mansionry, that the heaven's 
breath, [tress. 

Smells wooingly here: no jutty, frieze, but 
Nor coigne of vantagej, but this bird hath 
made [they 

His pendent bed, and procreant cradle. Where 
M(t8t breed and haunt, I have observed, the air 
Is delicate. 

Enter Lady Macbeth. 

Dun. See, see! our honour'd hostess! 
The love that follows us, sometime is our 
trouble, [you. 

Which still we thank as love. Herein I tench 
How you shall bid God yield^j u)|^r your pains. 
And thank us for your trouble. 

Ludy M. All onr service 

In every point twicedone.and then donedouble, 
Were poor and sin^jle bu.-iness, toconi-nd 
Againstthose honours deep and broad, where- 
with [old. 
Your majesty loads our house: For those of 
And the late dignities heap'd up to them. 
We rest your hermits ||. 

Dun. Where's the thane of Cawdor ? 

We coursed him at the heels, and had a purpose 



To be his purveyor : but he rides v\ ell ; 

And his great love, sharp as his spur, h«th 

holp him 
To his home before us: Fairand noble hosteM, 
We are your guest to-night. 

Lady M. Your servants ever 

Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, 

in comptll , 
To make their auilit at your highness' pleasure 
Still to return your own. 
I Dun. Give me your hand : 

Conduct me to mine host; we love him highly, *> 
And shall continue our graces towards him. 
By your leave, hostess. {Exeunt. 

SCENE VII. The same. A Room in tfi€ 

Castle. 
Hautboys and torches. Enter ^ and pass over 
the stage, a Sewer**, and divers Servants 
with aisltes and service. Then enter 
Macbeth. 

Macb. If it were done, when 'tis done, then 
'twere well 
It were done quickly : If the assassination 
Could trammel upon the consequence, and 

catch, 
With his surce;!8e, success; that but this blew 
Might he the be-all and the end-all here. 
But here, upon this bank and shoal of time,— 
We'd jump the life to come. But, in these cases, 
VV e still havejudt/ment here ;that we but teach 
Bloody instructions, which, being taught, re- 
turn [tice 
To plague the inventor : This even-handed jus- 
Coiuajinds the ingredients of our poison'd 

chalice 
To our own lips. He's here in double trust: 
First, as I aiu iiis kinsman and his subject, 
Slri^ng boih 'gainst the deed : then, as his host. 
Who should against his murderer shut the 
door, [can 

Not bear the knife myself. Besides, this Duu- 
Haih borne his faculties so meek, hath been 
So clear in his great office, that his virtues 
Will plead like angels, trumpet-lon^ued, against 
The deep damnation of his taking-off : 
And pity, like a naked new-born babe, 
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubin, horsed 
Upon the sightless couriers tf of the air. 
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, 
That tears shall drown the wind.— I have no 
io prick the sides of my intent, but only [spur 
Vauhing ambition, which o'er-leaps itself. 
And falls on the other. How now, what news? 
Enter Lady Macbkih. 
Lady M. He has almost supp'd ; Why have 

you left the chamber? 
Macb. Hath he ask'd for me ? 
lAidy M. Know you not, he has ? 

Macb. We will proceed no further in this 
business : [bought 

He hath hon<uir'd me of late ; and I have 
Golden opinions from all sorts of people, 



• i.e.. Beyond the present time, which is, according to the process of nature, ignorant of the 
fnlnre. f Look, countenance. t Convenient corner. % Reward. || i.e.. We as 

nermiti shall ever pray for you. IT Subject to accoinpt. •• /\n olficer sc calkd from 

lii.H pi.tcuf,: ill rli*li< !« nn the lal'le. t+ WifuN; eitjliile^n i« iitvi'^ible. 



Scene VIJ. 



MACBETH. 



359 



Wl)ieh would be worn now in their newest 
Not cast aside so soon. [gloss. 

Lady M. Was the hope drunk, [since? 

AV herein you dressM yourself? hath it slept 
And wakes it now, to look so green and pale 
At what it did so freely 'i From this time, 
Such i account thy love. Art thou afeard 
1 o be the same in thine own act and valour, 
As thou art in desire ? Wouldst thou have 

that 
Which thou esteem'st the ornament of life, 
And live a coward in thine own esteem ; 
Letting I dare not wait upon 1 would. 
Like the poor cat i' the adage 1 

Macb, Pr'y thee, peace: 

I dare do all that may become a man ; 
Who dares do more, is none. 

Lady M. What beast was it theo. 

That made you break this enterprise to me ? 
When you durst do it, then you were a man ; 
And, to be more than what you were, you 

would [place, 

Be so much more the man. Nor time, nor 
Did then adhere *, and yet you would make 

both : [ness now 

They have made themselves, and that their tit 
Doe» unmake you. I have given suck ; and 

know [me : 

How tender 'tia, to love the babe that milks 
I would, while it was smiling in my face. 
Have pluck*d my nipple from his boneless 

gams. 



And dashM the brains out, had I so sworn, at 
Have done to this. ^you 

Macb. If we should fail, 

Lady M. We fail ! 

But screw your courage to the sticking-place. 
And we'll not fail. When Duncan is asleep, 
(Whereto the rather shall his day's hard jour- 
Sou ndly invite him,)his two chamberlains [ney 
Will 1 with wine and wassel t so convince j, 
That memory, the waider§ of the brain. 
Shall be a fume, and the receipt of reason 
A limbeck only .* When in swinish sleep 
Their drenched natures lie, as in a death. 
What cannot you and I perform upon 
The unguarded Duncan ? what not put upon 
His sppngy officers ; who shall bear the guiit 
Of our great quell ||? 

Macb. Bring forth men-children only I 

For thy undaunted mettle should compose 
Nothing but males. W ill it not be received IT, 
When we have mark'd with blood those sleepy 
two [gers. 

Of his own chamber, and used their very dag- 
That they have done't ? 

Lady M. Who dares receive it other. 

As we shall make our griefs and clamour roar 
Upon HIS death i 

Macb. I am settled, and bend up 
Each corporal agent to this terrible feat 
Away, and mock the time with fairest show s 
False face must hide what the false heart doth 
know. [^Exeunt, 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. The same. 
Court tvithln the Castle. 
Enter Banquo and Fleance, and a Ser- 
vant, with a torch bej'ort them. 
Ban. How goes the night, boy? [the clock. 
Fie. The moon is down ; 1 have not heard 
Ban. And she goes down at twelve. 
Fie. I take't, 'tis later, sir. 

Ban. Hold, take my sword : — There's hus- 
bandry *♦ in heaven, 
Their candles are all out — Take thee that too. 
A heavy summons lies like lead upon me. 
And yet I would notsleep : Merciful powers ! 
restrain in me the cursed thoughts, that na- 
ture [sword ; — 
(■ivos way to in repose! — Give me my 
Filter MACBjt.THjflWf/ a Servant with a 
torch. 
Y? ho's there ? 

Mich. A friend. [a-bed ; 

B(in. What, sir, not yet at rest? The king's 
He hath been in unusual pleasure, and 
Sent forth great largess tf to your offices JJ : 
This diamond he greets your wife withal, 
By the name of most kind hostess ; and shut 
111 measureless content. [ up §$ 

Macb. Being unprepared. 



Our will became the servant to defect ; 
Which else should free have wrought. 

Bun. All's well. 

I dreamt last night of the three weird sisters* 
To you they have show'd some truth. 

Macb. ' I think not of them : 

Yet, when we can entreat an hour to served 
Would spend it in some words upon thai bu 
If you would grant the time. [siness 

Ban. At your kind'st leisure. 

Macb- If yon shall cleave to my consent, — 
It shall make honour for you. [wh<n 'ti^ 

Ban. So I lose none 

In seeking to augment it, but still keep 
My bosom franchised, and allegiance clear, 
1 shall be counsell'd. 

Macb. Good repose, the whi^ 

Bau. Thanks, sir; The like to you ! 

[£>// Banquo. 

Macb. Go, bid thy mistress, when my dria« 
is ready. 
She strike upon the bell. Get thee to bed, 

[Flit Servant. 
Is this a dagger, which I see before me, 
The handle toward my hand ? Come, let tok 

clutch thee : 

I have thee not, and yet I see thee still. 
Art thou not, fatal virion, sensible 



• Tn the same sense as cohere. 
S Apprehended •* Thrift. 



t Intemperance. t Overpower. $ Sentinel. || Murder 
tt Bounty. jj The rooms approorialed to eei vaiiu 

55 Conclude. 



350 



SHAKSPEARE 



[Act II. 



To feeling, as to sight? or art thou but 

A dagger of the mind ; a f ilse creation, 

Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain? 

I see thee yet, in form as palpable 

As this which now I draw. 

Thou marshall'st me the way that I was going; 

And such an instrument I was to use. 

Mine eyes are made the fools o' the other 

senses, 
Or else worth all the rest: I see thee still ; 
And on thy blade, and dudgeon ♦, gouts i of 
blood, [thing : 

Which was not so before. — There's no such 
It is the bloody business, which informs 
Thus to mine eyes. — Now o'er the one half 

world 
Nature seems dead, and wicked dreams abuse 
The curtain'd sleep; now witchcraft celebrates 
Pale Hecate's otferings ; and withered murder, 
Alarum'd by his sentinel, the wolf, [pace. 

Whose howl's his watch, thus with his stealthy 
VV'iih Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his 
f^esign [earth. 

Moves like a ghost. Thou sure and firm-set 

Hear not my steps, which way they walk, for 

fear 
Thy very stones prate of ray whereabout, 
And take the present horror from the time. 
Which now suits with it.— Whiles I threat, 
he lives ; [gives. 

Words to the heat of deeds too cold breath 
[A bell rings. 
I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. 
liear it not, Duncan ; for it is a knell 
That summons thee to heaven, or to helL[Exit. 
SCENE II. The same. 
Enter Lady Macbeth. 
Lady M. That which hath made them 
drunk, hnth made me bold : 
Whathath quench'dthem, hath given me fire: — 

Hark!— Peace! 
It was the owl that shriek 'd, the fatal bell man. 
Which gives the stern'st good-night. He is 

about it : 
The doors are open : and the surfeited grooms 
Do mock their charge with snores : I have 

drugg'd their possets. 

That death and nature do contend about 

Whether they live, or die. [them. 

Much. [H'ithin.] Who's there?— what, ho ! 

Ladi/ M. Alack! I am afraid they have 

awaked, [deed, 

And 'tis not done: — the attempt, and not the 

Confounds us: — Hark! — 1 laid their daggers. 

ready, [senibled 

He could not miss them.— Had he not re- 

Wy father as he slept, I had done't.- My 

huiband? 

Enter Macbeth. 
Mach. I have done the deed : — Didst thou 
not hear a noise? [crickets cry. 

Lady M. I heard the owl scream, and the 
Did not you speak? 
Much. When? 

Ludij .11. Now. 1 



Macb. As I descended t 

Lady M. Ay. 
Macb. Hark!— 
Who lies i' the second chamber ? 
Lady M. Donalbain. 

Macb. This is a sorry sight. 

[Looking on his hands. 
Lady M. A foolish thought, to say a sorry 
sight. [and one cried, Twwr^er.' 

Macb, There's one did laugh in his s^eep, 
That they did wake each other : I stood and 
heard them; [them 

But they did say their prayers, and address'd 
Again to sleep. 
Lady M. There are two lodged together. 
Macb. One cried, God bless us i and. Amen, 
the other; [hands. 

As J they had seen me with these hangman's 
Listening their fear, I could not say, amen. 
When they did say, God bless us. 

Lady M. Consider it not so deeply. 

Macb. But wherefore could not I pronounce, 
amen ? 
I had most need of blessing, and amen 
Stuck in my throat. [thought 

Lady Macb. These deeds must not be 

After these ways ; so, it will make*us mad. 
Macb. Methought I heard a voice cry. 
Sleep 710 more! [sleep ; 

Macbeth does murder sleep, the in?iocent 
Sleep, that knits up the ravell'd sleaie § of 
care, [bath. 

The death of each day's life, sore labour's 
Balm of hurt minds, great natures second 
Chief nourisher in life's feast ; [course. 
Lady M. What do you mean? 

Macb. Still it cn^^. Sleep no more! to all 
the house : [Cawdor 

Glamis hath murder* d sleep; and therefore 
Shall sleep no more. Macbeth shall slee-\ 
no more! [worthy than. ^ 

Lady M. Who was it that thus cried? Wh 
You do unbend your noble strength, to thii. 
So brainsickly of thinp: — Go, get some wate 
And wash this filthy witness from your hand.- 
Why did you bring these daggers from tl * 

place? [smei 

They must lie there : Go, carry them, an • 
The bleepy grooms with blood. 

Macb. I'll go no moie 

I am afraid to think what I have done; 
Look on't again, I dare not. 

Lady M. Infirm of purpose I 

Give me the daggers : The sleeping, and the 

dead. 
Are but as pictures: 'tis the eye of childhood^ 
That fears a painted devil. If he do bleed, 
I'll gild the faces of the grooms withal. 
For it must seem their guilt. 

{Exit. Knocking within. 

Macb. Whence is thai knocking? 

How is't with me, when every noise appals 

me? [mine eyes I 

What hands are here? Ha! they pluck out 

Will all great iSeptuue'a ocean wash this blood 



• Haft. t Drops. X As if. $ Sleave is unwrought silk. 



etic JL] 



AIACBETH 



861 



Clean from my hand! No; this my hand will 

rather 
he multitudinous seas incarnadine • 
Malting the green— one red. 

Re-enter Lady Macbeth. 
Lady M. My hands are of your colour ; 

but I shame [a knocking 

To wear a heart so white. \Knock^ I hear 
At the south entry : — retire we to our chan:- 
A little water clears us of this deed : [ber : 
How easy is it then '? Your constancy 
Hath left you unattended.— [/T/wcAriw^.] 

Hark ! more knocking : 
Get on your nightgown lest occasion call ns. 
And show us to be w.Jtchers : — ^Be not lost 
So poorly in your thoughts. 

Much. To know my deed, — 'twere best not 

know myself. [Knock. 

Wake Duncan with thy knocking! Ay, 

would thou couklst ! [Exeunt, 

SCENE III. The same. 
Enter a Porter. [Knocking within. 

Po;fer. Here's a knocking, indeed! If a man 
were porter of hell-gate, he shonlil have oldt 
turning the key.[ Knockhig.] Knock, knock, 
knock: Who's there, i'the name of Relzebubl 
Here's a farmer, that hanged himself on the 
expectation of plenty: come in time; have 
napkins I enouih about yon ; here you'll sweat 
fov*t.{Knocknig,'\ Knock, knock: Who's there, 
i'the other devil's name? Faith, here's an 
eqnivocator, that could swear in both the 
scales against either scale ; who committed 
treason enough for God's sake, yet could not 
equivocate to heaven : O, come in, eqnivocator. 
[Knocking.] Knock, knock, knock: Who's 
there? Faith, here's an English tailor come 
hither, for stealing out of a French hose: Come 
in, tailor; here you may roast your ^oose. 
[Knocking.] Knock, knt.ck: Never at quiet! 
What are you?— But this place is too cold for 
hell. I'll devil-porter it no further: I had 
thought to have let in some of all professions, 
that go the primrose way to the everlasting 
bonfire. [Knocking.] Anon, anon ; 1 pray 
you, remember the porter. [Optns the gate. 
Enter Macduff and Lenox. 

Macd. Was it so late, friend, ere you went 
That you do lie so late I [to bed, 

Port. 'Faith, sir, we were carousing till 
the second cock 5 : and drink, sir, is a great 
provoker of three things. 

Macd. What three things does drink espe- 
cially provoke? 

Port. Marry, sir, nose-painting, sleep, and 
, urine. Lechery, sir, it provokes, and unpro- 
vokes: it provokes the desire, but it takes 
aw^ay the performance : Therefore, much 
drink may be said to be an equivocator with 
lechery : it makes him, and it mars him ; it 
sets him on, and it takes him off; it persuades 
bim, and disheartens him ; makes him stand 



to, and not stand to: in conclusion, equivo- 
cates him in a sleep, and, giving him the lie» 
leaves him. fnight 

Macd. I believe, drink gave thee the lie last 

Port. That it did, sir, i' the very throa^ 
o'me : But I requited him for his lie; and, I 
think, being too strong for him, though he 
took up my legs sometime, yet I made a shift 
to cast him. 

Macd. Is thy master stirring? — 
Our knocking has awaked him ; here he comes. 
Enter Macbeth. 

Len. Good-morrow, noble sir ! 

Macb. Good-morrow, both I 

Macd. Is the king stirring, worthy thane? 

Macb. Not yet. 

Macd. He did command me to call timely 
I have almost slipp'd the honr. [on him ; 

Macb. I'll bring you to him. 

Macd. I know, this is a joyful trouble to 
But yet, 'tis one. [you ; 

Macb. 1 he labour we delight in, physics il 
This is the door. [pain, 

Macd. I'll make so bold to call. 

For 'tis my limited service IT. [Exit Macduff. 

Len. Goes the king 

From hence to-day? 

Macb. He does : — he did appoint it so. 

Len. The night has been unruly : Where 

we lay, [say. 

Our chimneys were blown down : and, as they 

Lamentings heard i'the air; strange screams 

of death ; 
And prophesying, with accents terrible. 
Of dire combustion, and confused events, 
New hatch'd to the woeful time. The ob- 
scure bird 
Clamour'd the livelong night: some say, th 

earth 
Was feverous, and did shake. 

Macb. 'Twas a rough night. 

Len. My young remembrance cannot pa- 
A fellow to it. [rallel 

Re-enter Macduff. 

Macd. O horror! horror! honor! Tongue, 
Cannot conceive, nor name thee** ! [nor heai t, 

Macb. Len. What's the matter? 

Macd. Confusion now hath made his mas- 
ter- piece! 
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope 
The Lord's anointed temple, and stole thenoe 
The life o'the building. 

Macb. What is't you say ? the life? 

Len. Mean you his majesty! [your sight 

Macd. Approach the chamber, and destroy 
With a new Gorgon : — Do not bid me speak ; 
See, and then speak yourselves. — Awake, 
awake! — 

[Exeunt Macbeth and Lenox 
Ring the alarum-bell : — Murder I and treasoni 
Banquo, and Donalbain! Malcolm! awake! 
Shakeotf this downy sleep, deat.h's counterfeit 
And look on death itself! — up, up, and see 



• To incarnadine is to stain of a flesh co'our, t Frequent. J Handkerchiefs. 

j Cockcrowing. | i. e., Affords a cordial to it. 51 Appointed service. 

'♦• The tise of two negatives, not to make an atTnii.iaiive, but to deny more strongly, 

i'* common in oar author. 

2 1 



362 



SHAKSPEARE. 



{Act rr. 



The (Tsat dooms imag:e? Malcolm! Baii- 

Qoo\ [sviriuhts, 

Aj from yonr graves rise np, and walk like 
To couutenincp thi» horror ! [Bell 7'ings. 

Enter Lady Macreth. 

Ladp M. What's the business, 

That such a hideous trumpet calls to parley 
The sleepers of the house ? spe ik, speak, — • 

Afacd. O, gentle lady, 

'TIS not for you to hear what I r-in "Of^k ? 
/he repetition, in a woman's ear, [Banquol 

Would murder as it fe.L O Banquo ! 

Enter Banquo. 
Our royal master's murder'd! 

Lady M Woe, alas 1 

What, in oui* house ? 

Ban. Too cruel, any where. 

Dear Duff, I pr'ythee, contradict thyself, 
And say, it is not so. 

Re-enter Macbrth and Lenox. 

Much. Had I but dred an hour before this 
chance, [instant, 

I had lived a blessed time; for, from this 
There's nothing serious in mortality: 
All is but toys: renown, and grace, is dead ; 
The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees 
Is left this vault to brag of. 

Enter Malcolm and Donalbain. 

Don. What is amiss ? 

Much. You are, and do not know it: 

The spring, the head, the fountain of your 

blood 
li stopp'd; the very source of it is stopp'd. 

Macd. Your royal father's murder'd. 

Mai, O, by whom ? 

Len. Those of his chamber, as it seem'd, 
had done't : fblood, 

Their hands and faces were all badged with 
So were their daggers, which, unwiped, we 
Upon their pillows : [found 

They stared, and were distracted ; no man's 
Was to be trusted with them. [life 

Macb, (), yet I do repent me of my fury, 
That I did kill them. 

Macd. Wherefore did you so ? 

Alach, Who can be wise, amazed, tem- 
perate, and furious. 
Loyal and neutral, in a moment? No man : 
The expedition of my violent love 
Out-ran the pauser reason. — Here lay Duncan, 
His silver skin laced with his golden blood ; 
And his gash'd stabs look'd like a breach in 
nature, [derers. 

For ruin's wasteful entrance : there, the niur. 
Steep'd in the colours of their trade, their 
daggers [refrain, 

Unmannerly breech'd with gore* : Who could 
That had a heart to love, and in that heart 
Courage to make his love known 1 

Lady M. Help me hence, hoi 

Macd. Look to the lady. 

Mai. Why do we hold our tongues. 

That most may claim this argument for ours? 

[)on. What should be spoken here. 
Where our fate, hid within an augrc-hole. 
May rash and seize us? Lei's away ; our tears 

• Covered wiih blt)o<l to their hilt. 



Are not yet brew'd. 

Mai. Nor oar st.ong sorrow or 

The foot of motion. 

Ban. Look to 1%e lady : - 

[Lady Macbeth i5 carrifi} out. 
And when we have our naked frailtif.s hhd, 
That suffer in exposure, let n% meet, 
And question this most blood} piecy of »ork. 
To know it further. Fears an 1 sc^-jpies ^hakf 
•le • [tl.enco. 

Id the great hand+ of God I fcttnd , ard 
Against the unoivu.-gea pretei.cei I fii,iJ 
Of treasonous malice. 

Macb. AJid so '>o ( 

All. Sc a ». 

Macb. Let's briefly put on maiJy /ea liaess, 
And meet i'the hall together. 

Ail, Wfil con'.entod. 

[Exeunt all but Mal. and Don. 

Mai. What will you dr ? Let'i not consort 
with them : 
To show an unfelt sorrow, fs an office [land. 
Which the false man decs easy: I'll to Eng- 

Don. To Ireland, I ; cw sep5.rated fortune 
Shall keep us both the saff r : where we are. 
There's dagiiers in men's i miles : the noar in 
The nearer bloody. [blood, 

Afal. This murd«/oas shaft that's shot. 

Hath not yet lighted ; M.d our safesL way 
Is, to avoid the aim. Therefore, to horse ; 
And let us not be dai'.'y of leave-takinj;, 
But shift asvay : Thf i./s warrant in that theft 
Which steals itselr', when there's no meiiy left. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. Without the Ca.ttle, 
Enter RossE and an old Man. 
Old M. Threescore and ten I can remember 
well : 
Within the volumeof which time, I have seen 
Hours dreadful, and things strange ; but this 
Hath trifled former knowings. [sore iiljiht 

Rosse. Ah, good father. 

Thou see'st, the heavens, as troubled wish 
man's act, [^l^^.V. 

Threaten his bloody stage: by the clock, 'tis 
And yet dark night strangles the travelling 

lamp : 
Is it night's predominance, 01 the day's shame, 
That <larknes8 does the face of earth entomb, 
When living light should kiss it? 

Old M. 'Tis unnatural, 

Even like the deed that's done. On Tuesday 

A falcon, tow'ring in her pride of place, [lasij 

Wis by a mousing owl hawk'd at, and kilt'ri. 

Rosse. And Duncan's horses, (a thing mof,t 

strange and certain,) 

Beauteous and swift, the minionsof their race, 

Turn'd wild in nature, broke theii stalls, flun^ 

out, [make 

Contending 'gainst obedience, as ihey would 

War with mankind. 

Old M. Tis said, they ate e.tch other. 

Rosse. They did so to the amazement •>/ 

mine eyes, [Ma-'-dulf; — 

That look'd upon't. Here comes the good 



♦ Power. 



t Intention. 



Srnie IV.] 



MACBETH, 



3f>3 



Enter Macdi); F. 
How goes the world, sir, now? 

Macd. Why, see you not ? 

Hosse. Is't known who did this more than 
bloody deed ? 

Macd. Those that Macbeth bath slain. 

Rosse. Alas, the day ! 

What good conld they pretend * i 

Macd, They were siiborn'd : 

Malcolm, and Donalbain^the kint^'s two sons, 
Are stolen away and tied ; which P'lts upon 
Suspicion oi the deed. [them 

Rosse. 'Gainst nature still : 

I'LriJtlesB ambition, that wilt ravin up 
limine own life's m^ans ! — Then 'tis most like, 
I'hc sovereignty will fall upon Macbeth. 



Macd. He is alieady named; and gone to 
To b€ invested. [Scone, 

Rosse. Where is Duncan*& boay ( 

Macd. Carried to Colmes-kill; 
The sacred storehouse of his predecessors. 
And guardian of their bone*. 

Rosse. Will yoa to Scone t 

Macd. No, cousin, I'll to Fife. 

Rosse. Well, I will thither. 

Macd. Well, may you see things well done 

there ; — adieu ! 

Lest our old robes sit easier than our new ! 

Rosse. Father, farewell. [wiih those 

Old M. God's benison go with yon ; and 

That would make good of bad, and friends of 

foes I lExeu7it. 



ACT III. 



SCfcNB I. Fores. A Room in the Palace, 
Enter Banquo. 
Ban. Thou hast it now. King, Cawdor, 
Glamia, all. 
Ma the weird women promised ; and, I fear. 
Then phy'dst most foully for't : yet it was 
It should not stand in thy po-slerity ; [said. 
Bat that myself should be the root, and father 
Of many kings. If there cometruth from them, 
(Ajt upon thee, Macbeth, their speeches shine,) 
Why, by the verities on thee made good, 
May they not be my oracles as well, [more. 
And set me up in hope ? But, hush ; no 
Senet sounded, bnl er M a c b e t h , « v King ; 
Lady Mac heth, as Queen; Lenox, Rosse, 
Iiords, Ladies, «?2rf Attendants. 
Macb. Here's our chiel guest. 
Eady M. If he had been forgotten, 

It had been as a gap in our great feast. 
And all- things unbecoming. 

Macb. To-night we hold a solemn supper, 
And I'll request your presence. [sir. 

Ban. Let your highness 

Coniniand upon me, to the which, my duiies 
Are with a most indissoluble tie 
For ever knit. 
Macb, Ride you this afternoon? 
Ban. Ay, my good lord. 

Much. We should have else desired yonr 
good advice [s|>erous, 

(Which still hath been both grave and p:0-i 
In this day's council ; but we'll take lo-moi row. '' 
Is't far you ride? | 

Ban. As far, my lord, as will fill up the 
time [belter, 

Twixt this and supper : go not my horse the 
1 must become a borrower of the night. 
For a dark hour, or twain. 

Macb. Fail not our feast. 

Ban. My lord, I will not [stow'd 

Much. We hear, our bloody cousins are be- 
In England, and in Ireland; not contes.siug 
Their cruel parricide, filling their heaters 
With strange invention : But of that to- 
morrow ; 
When therewithal, weshall have cause of .state. 



Craving us iointly. Hie you to horse : Ad?en, 

Till you return at night. Goes Fleance with 

you ? [upon us. 

Han. Ay, my good lord: our time does cail 

Macb. I wish your horses swift, and sure 

of foot ; 

And so I do commend t you to their backs. 

Farewell. \^t^xU Banquo. 

Let every man be master of his time 
Tiil seven at ni^lit; to make society 
The sweeter welcome, we will keep ourself 
Till supper-tiine alone; while then, God be 
with you. 
[Exeunt Lady Macbeth, Lords, Ladies, 4c. 
Sirrah, a word : Attend those men our plea- 
sure 1 
Atte.n. They are, my Lord, without the 

palace gate. 
Macb. Bring them before \\%.—\Exit Atten. 
To be thus, is nothing ; 
But to be safely thus :— Our fears in Banquo 
Stick deep ; and in his royalty j of nature 
Reigns that which would be fear'd: 'Tis much 

he dnres ; 
And, to that <laun11ess temper of his mind, 
He hatha wisdom that doth guide his valour 
1 o act in safety. There is none, but be, 
Whose being I do fear; and, under him. 
My genius i.^ rebuked ; as, it is said, 
Mark Antony's was by Caesar. He chid the 
sisters, ["''^•» 

When tirst they put the name of King upon 
And bade them speak to him; then,pTOphei-iike 
They had'd hiii» father to a line of kui^/s ; 
Upon my head they placed a fruitless crown 
And put a barren sceptre in my gripe. 
Thence to be wrench'd with an nuliaeal hand 
T<o son of uiine succeeding. If it be .*o. 
For Banquo's iss^ue have 1 filed § my mind; 
For them the gracious Duncan have I niur 

der'd ; 
Put rancours in the vessel of my peace 
, Only forthem; and mine eternal jewel 
' Given to the common enemy ol man, 
. To make thein kings, the seed of Banquo YSv^9 
' Rather than so, come, F.ite, into the i\at. 



Intend to themselves. 



t Commit. 



Nobleness. 



§ For defiled. 



364. 



SHAKSPEARE. 



\Acnjr. 



And champion me to the utterance*! 

Who's there?— 

Reenter Attendant, ivifh two Murderers. 
Now to the door, and stay there till we call. 

[Exit Attendant. 
Was it not yesterday we spoke toiiether ? 

1 Miir. It was, so please yonr highness, 

Macb. Well then, now 

Have you considered of my speeches? Know, 
That it was he, in the times past, which held you 
So under fortune; which, you thought, had been 
Our innocent self: this I made good to you 
In our last conference; pass'd in probation! 
with you, [the instruments ; 

How you were borne in hand j ; how crossM ; 
Who wrought with them ; and all things else. 
To half a soul, and a notion crazed, [that might 
Say, Thus did Banquo. 

1 Mur. You made it known to us. 

Much. I did so ; and went further, which is 
now 
Our point of second meeting. Do you find 
Your patience so predominant in your nature. 
That you can let this go? Are you so gospell'd^, 
To pray for that good man, and for his issue. 
Whose heavy hand hath bo a 'd you to the grave. 
And beggared yours for ever ? 

1 Mur. V\ e are men, my liege, 
Maf-b. Ay, in the catalogue ye go for men ; 

As houhds, and greyhounds, mongrels, spaniels, 
curs, [cleped || 

ShoughsU, water-rugs, and demi-wolves, are 
All by the name of doiis : the valued file 
Distinguishes the swift, the slow, the subtle, 
The housekeeper, the hunter, every one 
According to the gift which bounteous nature 
Hath in him closed; whereby he does receive 
Particular addition **, from the bill 
That writes them all idike : and so of men. 
Now, if you have a station in the file, 
And not in the woist rank of manhood, say it : 
And I will put that business in your bosoms. 
Whose execution takes >our enemy otf ; 
Grapples you to the heart and love of us. 
Who wear our health but sickly in his lite. 
Which in his death were perfect. 

2 Mur, I am one, my liege, 
Whom the vile blows and bottets of the world 
Have so incensed, that I am reckless t+ what 

I do, to spite the world. 

1 Mur, And I another. 

So weary with disasters, tugg'd JJ with fortune. 
That I would set my life on any chance. 
To mend it, or be rid on*t. 

Macb, Both of you 

Know, Banquo was your enemy. 

2 Mur. True, my lord. 
Macb. So is he mine: and in such bloody 

distance 5$, 
That every minute of his being thrusts 
Against my near'stof life ; And though I could 
With bare faced power sweep him from my 

sight. 
And bid my will avouch it; yet I must not. 



Foi lill certain friends that are both his and mine 
VV hose loves I may not drop, but wail his fall 
Whom I myself struck down : and thence it is 
That I to your assistance do make love; 
M.isking the business from the commoa-eye. 
For sundry weighty reasons, 

2 Mur. We shall, my lord. 

Perform what you command us. 

I Mur. Though our lives 

Macb, Your spirits shine through you. 
Within this hour at most, 
I will advise you where to plant yourselves. 
Acquaint you with the perfect spy o'the time. 
The moment on't: for*tmust be done to-night. 
And something from the palace; always 

thought. 
That I require a clearness: And with him, 
(To leave no rubs, nor botches, in the work,) 
Fleance his son, that keeps him conipany, 
Whose absence is no less material to nie 
Than is his father's, must embrace the fate 
Of that dark hour. Resolve yourselves apart ; 
Fll come to you anon. 
2 Mur. We are resolved, ray lord. 

Miicb. Pll call upon you straight ; abide 
within. 

It is concluded : Banquo, thy soul's flight. 

If it find heaven, must find it out to-night. 

[Exeunt* 
SCENE II. The same. Another Room, 
Enter Lady Macbeth, and a Servant. 
Lady M. Is Banquo L'one from court? 
Serv, Ay, madam, but returnsagain to-night. 
Lady M. Say to the king, 1 would attend 
Fi>r a few words. [his leisure 

Serf, Madam, I will. [EjU, 

Lady M. Nought's had, all's spent. 

Where our desire is got without content: 
*Tis safer to be thai which we destroy. 
Than, by destruction, dwell in doubtful joy. 

Enter Macbeth. 
How now, my lord ? why do you keep alone. 
Of sorriestirii fancies your companions making? 
Using those thoughts, which should indeid 
have died [remedy. 

With them they think on? Things without 
Should be without regard : what's done, i» 
don^. [kill'dit; 

Macb. We have scotchM the snake, not 
She'll close, and be herself; whilst our pooi ma- 
Remains in danger of her former tooth, [lice 
But let [suiter. 

The frame of things disjoin^, both the worlds 
Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep 
In the afflictionof these ten ible dreams 
That shake us nightly : Better be with the dead. 
Whom we,to gain our place,havc sent to peace. 
Than on the torture of the mind to lie 
In restless ecstasy***. Duncan Is in his grave; 
After life's fitful fever, he sleep? well; [son^ 
Treason has done his worst : nor steel, nor poi- 
Malice domestic, f(u-eiga levy, nothing, 
Can touch him further 1 



• Challenge me to extremities. + Proved. J Deluded. $ Are you so obedient to the 
precept of the Gospel. !| Wolf-dogs. ^ Called. *• Title, desniption. ^' C-ire.f-is, 
Jl Worried, jj Mortal enmity. \^ Because of. ^^ Mv.^t u.vL.uKiioly. *♦* Ai;ouy. 



AiK-ne II.] 



MACBETH. 



SG5 



ladyM. Come on; 
Gentle iiiy lord, sleek o'er your rugged looks ; 
Be biightandjovial'niongyour guests to-night. 

Macb, 80 shall I, love; and so, I pray, be 
Let yo'.ir remembrance apply to Banquo: [you : 
Prt sent him eminence*, both with eye and 
Li.safe the while, that we [tongue : 

Must lave our honours in these flattering 

streams; 
And make our faces vizards to our hearts, 
Disguising what they are. 

Jjudy M. You must leave this. 

Much. O, full of scorpions is my mind, dear 

wife! [lives. 

Thou kiiow'st, that Banquo, and his Fleance, 

Lady M. But in them nature's copy's not 
eternet. [able; 

Macb. There's comfort yet ; they are assail- 
Then be thou jocund.: Ere the bat hath flown 
His cloister'd flight; ere, to black Hecate's 

summons. 
The shard-bone beetle X with his drowsy hums, 
Hath rung night's yawning peal, there shall be 
A deed of dreadful note. [done 

Lady M. What's to be done? 

Alach. Be innocent of the knowledge, dear- 
est chuck $, [night, 
Till thou applaud the deed. Come, seeiingH 
Skarf up the tender eye of pitiful day ; 
And, with thy bloody and invisible hand. 
Cancel, and tear to pieces, that great bond 
Which keeps me pale! — Light thickens; and 
Makes wing to the rooky wood: [the crow 
Good things of day begin to droop and drowse ; 
Whiles night's black agents to their prey do 
rouse. [still ; 
Thou marvell'st at my words; but hold thee 
Things, bad begun, make strong themselves by 

ill: 
So, pr'ythee, go with me, [Exeunt, 

SCENE III. The same. A Park or Lawn, 

uith' a Gate leading to the Palace, 

Enter Three Murderers. 

1 Mur. But who did bid thee join with us? 
3 Mur. Macbeth. 

2 Mur. H« needs not our mistrust ; since he 
Our offices, and what we have to do, [delivers 
To the direction just. 

1 Mur, Then stand with us. 
The west yet glimmers with some streaks of 
Now spurs the lated traveller aipace, [day : 
To gain the timely inn ; and near approaches 
The subject of our watch. 

3 Mur. Hark ! I hear horses. 
Ban. [Within.] Give us a light there, hoi 

2 Mur. Then it is he ; the rest 
That are within the note of expectation^. 
Already are i* the court. 

1 Mur, His horses go about. 

3 Mur. Almost a mile : but he does usually. 
So all men do, from hence to the palace gate 
Make it their walk. 



Enter Banquo and Fleance, a Servant 

with a torch preceding them. 
2Mur» A light, a light! 

3 Mur. Tis he. 

1 Mur. Stand to't. 
Bati. It will be rain to-night. 
1 Mur. Let it come down. 

[Auaulfs Banqi o. 
Ban. O, treachery! Fly, good Fleance, fly. 
Thou may'st revenge. O slave ! [fly, fly ; 

[1/ies. Fleance a7id Serxam escape, 
3 Mur, Who did strike out the light? 

1 Mur, Was't not the way? 
3 Mur, There's but one down : the son is 

fled. 

2 Mur. We have lost best half of our affair. 
1 Mur, Well, let's away, and say how much 

is done. [t'a:eunt, 

SCENE IV. A Boom of State in tie Palace, 

A Banquet prepared. 
Enter Macbeth, Lady Macbeth, Rosse, 
Lenox, Lords, and Attendants. 
Macb, You know your own degrees, sit 
down: at first 
And iHst, the hearty welcome. 
Lords, Thanks to your majesty. 

Macb, Ourself will mingle with society. 
And play the humble host. 
Our hostess keeps her state ♦*; but, in best time. 
We will require her welcome. [friends ; 

Lady M. Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our 
For my heart speaks they are welcome. 
Enter first Murderer, to the door. 
Macb. See, they encounter thee with their 

hearts' thanks: 

Both sides are even : Here I'll sit i'the midst : 

Be large in mirth; anon we'll drink a measure 

The table ronnd. — 1 here's blood upon thy face. 

Mur. Tis Banquo's then. [within. 

Macb. 'Tis better thee without, than he 

Is he despatch'd? [for him. 

Mur. My lord, his throat is cut; that I did 

Macb. Thou art the best o*the cut-throats : 

Yet he's good. 

That did the like for Fleance : if thou didst it. 

Thou art the nonpareil. 

Mur. Most royal sir, 

Fleance is 'scaped. (been perfect; 

Macb. Then comes my fit again : I had else 
Whole as the marble, founded as the rock; 
As broad, and general, as the casing air: [in 
But now, 1 am cabin'd, cribb'd, confined, bound 
To saucy doubts and fears. But Banquo's sate? 
Mur, Ay, my good lord: safe in a ditch he 
bides. 
With twenty trenched gashes on his head; 
The least a death to nature. 

Macb. Thanks for that : 

There the grown serpent lies ; the worm, that's 
Hathnatnrethatintime will venom breed [fled. 
No teeth for the present. — Get thee gone ; to- 
morrow 



• Do him the highest honours. t i, e., The copy, the lease, by which they hold their 

Hves from nature, has its time of termination X The beetle borne in the air by its shards 

or scaly winiis. $ A term of ende.irment. \\ Blinding. IT i. e., Th»;y who :ue 

set dou n in the list of guests, and expected to supper. ** Continues in her i h.ur of ^lal« 

2l 3 



H^G 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Aft UT 



We'll hear ouriieives again. {t2xit Murderer. 

Lady M. My royal lord, 

YoH do not give the cheer: the feast is sold, 
That is not often vouch'd, while 'lis a making, 
Tis given with welcome: To feed were best 

at home; 
From thence, the sauce to meat ii ceremony; 
Meeting Were bare without it. 

M icb. Sweet remembrancer! — 

Now, good digestion wait on appetite, 
And health on both I 

jLen, May it please your highness sit? 

\Th€ Ghost o/" Ban QUO rises ^ and 
sits in Macbeth's place. 

Mach. Here had we now our country's ho- 
nour root 'd, 
Were the graced person of our Banquo present; 
Who mny I rather challenge for un kindness. 
Than pity tor mischance! 

Rosse. His absence, sir, 

Lays blame upon his promise. Please it your 
To grace us with your royal company? [highness 

jMacb. The table's lull. 

Len. Here's a place reserved, sir. 

Macb. Where? [moves your highness ? 

Loi. Here, my lord. What is't that 

Macb, Which of you have done this? 

Lords, What, my good lord ! 

Macb. Thou canst not say I did it: never 
shake thy gory locks at me. [vvell. 

Rosse. Gentlemen, rise; his highness is not 

Lady M. Sit, worthy friends: — my lord is 
often thus, [seat; 

And hath been from his yonfh : 'pray you, keep 
The tit is momentary; upon a thought* 
He will again be wt 11: If much you note him. 
You shall ottend him, and extend his passion f; 
Feed, and regard him not. — Are you a man? 

Macb. Ay, and a hoM one, that dare look on 
Which might app:il the devil. [that 

Lad It M. O proper slutf ! 

This is the very painting of your fear: 
This is the air-drawn dagger, which, you said, 
I.«d you to Duncan. O, these flaws X, and starts 
(litipostors to true fear ) would well become 
A woman's story, at a winter's fire, 
Authorized by h-r grandam. Shame itself! 
Why do you make such faces? When all's 
You look but on a stool. [done, 

Macb. h'r'ythee, see there! behold! look! 

lo! how say you? [too. — 

Why, what care I f If thou canst nod, speak 
If ch irnel houses, and our graves, must send 
Those that we bury, back, our monuments 
Shall be the maws of kites. 

[Ghost disaj fears. 

Lady M. What ! quite unmann'd in folly ? 

Mavb. If I stand here, 1 saw him. 

Lady M. Fie, for shame I 

Mavb. Blood hath been shed ere now, i'lhe 
olden time, 
Cre human statute purged the gentle weal ; 
Ay, and since too, murders have been per- 
form 'd 
Too terrible for the ear: the times have been, 



That, when the brains were out the uiau would 
And there an end: but now, they rise again, [die. 
With twenty mortal murders on their crowns, 
And push us from our stools: This is more 
Than svich a murder is. [strange 

Lady M. My worthy lord. 

Your noble friends do lack you. 

Maco. I do forget : — ■ 

Do not muse $ at me, my most worthy friends ; 

I have a strange infirmity, which is nothing 

To those that know me. Come, love and health 

to all ; [full : 

Then I'll sit down : Give me some wine, fill 

I drink to the general joy of the whole table. 

Ghost rises. 
And to our dear friend Banquo,whom we miss: 
Would he were here! to all, and him, we thirst. 
And all to all ||. 

Lords. Ourduties, and the pledge. 

Macb. A vaunt! andquit my sight 1 Let the 
earth hide thee I 
Thy bones are marrowless, thy blood is cold; 
Thou hast no speculation in those eyes 
W'^hich thou dost glare with ! 

Lady M. Think of this, good peers 

But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other; 
Only it spoils tlie pleasure of the time. 

Macb. What man dare, I dare : 
Approach thou like the rugged Russian bear. 
The arm'd rhinoceros, or the Hyrcan tiger. 
Take any shape but that, and m> lirm nerves 
Shall never tremble: Or, be alive again. 
And dare me to the desert with thy swurd : 
If trembling I inhibit^ thee, protest me 
The baby of a girl. Hence, horrible shadow ! 
\Ghost disappears. 
Unreal mockery, henct! — Why, so; — being 
I am a man again. — Pray you, sit still, [gone 

LadyM. You have displaced the mirth, broke 
the good meeting. 
With most admired disorder. 

Marb. Can such things We, 

And overcome ** us like a summer's cloud, 
W ithout our special wonder ? You make me 
Even to the disposition that I owett, [strange 
When now I think you can behold such sights, 
And keep the natural ruby of your cheeks. 
When mine are blanch'd with fear. 

Rosse. What sights, my lord 1 

Lady M. I pray you, speak not ; he grows 
worse and woi se ; 
Question enrages him : at once good night :— 
Stand not upon the order of your going. 
But go at once. 

Len. Good night, and better he iltb 

Attend his majesty 1 

Lady M. A kind good night to all ! 

{Exeunt Lords and Altendanis, 

Macb. It will have blood; they say, bUn>d 
will have blood ; [to speak . 

Stones have been known to move, and tree? 
Augurs, and un<lerstood relations, have 
By magot-pies Xt, and choughs, and rooks 
brought forth [»'g''' i 

The Becret'st man of blood.— What is t!:v. 



• As qrick as thought. 
I Ail good wishes (o all. 



t Prolong his suffering. J Sudden %n%ti. 

Ii Vorbnl •* pa!»» ove' ft Posses*. 



$ W'>P'U'r. 
tt M^;ipie». 



S^f>np /J .] 



MACBETH. 



36*7 



LadyM. Almostai odds with morning,which 
is which. [his person 

Macb, How say 'st Ihou, that Macdurt' denies 
At our great bidding? 

Lady M. Did >ou send to him, sir? [send : 

Macb I hear it by the way ; but I will 
There's not a one* of them, but in his house 
I keep a servant fee'd. I will to-moi row, 
(Betim.es I will,) unto the weird sisters : 
More shall they speak; for now I am bent to 
know, [good, 

By the worst means, the worst; for mine own 
All causes shall give way :, I ani in blood 
Stept in so far, that, should I wade no more. 
Returning w ere as tedious as go o'er : 
Strange things I have in head, that will to 
hand; fscann'df. 

Which must be acted, ere they may be 

Liadn M. You lack the season of all natures, 
sleep. [self-abuse 

Macb. Come,we'll to sleep; My strange and 
Is the initiate fear, that wants hard use : — 
We are yet but young in deed. lExeunt. 

SCENE V. The Heath, 

Thunder, Enter Hecate, meeting the 
Three Witches. 

1 Witch. Why, how now, Hecate, yoa look 
angerly? [are, 

Hec. Have I not reason, beldams, as you 
Saucy, and overbold? How did you dare 
'Vo trade and traffic with Macbeth, 
In riddles, and affairs of death ; 
And I, the mistress of your charms. 
The close contriver of all harms, 
Was never call'd to bear my part. 
Or show the glory of our art ? 
And, which is worse, all you have done 
Hath been but for a wayward son. 
Spiteful, and wrathful; who, as others do. 
Loves for his own ends, not for you. 
But make amends now: Get you gone, 
And at the pit of Acheron, 
Meet me i'the morning ; thither he 
Will come to know his destiny. 
Your vessels, and your spells, provide. 
Your charms, and every thing beside : 
I am for the air ; this night I'll spend 
Unto a dismal-fatal end. 
Great business must be wrought ere noon : 
Upon the corner ot the moon 
There hangs a vaporous drop pirofound J; 
I'll catch it ere it come to ground : 
And that, distill'd by magic slights, 
Shall raise such artificial spriii,hts. 
As, by the strength of their illusion. 
Shall *iravv him on to his confusion ; 
He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear 
His hopes 'bove wisdom%race, and fear: 
And you all know, security 
Is mortal's chiefest enemy. 

Song. [IVit/mi.] Come away, come away. 
Hark, i am call'd; my littlespirit, see, [4c. 
Sits in a foggy cloud, and stays for me. [Eiit. 



1 Witch, Come, .et's make Laste; she'll 

soon be back again. [^Exeunt. 

SCENE VI. 

Fores. A Room in the Palace 
Enter Lenox and (i not her Lord. 
Len. My former speeches have but hil 

your thoughts, 
Which can interpret further : only, I say, 
Things have been strangely borne : The gra 

cious Duncan [dead : — 

Was pitied of Macbeth; — marry, he wai 
And the right-valiant Banqno walk'd too late ; 
Whom, you may say, if it please you, Fleanca 

kill'd, [late 

For Fleance fled. Men must not walk too 
Who cannot want the thought, how monstrous 
It was for Malcolm, and for Donalbain, 
To kill their gracious father 1 damned fact ! 
How it did grieveMacbeth ! did he not straight. 
In pious rage, the twodelinqu nts tear [s^ltcp? 
That were the slaves of drink, and thralls of 
Was not that nobly done? Ay, and wisely 
For 'twould have anger'd any heart alive, [too; 
To hear the men dtny it. So that, 1 say. 
He has borne all things well, and I do think. 
That, had he Duncan's sons under his key, 
(As, an't please heaven, he shall not,) they 

should find 
What 'twere to kill a father ; so should Fleance 
But, peace! — for, from broad words^ ti\6 

'cause he fail'd 
His presence at the tyrant's feast, I hear, 
Macduff lives in disgrace: Sir, can you tell 
Where he bestows himself? 

Lord. The son of Duncan, 

From whom this tyrant holds the due of bii ih. 
Lives in the English court; and is received 
Of the most pious Edward with such grace. 
That the malevolence of fortune nothing [duff 
Takes from his Itigh respect: Thither Mac 
Is gone to pray the holy king, on his aid 
To wake jSorthumberland,and warlike Siward . 
That, by the help of these, (with Him above 
To ratily the work,) we may again 
Give to our tables meat, sleep to our nights ; 
Free from our feasts and banquets blood j 

knives ; 
Do faithful homage, and receive free honours§^ 
All which we pine for now ; And tiiis report 
Hath so exasperate II the king, that he 
Prepares for some attempt ot war. 
Len. Sent he to Macduff? 

Lord. He did : and with an absolute, A7r 
The cloudy messenger turns me his back, \jiot 1 
And hums; as who should say, You'Urue tin 
That clogs me with this ansner. [time 

Len. And that well might 

Advise him to a caution, to hold what distant* 
His wisdom can provide. Some holy angei 
Fly to the court of England, and unfold [ing 
His message ere he come; that a swift bles* 
May soon return to tiiis our suffering country 
Under a hand accursed ! 
Lordg My prayers with him ! [Exeunt 



• An individual. + Examined nicely. f i. e., A drop thai has deep or bidden qnalitiei 
% Honours freely bestowed. For exasperated. 



36B 



SHAKSPEARE. 



Act jr,^ 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. A dark Cave. In the tniddle 

a Caldron boiling. 

Thunder. Enter the Three Witches. 

1 W^^i^cA. Thrice the briiided cat hath mew'd- 

2 Witch. Thrice and once the hedge-pig 

whined. 

3 Witch. Harper cries ! — 'Tis time, 'tis time. 

1 Witch. Round about the caldron go; 

In the poison'd entrails throw, 

Toad, that under coldest stone, 
Days and nights hast thirty -one 
Svvelter'd * venom, sleeping got. 
Boil thou first i'the charmed pot ! 

All. Double, double toil and trouble; 
Fire, burn ; and, caldron, bubble. 

2 Witch. Fillet of a fenny snake. 
In the caldron boil and bake : 

Eye of newt, and toe of frog. 
Wool of bat, and tongue of dog, 
Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting. 
Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing, 
For a charm of powerful trouble. 
Like a hell-broth boil and bubble. 

All. Double, double, toil and trouble; 
Fire, burn; and, caldron, bubble. 

3 Witch. Scale of dragon, tooth of wolf; 
Witch's mummy; maw and gulft 

Of the ravin'd j salt-sea shark ; 
Hoot of hemlock, digg'd i'the dark ; 
Liver of blaspheming Jew; 
Gall of goat; and slips of yew, 
Sliver'd in the moon's eclipse; 
Mo»eoi Turk, and J artar's lips; 
Finger of birth-strangled babe, 
Ditch-deliver'd by a drab, 
Make the gruel thick and slab : 
Add thereto a tiger's chandron^, 
For the ingredients of our caldron. 

All. Double, double toil and trouble; 
Fire, burn ; and, caldron, bubble. 

2 Witch. Cool it with a baboon's blood, 
Then the charm is firm and good. 

Enter Hecate, and the other Three 
Witches. 

Hec. O, well done! I commend your paius ; 
And every one shall share i'the gains. 
And now about the caldron sing. 
Like elves and fairies in a ring, 
Eucbaating all that you put in. 

SONG. 
Black spirits and white. 

Red spirits and grey ; 
Mingle, mingle^ mingle. 

You that mingle may. 

2 Witch. By the pricking of my thumbs, 

Something wicked this way comes: 

<.)pen, locks, whoever knocks. 



Enter Macbeth. 
Macb. How now, you secret, black, and 

midnight hags? 
What is*t you do? 
AH. A deed without a name. 

Macb. I conjure you, by that which yo\i 

profess, 
(Howe'er you come to know it,) answer me : 
Though you untie the winds, and let them fi^ht 
Against the churches; though the yesty |i waves 
Confound and swallow navigation up ; 
Though bladed corn be lodged 1[, and trees 

blown down ; 
Though castles topple**on their warders' heads; 
Though palaces, and pyramids, do slope 
Their heads to their foundations ; though the 

treasure 
Of nature's germinstt tumble all together. 
Even till destruction sicken, answer me 
To what I ask you. 

1 Witch. Speak. 

2 Witch. Demand, 

3 Witch. We'll answer 
1 Witch. Say, if thou'dst rather hear it from 

our mouths, • 

Or from our masters' ? 
Alacb. Call them, let me see them. 

1 Witch. Pour in sow's blood, that hatb 
eaten 
Her nine farrow ; grease, that's sweaten 
From the murderer's gibbet, throw 
Into the flame. 

A(l. Come, high, or low; 

Thyself, and office, deftly J^ show. 



Thunder. 



An Apparition of an Armed 
Head rises. 



Macb. Tell me, thou unknown power, 

1 Witch. He knows thy thought; 

Hear his speech, but say thou nought. 
App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! beware 
Macduff; 
Beware the thane of Fife. — Dismiss me: — 
Enough. [ Desrends: 

Macb. Whate'er thou art, for thy good cau- 
tion, thanks; 
Thou hast harp'd jj ray fear aright : — But one 
word more : — 
1 PTt^cyi. He will not be commanded: Here's 
another. 
More potent than the first. 

Thunder, An Apparition of a bloody Chttd 

7'ises. 

App. Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!— 

Macb. Had I three ears, I'd hear thee. 

A) p. • Be bloody, bold. 

And resolute: laugh toscorn the power of man 

For none of woman born shall harm Macbeth. 

f Descends, 



• This word is employed to signify that the animal was hot and sweating with venom, although 
,l^-.pMU under a cold stone. t The throat. j Ravenous. j Entrails. Ij t-roUiy 

f Laid flat by wind or rain. •♦Tumble. +t Seeds which have begun to sprout, 

j; Adio iij. 5j Touched on a p issi';n as a harper teaches a string. 



[Scc?ie /. 



MACBETH. 



369 



Macb. Then live, Macduflf; What need 1 
fear of thee? 
I But yet I'll make assurance double sure, 
i And take a bond of fate : thou shalt not live ; 
■ That 1 may tell pale-hearted fear it lies, 

And sleep in spite of thunder.— What is this 
I {Thunder. ^72 Apparition of a Child crowned) 
j with a Tree in his Hand, rises, 1 

That rises like the issue of a king ; 
And wears upon his baby brow the round 
And top ot sovereignty*? 

All, Listen, but speak not 

App, Be lion-mettled, proud; and take no care 
Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirersare; 
Macbeth shall never vanquish'd be, until 
Great Birnam wood to high Dimsinane hill 
Shall come against him. [Descends. 

Macb That will never be; 

Who can impress the forest t; bid the tree 
Unfix his earth-bound root? sweet bodements! 

good I 
Rebellious head, rise never, till the wood 
Of Birnam rise, and our high-placed Macbeth 
Shall live the lease of nature, pay his breath 
To tiiiie, and mortal custom. — Yet my heart 
Throbs to know one thing; Tell me, (if your art 
Can tell so much,) shall Banquo's issue ever 
Reign in this kingdom? 

Ail. Seek to know no more. 

Macb, I will be satisfied : deny me this, 
And an eternal curse fall on you I Let me know : 
Why sinks that caldront and what noise J is 
this '? [Hautboys, 

1 ffitch. Show! 2 Witch, Show! 3 Witch. 
Show! 

All. Show his eyes, and grieve his heart; 
Come like shadows, s*depart. 
JE:glit Kings appear, and pass over the stage 

in order ; the last with a glass in his 

hand; BxfiQUo followiiig. 

Macb, Thou art too like the spirk of Ban- 
quo; down! [thy hair. 
Thy crown does sear mine eye-balls: — And 
Thou other gold-bound brow,is like the first: — 
A third is like the former :— Filthy hags ! 
Why da you show me this ?— A fourth ? — Start 
eyes! [doom^? 
What ! will the line stretch out to the crack of 
Another yet? — A seventh ? — I'll see no more: 
And yet the eighth appears, who bears a glass, 
Which shows me many more; and some I see. 
That two-fold balls and treble sceptres carry : 
Horrible sight !-^Ay, now, I see, 'tis true ; [me, 
For the blood-bolter'd || Banquo smiles upon 
And points at them for his.— What, is this so? 

1 Witch. Ay, sir, all this is so: — But why 
Stands Macbeth thus amazedly? 
Come, sisters, cheer we up his sprightsIF, 
And show the best of our delights ; 
I'll charm the air, to give a sound. 
While you perform your antique round: 
That this great king may kindly say. 



Our duties did his welcome pay, 

[Music. The Witches dance, and vanish, 

Macb. Where are they? Gone?— Let thie 
pernicious hour 
Stand aye accursed in the calendar! — 
Come in, without there ! 

Enter Lenox. 

IjCn. What's your grace's willl 

jlfacft. Saw you the weird sisters? 

I^en. No, my lord 

Macb. Came they not by you? 

L,en, No, indeed, my lord 

Macb. Infected be the air whereon the> 

ride ; [hear 

And damn'd all those that trust them!— I did 

The galloping of horse; Who was't came by? 

Len. »Tis two or three, my lord, that bring 
Macduflf is fled to England. [you word, 

Macb. Fled to England ? 

J en Ay, my good lord. [exploits : 

Macb. Time, thou anticipatest** my dread 
The flighty purpose never is o'ertook, 
Unless the deed go with it: From this mo- 
The very firstlings of my heart shall be [ment. 
The firstlings of my hand. And even now 
To crown my thoughts with acts, be it thought 

and done : 
The castle of Macduff I will surprise : 
Seize upon Fife ; give to the edge o'the sword 
His wife, his babes, and all unfortunate souls 
Thattracett his line. JSo boasting like a fool: 
This deed I'll do, before this purpose cool : 
But no more sights; — Where are these gentle* 
Come, bring me where they are. [men ? 

\Exeunt, 

SCENE II. 
Fife. A Room in Macduff's Castle. 
Enter Lady Macduff, her Son, and RossE 
L. Macd. What had he done, to make him 

fly the land? 
Rosse. You must have patience, madam. 
L. Macd. He had none ; 

His flight was madness: When our actions do 
Our fears do make us traitors jj. [not, 

Ros^e. You know not. 

Whether it was his wisdom, or his fear. 
JL. Macd. W isdom ! to leave his wife, to 
leave his babes. 
His mansion, and his titles, in a place 
From whence himself does fly ? He loves ns 
not ; [wren. 

He wants the natural touch §§ : for the poor 
The most diminutive of birds, will fight |||, 
Her young ones in her nest, against the owl. 
All is the fear, and nothing is the love : 
As little is the wisdom, where the flight 
So runs against all reason. 

Rosse. My dearest coz', [husband 

I pray you, school yourself: But, for yonr 

He is noble, wise, judicious, and bestknowi 

The fits o'the season. I dare not speak much 

further : 



♦ The round is that part of a crown which encircles the head : the top is the ornament which 
rises above it. t Who can command the forest to serve him like a soldier impressed. 

X Music. $ The dissolution of nature. (j Besmeared with blood. H i. e., Spirits. 

•• Preventest, by taking away the opportunity. ++ Follow. tt Our flight is con 

sidertd as evidence of our treason. jj Natural affection. JUl Fight for. 



370 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Acf- ir. 



But cruel are the timts, when we are traitors. 
And do not know ourselves; when we hold 
nuno:jr [fear ; 

From what we fear, yet know not what we 
But float upon a wild and violent sea, [you : 
Each way, and move. — I take my leave of 
Shall not be long but I'll be here again : 
Things at the worst will cease, or else climb 

upward 
To what they were before. — My pretty cousin 
Blessing upon you I [fatherless. 

£,. Macd. Fathered he is, and yet he*s 

Rosse. 1 am so much a fool, should I stay 

longer, [fort : 

It would be my disgrace, and your discom- 

I take ujy leave at once. [Exit Rosse. 

L. M c(i. Sirrah *, your father's dead ; 
And what will you do now? How will you 

Hon. As birds do, mother. [live? 

/>. Mdcd. What, with worms and flies 1 

Soji. With what I get, I mean ; and so do 
they. [the net, nor lime, 

L. Macd. Poor bird ! tbou'dst never fear 
The pit-fall, nor the gin. 

Son. V\ hy should 1, mother? Poor birds 
they are not set for. 
My father is not dead, for all your saying. 

Ij. Macd. Yes, he is dead; how wilt thou 
do for a father ? 

Son. Nay, how will you do for a husband T 

//. Macd. Why, I can buy me twenty at 
any market. 

Son. Then you'll buy 'em to sell agnin. 

L, Macd. Thou speak'st with all thy wit ; 
With wit enough for thee. [and yet i'faith, 

Son. Was my father a traitor, mother ? 

Ij. Macd. Ay, that he was. 

Son. What is a traitor ? 

L. Macd, Why, one that swears and lies. 

So/f. And be all traitors, that do so? 

Jj. Macd. Every one that does so, is a 
traitor, and must be hanged. 

Son. Anrt must they all be hanged, that 
swear and lie? 

L. Macd. Every one. 

So/K Who must hang them? 

JL, Macd. Why, the honest men. 

Son. Then the liars and swearers are fools: 
for there are liars and swearers enough to 
beat the honest men, and hang up them. 

Jb. Macd. Now, God help thee, poor 
But how wilt thou do for a father? [monkey! 

Son. If lie were dead, you'd weep for him : 
if you would not, it were a good sign that I 
snould quickly have a new father. 

L. Macd. Poor prattler! how thou talk'st. 
Enter a Messenger. [known, 

Mess. Bless you, fair darnel 1 am nottoyou 
Though in your state of honour I am perfect t, 
1 doii bt, some danger does appro>-\ch you nearly: 
If you will take a homely .nan's advice, 
B<; not found here; hence, vvith your little ones. 
To fright you thus, milhinks, I am too savage; 
1 o do w orse to you, were fell cruelty , [serve you! 
Which is too nigh your person. Heaven pre- 



I dare abide no longer. [F^it Messenger 

L. Macd. Whither should I fly ? 

I have done no harm. But I remember now 

I am in this earthly world ; where, to do harm, 

Is often laudable; to do good, sometime. 

Accounted dangerous folly: Why then, alas! 

Do I pul up that womanly defejice, [faces? 

To say I have done no harm ? — What are these 
Enter Murderers. 
Mur. Where is your husband? [fied, 

L. Macd. I hope, jn no place so unsancti 

Where such as thou may*st find him, 

Mur, He's a Iraitoi 

Son. Thou liest, thou shag-ear'd villain. 
Mur. What, you egg I [Stabbing him 

Young fry of treachery I 
Son. He has killed me, mother; 

Run away, I pray you. [Dies. 

[Exit Lady Macduff, crying murder, 
and yursued by the Murderers. 

SCENE III. England. A Room in th^ 

King's Palace. 

Enter Malcolm and Macduff. 

Mai. Let us seek out some desolate shade. 

Weep our sad bosoms empty. [and there 

Macd. Let us rather 

Hold fast the mortal sword; and, like good 

men, [new morn. 

Bestride o^ir downfall'n birthdom;: Each 

New widows howl; new orphans cry ; new 

sorrows 
Strike heaven on the face, that it resounds 
As it it felt vvith Scotland, and yell'd out 
Like syllable of dolour. 

Mai. What I believe, I'll wail : 

What know, believe: and, what 1 can redress. 
As I shall find thetim^to friend j, I will. 
What you have spoke, it may be so, per- 
chance, [tongues. 
This tyrant, whose sole name blisters our 
Was once thought honest : you have loved 
him well; [but something 
He hath not toueh'd you yet. I am young; 
You may deserve of him through me; and 

wisdom 
To offer up a weak, poor, innocent lamb. 
To appease an angry god. 
Mucd, 1 am not treacherous. 
Mai. But Macbeth is. 

A good and virtuous nature may recoil, 
In an imperial chargc||. But 'crave your 
pardon ; [transpose: 

That which you are, my thoughts cannot 
Angels are bright still, though the brightest 
fell: [of grace. 

Though all things foul would wear the brows 
Yet grace must still look so. 

M'Cd. 1 have lost my hopes. 

Mai. Perchance, even there, where I did i 
find my doubts, ' 

Why in that rawness left you wife and child, 
(Those precious motives, those strong knots of ^ 
Without leave taking? — 1 pray yoCi, flove,) r 
Let not my jealousies be your dishonours. 



• Sirrah was not in our author's time a term of reproach. 
I am perfectly acquainted with your rank. j Birthright. $ Befriend. 

*• 6., A ijood mind may recede from goodness in the execution of a royai commission 



Scene III.] 



MACBETH. 



371 



Batroiue own safeties: — You may be rightly 
\S haiever L shall think. U"st, 

Macd, Bleed, bleed, poor country ! 

Cireat tyr;mny, lay thou thy basis sure. 
For goodnoss (lares not check thee! wear thou 

thy wrongs, 
Ihy title' is alteer'd*! — Fare thee well, lord: 
I WO!! Id not be the villain that thou think'st 
For the whole space that's in the tyrant's 
And the rich East to boot. [g«'asp. 

Mai. Be not otfended : 

1 speak not as in ahsolute fear of you. 
1 think our country sinks beneath the yoke; 
It weeps, it bleeds; and each new day a gash 
Is added to her wounds: I think, wilhal, 
'i'heie would be hands Uplifted in my right; 
And here, from gracious England, have I offer 
Of goodly thousands: But, for all this. 
When 1 shall tread upon the tyrant's head., 
Or wear it on my sword, yet my poor country 
Shall have more vices than it had before ; 
Moie suffer, and more sundry ways than ever, 
By him that shall succeed. 

lyTncd. What should he be? 

AInl. It is myself I mean : in whom I know 
All the particulars of vict; so grafted, 
That, whenthey shall beopen'd, black Macbeth 
Will stem as pure as snow: and the poor state 
Esteem him as a lamb, being compared 
W^itli my confineless harms. 

Mticd. Not in the legions 

Of horrid hell, can come a devil more damn'd 
In evils, to top Macbeth. 

Mai. I grant him bloody, 

Luxurioust, avaricious, false, deceitful, 
Sudden;, malicious, smacking of every sin 
That has a name : But there's no bottom, 
none, [ters. 

In my voluptuouguess : your wives,your daugh- 
Your matrons, and your maids, could not fill 
fhecistv^rn of my li st: and my desire [up 
A.II continent impediments would o*e<--bear, 
That did oppose my will ; Better Macbeth, 
Than such a one to reign. 

Macd, Boundless intemperance 

In nature is a tyranny ; it hath been 
The untiinely emptying of the happy throne, 
And fall of many kings. But fear not yet 
To take upon you what is yours: you may 
Convey your pleasures in a spacious plenty, 
4^nd yet seem cold, the time you may so hood- 
wink, [not be 
W« have willing dames enough ; there can- 
That vulture in you, to devour so many 
As will to greatness dedicate themselves. 
Finding It »o inclined. 

MuL With this, there grows. 

In my most ill-composed affection, such 
A staunchltisa avarice, that, were I king, 
1 should cut off the nobles for their lands; 
Desire his jewels, and this other's house : 
And my more having would be as a sauce 
To make me hunger more: that I should forge 
Quarrels unjust against the good, and loyal, 
"destroying them for wealth. 

Macd. This avarice 



Sticks deeper; grows with more peruicioas 

root 
Than summer-seeding lust : and it hath been 
The sword of our slain kings : Yet do nut fear , 
Scotland hath foysons§ to fill op your will, 
Of your mere own : Ail these are port a hie ||, 
With other ijraces weigh'd. [graces 

Mdl. But 1 have none : The king-becoming 
As justice, verity, temperance, stabieness, 
Boni.ty, perseverance, mercy, lowliness, 
Devotion, patience, courage, fortitude, 
I have no relish of them; but abound 
In the division of each several crime, [should 
Acting it many ways. Nay, had I power, I 
Pour the sweet milk of concord into htll. 
Uproar the universal peace, confound 
All unity on earth. 

Macd. O Scotland I Scotland! 

Mul. If such a one be tit to govern, speak > 
I am as I have spoken. 

Macd. Fit to govern ! 

N6 not to live. — O nation miserable. 
With an untitled tyrant bloody-sceptred. 
When shult thou see thy wholesome days again? 
Since that the truest issue of thy throne 
By his own interdiction stands accursed; 
And does blaspheme his breed? — Thy royal 
father [bore thee. 

Was a most sainted king: the queen, that 
Ottener upon her knees than on her feet, 
Died every day she lived. Fare thee well 1 
These evils, thou repeat'st upon thyself. 
Have banish'd me from Scotland. — O, my 
Thy hope ends here! [breast, 

Mel. Macdnflf, this noble passion. 

Child of integrity, hath from my soul 
Wiped the black scruples, reconciled my 
thoughts [Macbeth 

To thy good truth and honour. Devilish 
By many of these trains hath sought to win me 
Inlohis power; and modest wisdom plucksme 
From over-credulous hasten ; But God above 
Deal between thee and me! for even now 
I put myself to thy direction, and 
Unspeak mine own detraction : here abjure 
The taints and blames I laid upon myself. 
For strangers to my nature. 1 am yet 
Ui>knovvn to woman ; never was forsworn ; 
Scarcely have coveted what was mine own ; 
At no time broke my faith; would not betray 
The devil to his fellow; and delight [speaking 
No less in truth, than life : my first false 
Was this upon myself: What I am truly. 
Is thine, and my poor country's, to command : 
W^hither, indeed, before thy here-approach. 
Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men. 
All ready at a point, was setting forth : 
Now we'll together ; And the chance of good- 
ness, [silent ? 
Be like our warranted quarrel! W^hy are you 

Macd. Such welcome and unwelcome things 
'TIS hard to reconcile. [at once. 

Enter a Doctor. 

Mai. Well ; more anon. — Comes the king 
forth, I pray you? [souls, 

Doct. Ay, sir : there arc a crew of wretched 



Legally settled by those who had the final adjudication. + Lascivious. 

«iioi>;4to 4 Plenty. 1! May be endured. ^ Ovor-1>ia.«i v rre.luiitv. 



372 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act ir. 



1'hatttay his core: their malady convinces* 
The great assay of art ; but, at his touch, 
tSuch sanctity hath heaven given his hand, I 
They presently amend. \ 

Alal. I thank you, doctor. 

[Edit Doctor. 

Macd, What's the disease he means ? 

Mill. 'Tis cail'd the evil : 

A most miraculous work in tnis good king'; | 
Whiclioften,sincemy here-remainin England, 
I l\ave seen him do. How he solicits heaven. 
Himself best knows: but strangely-visited 

people, 
All swoln and ulcerous, pitiful to the eye. 
The mere despair of surgery, he cures : 
Hanging a golden stamp f about their necks. 
Put on with holy prayers : and 'tis spoken. 
To the succeeding royalty he leaves 
The healing benediction. With this strange 

vif tue. 
He hath a heavenly gift of prophecy; 
And sundry blessings hang about his throne, 
'Ihat speak him full of grace. 
Enter Rosse. 

Macd. See, who comes here ? 

Mat. My countryman ; but yet I know 
him not. [hither. 

Macd. My ever-gentle cousin, welcome 

Mai. I know him now : Good God, betimes 
The means that make us strangers! [remove 

Basse. Sir, Amen. 

Macd. Stands Scotland where it did? 

Russe. Alas, poor country! 

Almost afraid to know itself! It cannot [thing, 
Be cail'd our mother, but our grave : where no- 
l>ut who knows nothing, is once seen to smile : 
Where sighs, and groans, and shrieks that rend 
the air, [seems 

Are made, not mark'd ; where violent sorrow 
A modern ecstasy j; the dead man's knell 
Is there scarce ask'd, for who ; and good men's 
Expire before the flowers in their caps, [lives 
3)ying, or ere they sicken. 

Macd. O, relation. 

Too nice, and yet too true! 

Mul. What is the newest grief? 

Rosse. That of an hour's age doth hiss the 
Each minute teeois a new one. [speaker ; 

Macd. How does my wife? 

Rosse. Why, well. 

M'icd, And all my children? 

Rosse. Well too. 

, Macd. The tyrant has not batter'd at their 

peace? [did leave them. 

Rosse. No ; they were well at peace, when I 

Macd. Be not a niggard of your speech; 
How goes it? [tidings, 

Rosse. When i came hitherto transport the 
Which I have heavily borne, there ran a ru- 
Of m.tny worthy fellows that were out ; [mour 
Which was to my belief wiiness'd the rather, 
For that I s.iw the tyrant's power a-foot : 
}:iow is the time of help I your eye in Scotland 
Would create soldiers, make our women fight, 
To dotf i their dire distresses. 

Mai. Be it their comfort. 



We are coming thither: gracious England hath 
Lent us good Siward, and ten thousand men ; 
An older, and a better soldier, none 
That Christendom gives out. 

Rosse. 'Would I could answer 

This comfort w ith the like ! But I have words. 
That would be howl'd out in the desert air. 
Where hearing should not latch jj them. 

Macd. What concern they t 

The general cause? or is it a fee-grief IT, 
Due to some single breast? 

Rosse. ]So mind, that's honest. 

But in it shares gome woe; though the main 
Pertains to you alone. [P^r' 

Macd. If it be mine. 

Keep it not from me, quickly let me have it. 

Rosse. Let not your ears despise my tongue 
for ever, [sound 

Which shall possess them with the heaviest 
That ever yet they heard. 

Macd. Humph! I guess at it. 

Rosse. Your castle is surprised ; your wife, 
and babes, 
Savagely slaughter'd : to relate the manner. 
Were, on the quarry** of these murder'd deer. 
To add the death of you. 

Mai. Merciful heaven! — 

What, man ! ne'er pull your hat upon your 

brows ; [speak. 

Give sorrow words : the grief, that does not 

Whispers the o'erfraught heart, and bids it 

Macd. My children too? [break. 

Rosse. Wife, children, servants, all 
That could be found. 

Macd. And I most be from thence I 

My wife kill'd too ? 

Rosse. I have said. 

Mai. Be comforted : 

Let's make us med'cines of oar great revenge. 
To cure this deadly grief. , 

Macd. He has no children. — All my pretty 
ones? 
Did you say, all?~0, hell-Mje!— All? 
What, all my pretty chickens, and their dam. 
At one fell swoop? 

Mai. Dispute it like a man. 

Macd. I shall do so ; 

But I most also feel it as a man : 
I cannot bat remember such things were. 
That were most precious to me. — Did heaven 
look on, [duff. 

And would not take their part? Sinful Mac- 
They were all otrnck for thee 1 naught that lam. 
Not for their own demerits, but for mine, 
iell slanghter on their souls; Heaven rest them 
now! [let grief 

Mai. Be this the whetstone of your sword: 
Convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it. 

Macd. O, I could play the woman with 
mine eyes. 

And braggart with my tongue ! But, gentle 

heaven. 
Cut short all intermission tf : front to front, 
Bring thou this tiend of Scotland, and myself 
Within my sword's length set him : if he 'scape 
Heaven forgive him tool 



•(K'erpuwers, subdues. + The coin called an Angel, j Common distress of mind. $ Put off 
Catch. «[ A irrielihat has a single owner. ♦• The game afttr it is V'"-'' *^ 



5 killed, ft All pause 



Scene III.] 



MACBETH. 



^72 



Mai. This tune goes manly. I Put on their instruments. Receive what cheer 

Come, go we to the king : onr power is ready ; you may ; 

Oil- \.iv\i is nothuig nnt onr leave: Mncbfth The night is long that never finds the day. 
Is lipeft.r shrtkiug, ami tiie powers Ht>ove | {L.iiunt, 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. \)\>i\%\n<in%. A Room in the Castle. 

Emer a Do* tor of Physic^ and a waiting 
Gt'ullewoman. 1 

I) cf. 1 have two ni'^his watched with you, 
b'lt ran perreive no tnnh in your report. 
VViiiii AHS il slu- I 'SI waikfd ? 

(.if f. ^iiice his niajesly went into the field, 
I have sti-a iiei rise ti.nu h«i bed, ihiow her 
ni!ilif-i:(i\\ n upon iier, unlock hei- cioset, like 
fuiih pajor, fold it, wriie upon it, lead it, 
atterwaids sr.il il, and again leJuru lo bed ; 
yei all iliis wi;ile in a most rast sleep. 

Del. A grat pertiirbaliun i:i n-.turel to 
rece vfc at ume the ben»-tif t>t sleep, and do j 
the ette*ts ot walchinj;.— I»i this slumbry agi- | 
tatiun, hesiiti'^s her walking, and «»ther actuaJ 
perfi>rm limes, what, at any time, iiave you 
heard tier say ? 

Gent. I hat, sir, which i will not report 

after her 
Do( t. \vu may, to me; and 'tis most meet 
you slioidd. 

Giit. Neither to you, nor any one ; having 
no witnesj; \o cunlii in my speech. 

£.>t^f/-Lady Ma I BETH, ?//^^ ^/ Taiper. 
Lo you, liere she comes! This is her very 
guise; and, upon my life, fast asleep. Ob- 
serve Ijtr ; stand close. 

Doct. How came she by that light? 
Gcut. Whj, it stood b) her: she has light 
by htr continually ; 'lis her command. 
Dort. \ on see her kiyt$' are open. 
Ge/'t. Ay, but their sen.«e is shut. 
Doct. VVhat is il she does now i Look, how 
she rubs her lutncis. 

Gent. It is an accustomed action with her, 
to set m thus washing her hands; 1 have known 
her continue in this a quarter of an hour. 
Ltniy .]/. Yet here's a spot. 
Doct. Hark, she speaks : I will set down 
what comes from her,- to satisfy my remem- 
Iwance llie nu re strongly. 

Lady M. Out, <lamned spot! out, I say! — 

One: Two: Why, ihen, 'tis time to do'l : 

Ileil is murky* ! — Fie, my lord, lie! a soldier, 
and ateard i VVhat need we fear who knows 
it, when none can c ill our power to account { 
— I et who woidd have thought the eld man to 
have had so much blood iik him? 
Doct. Do you mark thai? 
Lady M. The thane of Fife had a wife: 

Where is she now ? What, will these hands 

ne'er be clean { — No more o'tliat, my lord, no 
mt»re o'lhai : you mar all with ihrs starting. 

Doit Go lo, go to; you have known what 
you s'lould not. 

Gent, ^he has spoke what she should not. 



I am sure of that : Heaven knows what she 
has known. 

la ly M. Here's tlie smell of the blood still : 
all ^lle pel fumes of Arabia will nt-t sweeten 
this little ItuKl. Oh! oh ! oh! 

Doit. What a sigh is there! The heart is 
sorely charged. 

{,t til. 1 would not have such a heart in xvy 
b< soiii, for the dignit) of the whole body. 
Do> t. Well, v%ell, well,— 
Gent. 'PrH> God, it be, sir. 
Doct. I his disease is be>ond my practice: 
■yet 1 liave kno n llu>6e which have \\alKed in 
their sleep, who have died hoiily in the r beds. 
I.iid'^ M. W asli your hands, put on your 
night gown ; look not so pale: — 1 tell yon yet 
aiiain, Hanquo's buried; he cannot come out 
of his grave. 

Doi t Even so ? 

Lady M. lo bed, lo bed ; there's knocking 
at the gate Come, come, come, come, give 
me your hand : What's done cannot be un- 
done : To bed, to bed, to bed. \Eiil Lady 
Doct. Will she go now to bed? [AJacbeth. 
Gent. Directl>. 

Doct. Foul whisperings are abroad: Unna- 
tural deeds 
Do breed unnatural troiUiles : Infected mindi 
Tc their deaf pillows will discharge tlieir 
secrets [cran. — 

More needs she the divine, than the physi- 
God, God, forgive us all! Look after her ; 
Remove from her the means of all annojance. 
And still keep eyes upon her : — So, good night : 
My mind she has mated t, and amazed my 
1 think, but dare not speiflc. [sight : 

Gent, Good night, good doctor. 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE IL The Country near Dunsinane. 
Enter, with Drums and CWowr*, Mentkth, 
Cathnkss, Angus Lenox, «//d bgldiers. 
Ment. The English power is near led on by 
Malcolm, 
His uncle Siward, and the good Macduflf. 
Revenges burn in them: for their deir causes 
W ould, to the bleeding and the grim alarm. 
Excite the mortified man %. 

Ang. Near Birnam wood 

Shall we well meet them; that way are tht-v 
coming. [brother t 

Cath. \\ ho knows, if Donalbain be with hit 
Len. For certain, sir, he is not : I Itave a lite 
Of aU the gentry ; tbere is Siward's s«»n. 
And many unrough^ youths, that even now 
Protest their first of manhood. 
I Ment, What does the tyrantt 

I Cuth* Great Dunsinane he strongly fortifiv«: 



Dark. 



t Confounded. 



% A religious ; an ?i«celic. 



§ Unbearded, 
•i K. 



374 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Actir. 



Some say, he's mad ; others, thai lesser hate 
Do call it valiant fury : but, for certain, [him, 
He cannot buckle his distrjfnper'ci cause 
Within the belt of rule. 

Aiiff, Now does he feel 

His secret murders sticking on Ids hands ; 
Now miuitiely revolts upbr lid his faith-breach; 
Those i»e commands move unl> in command. 
Nothing in love : now dots he tVel his title 
Han^ loose about him, like a giant's robe 
L'pon a dwartish thief. 

Mt tit. Who then shall blame 

His pester'd senses to recoil, and start, 
When all that is wiihin him does condemn 
ItseJf for being there? 

Cath. Well, march we on, 

To j^ive obedience where 'tis truly owed : 
Meet we the medicin* of the sii kly weal ; 
And with him pour we, in our country's purge. 
Each drop of us. 

J^en. Or so much as it needs, 

To dew the sovereign flower, and drown the 
Make we our march towards Birnatn. [weeds. 
[Exeunt jnarc king 

SCENE III. Dunsinane. A Riiom in the 

Cattle, 
Ehiter Macbeth, Doctor and Attendants. 

Macb. Bring me no more reports; let them 
fly all ; 
Till Birnam wood remove to Dunsinane, 
I cannot taint with fear. What's the boy 
Malcolm! [know 

Was he not born of woman ? The spirits that 
All mortal consequeuts, pronounced me thus: 
Fear not, Macbeth : no many that's born of 

woman, [false thanes, 

ShuU e'tr have power on thee. Then fly. 

And luint^le with the English epicures : 

The mind I sway by, and the heart I bear, [fear, 

Shall never sagg+ with doubt nor shake with 

» Entir a Servant. 

The devil ditmn thee black, thou cream-faced 
Where got'st thou that goose look? [loon J I 

S*rv. There is ten thousand 

Macb. Geese, villain ? 

Herv. Soldiers, sir. [fear. 

Much. Go, prick thy face, and over-red ihy 
Thon lily-liver'd boy. What soldier's, patch j? 
Deatii of thy soul I those linen cheeks of thine 
Are counsillors to fear. What soldiers, whey- 
face ? 

Sen. The English force, so plea.<e you. 

Macb. Take thy face hence. — Se.>tonl — 1 
am sick at heart. 
When I behold— Seyton, I say! — This push 
WUl cheer me ever, or dlsseat me now. 
I have liv'd long enough : my way of life 
Is fall'n into the searlj, the yellow leaf: 
And that which shouM accompany old age. 
As honour, love, obedience, troops ot rri« nds, 
I must net look to have; but, in thtir sitad, 
Cursis, not loud^ but deep, mouth honour, 
bieath, [dare not. 

Which H'.e poor heart would fain deny, but 
gey ton : J 



Enter Sryton. 

Sry, What is your gracious pleasure? 

Macb, What news more t 

Sey, All is confirm'd, my lord, which wafl 
reported. [be l:acj<'d. 

Much. I'll fight, till from my bones my flesh 
Give me my armour. 

S' y. 'Tis not needed yet. 

Macb, I'll put it on. [round; 

Send out more horses, skirr^ the country 
Hang those that talk of fear. — Give me mine 
How does your patient, doctor ? [armour. 

Doct. Not so sick, my lord. 

As she is troubled with thick-coming fancies, 
That keep her from her rest. 

Much. Cure her of that : 

Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased ; 
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow; 
Raze out the written troubles of the brain ; 
And, with some swcet oiilivious antidote, 
Cleanse the stntt'd bosom of that perilous stulf. 
Which weighs upon the heart? 

Doct. Therein the patient 

Must minister to himself. [of it: — 

Mach. Throw physic to the dogs, I'll none 
Come, put mine armour on; give me my 
statf : — [me : 

Seyton, send out. — Doctor, the thanes fly fioni 
Come, sir, despatch : — If thou couldst, doctor, 
The water of my land, find her (ii^ease, [cast 
And purge it to a sound and pristine health, 
I would applaud tiiee to the very echo. 
That should applaud again. — PuU't off, I say. 
What rhubarb, senna, or what purc;ative drug. 
Would srour these English hence? — Heart-st 
thou of them ? paratiou 

Doct. Ay, my good h)rd j your royal pre- 
Makes us hear something. 

Mac. Bring it after me. 

I will not be afraid of dtaiti and bane. 

Till Birnam forest come to Diinsinane. [£i/'. 

Doc. W>re I from Duiisinatteaway and clear. 
Profit again should hardly draw nie here. 

[ExU, 

SCENE IV. Country 7iear Dunsinane: 

A Wood in View, 

Enter, with Drum and Colours, Malcolm, 

old SiWAKi) and ids Son, Macdufk, 

Menteth, Cathnkss, Angus, Le.nox, 

RossE, and Soldiers, marcldng. 

Mai. Cousins, I hope the days are near at 
That chambers will be safe. [hand 

Mtnt. We doubt it nothing. 

Siw, What wood is this before us? 

Mint. 1 he wood of Birnam. 

Mai. Let every soldier hew him down /i 

bough, [dow 

And bear't before him; thereby shall we sha- 

The numbers of our host, and make discovery 

Err in repoit of us. 

•Sold. It shall be done. [tyrant 

Siw. We learn no other but the confident 
Keeps still in Dimsinane, and will endure 
Our setting down bcfure't. 

AJul. 'lis his n\ain h»)f»e: 



• The ^h)tiician. 



♦ Sink. 



P Dry. 



Base fellow. ^ An appellation of ctaUempw 



Scene IF,] 



MACBETH. 



375 



For where there is advantage to be given. 
Both more and less* have given him the revolt; 
" And none serve with him but constrained 
Whose hearts are absent too. [things, 

Macd. Let our just censures 

Attend the true event, and put we on 
Industrious soldiership. 

Siw. The time approaches, 

That will with due decision make us know 
What we shall say we have, and what we owe. 
Thoughts speculative their unsure hopesrelate ; 
But certain issue strokes must arbitrate t« 
Towards which, advance the war. 

lExeunt, marching, 

SCENE V. Dunsinane. Vflthin the Castle 

Enter fVnth Drums and Colours ^ Macbeth, 

Seyton, and Soldiers. 

Macb. Hang out our banners on the out- 
ward walls; [strength 
The cry is still. They come: Our castle's 
Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them lie. 
Till famine, and the ague, eat them up: 
Were they not forced with those that should 
be ours, [beard, 
We might have met them dareful, beard to 
And beat them backward home. What is that 
noise? [A cry within^ of Women. 

Sey. It is the cry of women, my good lord. 

Macb. I have almost forgot the taste of fears: 
The time has been, my senses would have 

cool'd 
To hear a night-shriek: and my fell J of hair 
Would at a dismal treatise rouse, and stir 
As life were in*t: I have supp'd full with hor- 
rors ; 
Direness, familiar to my slaughterous thoughts, 
Cannot once start. — Wherefore was that cry ? 

Sey. The queen, my lord, is dead. 

Macb. She should have died hereafter; 
There would have been a time for such a word. 
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow. 
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day. 
To the last syllable of recorded time; 
And all onr yesterdays have lighted fools 
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle! 
Life's but a walking shadow ; a poor player. 
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage. 
And then is heard no more : it is a tale 
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, 

Signifying nothing. 

Enter a Messenger. 
Thou comest to use thy tongue ; thy story quick- 

Mess. Gracious my lord, [ly. 

I shall report that which I say I saw. 
But know not how to do it. 

Macb. Well, say, sir. 

Mess. As I did stand my watch upon the hill, 
1 look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought. 
The wood began to move. 

Macb. Liar and slave I {Striking him. 

Mess. Let me endure your wrath, if't be not 
so : 
Within this three mile may you see it coming ; 
I »ay, a moving grove. 

• 1. €., Greater and less. f Determine. 

% ShriveL |^ At incur. 



Macb. If thouspeltkst laibe. 

Upon the next tree shall thou hang alive, 
Till famine cling § thee: if thy speech be soolU, 
I care not if thou dost for me as much. — 
I pall in resolution ; nnd begin 
To doubt the equivocation of the fiend. 
That lies like truth: Fear^not, till Birnam 

wood 
Do come to Dunsinane ; — and now a wood 
Conies toward Dunsinane. — Arm, arm, and 

out 1— 
If this, which he avouches, does appear, 
There is nor flying hence, nor tarrying hcrt. 
I 'gin to be a-weary of the sun. 
And wish the estate o'the world were now un- 
done. — 
Ring the alarum-bell: — Blow, wind! come, 

wrack ! 
At least we'll die with harness J' on our back. 
{Exeut.t, 

SCENE VI. The same. A plain before the 

CaMe. 
Enter, with Drums and Colours, Malcolm, 
old SiwARD, Macduff, 4^., and their 
Army, zvilh Boughs. 

Mai. Now near enough ; your leavy screens 
throw down, [uncle. 

And show like those yon are: — You, worthy 
Shall, with my cousin, your right-noble son. 
Lead our first battle: worthy Macdufif, and wa. 
Shall take upon us what else remains to do. 
According to our order. 

Siw. Fare you well. — 

Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night, 
Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight. 
Macd. Make all our trumpets speak ; give 
them all breath, 
Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death. 
{Exeunt. Alarums co7itinutd. 

SCENE Vn. The same. Anotlter P art of 
the Plain. 
Enter Macbeth. 
Macb. They have tied me to a stake ; I can- 
not fly, 
But,,bear.like, I must fight the course. — What's 
That was not born of woman? Such a one [he. 
Am I to fear, or none. 

Enter young Siward. 
Yo. Siw. What is thy name? 
Macb. Thou'lt be afraid to hear it. 

Yo. Siw. No; though thou call'st thyself a 
Than any is in hell. [hotter name 

Macb. My name'.*; Macbtth. 

Yo. Siw. The devil himself could not pro- 
More hateful to mine ear. [nounce a title 

Macb. No, por more fe;irfnl. 

Yo. Siw. Thou liest, abhorred tyrant; with 
I'll prove the lie thou speak'st. [my swoid. 
[They fight, and young Siward is slain. 
Macb. Thoi: wast born of woman. — 

But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn, 
Brandish'd by man tbai's of a woman born. 

[Eitt, 

X Skin. 



376 



SHAKSPEARE. 



^Act r 



Alt/rums. Enter Macduff. i 

Matfi ] hat way tlu- noi^e la :— Tyrant, 
show ihy fa* e : 
If tholl'bt•'^^t sUin,iitid with no stroke of mine. 
My witeHiulchilclien'Kgliosi wiH Udimi mesiill. 
I cannot stuke at wretched kernes*, whose 
arms [Macbeth, j 

Are hire«i to bear their staves; either thou, | 
Or else my sword, with an unhattt rM e<)ge, j 
1 »he^the again undeeded. There thou shouUlst 
By this lire tt clailer, one of greatest note [be ; 
Seems bruited t : Let me find him, foitunel 
And more J beg not. [ExU. Alarum, j 

AVi/fr Malcolm r/wrf o/rf Siward. I 

SiW. Til is way, my lord ;— the castle's gently 
rendri'd : 
The tyrant's people on both sides do tight ; 
The noble thanes do bravely in the war; 
The day almost itself professes yours, 
And little is to do. 

Mai. We have tnet with foes 

That strike beside us. 

6iw, Enter, sir, the castle. 

{Extuut. Alarum. 
Be-evter Macbeth. 

Mach. Why should I play the Roman fool, 
and die gashes 

On mine own sword? whiles I see lives, the 
Do better upon th^'m. 

Re-enter Macduff. 

Mticd. Turn, hell-hound, turn. 

Alacb. Of all meo else I have avoided thee: 
But get thee back, my soul is loo much charged 
With biood of thine already. 

Macd. I have no words, 

My voice is in my sword ; thou bloodier villain 
Than terms can give thee out ! {Tli- y fight. 

Macb. Thou losest labour: 

As easy may'st tlM)U the intrenchant air J 
With thy keen sword impress, a« m^ke me 
l^et tall thy blade on vulnerable crests; [bleed: 
1 bear a charmed life, which must not yield 
To one of woman born. 

Maca. Despair thy charm; 

And let the angel, whom tht)U still tiart served, 
Tell thee, Macdnlf Was from his mother's womb 
Untiiriely ripp'd. [so, 

Muvb. Accursed be that tongue that tells me 
For it hath cou'd my bttier part ot man ! 
And be these jujigling fiends no more believed, 
That palter^ with us in a double sense; 
Th.it keep the word of promise to our ear, 
Andbreakittoonr hope. I'll ni>t tight with thee. 

Macd Then yield tliee, coward. 
And live to be the show and gaze c'the time. 
We'll have thee, as our rarer monsters are. 
Painted upon a pole ; and underwrit, 
Here may you see the tyrant. 

Macb. I'll not yield, [feet. 

To kiss the ground before >onng Malcolm's 
And to be baited with the rabble's cuise 
Tho'jgh Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane, 
iinil thou opposed, being of no woman born. 
Yet I wiii try the last: Before Jny body 



I throw my warlike shield : lay on, Macduff; 
And damn'd be him that tir&t . ries, II. Id^ 

eniUj.li lEieunt^ /,g .ting. , 

Rf treat. Flourish. Re-enter, uitt Drum 
una Colours, Malcolm, ila Si ward, 

ROSSE, LlNOX, ANGi;i, CaTHNLSS, MkN- 

TtTH, and Soldiers, 

Mai. I would, the friends we miss were 
safe arrived. [see, 

Siw. Some must go off: and yet, by these I | 
So great a day as this is cheapK botight. 

Mai. Mardutt is missing, «nd your noble so«. 

Ras.se. Your ^^)n, my lord, has paid a sol- 
dier's dfbi : 
He onl> lived but till he was a man; 
1 he which no sooiierhad his pr«wess coiifirm'd i 
In the unshrinking station where he fought. 
But like a man he died. 

i!>iw. Then he is dead ? 

Ro.sse. Ay, and brought ott the field : yoai ' 
cause of sorrow 
Most not be measured by his worth, for then r 
It hath no end. 

^lu . Had he his hurts before! 

Ro.sse. Ay, on the trout. 

iS'.'W. Why then, Go<l's soldier be he! 

Had 1 as m,m> st)ns as I have hairs, 
I would not wisb them to a fairer death: 
And so his knell is knoil'd. 

Mai. He's worth more sorrow. 

And that I'll spend f<n \\\m. 

S " , He's worth no i; ore; 

1 hey say, be parted well and p.iid his score : 
So, God be with him! — Here comes newer 

Comfort 
Re-ejiter MkCDVFFf with Macbeth's Head 
on a Hale. 

Macd. Hail, king! for so thou art: Behold, 
where stands 
The usurper's cursed head : the time is free: 
Iseetheecompass'd with thy kingdoin's pearljj. 
That speak ii.y sanitation in :heir niind»; 
V\ hose voices 1 desire aloud with mine, — 
Hail, king «f Scotland! 

All. King ot Scotland, h.dl ! [Flourish. 

Mat. We shall not spend a large expense of 
time, 
Before we reckon with your several loves. 
And make us even with you. My thanes and 
kinsmen, [land 

Henceforth be earls, the first that ever Scot- 
In such an honour named. What's moreto do, 
\\ hich would be planted newly with the lime. 
As calling home our exiled friends abroad, 
That fled the snares of watchiul tyranny ; 
Produciiisi forth the cruel minislk rs 
Of this dead butcher, and his tiend-like queen ; 
Who, as 'tis thought, by self and violent hands 
Took ofi h.er life ;— This, and what needful else 
That calls upon ns, by the urace of Grnce, 
We will pert<Mm in measure, lime, nnd place; 
So thanks to all at once, and to each one. 
Whom we invite to see us crown'd at Scone. 
{Flourish. Exeunt 



Sol(Uer3. 



t Ileporied \\\\h c\i*v.ux\T. 

Ij Th> k...t:don.' 



• which cannot be cut. 
oi n.inieut. 



§ Shnftle. 



KING JOHN. 



^er^cng reprcgentctJ. 



King John. 

Prince Hknry, his son, afterwards King 

Henry III. 
Arthur, Duke of Bretagne,son of Geffrey, 

late Duke of Bretagne, the eider 

brother of King John. 
William Mareshall, Earl of Pembroke. 
Gefi-rky Fitz-Peter, Earl of Essex, chief 

Justiciary of E/iiiland. 
William Longsword, Earl of Salisbury. 
Robert Bigot, Earl of Norfolk. 
Hubert de Burgh, chamberlain to the 

King. 
Robert FaulconbridgEj^ow of Sir Robert 

Faulconbridge. 
Philip Faulconbridge, his half-brother ^ 

bastard son to King Richard the 

First. 



James GuRNEY, servant to Lady Faulcon 

bridge. 
Peter of Pom fret, a prophet » 
Philip, King of Fratice. 
Lewis, the Dauphin. 
Archduke of Austria. 
f'ardinal Pandulph, the Pope's legate. 
Melun, a French lord. 
Chatillon, ambassador from France to 

King John. 

Elinor, the widow of King Henry II. and 
mother of King John. 

Constance, mother to Arthur. 

Blanch, daughter to Atplionso, King of 
Castile, and fiiece to King John. 

Z/fld^ Faulconbridge, mother to the bas 
tard, and Robert Faulconbridge. 

Lords, Ladies, Citizens ofAngiers, Sheriff, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Mes»engers, and 

other Attendants, 

Scene, — sometimes in England, and sometimes in Franct* 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. 'Sovihzm^tox^. A Room of State 

in the Palace, 
Enter King John, Queen Elinor, Pem- 
broke, Es«ex, Salisbury, and others, 

with Chatillon. 

K.Jokn. Now, say, Chatillon, what would 
France with us J [of France, 

Chat. Thus, after greeting, speaks the king 
In my behaviour*, to the majesty, 
Ihe borrow'd majesty of Engl.md here. 

ELi. A strange beginning; — borrow'd ma- 
jesty ! [embassy, 

K. John. Silence, good mother ; hear the 

Cha f . Philip of France, in right and true behalf 
Of thy deceased brother Geffrey's son, 
Arthur Plantagenet, lays most lawful claim 
To this fair island, and the territories ; 
To Ireland, Poictiers, Anjou, Touraine, Maine : 
Desiring thee to lay aside the sword. 
Which sways usurpingly these several titles; 
And put the same into young Arthur's hand. 
Thy nephew, and right royal sovereign. 

A'. yo/y.;z.Whatfollows, if we disallow of this? 

Chat. The proud control of fierce and 
bloody war. 
To enforce these rights so forcibly withheld. 

K. John. Here have we war for war, and 

blood for blood, [France. 

Controliiient for controlment: so answer 

Chat. Then take ray king's defiance from 
my mouth. 
The furthest limit of my embassy, [in peace : 

K.John, Bear mine to him, and so depart 

• In the manner I now do. 



Be thou as lightning in the eyes of France ; 
For ere thou canst report I will be there, 
J he thunder of my cannon shall be heard: 
So, hence! Be thou the trumpet of our wrath. 
And sullen presage of your own decay. — 
An honourable conduct let him have : — 
Pembroke, lookto't: Farewell, Chatillon. 

{Exeunt Chatillon and I'KMBROiiE. 
^'Zi. What now, my son I have I not ever said. 
How that arabiiious Constance would not cease. 
Till she had kindled France and all the world. 
Upon the right and party of her son ? 
This might have been prevented and made 
With very easy arguments of love! [whole. 
Which now the manage t of two kingdoms must 
With fearful bloody issue arbitrate. 
K. John. Our strong possession, and our 

right for us. 
Eli, Your strong possession, much more than 
your right ; 
Or else it must go wrong with you, and me : 
So much ray conscience whispers in your ear ; 
Which none but heaven, and you, and I, shall 

hear. 
Enter the Sheriff of Northamptonshire, who 
whispers Essex. 
Essex. My liege, here is the strangest con- 
troversy. 
Come from the country to be judged by you. 
That e'er I heard : Shall I produce the men ? 
K, John, Let them approach.— 

{Exit Sheriflf, 
Our abbeys, and oar priories, shall pay 

f Conduct, adaiiDistratiori. 



378 



SilAKSP£iiB£. 



[Act /. 



Hi-rnter Sheritf, uUh JlOBiiRT Faulco.v- 

B\nuGM,aNft V HiLiv, his bttstnrd brother. 
This expedition's ch;iis;e. — What men are you f 

Bust. Your faitliful siubject 1, a t];entleman, 
Born in Northamptonshire; and eldest son. 
An I suppose, to Robert rauleonbridge; 
A soldier, by the hon()ur-ii;iving liand 
Of Coeur-de-lion kniglited in the field. 

A'. John. What irt thon { 

Rob. Vhe son and lieir to that same Faulcon- 
bridge. [heir? 

A". John. Is tL. the eider, and art Uiaii tlie 
You came not or c mother then, it seems. 

Bast. Most certain ot" one mother, mighty 
king, 
Is well known; and, asIthin"k,onefather: 
for the certain knowledge of that truth, 
I pat you o'er to heaven, and to my mother ; 
Of that 1 doubt, as all men's children may. 

Eli. Out on thee, rude man! thou dost shame 
thy mother. 
And wound her honour with this diffidence. 

Bast. I, madam ? no, 1 have no reason for it; 
That is my brother's plea, and none of mine ; 
The which if he can prove, 'a pops me out 
At least from fair five hundred pounds a-year; 
Heaven guard my mother's honour, and my 
iandl [younger born, 

K.John. A good blimt fellow: — Why, being 
Doih he lay claim to thine inheritance ? 

Bast . I know not why, except to get the land. 
But once he slander'd me with bastardy : 
But whe'r* 1 be as true-begot, or no, 
That still I lay upon my mother's head; 
But, that I am as well begot, my liege, 
(Fair fall the bonrs that took the pains for me!) 
Compare our faces, an(t be judge yourself. 
If old >'\Y Kobert did beget us both. 
And were our father, and this son like him ; — 
<>, old sir Robert, father, on my knee 
I give heaven thanks, I was not like to thee. 

K.John. Why, what a madcap hath heaven 
lent us here! 

Eli. He hath a trick t of Coeur-de-lion's face, 
The accent of his tongue atfecteth him : 
Do you not read sonie tokens of my son 
In the large composition of this man? [parts, 

K.John. Mii»e eye hath well examined liis 

And finds them perfect Richard. — Sirrah, si>eak, 

W hat doth move you to claim your brother's 

land? [father; 

Bast. I'.ecanse he hath a half-face, like my 
With that half face would he have all my land : 
\ half-face<l groat five hundred pound a yearl 

Hob. My gracious liege, when that my father 
lived, 
Voui brother did employ my father much; — 

/>V/.s7.VVell,sir,hythisyou cannot get my land; 
Four tale must bei>owheempl(>y'd my mother. 
Hob. And cmce despatih'd tiim in an embassy 
To (iermany, there, with the emperor, 
I'o treat of high atfairs touching that time: 
Ihe advantage of his absence took the king. 
And in the mean time sojourn'd at my tattler's ; 
Where how he did prevail, 1 shame to speak : 
Bet truth iti truth; large lengths of seas and shores 



Between my father and my mother lay, 
(As I have heard my father speak himself,) 
When this saiiae lusty gentleman was got. 
Upon his death bed he by will bequeath'd 
His lauds to me; and t(»ok. it, on his death, 
J hat this, my mother's son, was none of his; 
And, if he were, he came into the world 
Full fourteen weeks before the course of time. 
Then, good my liege, let me have what is mine. 
My father's land, as was my father's will. 

K.John. Sirrah, yonr brother is legitimate; 
Your father's wife did after wedlock bear him : 
And, if she did play false, the fault was her's ; 
Which fault lies on the hazards of ail husbands 
That marry wives, i ell me, how if my brother, 
Who, as you say, took pains to get this son. 
Had of your father claim'd this son for his? 
In sooth, good frieml, your lather might have 

kept 
Thiscalf bred from his cow, from all the world ; 
In sooth, he might: then, if he were my bro- 
ther's. 
My brother might not claim bim; iior your 

father. 
Being none of hU,refu3e him : This concludes,^- 
My mother's son did get your father's heir, 
Your father's heir must have your father's land, 
Rob. Shall then my father's will be of no force. 
To dispossess that child which is not his? 

Bast . Of no more force to dispossess me, sir. 
Than was his will to get me, as 1 think. 
Eli. Whether hadst thou rather,— be a Faul 
conbridge, 
And like thy brother, to enjoy thy land ; 
Or the reputed son of Cceur-de-lion, 
Lord of thy presence j, and no land beside? 
Bast. Madam, an if my brother had my shape. 
And I had his, sir Robert his, like him; 
And if Ifiiy legs were two such riding-rods. 
My arms such eel-skins stutTd; my face so thin. 
That in mine ear I durst not stick a rose, 
Lest men should say. Look, where three-far 

things goes 1 
And, to his shape, were heir to all this land. 
Would I might never stir from oflf this place, 
I'd give it every foot to have this face ; 
I would not . SH- JSob^ in any case. 
Eli. I like ee well ; Wilt tuou forsake thy 
fortune, 
Bequeath thy land to him, and follow me? 
I am a soldier, and now bound to France. 
Bast. Brother, take you my land, I'll tak^ 
my chance : • 
Your face hath got five hundred pounds a year; 
Yet sell your face for five pence, and 'tis dear.— 
Madam, I'll follow you unto the death. 
Eli. Nay, I would have you go before me 
thither. [way. 

Bast. (Jur country manners give our betters 
A'. John. What is thy name? 
Bast. Philip, my liege ; so is my name begun, 
Philip, good old sir Robert's wite's eldest son. 
K.John. From hencetorih bear his name 
whose form thou bear'st: 
Kneel thou down Philip, but arise more great 
Ari*€ sir Richard, and Plantagenet. 



• Whether. 



Trace, outline. t Dignity of appearance. ^ Robert. 



^cene L] 



KXNG> JOHN. 



379 



Bast. Brother, by the raother*» side, give 
me your hand ; 
My father gave me honour, yonr's gave land : — 
Now blessed be the honr, by night or day. 
When I was got, sir Robert was away. 

t'li. The very spirit of 1 lantagenet ! 
I am thy grandame, Richard ; call me so. 

Bast. Madam, hy chance, but not by truth : 
What though ? 
Something about, a little from the right, 

la at the window, or else o'er the hatch : 
Who dares not stir by day, must wnlk by night ; 

And have is have, however men do catch : 
"Near or far off, well won is still well shot ; 
And I am T, howe'er T was begot, [thy desire, 

K.Jo/m. Go,rauiconbridge; now hast thou 
A landless knight makes thee a Undedsqiire.— 
Come, madam, and come, Richard; we must 

speed 
For France, forFrance; for it is more than need. 

Bast. Brother, adieu; Goodfortnnecometo 
For thou wast got i'the way of honesty, [thee! 
[Eieunt ati but the Bastard. 
A foot of honour better than I was; 
But many a foot of land the worse. 

Well, now I can make any Joan a lady: 

Good den *, sir Richard, — God-a-mercy y fel- 
low ; — 
And if his name be George, I'll call him Peter : 
For new-made honour doth forget men's names; 
Tis too respective!, and loo sociable. 
For your conversionj. Now your traveller, — 
He and his tooth-pick at my worship's mess ; 
And when my knightly stomach is sutficed. 
Why then I suck my teeth, and catechize 
My picked man of countries § : — My dear sir y 
(Thus, leaning on mine elbow, I begin,) 

I .shall beseech you That is question now; 

And then comes answer like an A BC-Book || : — 
O sir, says answer, at your best contmand; 
At your employment; at your service , sir: — 
No, sir, says question, /, sweet sir, at yours : 
And, so, ere answer knows what question 
(Saving in dialogue of compliment; [would. 
And talking of the Alj.s and Apennines, 
The Pyrenean, and the river Po,) 
It draws towards supper in conclusion so. 
But this is worshipful society. 
And fits the mounting spirit, like myself: 
For he is but a bastard to the time, 
Tliat doth not smack of observation : 
(And so am 1, whether I smack, or no;) 
And not alone in habit and device, 
Exterior form, outward accoutrement; 
But frvjm the inward motion to deliver 
Sweet, sweet, sweet poison for the age's tooth : 
Which, though I will not practise to deceive. 
Yet, to avoid deceit, I mean to learn; 
For it shall strew the footsteps of my rising. — 
But who comes in such haste, in riding robes? 
What woman-post is this? hath she no husband. 
That will take pains to blow a horn before her? 
Enter Lady Faulconbridge and James 

GtJRNEY. 

O me ! it is my mother : — How now,good lady? 



What brings yon here to court so hastily t 

Lady b\ Where is that slave, thy brother 
where is he ? 
Thit holds in chase mine honour up and downt 

Bas.lAs brotherRobert] old sir Robert's soni 
Colbrand'the <£iant, that same mighty man? 
Is it sir Robert's son, that you seek so? 

Lady F. Sir Robert's son! Ay, thou onre* 
verend boy, [Robert? 

Sir Robert's son 1 Why scorn'st thou at sir 
He is sir Robert's son; and so art thou. 

Bast, James Gurney, wilt thou give us leave 

Gur. Good leave, good Philip. [awhile? 

Bust. Philip? — sparrow! — Jamea, 

There's toys abroad 1i ; anon I'll tell thee more. 
\Exit Gurney. 
Madam, I was not old sir Robert's son; 
Sir Robert might havfe eat his part in me 
Upon Good-Friday, and ne'er broke his fast: 
Sir Robert could do well; many, (to confess!) 
Could he get mc? Sir Robert could not do it; 
Weknowhis handy-work:— Lherefore,good mo- 
To whom am 1 beholden for these limbs { [ther, 
Sir Robert never holp to make this leg. 

Lady F. Hast thou conspired wiih thy bro- 
ther too, [honour! 
That for thine own gain shouldst defend mine 
What means this sc^n, thou most untoward 
knave? [lisco-like** : 

Bast. Knight, knight, good mother, — Basi- 
What ! I am dubb'd ; 1 have it on my shoulder 
But, mother, I am not sir Robert's son ; 
I have disclaim'd sir Robert, and my land; 
Legitimation, name, and all is gone: 
Then, good my mother, let me know my father i 
Some proper man, I hope; Who was it, mother T 

LadyF. Hast thou denied thyself a Faulcon- 
bridge? 

Bast. As faithfully as I deny the devil. 

Lady F. King Richard Coenr-de-lion wai 
thy father; 
By long and vehement suit I was seduced 
To make room for him in my husbaad's bed :— 
Heaven lay not my transgression to my charge! 
Thou art the issue of my dear offence. 
Which was so strongly urged, past my defence. 

Bast. Now, by this light, were I to get again. 
Madam, I would not wish a better father. 
Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, 
Andsodoth yours; yourfanlt was notyourfolly: 
Needs must you lay your heart at his dispose, — 
Subjected tribute to commanding love, — 
Against whose fury and unmatched force. 
The aweless lion could not wage the fight /hand 
Nor keep his princely heart from Hichard'i 
He, that perforce robs lions of their heuts. 
May easily win a woman's. Ay, my mother. 
With all iny heart 1 thank thee for my father ! 
Who lives and dares but say, thou di< 1st not well 
When 1 was got, I'll send his soul to hell. 
Come, lady, I will show thee to my kin ; 

And they shall say, when Richard me begot. 
If thou hadst said hitn nay, it had been yn: 

Who says it was, he lies; I say, 'twas not. 
{Exeunt, 



' Good evening, t Respectable, t Change of condition, i My travelled fop. || Catdchu^u 
IT Idlje reports. ** A character in an old Drama called Soliman and Perseda, 



380 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Act Jr. 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. France. Before the Myalls of 
Angiers. 

JSnter, on one side, the Archduke q/' Austria, 
and Forces; Ofi the other, Philip, A//r^^ 
of France, aud Forces; Lewis, Con- 
stance, Arthir, a/id Attendants. 

Liew, Before Angiersvvell met, brave Austria. 
Arthur, that great rorerunuer of thy blood, 
Richard, lt»at robb'd the lion of his heart, 
And fought the holy w irs in haii stine, 
By this br.iNe duk. came early to his grave: 
And, for amends to his posterity, 
At our importance *, hither is he come. 
To spread his colours, boy, in thy behalf; 
And to rebuke the usurp ition 
Ot thy unnatural uncle, English John : 
Enibrice him, love him, give him welcome 

hither. [death, 

Arth. (iod shall forgive you Coeur-de-lion's 
Th»" ra.her, that you give his offspring life, 
Shadowi gthtir rij^hliinder) oui wings oi war: 
I give voii welcouie with a powerl ss hand, 
Bui with a heart tull of uns.ained love: 
Welcome befv)re the iiati s of Anglers, duke. 
JLe/v. A noble boy! Who vNOuld not do thee 

right/ 
Ausr. Upon thy cheek lay I this zealous kiss, 
As seal to this indeniure of m) h>ve ; 
That to iijy ho.iit^ I will no more return, 
Till Anglers, and the right thou hast in France, 
'!oj;tther aitlith tt pale, that white-f iced shore. 
Whose foiit spurns back ihe ocean's roarmg 

tides, 
And coops I, om otlver lands her islanrlers, 
Kveniiliih t Eiigland.hedg. d in v\ith the main, 
Thai water-wailed bul ^ark, still secuie 
And confident from foieign purposes, 
Kv. n till that utmost (lornei of the west 
Salute thee tor her king: till then, fair hoy. 
Will 1 not think of hooe, but follow arms. 
Coiisf. O, take his mother'sthanus, a widow's 

thinks, [strength, 

Till your strong hand shall help to give him 
I'o make a more requital to your love. 

Aust I he peace of heaven is theirs, that 

lift their swords 
In sn h a just and charitable war. 
K. t'hi. vvell, then to work; our cannon 

shall be bent 

Against the brows of this resisting town. 

Call lot our chiefest men of discipline, 
'Jo cull the plots oi best advantages t: — 
We'll lay before this town our royal bones. 
Wade to the market-place in Frenchmen's 

blood, 
But we will make it subject to this boy. 

Coii.st. Stay for an answer to your embassy. 
Lest iinadviseil you stain your sworas with 

blood : 
>Iy lord Chatillon may from England bring 



That right in peace, which here we urge in war : 
And then we shall reper.l each drop of bio^-d, 
Ihat hot rash haste so indiiecily shed. 
tltnei Ch aTil. on. 
K. Phi. A wonder, lady !—lo, upon thy wish. 
Our messenger Ciiatil.on is arrived. — 
What England says, say br:eriy, gei.tle lord. 
We ct)ldl) pause for th<.e; Cuaullon, sp.ak. 

Cliat. 1 hen turn your torcos from this paltry 
sie-e, 
And stir them up agains' a mightier task. 
England, impaient of your just liemands, 
irlath put himself in arnis ; the adverse winds 
Whose leisure I have staid, have given him time 
To land his legions all as soon as 1 : 
His marches are expedient ; to this town, 
ll'u forces strong his soldiers oonhdent. 
Witii him aloiii: is come the mother-queen. 
And Ate§, stii ring him to bloocj and strife: 
With her her niece, the lady hlancli of >pain* 
With them a bastard of the king dereased : 
And all the unsettled hninours of the land, — 
Rash, inconsideiate, fiery voluntaries, 
W ith ladies* faces, and fierce dragons' spleens,— 
Havesv»id their fortunes at their n.iti\e homes 
Bearing their birthrights proudly on their 

! acks. 
To make a hazard of new fortunes liere. 
In bief, a braver choice of dauntless spirits. 
Than now the English bottoms have waft o'er^ 
Did never float upon the swelling tide, 
io do oJtence and sc athji in Christendom. 
The interruption of their churlish drums 

[ Dt U//I.S heat. 
Cuts off more circnnistance : they are at hand. 
To parley, or to fight; therefore, prepare. 

K. P/iL How much unlook'd for is this 
expedition! 

Aust. l.y how much unexpected, by »o much 
We must awake endeavour for defence ; 
For courage mounteih with occasion : 
Let them be welcome, then, we are prepared. 
Eater hl/ig Johk, Elin-^r, Hi.^nch, the 
Bastard, Pembroke, a//d Forces. 

K. John, I'eace he to France; if France in 
peace permit 
Our just and lineal entrance to our own! 
If not ; bleed France, and peace ascend to 

heaven! 
Whiles we, God's wrathfid agent, do correct 
Their proud contenipt that beat his peace t«» 
heaven. 
K. Phi, Peace be toEngland ; if that war return 
From France to England, there to live in peace! 
Englan we love; and, for that England's sake. 
With borden of onr armour here we sweat : 
This toil of ours should be a work of thine ; 
But thou from loving England art so far. 
That thou hast under- a rou^ht*^ hislasful king 
Cut oft the sequence •• of posterity. 
Outfaced infant state, and done a rape 



• litiportnniry. f Rest staiioiip to over-awe the town. ♦ Immediate, expeditious, 

j iU« tioddfcii of Ueveiij;e. 'J Miftfhief. % Un<t<;runu« i». •* Sncc*:tij»u»u. 



S'cenc J.] 



KING JOHJ!^. 



381 



Upon the maiden virtue of the crown. 
Look here upon thy brother Gefire>*3 face; — 
The-se eyes, these brows, were moulded out of 

his: 
This little abstract doth contain that large, 
AVijich died in Geffrey; and the hand ot time 
Shall draw this brief* into as huge a vuiuuie. 
That Geffrey was thy tlder brother born, 
And this his son ; England was Geffrey's right, 
And this is Geffrey's : In the name of God, 
How comes it then, that thou art caii'd a king. 
When living blood doth in these teinples beat, 
"Which owe the crown that thou o'ermisteresl ? 

K. John, From whom hast thou this great 
commission, France, 
To draw my answer from thy articles'? 

K, Phi. From that supernal t judge, that 
stirs good thoughts 
In any breast of strong authority. 
To look into the blots and stains of right. 
Th.it judge hath made me guardian to this boy; 
Under whose warrant, I impeach thy wrong; 
And, by whose help, [ mean to chastise it. 

IC.Joh >t. Aiick, thou dost usurp aiithority. 

K.P hi. Exciue; it is to beat usurping down. 

JEli. Who is it thou dost cail usurpe-r, France I 

Const. Let me make answer ; — thy usurping 
son. 

^//. Out, insolent! thy ^astardshall be kiiig; 
That thou may'sl be a queen, and check the 
world ! 

Const. My bed was ever to thy son as true. 
As thine was to thy husband: and this boy, 
Liker in feature lo his father Geffre\ , 
Tiian thou and John in manners; being as like. 
As rain to water, or devil to his dam. 
My boy a bastard! By my soul, I think, 
I iis father never was so true begot ; 
It cannot be, an if thou wert his mother. 

Eli, There's a good mother, boy, that blots 
thy father. [would blot thee. 

Const. 1 here's a good grandam, boy, that 

Aust. Peace! 

Bast. Hear the crier. 

Aust. What the devil art thou? 

Bast. One that will play the devil, sir, with 
you. 
An 'a may catch your hide and you alone. 
-You ar^the hare of whom the proverb goes, 
\% hose valour plucks dead lions by the be.ird ; 
I'll smoke your skin-coat j, an 1 catch you 
feirrah, look to't; i'faith, I will, i'fuilh. [right; 
Blanch. Owell did he become that lion's robe, 
'J hat did disrobe the lion of that robe! 

Bast. It lies as sightly on the back of him. 
As great Alcides' shows upon an ass: — 
Eut, ass, I'll take that burden from your back, 
Or lay on that shall make your shoulders crack. 

A ust. What cracker is this same, that deafs 
our ears 
With this abundance of superfluous breath? 

K. Pai. Lewis, determine what we sh^ll do 
straight. ference. — 

Leiv. Women and fools, break off your con- 
King John, this is the very sum of all, — 



England, and Ireland, Anjou, louraine, Maine, 

In right of Arthur do I claim of thee : 

Wilt thou resign thein, and lay down thy arms? 

K,John, My life as soon: — 1 do defy thee 
France. 
Arthur of Bretagne, yield thee to my hand ; 
And, out of my dear love, I'll give thee nior 
Ihan e'er the coward hand of France can win 
Submit thee, boy. 

Eli, Come to thy grandam, child. 

Const. Do, child, go loit' grandam, child ; 
Give grandam kingdojn, and it' grandam will 
Give it a plum, a cherry, and a fig : 
There's a good grandam. 

Arth. Good my mother, peace! 

I would that I were low laid in my grave; 
I am not worth this coil$ that's made for me. 

Eli, His mother shames him so, poor r.oy, 
he weeps. [or no ! 

Const. N ow shame upon yon, whe'r|l slie does 
His grandam's wrongs, and not his mother's 
shames, [poor eyes. 

Draw those heaven-moving pearls from his 
Which heaven shall take in nature of a fee; 
Ay, with these crystal beads heaven shall be 

bribed 
To do him justice, and revenge on you. 

Eli, Thou monstrous slanderer of heaven 
and earth ! [and earth ; 

Const. Thou monstrous injurer of heaven 
Call not me slanderer; thou, and thine, usurp 
The dominations, royalties, and rights, [son. 
Of this oppressed boy : J'his is thy eldest sob's 
Inforiunate in nothing but in thee; 
Thy sins are visited in this poor child; 
The canon of the law is laid on him. 
Being but the second generation 
Removed from thy sin-conceiving womb. 

K. John, Beldam, have done. 

Const. I have but this to say, — • 

That he's not only plagued for her .>in. 
But God hath made her sin and her the plague 
On this removed issue, plagued for her. 
And with her plague, her sin ; his injury 
Her injury, the beadle to her sin ; 
All punish'd in the person of this child, 
And all for her; A plague upon her! 

Eli. Thou unadvised scold, i can produce 
A will, that bars the title of tliy son. [will ; 

Const. Ay yV{\\i> A iubtsthal? a will! a wicked 
A woman's will ; a canker'd grandam's will ! 

K. Phi. Peace, lady ; pause, or be more tem- 
perate : 
It ill beseems this presence, to cry aim IT 
To these ill-tuned repetitions. — 
Some trumpet summon lither to the walls 
These men of Anglers; let us hear them speak. 
Whose title they admit, Arthur's or John's. 
Tramjiets sound. Enter Citizens upon the 
walls. 

1 at. Who is it that hath warn'd us to the 
walls? 

K. Phi. 'iis France, for Fngland. 

A. John, England, for itself. 

You men of Anglers, and my I oving subjects,— 



* A short writing. 



♦ Celestial. 
i Whether. 



X Austria wears a lion's skin. 
% To encourage. 



S Bustle. 



82 



SilAKSPEAKt. 



[Act II, 



K, Phi. Yon loving menof A u^iers, Arthur's 
subjects, 
Oartruin|>et call'd yon to thib gentle parle*. 
K.John. For our advantajje ; — Tlicrerore, 

hear us first. 

These flails of France that are advanced here 
Before the eye ami prospect of >onr town, 
Have hither march'd to your endamagement: 
'Ihe cannons have their bowels full of wrath; 
And ready mounted are they, to spit forth 
Their iron indignation 'gainst your walls: 
All preparation for a bloody siege, 
And merciless proceeding by these French, 
(Confront your city's eyes, yourwinking gates; 
A Hd,but for oiir approach, tliose sleeping stones. 
That as a waist do girdle you about, 
By the compulsion of their ordnance 
By this time from their fixed beds of lime 
Had been dishabited, and wide havoc made 
For bloody power to rush upon your peace. 

But, on the sight of us, your lawful king, 

"Who painfully, with much expedient march, 
Have brought a countercheck before your gates, 
To save unscratch'd your city's threatened 

cheeks, — 
Behold, the French,amazed,vouchsafea p^rJe: 
And now, instead of bullets wrapp'd in fire. 
To make a shaking fever in your walls, 
They shoot but calm words, folded u p in smoke, 
To make a faithless error in your ears : 
Which trust accordingly, kind citizens, 
And let us in, your king; whose la bour'd spirits, 
Forweariedt in this action of swift speed, 
Crave harbourage within your city wails, 
K.Phi. When I have said, make answer to 
OS both. 
Lo, in this right hand, whose protection 
Is most divinely vow'd upon the rij;ht 
Of him it holds, stands young IMantagenet; 
Son to the elder brother of this man. 
And king o'er him, and all that he enjoys: 
For this down-trodden equity, we tread 
In warlike march these greens before your 
Being no further enemy to you, [town. 

Than the constraint of hospitable zeal, 
In the relief of this oppressed child, 
Religiously provokes, be pleased then 
To pay that duty, which you truly owe, 
lo him that owes it i ; namely jthisyoun^ prince: 
And then our arms, like to a muzzled bear, 
Save in aspect, hive all otfence se il'd up; 
Our cannons' malice vainly shall be spent 
Against the invulnerable clouds of heaven; 
And, with a blessed and nnvex'd retire, 
With unhack'd swords, and helmets all on- 
bruised, 
Wc will bear home that lusty blood again, 
Which here we came to spout against your 
town, [peace. 

And leave your children, wives, and >ou, in 
Bui if you fondly pass our profler'd otfer, 
' i is uui the rouudure § of your old-faced walls. 
Can hide you from our messengers of war; 
Though all these Knglish, and tlieir <li8 -ipline. 
Were harboor'd in their rude circumference. 
Then, tell us, shall your city call us lord, 



In that behalf which we have cliaHonged it? 
Or shall we give the signal to our rage. 
And stalk iu blood to our possession? 

1 at. In brief, we are the king of England's 
subjects ; 
For him, and in his right, we hold this town. 
A. Joliii. Acknowledge then the king, and 
let me in. fthe king, 

1 CU. That can we not: but he that proves 
To him will we prove loyal ; till that time. 
Have we ramm'd up our gates against the 
world. [prove the kin-? 

K, John. Doth not the crown of England 
And, if not that, I bring you witnesses, 
Twice fifteen thousand hearts of England's 

Bast. Bastards, and else. [breed, 

K, John. To verify our title with their lives. 
K. Phi. As many, and as well-born bloods 

Bast. Some bastards too. [as those, 

K. Phi. Stand in his tace, to contradict his 
claim. [worthiest, 

1 Cit, Till you compound whose right ia 
We, for the worthiest, hold the right from both. 
K. John, then God forgive the sin of all 
those souls. 
That to their everlasting residence, 
Before the dew of evening fall, shall fleet. 
In dreadful trial of our kingdom's king! 
K. Phi. Amen, Amen! — Mount, chevaliers I 
to arms! [and e'er since, 

Bast. St. George, — that swinged the dragon. 
Sits on his horseback at mine hostess' door. 
Teach us some fence! — Sirrah, were 1 at home, 
At your den, sirrah, \To Austria] with your 

lioness, 
I*d set an ox-head to your lion's hide. 
And make a monster of you. 

Aust. Peace ; no more. 

Bast. O, tremble ; for you hear the lion roar. 

K. John. Up higher to the plain ; where 

we'll set forth. 

In best appointment, all our regiments. 

Bast. Speed, then, to take advantage of the 

field. [the other hill 

AT. Phi, It shall be so;— [To Lewis] and at 

Command the rest to stand.— God, and our 

right I {Exeunt 

SCENE II. The same. 
Alarums and Excursions ; then a Retreat, 

Enter a French Herald, t^/^/* trumpets, to 

the gates. 

F. Her. You men of Anglers, open wide 
your gales, 
And let young Arthur, duke of Bretagne, in; 
Who.by the hand of France, this day hath made 
M uch work for tears in many an English mother. 
Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding 

ground: 
Many a widow's husband grovelling lies, 
('oldly embracing the discolour'd earth; 
And victory, witl> little loss, doth play 
Upon the dancing banners of the French ; 
Who are at hand, triuinphantly display'd, 
To enter cimquerors, and to proclaim 
Aithur of Bretague, England's king, and yours. 



Confer rncfi. 



t Worn out. 



Owns. 



% Clrcie. 



Scene II.] 



KING JOHN. 



383 



Enter an English Herald, tt^i//* trumpets. 
E. Her. Kejoice, you men of Angieis, ring 
your bells; [preach, 

King John, your king and Eugland's, doth ap- 
Coiiimander of this liot malicious day ! 
Their armours, that march'd hence so silver- 
bright. 
Hither return all gilt with Frenchmen's blood; 
There stuck no plume in any English crest, 
'J hat is removed by a statf of France; 
Our colours do return in those same hands 
That did display them, when we first march'd 

forth ; 
And, like a jolly troop of huntsmen, come 
Our lusiy English, all with purpled hands. 
Dyed in the dying slaughter of their foes: 
Open your gates, and give the victors way. 

at. Heraldj>, from off our towers we might 
From first to last, the onset and retire [behold, 
t)f both your armies; whose equality. 
By our liesl eyes cannot be censured* : 
blood hath bought blood, and blows have an- 
swer'd blows; [confronted power: 

Strength match'd with strength, and power 
Both are alike ; and both alike we like, [even. 
One must prove greatest: while they weigh so 
We hold our town for neither; yet for both. 
Enter, at one side, King John, with his 
jwwer; Elinor, Blanch, a7id the Bas- 
tard; at the other J King Philip, Lewis, 
Austria, and Forces. 
K. John. France, hast thou yet more blood 
to cast away? 
Say, shall the current of our right run on 1 
W hose passage, vex'd with thy impediment, 
Shall leave his native channel, and o'er-swell 
W ilh course distur b'd even thy confining shores; 
Unless thou let his silver water keep 
A peaceful progress to the ocean. 
K. Phi. Lngland, thou hast not saved one 
drop of blood, 
In this hot trial, more than we of France; 
Kather, lost more: And by this hand 1 swear, 
That sways the earth this climate overlooks, — 
Before we will lay down our just-borne arms. 
We'll put thee down, 'gainst whom these arms 
Or add a royal number to the dead; [we hear. 
Gracing the scroll, that tells of this war'-s loss, 
W ith slaughter coupled to the name of kings. 
Bast.\\?i, majesty ! how high thy glory towers, 
W hen the rich blood of kings is set on fire ! 
O, now doth death line his dead chaps with 

steel ; 
The sword* of soldiers are his teeth, his fangs; 
And now he feasts, mouthing the flesh of men, 

In undetermined differences of kings. 

Why stand these royal fronts amazed thus? 
Cr>, havoc, kings! back to the stained field, 
yaw equal potentst, fiery-kindled spirits! 
1 hen let confusion of one part confirm [death! 
'Ihe other's peace; till then, blows, bloo i,and 
K.Jolin. Whose party do the townsmen yet 
admit? [your king? 

K. Phi. Speak,citizens, for England; who'» 
1 at. The king of England, when we know 
the king. 



K. Phi. Know him in us, that here hold up 
bis tight. 

K.John. In us,that are our own great deputy. 
And bear possession of our person here; 
Lord of our presence, Anglers, and of you. 

xCit. A greater power tlian we, denies all this; 
And, till it be undoubted, we do lock 
Our former scruple in our strong bair'd 'j:ates : 
King'd of our fears ; until our fears, resolved. 
Be by some c rtain king purged and deposed. 

Bast. By heaven, these scroylesi of Angiert 
flout you, kings; 
And stand securely on their battlements, 
As in a theatre, whence they gape and point 
At your industrious scenes and acts of death. 
Your royal presences be ruled by me ; 
Do like the mutines§ of Jerusalem, 
Be friends a while, and both conjointly bend 
Your sharpest deeds of malice on this town : 
By east and west let France and England mount 
Their battering cannon, charged to the mouths ; 
Till their soul-fearing clamours have brawl'd 

down 
The flinty ribs of this contemptuous city : 
I'd play incessantly upon these jades. 
Even till unfenced desolation 
Leave them as naked as the vulgar air. 
That done, dissever your united strengths. 
And part your mingled colours once again ; 
Turn face to face, and bloody point to point: 
Then, in a moment, fortune shall cull forth 
Out of one side her happy minion; 
To whom in favour she shall give the day. 
And kiss him with a glorious victory. 
How like you this wild counsel, mighty states? 
Smacks it not bomething of the policy ? 

K. John. N ow, by the sky that hangs above 
our heads, [powers, 

I like it well ;— France, shall we knit our 
And lay tliis Anglers even with the^round; 
Then, after, fight who shall be king of it ? 

Bast. An if thou hast the mettle of a king, — 
Being wrong'd, as we are, by this peevish 
Turn thou the month of thy artillery, [town, — 
As we will our's, against these saucy walls: 
And when that we have dash'd them to the 

ground. 
Why, then defy each other; and, p€ll-mell, 
Make work upon ourselves, for heaven, or helL 

K. Phi. Let it be so: — Say, where will you 
assault? 

K, John. We from the west will send 
Into this city's bosom. [destruction 

Aust. I, from the north. 

K. Phi. Our thunder from the south. 

Shall rain their drift of bullets on this town. 

Bast. O prudent discipline! From north to 
south, 
Austria and France shoot in each oihei 's mouth: 

{Aside, 
I'll stir them to't: Come, away, away ! 

1 at. Hear us, great kings! vouchsafe a 
while to stay, [ieagne; 

And I shall shew you peace, and fair faced 
Win you this city without stroke or woun^l ; 
Rescue those breathing lives to die in beds. 



Judged, determined. t Potentates. + Scabby fellows. § Mutineers. 



3iJ4 



SUAKSPp:AaE. 



[Act //. 



Thiit here come sacrifices for the field: 
'■^ersever not, but hear me, mighty kings. 
K. John. Speak on, with favour; we are 

bent to liear. [Bl inch, 

1 Cit. Ihaidtntrhler there of Spain, the lady 
Is near to Kihji md: Look upou the ytars 
Of i.ewis tiie dauphin, and that lovely maid: 
If lusty lov should go in quest of beauty, 
Where should he find it fairer than in Blanch? 
If zealous* love should go in search ot virtue. 
Where should he fiud it purer than in Blanch? 
If love ambitious sought a match of birth. 
Whose vtins bound richer blood than lady 

Blanch? 
Such as she is, in beauty, virtue, birth. 
Is the young dauphin every way complete: 
If not complete, O say, he is not she; 
And she again wants nothing, to name want. 
If want it be not, that she is not he: 
1 le is the half part of a blessed man, 
Lett to be finished by such a she ; 
And she a fair divided excellence. 
Whose fulness of perfection lies in him. 
O, two such silver currents, when they join, 
Ijo glorify the banks that bound them in: 
And two such shores to two such streams 

made one, 
Two such controlling bounds shall you be,kings, 
To these two princes, if you marry them. 
This union shall do more than battery can. 
To our fast-closed gates; for, at this match, 
With switter spleen t than powder can enforce. 
The mouth of passage shall we fling wide ope. 
And give you entrance ; but, without this match, 
The sea enraged is not half so deaf, 
Lions more confident, mountains and rocks 
More free from motion ; no, not death himself 
In mortal fury half so peremptory. 
As we to keep this city. 

JBcf/. Here's a stay, 

That sh'^kes the rotten carcass of old death 
Outo'f his rags! Here's a lar^e mouth, indeed, 
That spits forth death, and mountains, rocks, 

and seas; 
'1 alks as familiarly of roaring lions. 
As maids of thirteen do of puppy -dogs! 
What cannoneer begot this lusty blood? 
lie speaks plain cannon, fire, and smoke, and 

bounce; 
\ le gives the bastinado with his tongue ; 
Our ears are cudgeli'd; not a word of his. 
But buffets better than a fist of France: 
Zounds! 1 was never so bethump'd with words. 
Since I first call'd my brother's father, dad. 
Eli. Son, list to this conjunction, make this 
match; 
r;ive with our niece a dowry large enough : 
lor by this knot thou shalt so surely tie 
Tliy now unsured assurance to the crown, 
I hat yon green boy shall have no snn to ripe 
1 he bloom that promiseth a mighty fruit. 
I see a yielding in the looks of France; 
>Jark, how tliey whisper: urge them, while 
Are capable of this ambition: [their souls 

Lesi zeal, now melted, by the vindy breath 
O* soft petitions, pity, and remorse, 



Cool and congeal again to what it was. 

I Cit. Why answer riot the double niaienties 
This friendly treaty of our tureaten'd town? 

K.Phi, Speak England first, that hath been 
forward first 
To speak unto this city : What say you? 

K. John, If that the dauphin there, tny 
princely son. 
Can in this book of beauty read, I love, 
Her dowry shall wei.h equal with a queen : 
For Anjou, and fair Touraine, Maine, loictiers. 
And all that we upon this side the sea 
(Except this city now by us besieged) 
Find liable to our crown and dignity. 
Shall gild her ridal bed ; and make her rich 
In titles, honours, and promotions. 
As she in beauty, education, blood. 
Holds hand with any princess of tiie world. 

K. Phi. What sa} St thou, boy? look in th» 
lady's face. 

Leiv. I do, my lord, and in her eye I find 
A wonder, or a wondrous miracle. 
The shadow of myself form'd in her eye ; 
Which, being but the sh idow of your son, 
Beconies a sun and makes your son a shadow » 
I do protest, I never loved myself, 
Till now infixed 1 beheld myself. 
Drawn in the flattering table j of her eye. 

[ fJ'hispfrs with Blanch 

Bast. Drawn in the flattering table of her 
€ye!— [brow I— 

Hang'd in the frowning wrinkle of her 
And quartei^d in her heart! — he doth espy 

Himself love's traitor : This is pity now, 
That hang'd, and drawn, and quarter'd, there 
I»such a love, so vile a lout as he. [should be, 

Blanch. My uncle's will, in Uiis respect, is 
mine : 
If he see aught in you, that makes him like, 
Ihat any thing he sees, which moves his liking, 
I can with ease translate it to my will; 
Or, if you will, (to speak more properly,) 
I will enforce it easily to my love. 
Further I will not flatter you, my lord. 
That all 1 see in you is worthy love, 
Than this, — that nothing do 1 see in you, 
(Though churlish thoughts themselves should 

be jour judge,) 
That 1 can find should merit any hate. 

K.John. What say these young ones? What 
say you, niy niece? [to do 

Blanch. That she is bound in honour still 
What you in wisdom shall vouchsafe to s ly. 

K. JohJi. Speak then, prince dauphin ; can 
you love this lady ? 

Leii\ ^ay, ask me if I can refrain from love ; 
For I do love her most unfeignedly. 

K.John. Then do 1 give Volquessen, Tou- 
raine, Maine, 
Poictiers, and Anjou, these five provinces. 
With her to thee; and this addition more, 
Full thirty thousand marks of Inglish coin.— ^ 
Philip of France, if thou be pleased withal. 
Command thy son and daughter to join hands. 

K, Phi, It likes va well ;— Young priuco* 
cloie your hands. 



• Pious. 



f Sppcd. 



J Pii ture. 



Scene II.] 



KING joriM. 



385 



Aust. And yoar lips too; for, I am well 

assured. 
That 1 (li i so, when I was first assured*. 
K. Phi. Now, citizens of Aagiers,ope your 

gales, 
Let in thai amiiy which you have made; 
For at saint Mary's chapel, presently. 
The rites f marriage shall be solemnized.— 
Is not the lady Constance in this troop? 
I know, she is not ; for this match, made up, 
Her presence would have interrupted much : — 
Where is she and her son J tell me, who 

knows. [ness' tent. 

LieuK Slie is sad and passionate t at your high- 
A\ Phi. And, by my taitl\, this league, that 

we have made. 
Will give her sadness very little cure. — 
Brother ot England, how may we content 
This widow lady { In her right we came; 
Wiiich we, God knows, have turn'd another 
loour own vantage;;:. [way, 

A'. joUii. We will heal up all; [ta^^ne, 

For we'll create young Arthur duke of Br«- 
And earl of H'fchmond ; and this rich fair town 
We make hiin lord of. — Call the lady Con- 
Some speedy messe.iger nid her repair [stance ; 
To our suiemi.ity: — I, trust we shall. 
If not fill up the measure of her will, 
Yet in some measure s tisfy her so, 
That we shall stop her exclamation. 
Go we, ?is wel as haste will sutfer us, 
To this unlook'd for, uii pie pared pomp. 
{Exeunt a I bat. the Bastard. — The Citizens 

retire from the wails. 
Bast. Mad world! mad kings! mad com- 

posilion! 
lohn, to stop Arthur's title in the whole, 
Hath willingly departed with a part : 



And traace,( whose aruiour conscience buckled 
W horn zeal and charity broui^ht to ihe held, [on; 
As uod's own soidier,) roumied $ in tlie ear 
\\ ith tiiatsame purpose-changer, that sl\ devil; 
That bioker,that still breaks the p ite of faith; 
That daily break-vow ; lie that wins of all. 
Of kings, of beggars, old men, young men, 

maids ; — 
Who having no external thing to lose 
But the word maid, — cheats the poor maid of 

that; [modityii; — 

That smooth-faced gentleman, tickling com. 
Couirao lity, the bias of the world ; 
The world, who of itself is peised IT well, 
Made to run even, upon even ground; 
lill this advantage, this vile drawing bias. 
This sway of motion, this commodity. 
Makes it take head from all inditterency, 
Fro II all direction, purpose, course, intent: 
And this same bias, this commodity, 
J his bawd, this broker, this all-changing word, 
Clapp'd on the outward ey« of fickle France, 
Hath drawn him from his own determined aid. 
From a resolved and honourable war. 
To a most base and vile-concluded peace.-- 
And why rail I on this commodity? 
But for because he hatli not woo'd me yet: 
N Ot that I have the power to clutch** my hand. 
When his fair angels +t would salute my palm: 
But for my hand, as unattempled yet. 
Like a poor beggar, raileth on the rich. 
Well, whiles 1 am a besigar, I will rail. 
And say — there is no sin, but to be rich; 
And being rich, my virtue then shall be, 
Fo say, — there is no vice, but beggary : 
Since kings break faith upon commodity. 
Gain, be my lord I for I will worship thee! 

\^Exit, 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. The same, Tlie French King's 
Tent. 

Enter Constance, Arthur, 4: SALisBtfRY. 

Const. Gone to be married! gone to swear 

a peace! [friends! 

False blood to false blood join'd! Gone to be 

Shall Lewis have Blanclv? and Blanch those 

provinces? 
It is not so; thou hast misspoke, misheard; 
Be well advised, tell o'er thy tale again : 
It cannot be ; thou dost but say, 'tis so : 
1 trust, 1 may not trust thee; for tliy word 
Is but the vain breath of a common man ; 
believe me, I do not believe thee, man; 
I have a king's oath to the contrary. 
Ihou shalt be punish'd for thus frighting me, 
For 1 am sick, and capable;; of fears; [fears; 
Oppress'd with wrongs, and therefore full of 
4 willow, husbandless, subject to fears; 
H woiian, naturally born to fears; [jest. 

And though thou now confess, ihou didst but 
VV ith my vtx'd spirits I cannot take a truce. 



But they vdll quake and tremble all this day. 
What dost thou mean by shaking of thy head! 
Why dost thou look so sadly on my son? 
What ineaiis that hand upon that breastof thine? 
Why hoi is thine eye that lamentable rheum. 
Like a proud river peering .^^ o'er his bounds! 
Be these sad signs confirmers of thy words? 
Then speak again ; not all thy former tale. 
But this one word, whether thy tale be true. 
Sat. As true, as, I believe, you think them 

false, 
That give you cause to prove my saying true. 
Const, o, if thou teach me to believe this 

sorrow. 
Teach thou this sorrow how to make me die 
And let belief and life encounter so. 
As doth he tury of two desperate men. 
Which, in the very meeting, fall, and die. — 
Lewis marry Blanch ! U, boy, then wheie ar* 

thou? [of me { — 

France friend with England! what tecone? 
Fellow, begone; I cannot brook thy si^ht ; 
ihii news hath made thee a most ugly mm. 



* Ailianced, t Mournful. { Advantag 

^ Poisv-d, balanced ♦♦ Clasp. ft Coin. 



§ Conspired. || Intere-t. 

; 2>U3Ctrplli>i!'. ^i \i.t)i-rtii 

L' L 



386 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Att IIU 



SaL What other harm have I, good lady, 
done. 
But spoke ihe Warm that is by others done? 

C<>//.v/.\Vhicli harm within itself soheinous is, 
Aa it makes harnitul all that speak ot it. 

Artn. 1 do beseech yon, madain^be content. 

Const . If thou, tliat bidd'st ine be content, 
wert glim. 
Ugly, and sland'rous to thy mother's womb, 
Fallot unpleasing blots, and sightless* stains. 
Lame, foolish, crooked, swart, prodigioust, 
Patch'd with foul moles, and eye-oflfending 

marks, 
I would not care, I then would be content; 
For then 1 should not love thee ; no, nor thou 
Become thy great birth, nor deserve a crown. 
Bat thou art fair; and at thy birth, dear boy ! 
>*ature and fortune join'd to make thee great: 
Of nature's gifts thou may'st with lilies boast. 
And with the half-blown rose : but fortune, () ! 
She is corrupted, changed, and wonfronj thee; 
She adulterates hourly with thine uncle. lohn; 
And witii her golden hand hath pluck'd on 

France 
To tread down fair respect of sovereignty. 
And made his majesty the bawd to the)rs. 
France is a bawd to fortune, and king .John; 
That strumpet fortune, that usurping lohn: — 
Tell me, thou tellow, is not France forsworn ? 
Envenom him with words; or get thee gone, 
And leave those wots alone, which I alone 
Am bound to under-bear. 

Sul. I'ardon me, madam, 

I may not go without you to the kings. 

Const. Thou may*&t, thou shalt, I will not go 
with thee: 
I will instruct my sorrows to be proud; 
For grief is proud, and makes his owner stout. 
To nie, and to the state J of my great grief. 
Let kings assemble; for my grief's so great. 
That no supporter but the huge firm earth 
Can hold it up: here I and sorrow sit; 
Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to il. 
[Site throws herself on the ground. 
Enter King John, Iving PHiLip, LEWiiJ, 

Blanch, Elinor, Bastard, Austria, «nrf 

Attendants. 

K. Phi. 'lis true, fair daughter; and this 
bkssed day, 
Ever in France shall be kept festival: 
To solemnize this day, the glorious sun 
Stays in his course, and pi lys the alchemist; 
Turning, with splendour of his precious ej e, 
Ihe meagre cloddy earth to glittering; 9o\t\'. 
1 he yearly course, that brings this day about, 
Sh.dl never see it but a holyday. 

Const. A wicked day, and not a holyday ! — 

What hath this day deserved? what hath it 
'Ihat it in golden letters siiould be set, [done; 
Among the high tides cj, in the kalendar? 
"Nay, rather, turn this day out of the week ; 
I his day of shame, oppression, perjury : 
Or. if it must stand still, let wives with child 
Pray, that their burdens may not fall this day, 
Lest that their hopes prodigiously be crops'd : 



But on this day, let seamen fear no wreck ; 
IS'o bargains break, that are not this day made: 
This day, all things begun come to ill end ; 
Yea, faith itself to hollow falsehood changel 

K. Phi. By heaven, lady, you shall have do 
cause 
To curse the fair proceedings of this day: 
Have I not pawn'd to you my majesty ? 

Const. Vou have beguiled me with a coun- 
terfeit, [and tried. 
Resembling majesty; which, being touch'd. 
Proves valueless : You are forsworn, forsworn ; 
You came in arms to spill mine enemies' blood. 
But now in arms you strengthen it with yours : 
The grappling vigour and rough frown of war. 
Is cold in amity and painted peace, 
And our oppression hath made up this league :— 
Arm, arm, you heavens, against these perjured 

kings ! 
A widow cries; be husband to me, heavens! 
Let not the hours of this ungodly day 
Wear out the day in peace; but, ere sunset. 
Set armed discord 'twixt these perjured kings! 
Hear me, O, hear me! • 

Aust. Lady Constance, peace. 

Const. War! war ! no peace 1 peace is to me 
a war. 

Lymoges! O Austria! thou dost shame 
That bloody spoil: Thou slave, thou wretch, 

thou cov\ard; 
Thod little valiant, great in villany! 
Thou ever strong upon the stronger side! 
Thou fortune's champion, th.it dost never fight 
But when her humorous ladyship is by 
To teach thee safety ! thou art perjured too, 
Andsooth'st upgreatness. Whatafoolartthou, 
A ramping fool; tobrag, and stamp, and swear, 
Upon my party! i hou cold-blooded slave. 
Hast thou not spoke like thunder on my side? 
Been sworn my soldier? bidding me depend 
Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy streiiL,lh? 
And dost thou now fall over to my foes? 
Thou wear a lion's hide! doflfK it for shame. 
And hang a calt's-skin on those recreant limbs. 

Aust. O, that a man should speak those 
words to me! [creant limbs. 

Bast. And hang a calfs-skin on those re- 

Aust. Ihou darest not say so, villain, for 
thy life. [creant limbs 

Bast. And hang a calfs-skin on those re- 

K. John. We like not this ; thou dost forget 
thyself. 

Enter Pandulph. 

K. Phi. Here comes the holy legate of tiie 
pope. [veil : — 

Pand. Hail, you anointed deputies of hea- 
To the*;, king John, my holy errand is. 
I, I'andulph, of fair Milan cardinal. 
And from pope Innocent the legate here. 
Do, in his name, religiously demand, 
Why thou against the church, our holy motner 
So wilfully dost spurn; and, force perforce. 
Keep Stephen Langton, chosen archbishop 
Of Canterbury, from that holy seef 

1 his, in our 'foresaid holy father's name. 
Pope Innocent, 1 do demand ot tliee. 



Unsigl.ily. t Portent.) 



t '•eated lu Ftate. $ Solemn neasous. 



Do utf. 



Scene /.] 



KliVG JOHN. 



3b7 



K. John. What earthly name to interroga- 
tories, 
Can task the free breath of a sacred king? 
'Ihoii canst not, cardinal, dt-vi.se a name 
So slight, unworthy, and ridiculous, 
lo charge me to an answer, as the pope, [land, 
'lell him this tale; and from the mouth of Eng- 
Add thus much more, — That no Italian priest 
Shall tithe or toll in our dominions ; 
But as we under heaven are supreme head. 
So under him, that great supremacy, 
Where we do reign, we will alone uphold. 
Without the assistance of a mortal hand : 
So tell the pope: all reverence set apart. 
To him and his usurp'd authority. 

K. Phi. Brother of England, you blaspheme 
in this. [Christendom, 

K. John. Though you, and all the kings of 
Are led so i^rossly by this meddling priest, 
Dreading the curse that money may buy out; 
And, by the merit of vile gold, dross, dust. 
Purchase corrupted pardon of a man, 
Who, in that sale, sells pardon from himself: 
Though you, and all the rest, so grossly led. 
This jugoliug witchcraft with revenue cherish ; 
Yet 1, alone, alone do me oppose 
Against the pope, and count his friends my foes. 

Pand.i hen, by the lawful power that I have. 
Thou shalt stand cursed, and exeommunicate : 
And blessed shall he be, that doth revolt 
From his allegiance to an heretic; 
And meritorious shall that hand be call'd. 
Canonized, and worshipp'd as a saint. 
That takes away by any secret course 
Thy hateful life. 

Const. O, lawful let it be. 

That 1 have room with Rome to curse a while! 
Good father cardinal, cry thou, amen. 
To my keen curses ; for, without my wrong. 
There is lo tongue hath power to curse him 
right. 

Pand. There's law and warrant, lady, for 
my curse. [no right, 

Const. And for mine too ; when law can do 
Let it be lawful, that law bar no wrong : 
Law cannot give my child his kingdom here; 
For he that holds his kingdom, holds the law : 
Therefore, since law itself is perfect wrong, 
How can the law forbid my tongue to curse 1 

Pand. i'hilip of France, on peril of a curse. 
Let go the hand of that arch-heretic ; 
And raise the power of France upon his head. 
Unless he do submit himself to Home. 

Eli. Lookst thou pale, France? do not let 
go thy hand. [repent. 

Const. Look to that, devil! lest that France 
And, by disjoining hands, hell lose a soul. 

Aust. King Philip, listen to the cardinal. 

Bast. And hang a calf's-skin on his re- 
creant limbs. [wrongs, 

Aust. Well, ruffian, 1 must pocket up these 
Because 

Bast. Your breeches best may carry them. 

AT. John. Philip, what sayst tho-i to the 
cardinal? 



Const^ What should he say, but a« the car- 
dinal? 

Lew. Bethink you, father; for the difTerencc 
Is, purchase of a heavy curse from Rome, 
Or the light loss of England for a friend : 
Forego the easier. 

Bianch. That's the curse of Rome. 

Const. 0,Lewis, stand fast; the devil tempts 
thee here. 
In likeness of a new untrimmed * bride. 

^^awc/i. The lady Constance speaks not from 
But from her need. [her faith. 

Const. O, if thou grant my need. 

Which only lives but by the death or faith. 

That need must needs infer this principle, ■ 

That faith would live again by death of need ; 
O, then, tread down my need, and faith 

mounts up; 
Keep my need up, and faith is trodden down. 

K. John. The king is moved, and answers 
not to this. [well. 

Const. O, be removed from him, and answ er 

Aust. Do so, king Philip; hang no more ia 
doubt. [sweet lout. 

Bast. Hang nothing but a calfs-skin, most 

K. Phi. I am perplex'd, and know not what 
to say. [thee more, 

jPawrf. What canst thou say, but will perplex 
If thou stand excommunicate and cursed? 

K. Phi. CJood reverend father, make my 
person yours. 
And tell me, how you would bestow yourself. 
This royal hand and mine are newly knit; 
And the conjunction of our inward souls 
Married in league, coupled and link'd together 
With all religious strength of sacred vows ; 
The latest breath that gave the sound of words. 
Was deep-sworn faith, peace, amity, true love. 
Between our kingdoms and our royal selves; 
And even befoi e this truce, but new before, — • 
No longer than we well could wash our hands. 

To clap this royal bargain up of peace, 

Heaven knows, they were.besmear'd and bver- 
stain'd [paint 

With slaughter's pencil; where revenge did 
The fearful ditference of incensed kiuiis: — 
And shall these hands,so lately purged of bloo.l , 
So newly join'd in love, so strong in both. 
Unyoke this seizure, and this kind regreett? 
Play fast and loose with faith? so jest with 

heaven, 
Make such unconstant children of ourselves. 
As now again to snatch our palm from palm ; 
llnswear faith sworn ; and on the marriage bed 
Of smiling peace to march a bloody host. 
And make a riot on the gentle brow 
Of true sincerity ? O, holy sir. 
My reverend father, let it not be so : 
Out of your grace, devise, ordain, impo«« 
Some gentle order ; and then we shall be bless'd 
To do your pleasure, and continue friends. 

Pand. All form is formless, order orderless. 
Save what is opposite to England's love. 
Therefore, to arms ! be champion of our church ! 
Or let the church, our mother, breathe her curse. 



• " When naalorn'd adornVl the most.*' — Thomson's Autumn, 200. 
t Exchange of salutation. 



SHAKSPEARE. 



{A(( ni. 



A raothei-'s ciiri-e, on her revolting son. | 

France,thoumayst hold a serpent by the tongue, 
A cased lion by the mortal paw, 
A fasting tiger safer by the tooth, [hold. 

Than k' ep in peace that hand which thou dost 
/\, Phi. I may disjoin my hand, but not my 
faith. [faith ; 

Pond. So makest thou faith an enemy to 
And, like a civil war, set'st oath to oath, 
Ihy tongue against thy tongue. O, let thy vow 
First made to heaven, first be to heaven per- 
formed ; 
lliat is, to be the champion of our church ! 
What since thou sworest,is sworn against thy- 
And may not be performed by thyself: [self, 
For that, which thou hast sworn to do amiss. 
Is not amiss when it is truly done ; 
And being not done, where doing tends to ill. 
The truth is then most done not doing it : 
The better act of purposes mistook 
Is, to mistake again; though indirect. 
Vet indirection thereby giows dire.t, [fire, 
And falsehood falsehood cures; as fire cools 
Within the scorched veins of one new burn'd. 
It is religion, that doth make vows kept; 
But thou hast sworn against religion; 
By what thou swear'st, against the thing thou 

swear'st ; 
And makest an oath the surety for thy truth 
Against an oath : The truth thou art unsure 
To swear, swear only not to be forsworn ; 
Else, uhat a mockery should it be to swear? 
But thou dost swear only to be forsworn : 
And most forsworn, to keep what thou dost 

swear. 
Therefore, thy latter vows, against thy first. 
Is in thyself rebellion to thyself: 
And better conquest never c.tnst thou make. 
Than arm thy constant and thy nobie.r parts 
Agaiiist those tiiddy loose snogestlons: 
Upon which better part our prayers come in. 
If thou vouchsafe them : but, if not, then kuow, 
The peril of our curses lis^ht on thee; 
So heavy, as thon sha t not shake them off, 
Bot, in despair, die under their black weight. 
Aust. Rebellion, flat rebellion! 
Bast, Will't not be? 

Will not a calfs-skin stop that mouth of thine? 
J.eiv. Father, to arms ! 
lUancli. Upon thy wedding; day? 

Against the blood that thou hast niairied? 
What, shall our feast be kept with sl.uighter'd 
men? [drums. — 

Shall braying trumpets, and loud churlish 
Clduiotn'sof hi 11, — be measures * loour pomp? 
O, hiisbaml, hear me! — ah, alack! Imw new 
Ishusb md in my mouth I — even for that name, 
Which till this iin)e ray longue did ne'er pro- 
l' pon my knee 1 beg, go not to arms [nounce, 
i^gainst mine uncle. 

Coti.st. O, upon my knee, 

Made hard with kneeling 1 do pray to thee. 
Thou virtuous Dauphin, alter not the doom 
Forethought by heaven. [motive may 

Bttinik. Now shall I see thy love: Whnt 
Be stronger wiih thee than the uasne ot wife? 

• Vu.'-ic for d inciMs;. 



Cim.st. Ihat which upholdeth him that the* 

upholds, [honour! 

His honour: O, thine honour, Lewis, thine 

Leu.l muset.y our majesty doth seem so cold, 
"When such profound respects do pull you on, 

Pand. I will denounce a curse upon his head. 

A . Phi. I hou shalt not need : — England, I'll 
fall from thee. 

Const. O fair return of banish'd majesty! 

Eii. O foul revolt of French inconstancy! 

K. John. France, thou shall rue this hour 
within this hour. [sexton time. 

Bast. Old time the clock-setter, that bald 
Is it as he will? well then, France shall rue. 

^^«;?cA. The sun's (yercast with blood: Fair 
day, adieu! 
Which is the side that I must go withal? 
1 am w ith both : each army hath a hand ; 
And, in their rage, 1 having hold of both. 
They whirl asunder, and dismember me. 
Husband, I cannot pray that thou mayst win; 
Uncle,! needs must pray that thou may st lose; 
Fatlier, I may not wish the fortune thine; 
Grandam, I will not wish thy wishes thrive: 
Whoever wins, on that side shall I lose ; 
Assured loss, befoie the match beplay'd. 

Jbeiv. Lady, with me; with me thy fortune 
lies. [there my life dies. 

Blanch, There where my fortune lives, 

A . John. Cousin, go draw our puissance % 
together. {Exit Bastard, 

France, 1 am burn'd up with inflaming wrath ; 
A rage, whose heat hath this condition. 
That nothiu.^ can allay, nothing but blood, 
The blood, and dearest- valued blood.of France. 

A. Plii. ihy rage shall burn thee np, aitd 
thou shalt turn 
To ashes, ere our blood shall quench that fire ; 
Lock to thyself, thou art in jeopardy. 

K. Joh)i. ISo more than he that threats.— » 
To arms let's hie ! [Kteimt. 

SCENE II. The same. Plains near An^xer*. 

AlarumSy Eicursions, Enter the Easiar<l, 

?^7^A Austria's Head. 

Bast. "Now, by my life, this day grow a 
wondrous hot ; 
Some airy devil hovers in the sky, 
And pours down mischief. Austria's head lie 
W hile Fhilip breathes. [there : 

E iter king John, Arthur, ««r/Hu bkrt. 

K. John. Hubert, keep this boy: — 1 hilip. 
My mother is assailed in our tent, [make up: 
And ta'eu, I fear. 

Bust. My lord, I rescued her; 

Her highness is in safety, fear you not: 
lint on, nty liege: for very liule p.iins 
Will bring this labour to an hapj-y end. 

{Exeunt. 

SCENE III. The same. 
Alarums; Excursions ; Rttreat. Enter 
King John, Elinor, Arthur, the Bas- 
tard, HuBKRT, and Lords. 
! K. John. So shall it be; your gra^e shall 
f stay beiiind, [Yc 1: l i.NOR, 



+ V\ i.nder. 



t Furc*?, 



Scent III.] 



KING JOHN. 



389 



So strongly guarded. — Cousiu, io jk iu,i j^ad : 

[To AlCTHL'R. 

Thy gi-andam loves thee, and thy uncle will 
As dear be to thee as thy father was. [grief. 
Arth. O, this will make my mother die wit i 
K.John, Cousin, [7'o^Ae Bastard.] away for 

England; haste before: 
And, ere our coming, see thou shake the bags 
Of hoarding abbots: angels* imprisoned 
feet thou at liberty: the fat ribs of peace 
Must by the hungry now be fed upon: 
Use our commission in his utmost force. 
Bast, Bell, took.and candle shall not drive 

me back; 
When gold and silver becks me to come on. 
I leave your highness: — Grandam, I will pray 
(If ever I remember to be holy,) 
For your fair safety; so I kiss your hand. 
IlU, Farewell, my gentle cousin. 
K, John. Coz, farewell. [Exit Bastard. 
Eli. Come hither, little kinsman: hark, a 

word. [She takes Aktvlvk aside. 

K. John. Come hither, Hubert. O, my 

gentle Hubert, 
We owe thee ranch; within this wall of flesh 
There is a soul counts thee her creditor. 
And with advantage means to pay thy love : 
And, my good friend, thy voluntary oath 
Live*, in this bosom, dearly cherished. 
Give me thy hand. I had a thing to say, — 
But I will fit it with some better time. 
By heaven, Hubert, I am almost ashamed 
To say what good respect I have of thee. 
Hub. I am much bounden to your majesty. 
K, John, Good friend, thou hast no cause 

to say so yet ; [slow, 

But thou shalt have; and creep time ne'er so 
Yet it shall come, for me to do thee good. 
1 had a thing to say, — But let it go: 
The sun is in the heaven, and the proud day, 
Attended with the pleasures of the world. 
Is all too wanton, and too full of gaw st. 
To give me audience: — If the midnight bell 
Did, with his iroh tongue and brazen month, 
.Sound one unto the drowsy race of night; 
If this same were a church-yard where we 

stand, 
And thou possessed with a thousand wrongs; 
Or if th;=it surly spirit, melancholy. 
Had baked thy blood, and made it heavy, 

thick ; [veins, 

(Which, else, runs tickling up and down the 
Making that idiot, laughter, keep men's eyes. 
And strain their cheeks to idle merriment, 
A passion hateful to my purposes;) 
Or if that thou couldst see me without eyes. 
Hear me without thine ears, and make reply 
Without a tongue, using conceit j alone. 
Without eyes,ears,and harmful sound of words; 
Then, in despite of brooded watchful day, 
I would into thy bosom pour my thoughts: 
But, ah, I will not : — Yet I love thee well; 
And, by my trcKh, I think, thou lovest me well. 
Hub. So well, that what yon bid me under- 
take, 



iiiou^xi LiidL ,.,y Ueaiu were aujuuclj to my 
By heaven, I'd do't. [act, 

K. John. Do not I know, thou wouldst ? 
Good Hubert, Hubert, Hubert, throw thine eye 
On yon young boy: I'll tell thee what, my 
He is a very serpent in my way; [friend. 

And, wheresoe'er this foot of mine doth tread. 
He lies before me : Dost thou understand mel 
Thca art his keeper. 

Hub, And I will keep him so. 

That he shall not oflfend your majesty. 

K. John, Death. 

Hub. My lord? 

K. John, A grave. 

Hub. He shall not live. 

K. Johyi. Enough, 

I could be merry now : Hubert, I love thee ; 
Well, I'll not say w^hat I intend for thee: 

Remember. Madam, fare you well: 

I'll send those powers o'er to your majesty. 

Eli. My blessing go with thee! 

K. John. For England, cousin: 

Hubert shall be your man, attend on you 
With all true duty. — On toward Calais, ho! 
{Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. The same. The Trench King's 

Tent. 
£l^?6r King Philip, Lew IS, PANDULPH,aM<i 
Attendants. 
K.Phi. So, by a roaring tempest on the flood, 
A whole armadojj of convicted IF sail 
Is scatter'd and disjoin'd from fellowship. 
Paud. Courage and comfort! all shall yet 
go well. [run so ill? 

K. Phi. Wnat can go well, when we have 
Are we not beaten ? Is not Anglers lost? 
Arthur ta'en prisoner? divers dear friendi 

slain ? 
And bloody England into England gone, 
O'erbearing interruption, spite of France? 
Leiv. What he hath won, that hath he for- 
tified : 
So hot a speed with such advice disposed. 
Such temperate order in so fierce a cause, 
Doth want example : Who hath read, or heard^ 
Of any kindred action like to this? 
K. Phi. Well could 1 bear that England had 
this praise, 
So we could find some pattern of our shame 

Enter Constance. 
Look, who comes here! a grave unto a soul; 
Holding the eternal spirit, against her will. 
In the vile prison of afflicted breath: — 
I prithee, lady, go aw^y with me. 

Const. Lo, now! now see the issue of your 
peace! [Constance! 

K. Phi, Patience, good lady ! comfort,gentle 
Const. No, I defy ♦* all counsel, all redress 
But that which ends all counsel, true redress 
Death, death : — O amiable lovely death ! ^ 
Thou odoriferous stench ! sound rottenness \ 
Arise forth from the couch of lasting nii,ht, 
, rhou hate and terror to prosperity, 
I And 1 will kiss thy detestable bones ; 



• Gold coin. t Showy ornaments- J Conception. $ Joined. 

4 Fleet of \rar. % Overcome. ♦* Kefnve. 

2 L 3 



:^90 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act HI. 



And put my eye-balls in thy vanity brows; I 
And ring these fingers with thy household 
worms; fdust 

And stop this gap of breath with fulsome ' 
And be a carrion monster like thyself: [est, '. 
Come, gi in on me ; and I will think thou smil- ; 
And buss thee as thy wife! Misery's love, 
O, come to me I 

K, Phi. O, fair affliction, pea<:e. 

Const. No, no, 1 will not, having breath to 

cry: — [month! 

i^f that my tongue were in the thunder's 

hen with a passion would 1 shake the world; 
And rouse from sleep that fell anatomy, 
Which cannot hear a lady's feeble voire. 
Which scorns a modern* invocation, [sorrow. 

Pand. Lady, you utter madness, and not 

Const. Thou art not holy to belie me so ; 
I am not mad : this hair 1 tear is mine ; 
My name is Constance; I was GeflFiey's wife; 
Young Arthur is my son, and he is lost: 
I am not mad ; — I would to heaven, I were! 
Vor then, 'tis like I should forget mystlf : 
O, if I could, what grief should 1 forgetl — 
Preach some philosophy to make me mad, 
And thou shalt be canonized, cardinal; 
For, being not mad, but sensible of grief. 
My reasonable part produces reason 
liow I may be deliver'd of these woes. 
And teaches me to kill or hang myself; 
if I were mad, 1 should forget my sou ; 
Or madly think, a babe of clouts were he: 
I ara not mad: too well, too well I feel 
The diflferent plague of each calamity. 

K.Phi. Bind up those tresses; O, what love 
In the fair multitude of those her hairs! [I note 
"^Vhere bijt by chance a silver droj. hath fallen, 
Even to that drop ten thousand wiry fiieuds 
Bo glew themselves in sociable grief; 
l^ike true, inseparable, faithful loves, 
Sti(-king together in calamity. 

Conat. To Englard, if you will. 

K. John. find np your hairs. 

Const, Yes, that I will; and wherefore will 
I do it? 
T tore Ihem from their bond&jj and cried alond, 

that these hands could so redeem my son^ 
j4s they hate given these hairs their liberty! 
But now I envy at their liberty. 

And will as^ain commit them to their bonds, 

Ee.Huse my poor child is a prisoner. 

And, father cardinal, I have heard you say, 
Thax we shall ste and know our fritndi in hea- 
If that be true, 1 shall see my boy again ; [ven ; 
For, since the birth of Cain, the tirst male 
To him that did but yesterday suspire t, [child, 

1 here was not such a gracious; creature born. 
Put now will canker sorrow eat my bud, 
And chase the native beauty from his che«k, 
An I he will look as hollow as a L'host ; 

As dim and meagre as an ague's ht; 
And so he'll die ; and, rising so again, 
When I shall meet him in the court of heaven 
1 shall not knuwhim: therefore never, never 
Mtiit I behold my pretty Arthur more fgrief. 
Pand, You hold too heinous a respect of 



Const. He talks to me, that never had a son. 
K. Phi. You are as fou'd of grief, as of 
your child. [child. 

Const, Grief fills the room up of my absent 
Lies in his bed., walks up and down with me ; 
Puts on his pretty looks, repeals his words. 
Remembers me of all his gracious p.trti, 
Stufifs out his vacant garments with his form ; 
Then, have 1 reason lo be fond of grief. 
Fare you well: had you such a loss u 1, 
1 could give better comfort than you do. — 
1 will not keep this form upon my head, 

['/earinii off her head-dress. 
When there is such disorder in my wit. 
O lord, my boy, my Arthur, my fair son! 
My life, my joy, my food, my all the world I 
My widow-comfort, and my sorrow's cure. 

[hJa:it, 
K. Phi. I fearsome outrage, and I'll follow 
her. S^Exit. 

Lew. There's nothing in this world can mak 
Life is as tedious as a twice-told tale, [me joy : 
Vexing the dull ear of a dro\\sy man; 
And bitter shame hath spoil'd the sweet world'* 
taste, [ness. 

That it yields nought, but shame, and bitter- 
Pand. Eeforethe curing of^ii strong disease 
Even in the instant of repair and health. 
The fit is strongest; evils, th it take leave. 
On their departure most of all show evil: 
What have >ou lost by losing of this day? 
Lew. All days of giory, joy, and happiness. 
Pand. if you had won it, certainly, you 
have. [g*^»<^'d, 

No, no ; when fortune means to men nmst 
She looks upon them with a threatening eye. 
*lis strange, to think how much king John 

ha h lost 
In this which he accounts so clearly won : 
Are not you grieved, that Arthur is his pri- 
soner ? 
Leu\ As heartily, as he is glad he hath hiu). 
Pand. ^ our mind is all as youthful as your 
blood. 
Now hear me speak, \^ith a prophetic spirit; 
For even the breath of what I mean to speak 
Shall blow each dust, each straw,each lirtlerub. 
Out of the path which shall directly lead 
Thy foot to England's throne; and, therefore, 

mark. 
John hath seized Arthtir; and it cannot be, 
That, whiles warm life {.lays in that infant's 

veins, 
The misplaced John should entertain an hour, 
One minute, nay, one quiet breath of rest: 
A scepti e, snatch'd with an unruly hand. 
Must be as oistcrously maintaih'd as gain'd : 
And he, that stands upon a slippery place. 
Makes nice of no vile hold to stay him up : 
Ihat John may stand, then Arthur needs must 
So be it, for it c«nnot he but so. [fall ; 

Ltn . Hut what shall I gain by young Ar- 
thur's fall? [yo"r wife, 
Pand. You, in the right of lady Hlanch 
May then make all the claim that Arthur dm. 
Lew, And lose it, life and aU,ak Arthur did. 



Cj-nmon. 



t Breathe. 



: Oracefijl. 



Sctne IF.] 



KING JOHN. 



391 



Pand. ttow green arc you, and fresh in 
this old world! [you: 

John lays you plots ; the times conspire with 
For he, that steeps his safety in true blood, 
Shall find but bloody safety, and untrue. 
This act, so evilly born, shall cool the hearts 
Of all his people, and freeze up their zeal ; 
That none so small advantage shall step forth, 
To check his reign, but they will cherish it : 
No natural exhalation in the sky, 
Ko scape of nature, no distemper'd day, 
!No common wind, no customed event. 
But they will pluck away his natural cause. 
And call them meteors, prodigies, and signs, 
Abortives, presages, and tongues of heaven. 
Plainly denouncing vengeance upon John. 

Lew. May be, he will not touch young Ar- 
thur's life. 
But hold himself safe in his prisonment. 

Pand. O, sir, when he shall hear of your 
approach. 
If that young Arthur be not gone already, 



Even at that news he dies : and then tLe hearto 
Of all his people shall revolt from him. 
And kiss the lips of unacquainted change ; 
And pick strong matter of revolt, and wrath. 
Out of the bloody fingers' ends of John. 
Methinks, I see this hurly all on foot ; 
And, O, what better matter breeds for yon. 
Than I have named! — ihe bastard Faulcon- 

bridge 
Is now in England, ransacking the church. 
Offending charity : If but a dozen French 
Were there in arms, they would be as a call 
To train ten thousand English to their side ; 
Or, as a little snow, tumbled about. 
Anon becomes a mountain. O, noble dauphin. 
Go with me to the king: 'lis wonderful. 
What may be wrought out cf their (liscontent: 
Now that their souls are topfull of otfence, 
Fo England go; 1 will whet on the king. 
Lew. Strong reasons make strong actions^ 
Let us go ; 
If you say ,ay, the king will not say , no. [Exeunt, 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. Northampton. A Room in the 
CastCe, 

iS'w^er Hubert and two Attendants. 

Hub. Heat me these irons hot ; and, look 
thou stand 
Within the arras • : when I strike my foot 
Upon the bosom of the ground, rush forth : 
And bind the boy , which you shall find with me, 
Fast to the chair : be heedful : hence, and watch. 

1 Attend. I hope your warrant will bear out 
the deed. 

Hub. Uncleanly scruples! Fear not you: 
look to't, — [Z^iCM?/^ Attendants. 

Young lad, come forth ; I have to say with you. 
Enter Arthur. 

Arth. Good morrow, Hubert. 

Hub. Good morrow, little prince. 

Arth. As little prince (having so great a title 
To be more prince) as may be. — You are sad. 

Jlub Indeed, I have been merrier. 

Arth. Mercy on me ! 

Methinks nobody should be sad but I : 
Yet, I remember, when I was in France, 
Young gentlemen would be as sad as night. 
Only for wantonness. By my Christendom, 
, So I were out of prison, and kept sheep, 
1 should be as merry as the day is long ; 
And so I would be here, but that 1 doubt 
My uncle practises more harm to me : 
He is afraid of me, and I of him : 
Is it my fault that I was Geffrey's son? 
> o, indeed, is't not : And 1 would to heaven, 
I were yourson, so you would love me, Hubert. 

Uuh. If I talk to him, with his innocent prate 
He will awake my mercy, which lies dead : 
Thereforel will besudden,and despatch. [Aside. 

Arth. Areyoa sick, Hubert/ you look paie 
to-day: 
in tooth, I would you were a little sick; 



That I might sit all night, and witch with youi 
1 warrant, 1 love you more than you do me. 

Huo. His words do take possession of my 

bosom. 

Read here, young Arthur. [Shewing a paper. 
How new, foolish rheum! [Aside, 

Turning dispiteous torture out of door ! 
I must be brief, lest resolution drop 
Out at mine eyes, in tender womanish tears. — 
Can you not read it] is it not fair writ ? 

Arlh. Too fairly, Hubert, for so foul effect: 
Must you with hot irons burn out botli mineeyesi 

Hub. Young boy, 1 must. 

Arth. And will you? 

Hub. And I will. 

Arth. Have yon the heart? When your head 
did but ache, 
I knit my handkerchief about your brows, 
(The best 1 had, a princess wrought it me,} 
And 1 did never ask it you again : 
And with my hand at niidiiiglit held your head; 
And, like the watchful minutes to the hcur. 
Still and anon cheer'd up the heavy time; 
Saying, What lack you? and. Where lies your 

grief? 
Or, What good love may I perform for you? 
Many a poor man's son would have lain still. 
And ne'er have spoke a loving word to you; 
But yon at your sick service hnd a prince. 
Kay, you may think my love was crafty love. 
And call it cunning; do, an if you will : 
If heaven be pleased that you must use me ill. 
Why, then you must. — Will you put out mine 

eyes i 
These eyes, that never did, nor never shall. 
So much as frown on yoo ? 

Hib. I have sworn to do it ; 

And with hot irons must 1 burn them out. 

Arth. Ah, none, but in this iron age, would 
The iron of iiselt, though heal red hot, [no ili 



' Tapestry. 



399 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act ir 



Approaching near these eyes, would drink my 
And (luench his fiery indignation [tears, 

Even in the matter of mine innocence : 
Nay^ after that, consume away in rust^ 
But for containing fire to harm mine eye. 
Are you more stubborn hard than hammered 
An if an angel should have come to me, [iron? 
Anc told me, H ubert should put out mine eyes, 
I would not have believed no tongue, but 
Hubert's. 

Hub. Come forth. [Stamps, 

Reenter Attendants, tvithCord, Irons, ^c. 
Do as I bid you do. [eyes are out, 

Arth. O, 'save me, Hubert, save me! my 
Even with the fierce looks of these bloody men. 

Hub. Give me the iron, 1 say, and bind him 
here. [rough 1 

Arth. Alas, what need you be so boijt'rous- 
I will not struggle, 1 will stand stone-still. 
For heaven's sake, Hubert, let me not be 

bound ; 
Nay, hear me, Hubert, drive these men away ! 
And I will sit as^quiet as a lamb ; 
1 will not stir, nor wince, nor speak a word. 
Nor look upon the iron angerly : [yon. 

Thrust but these men away, and I'll forgive 
Whatever torment you do put me to. [him. 

H'<b. Go, stand within ; let me alone with 

1 Attend. I am best pleased to be from such 
a deed. [Exeunt Attendants. 

Arth. Alas ! I then have chid away my 
friend ; 
He hath a stern look, but a gentle heart: — 
Let him come back, that his compassion may 
Give life to yours. 

hub. Come, boy, prepare yourself. 

Arth, Is there no remedy? 

Hub. None, but to lose your eyes. 

Arth. O heaven!— that there were but a 
mote in yours, 
A grain, a dust, a gnat, a wand'ring hair, 
Any annoyance in that precious sense! [there, 
Then, feeling what small things are boist'rous 
Your vile intent mu?t needs seem horrible. 

Hub. Is this your promise? go to, hold 
your tongue. [tongues 

Arth. Hubert, the utterance of a brace of 
Must needs want pleading for a pair of eyes : 
Let me not hola my tongue ; let me not, 

Hubert ! 
Or, Hubert, if you will, cut out my tongue. 
So I mny keep mine eyes; O, spare mine eyes; 
Tliwigh to no use, but still to look on you I 
Lo, by njy troth, the instrument is cold, 
AikI would not harm me. 

Hitb. I can heat it, boy. 

Arth. No, in good sooth ; the fiieisdea<l with 
Being create for comfort, lo be used [grief, 
In undeserved extremes*: See else yourself; 
There is no malice in this burning coal; 
The brtath of heaven hath blown his spirit out. 
And strew'd repeiUant ashes on his head. 

Huh. But with my breath I can revive it, boy, 

Arth. And if you do, you will but make it 
blush, 



: And glow with shame of yoar proceeding, 
I Hubert : 

Nay, it, perchance, will sparkle in yonr eyes; 
And, like a dog that is compell'd to fight. 
Snatch at his master that doth tarref him on. 
All things, that you should use to do me wrong. 
Deny their office : only you do lack 
That mercy, which fierce fire, and iron, extends, 
Creatures of note, for mercy-lacking uses. 

Hub. Well, see. to live; I will not touch 
thine eyes 
For all the treasure that thine uncle owesj: 
Yet am I sworn, and I did purpose, boy, 
With this same very iron to burn them out. 

Arth. 0,now, you look like Hubert I all this 
You were disguised. [while 

Hub, Peace : no more. Adien ; 

Your uncle must not know but you are dead : 
I'll fill these dogged spies with fatee reports. 
And, pretty child, sleep doubtless, and secure. 
That Hubert, for the wealth of all the world, 
Will not offend thee. 

Arth. O heaven! — I thank you, Hubert. 

Hub Silence; no more: Go closely^ in 
with me : 
Much danger do 1 undergo for thee, [Exeunt, 

SCENE II. The same, A Room of State 

in the Palace. 
Ejiter King John, croumfd ; Pembroke, 

Salisbury, and other Lords. The King 

takes his State. 

K. John. Here once again we sit, once again 
crown'd. 
And look'd upon, I hope, with cheerful eyes. 

Fern. This once ag'ain, but that your high* 
ness pleased, [before. 

Was once superfluous: you were crown'd 
And that high royalty was ne'er pluck'd olf; 
The faiths of men ne'er stained with revolt ; 
Fresh expectation troubled not the land. 
With any long'd-for change, or better state. 

Sal. Therefore, to be possessed with double 
To guard y a title that was rich before, [pomp. 
To gild refined gold, to paint the lily. 
To throw a perfume on the violet. 
To smooth the ice, or add another hue 
Unto the rainbow, or with taper-light 
Tosei'kthe beauteous eye of heaven to garnishf. 
Is wasteful and ridiculous excess. 

Pern. But that your royal pleasure must be 
This act is as an ancient tale new told ; [done. 
And, in the last repealing, troublesome. 
Being urgt-d at a time unseasonable. 

Sid. In this, the antique and well-noted face 
Of plain old form is much disfigured : 
And, like a shitted wind unto a sail, 
It makes the course of thoughts to fetch about : 
Startles and frights consideration; 
Makes sound opinion sick, and truth suspected. 
For putting on so new a fashion'd robe. 

Pern. When workmen strive to do better 
tlian well, 
Theydoc<)nfoundlheirskillincoveton8ness*»: 
Arid, otteuiiuies, excusing of a fault, 



lo cruelty I have not deserved. f Sft him on. t Owns. 

U Lare % Decorate. •• Desire of excelling. 



\ Secret!/- 



1 



Scene II.] 



KING JOHN. 



393 



Poih make the fault the worse by the excuse; 
As patches, set upon a little breach, 
Discredit more in hiding of the fault. 
Than did the fault before it was s>o patch'd. 

Sal. To this effect, before you were new- 
crown'd, [highness 

We breathed our counsel : but it pleased your 
To overbear it, and we are all well pleased; 
Since all and every part of what we would, 
Doth make a stand at what your highness will. 

A. John. Some reasons of this double coro- 
nation [strong; 
I have possess'd you with, and think them 
And more, more strong, (when lesser is my 

fear), 
I shall indue you with : Mean time, but ask 
What you would have retonn'd, that is not well; 
And well shall you perceive, how willingly 
I will both hear and grant you your requests. 

I*em. Then I, (as one that am the tongue of 
these. 
To sound * the purposes of all their hearts). 
Both for myself and them, (but, chief of all. 
Your safety, for the which myself and them 
Bend their beststudies), heartily request [siralnt 
The enfranchisement + of Arthur; whose re- 
Doth move the murmuring lips of discontent 
To break into this dangerous argument, — 
If, what in rest you have, in right you hold, 
Why then your fears, (which, as they say, 
attend [up 

The steps of wrong,) should move you to mew 
Your lender kinsman, and to choke his days 
With barbarous ignorance, and deny his youth 
The rich advantage of good exercise? 
That the time's enemies may not have this 
To grace occasions, let it be our suit, 
That you have bid us ask his liberty ; 
Which for our goods we do no further ask. 
Than whereupon our weal, on you depending. 
Counts it your weal, he have his liberty. 

K. John. Let it be so ; I do commit his youth 
Kilter Hubert. 
To your direction. — Hubert, what news with 
you. [deed ; 

Pern. This is the man should do the bloody 
He show'd his warrant to a friend o/ mine : 
The image of a wicked heinous fault 
Lives in his eye; that close aspect of his 
Does show the mood of a much-troubled breast ; 
And I do fearfully believe, 'tis done. 
What we so fear'd he had a charge to do- [go, 

Sal. The colour of the king doth come and 
Between his purpose and his conscience, 
Like heralds 'twixt two dreadful batiles set: 
His passion is so ripe, it needs mirst break. 

Pern. Andi when it breaks, 1 Tear, will issue 
thence 



The foul corruption of a sweet child's death. 
n. We* 
hand :• 



K. John. We cannot hold mortality's strong 



Good lords, altho'jgh my will to give is living. 
The suit which you demand is gone and dead : 
He tells us, Arthur is deceased to night. 
Sal. Indeed, we fear'd, his sickness was past \ 
cure. J 



Pern, Indeed we heard how near his deaf^ 
he was. 
Before the child himself felt he was sick ; 
This must be answei'd, either here, or hence. 

K. John. Why do you bend such solemi 
brows on me? 
Tljink you, I bear the shears of destiny ? 
Have i commandment on the pulse of life? 

Sal. It is apparent foul-play ; and 'tis shame 
That greatness should so grossly oflfer it : 
So thrive it iti your game ! and so farewell. 

Pern. Stay yet, lord Salisbury ; I'll go witb 
thee. 
And find the inheritance of this pcor child. 
His little kingdom of a forced grave. [isle. 
That blood, which ow'd j the breath of all this 
Three foot of it doth hold ; Bad world the while ! 
This must not be thus borne : this will break out 
To all our sorrows, and ere long, 1 doubt. 

[Exeunt Loi d» 

K. John, They bum in indignation ; I re 
There is no sure foundation set on blood; [pent| 

No certain life achieved by others' death, 

Enter a Messenger. 
A fearful eye thou hast ; Where is that blood 
That I have seen inhabit in those cheeks? 
So foul a sky clears not without a storm : 
Pour down thy weather: — How goes all in 
France? [a powers 

Mess. From France to England never such 
For any foreign prepararion, 
Was levied in the body of a land ! 
The copy of your speed is learn'd by theni ; 
For, when you should be told they do prepare 
The tidings come, that they are all arrived. 

K. John. O, where hath oar intelligence 

been drunk? [caiet 

Where hath it slept? Where is my mother's 

That such an army could be drawn in France, 

And she iiot hear of it ? 

Mess. My liege, her ear 

Is stopp'd with dust ; the first of April, died 
Your noble mother: And, as I hear, my lord 
The lady Constance m a frenzy died [tongiife 
Three days before: but this from rumour's 
I idly heard ; if true or false 1 know not. [siuh \ 

K.John. Withhold thy speed,dreadfulocca 
O, make a league with me, till 1 have pleased 
My discontented peers!— What! mother dead! 
How wildly then walks my estate in France !• • 
Under whose conduct came those powers of 

France, 
That thou for truth givest out, are landed herel 

Mess. Under the Dauphin. 
Enter the Bastard cwd Peter <?/Pomfrct 

K. John. Thou hast made megid<}v 

Wkh these ill tidings.— Now, what says (he 
To your proceedings? do not seek to stuff [world 
My bead with more ill news, for it is full. 

Bast. But, if you be afeard to hear the worst. 
Then let the worst, unheard, fall on your head. 

K. John. Bear with me, cousin ; for 1 wa« 
amazed || 
Under the tide: but now I breathe again 
Aloft the flood; and can uive audience 
To any tongue, speak it of what it will. 



• Pablisb. t R»'leasement. t Owned. $ Force. H Stunned, confoandt^. 



394 



SHAKSFEARE. 



[Act IK 



Bast* How I have sped among the clergy- 
njen, 
The suras I have collected shall express. 
But, as I travelled hither through the land, 
I find the people strangely fantasied ; 
Pcssess'd with rumours, full of idle dreams; 
Not knowing what they fear, but full of feart 
And here's a prophet, that I brought with me 
From forth the streete of Pomfret, whom I 

found 
With many hundreds treading on his heels ; 
To whom he sung, in rude harsh-sounding 

rhymes. 
That, ere the next Ascension-day at noon, 
Your highness should deliver up your crown. 

K, John. Thou idle dreamer, wherefore 
didst thou so? fout so. 

Peter. Foreknowing that the truth will fall 

JC. John. Hubert, away with him ; imprison 
him ; 
And on that day at noon, whereon, he says, 
I shall yield up my crown, let him be hang'd: 
Deliver him to safety*, and return. 
For I must use the6. — O my gentle cousin, 

[E^xit Hubert, with Peter. 
Hear'st thou the news abroad, who are arrived t 

Bast. The French, my lord; men's mouths 
are full of it: 
Besides, I met lord Bigot, and lord Salisbury, 
(With eyes as red as new enkindled fire,) 
And others more, going to seek the grave 
Of Arthur, who, they say, is kill'd to-night 
On your suggestion. 

K. John. Gentle kinsman, go. 

And thiust thyself into their companies: 
I have a way to win their loves again; 
Bring them before me. 

Bast, I will seek them out. 

K. John, Nay, but make haste ; the better 

foot before. 

O, let me have no subject enemies, 

When adverse foreigners affright my towns 

With dreadful pomp of stout invasion! — 

Be mercury, set feathers to thy heals; 

And fly, like thought, from them to me again. 

Bust. The spirit of the time shall teach me 
speed, [Exit. 

K. John. Spoke like a sprightful noble gen- 
tleman. — 
Gc after him ; for he, perhaps, shall need 
Some messenger betwixt me and the peers ; 
And be ihou he. 

Mess, With all my heart, my litge. 

[Exit. 

K. John, My mother dead I 

[Re-enter Hu bert. 

Hub. My lord, they say five moons were 
seen to-night : 
Fouj- fixed : and the fifth did whirl about 
The other four, in wondrous motion. 

K.John. Five moons? [in the streets 

Hub. Old men, and beldams, 

Do prophesy upon it dangerously : [mouths : 
Young Arthur's death is common in their 
And when they talk of him they shake their 
And whimper one another in the ear ; [heads. 



And *he, that speaks, doth gripe the hearer's 

wrist; 
Whilst he, that hears, makes fearful action. 
With wrinkled brows, with nods, with rolling 

eyes. 
I saw a smith stand with his hammer, thus. 
The whilst his iron did on the anvil cool. 
With open mouth swallowing a tailor's news; 
Who, with his shears and measure in his hand. 
Standing on slippers, (which his nimble haste 
Had falsely thrust upon contrary feet,) 
Told of a many thousand warlike French, 
That were embatteled and rank'd in Kent: 
Another lean unwash'd artificer 
Cuts off his tale, and talks of Arthur's death. 
K. John. Why seek'st thou to possess me 

with these fears? 
Why urgest thou so oft young Arthur's death ? 
Thy hand hath murderM him : 1 had mighty 

cause [him. 

To wish him dead, but thcu hadst none to kill 
Hub. Had none, my Icrd ! why, did you 

not provoke me? 
AT. John. It is the curse of kings to be 

attended [warrant 

By siaves, that take their humours for a 
To break within the bloody house of life: 
And, on the winking of authority. 
To understand a law ; to know the meaning 
Of dangerous majesty, when, perchance, it 

frowns 
More upon humour than advised respect t. 
Hub. Here is your hand and seal for what 

I did. [heaven and earth 

K. John. O, when the last account 'twixt 
Is to be made, then shall this hand and seal 
Witness against us to damnation 1 
How oft the sight of means to do ill deeds. 
Makes deeds ill done! Hadest thoa not been 
A fellow by the hand of nature mark'd, [by. 
Quoted J, and sign'd, to do a deed of shame. 
This murder had not come into my mind: 
But, taking note of thy abhorr'd aspect. 
Finding thee fit for bloody villany. 
Apt, liable, to be employ'd in danger, 
I faintly broke with thee of Arthur's death ) 
And thou, to be endeared to a king. 
Made it no conscience to destroy a prince. 

Hub. M> lord, 

K. John. Hadst thou but shook thy head, 

or made a pause, 
When 1 spake darkly what I purposed; 
Or turn'd an eye- of doubt upon my face. 
As bid me tell my tale in express words ; 
Deep shame had struck me dumb, made me 

break off, [fears in me: 

And those thy fears might have wrought 
But thou didst understand me by my signs. 
And didst in signs again parley with sin ; 
Yea, without stop, didst let thy heart consent. 
And, consequently, thy rude hand to act 
The deed, which both our tongues held vile ta 

name, — 
Out of my sight, and never see me more! 
My nobles leave me; and my state is braved 
Even at my gate8,with ranks of foreign [»owciit 



Costody. 



t Deliberate consideration. 



i Obierved. 



Scene !I.] 



KING JOHN. 



39' 



Nay, in the body of this fleshy land*, 
This kingdom, this confine of blood and breath, 
Hostility and civil tumult reigus [death. 

Between my conscience, and my cousin's 

Huh. Arm you against your other enemies, 
I'M make a peace between your soul and you. 
Young Arthur is alive: This hand of mine 
Is yet a maiden and an innocent hand. 
Not painted with the crimson spots of blood. 
Within this bosom never enter'd yet 
The dreadful motion of a murd'rous thought. 
And you have slander'd nature in my form; 
Which, howsoever rude exteriorly, 
Ifi yet the co^er of a fairer mind 
Than to be butcher of an innocent child. 

K. John. Doth Arthur live ? O, haste thee 
to the peers. 
Throw this report on their incensed rage. 
And make them tame to their obedience! 
Forgive the comment that my passion made 
Upon thy feature ; for my rage was blind. 
And foul imaginary eyes of blood 
Presented thee more hideous than thou art, 
O, answer not ; but to my closet bring 
T+ie ajigry lords with all expedient t haste: 
I cdnjure thee but slowly ; run more fast. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III. The same. Before the 
Castle. 
Enter Arthur, o» the Walls. 
Arth. The wall is high ; and yet will I leap 
down : — 
Good grounjd, be pitiful, and hurt me not ! — 
There's few, or none, do know me : if they 
did, [quite. 

This ship-boy's semblance hath disguised me 
I am afraid ; and yet I'll venture it. 
If I get down, and do not break my limbs, 
I'll find a thousand shifts to get away : 
As good to die, and go, as die, and stay. 

[Leaps dawn. 
O me' my uncle's spirit is in these stones — 
Heaven take my soul, and England keep my 
bones. [Dies. 

Enter Pembroke, Salisbury, «Md Bigot. 
Sal. Lords, I will meet him at saint Ed- 
mund's-Bury ; 
It is our safety, and we must embrace 
This gentle otter of the perilous time. 

Pern. Who brought that letter from the car- 
dinal ? [France; 
Sal. The count Melun, a noble lord of 
Whose private with me j, of the dauphin's love 
Is much more general than these lines import. 
£fg- To-morrow morning let us meet him 
then. [be 
Sal. Or, rather then set forward : for 'twill 
Two long days' journey, lords, or e'er we meet. 
Enter the Bastard. 
Bast. Once more to-day well met, distem- 
per'd ^ lords I [straight. 
fhe kiny^, by me, requests your presence 
Sal. TiiekihghathdispossessMriimselfof us; 
We will not line his thin bestained cloak 



With our pure honours, nor attend the foot 
That leaves the print of blowd where'er it 

walks: 
Return, and tell him so ; we know the worst. 

Bast. Whate'er you think, good words, I 
think, were best. [now. 

Sal. Our griefs, and notour manners, reason 

Bast. But there is little reason in your grief; 
Therefore, 'twere reason you had manners now. 

Pern. Sir, sir, impatience hath his privileg»». 

Bast. 'Tis true ; to hurt his master, no man 
else. 

Sal. This is the prison: What is he lie* 
here? [Seeivg A.KTYi\iK. 

Pern. O death, made proud with pure and 
princely beauty ! 
The earth had not a hole to hide this deed. 

Sal. Murder, as hating what himself hath 
Doth lay it open, to urge on revenge, [done, 

JBig. Or, when he doom'd this beauty to a 
grave. 
Found it too precious-princely for a grave. 

Sat. Sir Richard, what think you ? Have 

you beheld, [think I 

Or have you read, or heard? or conki you 

Or do yo'u almost think, although you see. 

That you do see 1 could thought, without thii 

object. 
Form such another ? This is the Tery top. 
The heis^ht, the crest, or crest unto the crest, 
Of murder's arms : this is the bloodiest shame. 
The wildest savag'ry, the vilest stroke. 
That ever wall-eyed wrath, or staring rage, 
Presented to the tears of soft remorse ||. 

Pern. All murders- past do stand excused in 
And this, so sole, and so unmatchable, [this ; 
Shall give a holiness, a purity, j 
To the yet-unbegotten sin of time ; 
And prove a deadly bloodshed but a jest, 
Example<l by this heinous spectacle. 

Bast. It is a damned and a bloody work ; 
The graceless action of a heavy hand. 
If that it be the work of any hand. 

Sal. If that It be the work of any hand? — 
,We had a kind of light what would ensue: 
It is the shameful work of Hubert's hi.nd; 
The practice, and the purpose, of the king:-* 
From whose obedience I forbid my soul. 
Kneeling before this ruin of sweet life, 
And breathing to his breathess excellence 
The incense of a vow, a holy vow ; 
Never to taste the pleasures of the world. 
Never to be infected with delight, 
Nor conversant with ease and idleness, 
Till I have set a glory to this handU, 
By giving it the worship of revenge, [words 

Pern. Big. Our sonis religiously confirm thy 
Enter H u bert. [you : 

Hub. Lords, I am hot with haste in seeking 
Arthur doth live; the king hath sent for yoo. 

'Sal. O, he is bold, and blushesnot at death: 
Avaunt, thou hateful villain, get thee gone I 

Hub, I am no villain. 

Sal. Must I rob the law? 

[Dratving his sword. 



* His own body. + Expeditious. J Private account. 

I Pity. % Harut should bt head; a ijlory is the circle of rays i 
«€ saints in pictures 



$ Oat of humour. 
diicb surrounds the heads 



so 6 



Sn4KSPE4RE. 



fAct pr. 



Bast, YoHr sword is bright, sir ; pat it up 
again. 

Sah Not till I sheath it in a mnrderer's skin. 

Hub. Stand back, lord Salisbnry, stand 
back, 1 say; [yours •> 

By heaven, I think, my sword's as sharp as 
I would not have yon, lord, forget yourself. 
Nor tempt the danger of my true* defence; 
Lest I, by marking of your rage, forget 
Your worth, your greatness, and nobility. 

Big. Out, dunghill! dar'st thou brave a no- 
bleman? 

Hub. Not for my life : but yet I dare de- 
My innocent life against an emperor. [fend 

Sal. Thou art a murderer. 

Hub. Do not prove me sot; 

Yet, I am none : Whose tongue soe'er speaks 

filse. 
Not truly speaks; who speaks not truly, lies. 

Pern. Cut him to pieces. 

Bast. Keep the peace, I say. 

Sal, Stand by, or 1 shall gall you, Faul- 
conbridge? [Salisbnry: 

Bast, Thou wert better gall the devil. 
If thou but frown on me, or stir thy foot, 
Or teach thy hasty spleen to do me shame, 
1*11 strike thee dead. Put up thy sword betime ; 
Or I'll so maul you and your toasting-iron. 
That you shall think thedevil is come from hell. 

Big. What wilt thou do, renowned Faulcon- 
Second a villain, and a murderer? [bridge? 

Hub. Lord Bigot, I am none. 

Big, Who killed this prince t 

Hub. Tis not an hour since I left him well : 
I honoured him, 1 loved him ; and will weep 
My date of life out, for his sweet life*s loss. 

Sal. Trust not those cunning waters of his 
For villany is not without such rheum % \ [^yes, 
4.nd he, long traded in it, makes it seem 
Like rivers of remorse $ and iunocency. 
4.way, with me all you whose souls abhor 
The uncleanly savours of a slaughter-house, 
For I am stifled with this sn>ell of sin. [there ! 

Big, Away, toward Bury, to the Dauphin 

Pem. There, tell the king, he may inquire 
us out. {Exeunt Lords. 

Bast. Here's a good world 1 — Knew you of 
this fair work 1 



Be>ond the infinite and boundless reach 
Of mercy, if thou didst this deed of death, 
Art thou damn'd, Hubert. 

Hub. Do but hear me, sir. 

hast. Ha, I'll tell thee what ; [black; 

Thou art damn'd as black— nay, nothing is so 
Thou art more deep danm'd than prince Lu« 
There is not yet so ugly a fiend of hell [[cifer : 
As thou shalt be, if thou didst kill this child. 

Hub. Upon my soul, 

Bast. If thou didst but consent 

To this most cruel act, do but despair. 
And, if thou want'st a cord, the smallest thread 
That ever spider twisted from her womb 
Will serve to strangle thee ; a rush will he 
A beam to hang thee on ; or wonld'st thou 
Put but a little water in a spoon, [drown ihyself. 
And it shall be as all the ocean. 

Enough to stifle such a villain up.- 

I do suspect thee very grievously. 

Huh. If I in act, consent, or sin of thought 
Be guilty of the stealing that sweet breath 
Which was embounded in this beauteous clay. 
Let hell want pains enough to torture me! 
I left him well. 

Bast. Go bear him in thine arms.— 

lam amaz'dll, methinks; and lose my way 
Among the thorns and dangers of this world. - 
How easy dost thou take all England up I 
From forth this morsel of dead royalty. 
The life, the right, and truth of all this realm 
Is fled to heaven: and England now is left 
To tug and seamble, and t© part by the teetb 
The unowedll interest of proud-swelling state. 
Now, for the bare-pick'd bone of majesty. 
Doth dogged war bristle his angry crest. 
And snarleth in the gentle eyes of peace : 
Now powers from home, and discontents al 

home. 
Meet in one line ; and vast confusion waits 
(As doth a raven on a sick fallen beast,) 
The imminent decay of wrested pomp. 
Now happy he,whose cloak and cincture** caa 
Hold out this tempest. Bear away that clilld 
And follow me with speed: I'll to the king 
A thousand businesses are brief in hand. 
And heaven itself doth frown upon the lantL 

lExeum- 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. The same. A Room in the Palace, 

Enter King John, Pandulph ivith the 
Crown, and Attendants. 

K.John. Thus have I yielded up into yonr 
The circle of my glory. [hand 

Pand, Take again. 

[Giiitig John the Crown. 
From this my hand, as holding of the pope, 
Your sovereign greatness and authority. 

K. John. Now keep your holy word : go 
meet the French ; 

And from his holiness use all your power 
7o iitop their marches, *fore we are inflamed. 



Our discontented counties do revolt ; 
Our people quarrel with obedience ; 
Swearing allegiance, and the love of soul. 
To stranger blood, to foreign royalty. 
This inundation of mistemperM humoor 
Rests by you only to be qualified. 
Then pause not ; for the present time's so sick» 
That present medicine must be minister'd. 
Or overthrow incurable ensues. 

Pand. It was my breath that blew this torn 
Upon your. stub born usage of the pope: [pest op 
But since you are a gentle convertiiet+. 
My tongue shall hush again this storm of w«r. 
And make fair weather in your blos'.criov' iau«l 



• ffonest. t By compelling me to kill you 

U ConfOtifidcd. S Unowned. •• 



Girdle. 



: Moisture. 



$ Pity. 

a CoDVtl-U 



Scene /.] 



KING JOHN. 



.397 



On this Ascension-day, remember well. 
Upon your oath of service to the pope. 
Go I to make the French lay down their arms. 

\^Exit. 

K. John. Is this Ascension day? Did not 
the prophet 
Say, tliat, before Ascension-day at noon. 
My crovvn I shonid give off? Even so I have: 
I did suppose, it shonid be on constraint; 
But, heaven be tlaiik'd, it is but voluntary. 
Enter the Bastard. 

Ba^t. All Kent lath yielded ; nothing there 
holds out, 
But Dover castle: London hath received. 
Like a kind host, the Datiphin and his powers: 
Your nobles will not hear you, but are gone 
To otter service to your enemy ; 
And wild amazement hurries up and down 
The liule number of your don' tful friends. 

K. John. Would not my lords return to me 
again, 
After they heard yonng Arthur was alive ? 

Bast. They found him dead, and cast into 
the streets ; 
An empty casket, where the jewel of life 
By some da!i.n*d hand was robb'd and ta*en 
away. [live. 

K, John. That villain Hubert told me, he did 

Bast. So, on njy soul, he did, for aught he 
knew. [sad? 

But whtt^efore do you droop? why look you 
Be great in act as you have been in thought; 
Let not the world see fear, and sad distrust. 
Govern the motion of a kingly eye : 
Br stirring as the time; be fire with fire; 
Threaten t e threat'ner, and outtace the brow 
Of bragging horror: so shall inferior eyes. 
That borrow their behaviours from the great, 
Grow gre.it by your example, and put on 
The dauntless spirit of resolution. 
Away ; and iilister like the god of war. 
When he intendeth to become the field : 
Show boldness, and aspiring confidence. 
What, shall they seek the lion in his den, 
And fright him there? and make him tremble 
O, let it not be said — Forage, and run [there? 
To meet displeasure further from the doors; 
And grapple with h-im, ere he comes so nigh. 

K. John. The legate of the pope hath been 
with me, 
And I have made a happy peace with him ; 
And he hath promised to dismiss the powers* 
Led by the Dauphin. 

Bast. O inglorious league ! 

Shall we, upon the footing of our land. 
Send fair play orders, and make compromise. 
Insinuation, parley, and base truce, 
To arms invasive? shall a beardless boy, 
A cocker'dt silken wanton brave our fields. 
And fliesh his spirit in a warlike soil, 
Mocking the air with colours idly spread. 
Anil fV»i(l no check? Let us, my litge, to arms : 
Perchance, the cardinal cannot make your 

peace ; 
Or if he do, let it at least be said. 
They saw we had a purpose of defence. 



K. John, Have thou the ordering of this 
present time. [know, 

Bast. Away then, with good courage ; yet, I 
Our p-arty may well meet a prouder foe. 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE II. A plain near St. Edmund's- 
Bury, 

Entery in arms, Lewis, Salisbury, Me. 
LUN, Pembroke, Bigot, w/i^/ Soldiers. 
Lew. My lord Melun, let this be copied out. 
And ketp it safe for our remembrance: 
Return the precedent to thtse lords again ; 
That, h.tving our f lir order written down. 
Both they, and we, perusing o'er these notes. 
May know wherefore we took the sacrament. 
And keep our faiths firm and inviolable. 

Sal. Lpon our sides it never shall be broken. 
And, noble Dauphin, albeit we swear 
A voluntary zeal, and unurtied faith. 
To your proceedings ; yet, believe me, prinoe, 
I am not glad that such a sore of time 
Should seek a plaster by contemn*d revolt. 
And heal the inveterate canker of one wound. 
By making many : O, it grieves my ion I, 
That I must draw this metal from my side 
To be a widow-maker; O, and there, 
\yhere honourable rescue,, and defence. 
Cries out upon the name of Salisbury : 
But such is the infection of the time. 
That, for Ihe health and physic of our right, 
W^e cannot deal but with the very hand 
Of stern injustice and contused wrong.—* 
And is't not piiy, O my grieved friends ! 
That we, the sons and children of this isle. 
Were born to see so sad an hour as this ; 
Wherein we step after a stranger mardi 
Upon her gentle bosom, and fill up • 
Her enemies' ranks, (1 must wi hdraw and weep 
Upon the spot of this enforced cause). 
To grace the gentry of a land remote, 
And follow unacquainted colours here? 
What, here?— O nation, that thou couldst re- 
niove! [about 

That Neptune's arms, who clippethj thee 
W'ould bear thee from the knowledge of ihy- 
And grapple thee unto a pagan shore ; [self. 
Where these two Christian armies might com- 
The blood of malice in a vein of league, [bine 
And not to spend it so unneighbourly ! 

Lttv. A noble tenjperdost thou show in this; 
And great affections, wrestling in thy bosom. 
Do make an earthquake of nobility. 
O, what a noble combat hast thou fought, 
Between compulsion and a brave respect i \ 
Let me wipe oft" this honourable dew. 
That silveriy doth progress on thy cheeks: 
My heart hath melted at a l.idy's tears. 
Being an ordinary inundation ; 
But tliis ettusion of such manly drops. 
This shower, blown up. by tempest of the son! 
Stat ties mine eye!i,and ni.ikes nieniore amazed 
Than had 1 seen the vaultj top «»f heaven 
Figured quite o'er with burning meteors. 
Lilt up thy brow, renowned >alisbury. 
And with a great heart heave away thi^stormi 



♦ Forces. 



t Fundied. 



Embraceih. 



^ Love of countrv, 
2 M 



398 



SIIAKSPKARK. 



[Art r 



Coiiiiiieiid Ihtse waters to lliose baby eyes. 
That never saw thejjiant world euraged ; 
Nor met with fortune other than at leasts, 
Full warm of blood, of mirth, of uossipine;. 
Come, come ; for thou shall thrust thy hand as 
Into the purse of rich prosperity, [deep 

As, Lewis himself ; — so, nobles, shall you all. 
That knit your sinews to the strength of mine. 

Enter Pandulph, attended. 
And even there, methinks, an angel spake: 
Look, where the holy legate comes apace. 
To give us warrant from ihe hand of heaven ; 
And on our actions set the name of right. 
With holy breath. 

Pu?iil. Hail, noble prince of France ! 

The next is this, — king John hath reconciled 
Himself to Rome ; his spirit is come in, 
That so stood out against the holy church. 
The great metropolis and see of Rome : [up, 
Therefore thy threatening colours now wind 
And tame the savage spirit of wild war ; 
That, like a lion foster'd up at hand. 
It (nay lie gently at the foot of peace. 
And be no further harmful than in show. 

Lew, Your grace shall pardon me, 1 will not 
I am too high born to be propertied * , [back ; 
To be a secondary at control. 
Or useful serving-man, and instrument, 
To any sovereign state throughout the world. 
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of wars. 
Between this chastised kingdom and myself 
And brought in matter that should feed this 
And now 'lis far too huiie to be blown out [fire ; 
With that same weak wind which enkindled it. 
You taught me how to know the face of right, 
Acqua^ted me with interest to this land. 
Yea, thrust this enterprise i-nto my heart; 
And come you now to tell me, John hath made 
His peace with Rome? What is that peace to 
I, by the honour of my marriage-bed, [me? 
After young Arthur, claim this land for mine; 
And, now it is half-oonquer'd, must I back, 
Because that John hath made his peace with 
Koine? [borne, 

Am 1 Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome 
What men provided, what munition sent, 
To underprop this action? is't not I, 
That undergo this charge? Who else but I, 
And such as to my claim are liable. 
Sweat ill this business, and maintain this war? 
Have I not heard these islanders shout out, 
Vive le loi! as 1 have bank'd their towns? 
Have I not here the best cards for the game. 
To win this easy match play'd for a crown? 
And shall I now give o'er the yielded set ? 
No, on my soul, it never shall be said. [work. 

Hand. You look t)ut on the outside of this 

Lew. Outside or inside, I will not return 
Till my attempt so much be glorified 
As to my ample hope was promised 
Before 1 drew this gallant head of war. 
And cull'd these fiery spirits from the worJd, 
To outlook t conquest, and to wm renown 
Even in the jaws of danger and of death. — 
[Trumpet sounds. 



VV hat lusty tiumpet thus doth summon u.s ( 
Enter the H-AstAi'd^utte/ided. 
Bast. According to the fair play of the world 
Let me have audience: 1 am sent to speak : 
My holy lord of Milan, from the king 
I come, to learn how you have dealt for him; 
And, as you answer, I do know the scope 
And warrant limited nnto my tongue. 

Pand. The Dauphin is too wilful-opposite. 
And will not temporize with my entreaties; 
He flatly says, he'll not lay down his arms. 

Bast. By all the blood that ever fury breathed. 
The youth says well : — Now hear our English 
For thus his royalty doth speak in me. [king; 
He is prepared ; and reason too, he should ; 
This apish and unmannerly approach, 
This harness'd masque, and unadvised revel. 
This unhair'd sauciness, and boyish troops, 
The king doth smile at ; and is well prepared 
To whip this dwarfish war, these pi ^my arms. 
From out the circle of his territories, [door. 
That hand, which had the strength, even at your 
To cudgel you, and make you take the hatch J; 
To divf, like buckets, in concealed § wells; 
To crouch in litter of your stable planks; 
To lie, like pawns, lock'd up in chests and i 

trunks ; 
To hug with swine; to seek sweet safety out 
In vaults and prisons ; and to thrill, and shake. 
Even at the crying of your nation's crow ||, 
Thinking his voice an armed Englishman ; — 
Shall that victorious hand be feebled here, 
Th it in your chambers gave youchastispment? 
No: Know, the gallant monarch is in arms; 
And like an eagle o'er his aieryU towers. 
To souse annoyance that comes near his nest.— 
And you rlegenerate, you ingrate revolts, 
You bloody Neroes, ripping up the womb 
Ofyour dear mother England, blush for shame: 
For your own ladies, and pale-visaged maids, 
Like Amazons, come tripping after drums; 
Their thimbles into armed gauntlets chanj/e, 
Tlveir neclds *• to lances, and their gentle hearts 
To fierce and bloody inclination. 

JLeiv. There end thy bravefl-, and turn rhy 
face in peace; [well ; 

We grant, thou canst outscold us: fare tliee 
We hold our time too precious to be spent 
With such a brabbler. 
Fund. Give me leave to speak, 

Bast. No, I will speak. 
Lew. We will attend to neither: 

Strike up the drums; and let the tongue of war 
Plead for our interest, and our being here. 
Bast. Indeed, your drums, being beaten, 
will cry out ; 
And f>o shall you, being beaten : Do bat start 
And echo with the clamour of thy drum, 
And even'at hand a drum is ready braced. 
That shall revet berate all as loud as thine; 
Sound but another, and another shall. 
As loud as thine, rattle the welkin's tj ear. 
And mock the deep-mouth'd thunder : for Ht 

hand 
(Not trusting to this halting legate here, 



► Appropriated. f Face down. X Leap over the hatch. ^ Covered, 
of a cock. ^ Ne*t. •• Netdles. n Boast. 



H The crowing 

;Si;>. 



Scene JJ,] 



KING JOHX. 



399 



\\ lioin he hath used rather tor sport than need), 
la warlike John ; and in his forehead sits 
A bare-ribb'd death, whose office is this day 
To feast npon whole thousands of the French. 
Lew. Strike up our drums, to find this 

danger out. 
Bast. And thou shalt find it, Dauphin, do 
not doubt. [/£xeunt. 

SCENE III. The same. A Field of Battle. 
Alarums, Enter King John and Hubert. 
JiC, John. How goes the day with ns 1 O, tell 
I me, Hubert. 

, Hub. Badly, I fear: How fares your majesty? 
AT. John. This fever, that hath troubled me 
so long, 
x^dCB h«&vy on me ; O, my heart is sick'l 
Enter a Messenger. 
Mess> My lord, your valiant kinsman, Faul- 
conbridge, 
Desires your majesty to leave the field ; 
And send him word by me, which way you go. 
K. John. Tell him, toward Swinstead, to 
the abbey there. [ply. 

Mess. Be of good comfort ; for the great sup- 
That was expected by the Dauphin here. 
Are wreck'd three nights ago ou Goodwin 
sands. [now : 

This news was brought to Richard but even 
The French fight coldly , and retire themselves. 
K. John. Ah me ! this tyrant fever burns me 
up, 
And will not let me welcome this good news. — 
Set en toward S winstead : to my litter straight ; 
WeakEess possesseth me, and I am faint. 

{Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. The same. Another Part of 

the same. 

JE^^er Salisbury, Pembroke, Bigot, and 

Others. 

Sal. I did not think the king so stored with 
friends. [French ; 

Pern. Up once again ; put spirit in the 
If they miicarry, we miscarry too. 

Sal. That misbegotten devil,Faulconbridge, 
In spite of spite, alone upholds the day. 

Pern. They say, king John, sore sick, hath 
left the field. 
EnterMELV\n'oiinded,a?id ledby Soldiers.?. 

Mel. Lea<l me to the revolts or England here. 

Sal. When we were happy, we had other 

Pern. It is the Count Mtiun. [names. 

Sal. Wounded to death. 

Mel. Fly, noble English, you are bought 
and sold ♦; 
Unthread the rude eye of rebellion, 
And welcome home again discarded faith. 
Seek out king John, and fall before his feet; 
For, if the French be lords of this loud day, 
Het means to recompense the pains you take, 
By cuttinij otiyour heads: Thus hath he sworn, 
And I with him, and many more with me. 
Upon the altar at Saint Edmund's-Bury ; 



Even on that altar, where we swore to you 
Dear amity and everlasting love. 

Sal. May this be possible? may this be true? 

Mel. Have I not hideous death withii> nty 
Retaining but a quantity of life; [view, 

Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax 
Resolved from his figure 'gainst the fire j,? 
What in the world should make me now de- 
Since I must lose the use of all deceit? [ceive. 
Why should I then be false; since it is true 
That I must die here, and live hence by truth ? 
I say again, if Lewis do win the day. 
He is forsworn, if e*er those eyes of yours 
Behold another day break in the east: [breath 
But even this night, — whose black contagious 
Already smokes about the burning crest 
Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun, — 
Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire ; 
Paying the fine of rated treachery, 
Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives. 
If Lewis by your assistance win the day. 
Commend me to one Hubert, with your king; 
The love of him, — and this respect besides, 
For that my grandsire was an Englishman, — 
Awakes my conscience to confess all this. 
In lieu$ whereof, I pray you bear me hence 
From forth the noise and rumour of the field ; 
Where Imay think the remnant of my thoughts 
In peace, and part this body and my soul 
With contemplation and devout desires. 

Sal. We do believe thee, — And beshrew jj 
But I do love the favour and the form [my soul 
Of this most fair occasion, by the which 
W"e will untread the steps of damned flight ; 
And, like a bated and retired flood. 
Leaving our rankness and irregular course. 
Stoop low within those bounds we have oVr- 
And calmly run ou in obedience, [lookM, 

Even to our ocean, to our great king John. 
My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence; 
For I do see the cruel pangs of death [flight ; 
RightlT in thine eye. — Away, my friends ! New 
Ajid happy newness**, that intends old right. 

\^Exeunty leading o£ Mllun. 
SCENE V. The same. The French Cflw^. 
Enter Lewis and his Train. 

Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was 

loath to set ; [blush, 

But siay'd, and made the western welkin 1t 

When the English measured backward their 

own ground, 
In faint retire : O, bravely came we off, 
When with a volley of our needless shot. 
After such bloody toil, we bid good night ; 
And wound our tatter'd colours clearly up. 
Last in the field, and alniost lords of it! 
Enter a Messenger. 

Mess,. Where is my prince, the Dauphin ? 

LfW. Here : — What news ? 

Mess. The count Melun is slain ; the Engli.«b 
By his persuasion, are again fallen "ff : [lorrts. 
And your supply, which you have wish'd so 
long. 



* A proverb intimating treachery. + Lewis. 

X In allusion to the images made by witche.*!. ^ Place. 

I III betide. H immtdiate. ** Innovation. tt Sky. 



400 



SHAKSPE.IRE. 



[Art r 



Are cast a\v;iy, and ^uuk, on Goodwin sands. 

Letv. Ah, foul shrewd news ! — Beshrew ihy 
very heart ! 
I, did not think to be so sad to night, 
As thLshath in;uie me. — v\ ho wis he, that.said. 
King; John did fW, m hour or two before 
i he stumbling niwlitdid partotir weary powers? 

Mess. VV hotver spoke it, it is true, my lord. 

Lew. Wfll ; keep good quarter*, and good 
care to-ni»ht ; 
The day shall not be up so scon as I, 
To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE VI. An open Place in the Neigh- 
bourhood q/'Swinstead-Abbey. 
Enter the Bast ird a7id Hubert, meeting. 

Hub. Who'> there? speak, ho ! speak quickly 
or I shoot. 

Bast. A friend :— What art thou ? 

Hub. Of the part of England. 

Bast. Whither dost thou go? [demand 

Hub. What's that to thee ? Why m ly not I 
Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? 

Bast. Hubert, I think. 

Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought : 

1 will upon all hazards, well believe 
Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so 
Who art thon ? [well : 

Bast. Who thou wilt : an if thou please, 
Thou may's! befriend me so much, as to think 
I come one way of the Plaiitaweneis. 

Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and 

eyeless niglit, [me. 

Have done me shame : — Brave soldier, pardon 

'Fhat any accent, breaking from thy tongue, 

♦Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. 

Bast. Come, come; sanst compliment, 
.what news abroad? 

Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow 
To find you out. [of night. 

Bust. Brief, then ; and what's the news { 

Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the 
night. 
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. 

Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill 
I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. [news ; 

Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a 
monk : 
I left him almost speechless, and broke out 
To acquaint you with this evil; that you might 
The better arm you to the sudden time, 
Thwi if you had at leisure known of this. 

Bast. How did he take it 1 who did teste to 
him? 

Hub. A monk, I tell you ; a resolved villain. 
Whose bowels suddenly burt^t out : the king 
Yet speaks, and, peradveuture, mny recover. 

Biist. Who didst thou leave to tend his 
majesty ? [all come back. 

Hub, Why, know you not? the lords are 
A«nl brought prince Henry in tiieir company ; 
At whoie ri-quest the king hath pardon'd them, 
Atitl they are all about his majesty. [heaven, 

lia.\t. Withhold thine iudigiiaiion, mighty | 
■iJJd tempt us not to bear above our power 1 i 

• In your "^osts or stations. 



l'lltellthee,Hubert, half my power; this night, II 
Passing these flats, at c taken by the ti le, 
riie-e Lincoln washes have devoured them ; 
Myself well-mounted, hardly have escaped. 
Away, before ! conduct me to the king; 
I doubt, he will be dead, or ere I come, 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE VII. The Orchard of Swinstead- 

Abbey. 
Enter Prince Henry, Salisbury, and 
Bigot. 
P, Hen. It is too late; the life of all his 
blood 
Is tonch'd corruptibly ; and his pure brain 
( VV hich some suppose the soul's frail dwelling- 
house), 
Doth by the idle comments that it makes, 
Foretell the ending of mortality. 
Enter P e aj broke. 
Pern. His Highness yet doth speak ; and 
holds belief. 
That being brought into the open hir. 
It would allay tht burning quality 
Of that fell poison which assaileth him. 

P. Hen. Let him be brought into the 
orchard here. — 
Doth he still rage ? [Etit Bigot. 

Pern. He is more pitient 

Than when you left him ; even now he sung. 
P. Hen. O vanity of sickness! fierce ex- 
tremes, 
In their c<»ntinuance, will not feel themselves. 
Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts. 
Leaves them insensible; and his siege is now 
Against the mind, the which he pricks »nd 

wounds 
With many legions of strange fantasies; 
Which, in their throng and p. ess lo that last 

hold, [should sin^. • 

Confound themselves. 'Tis strange, that death 
I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan, 
Who chants a doleful hynm to his own fleath; 
And, from the organ-pipe of frailty, sings 
His soul and body to their ladling rest. 

Sal. Be of good co'iifort, prince; for yo-* 
To set a form upon that indigest [are born 
Which he hath left so shapt less and so rude. 
Re-enter Bigot r/«rf Attendants, who brtjn^ 
in King John in a Chair, 
K. John. Ay, marry, now ray soul hatU 
elbow-room ; 
It would not out at windows, nor at doors. 
There is so hot a summer in my bosom. 
That all my bowels crumble up to dust: 
I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen 
Upon a parchment; and against this fire 
Do I shrink up. 

/-*. Hen. How fares your majesty? 
K.John. Poison'd,— ill fare; — dead, foT« 
sook, cast off: 
And none of you will bid the winter come 
To thrust his icy fingers in my maw; 
Nor lei my kingdom's rivers take their course 
Through niy burn'd bosom ; nor entreat tUe 
north 



t Without. 



X Forces, 



Svene VII.] 



KIi\G JOHN. 



401 



To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, 
And comfort me with cold: — 1 do not ask 

you much, 
I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait*, 
A.nd so ingrateful, you deny me that. 

P. Hen. O, that rhere were some virtue in 
rhat might relieve yon ? [my tears, 

K. John. The salt iii them is hot. — 

Within me is a hell; and there the poison 
-Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize 
■ On unreprievablc condemned blood. 
Enter the Bastard. 
Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent 
motion, 
And spleen of speed to see yonr Majesty. 
K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set 
mine eye : 
The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd ; 
And ail the shrcuds, wherewith my life should 
Are turned to one thread, one little hair : (sail. 
My heart hath one poor string to stay it by. 
Which holds bat till thy news be uttered; 
And then all this thou see'st, is but a clod. 
And module-f of confounded royalty. 

Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward ; 
Where, heaven he knows, how we shall 

answer him : 
For, in a night, the be.«t part of my power. 
As I upon advantage did remove. 
Were in the washes, all unwarily, 
Devoured by the unexpected flood. 

[The King dies. 

Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead 

an Gar. — [thus. 

My liege! my lord! — But now a king, — now 

P. lien. Even so must I run on, and even 

so stop. [stay, 

What surety ©f the world, what hope, what 

When this was now a king, and now is clay! 

Bast. Art thou gone so? 1 do but stay be- 

To do the office for thee of revenge! [hind. 

And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, 

As it on earth hath been thy servant still. 

Now, now, you stars, that move in yoar right 
spheres, [mended faiths ; 

Where be your powers? Show now your 
And instantly return with me again, 

• Narrow, avaricious. 



To push destruction, and perpetual shame. 
Out of the weak door of our fainting land : 
Stnisiht let us seek, or straight we shall be 
The Dauphin rages at our very heels, [sought; 

Sal. It seems, you know not then so much 
as we : 
The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, 
Whohalt an hoursince came from the Dauphin; 
And brings from hirti ^uch offers of our peace 
As we with honour and respect may take. 
With purpose presently to leave this war. 

Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees 
Ourselves well sinewed to our defence. 

Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already; 
For many carriages he hath despatched 
To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel 
To the disposing of the cardinal : 
With whom yourself, myself, and other lords. 
If you think meet this afternoon will post, 
To consummate this business happily, [prince. 

Bast. Let it be so:- And you, my noble 
With othir princes that may best be spared. 
Shall wait upon your father's funeral, [terr'd ; 

P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be in- 
For so he wiird it. 

Bast. Thither shall it then. 

And happily may your sweet self put on 
The lineal stale and glory of the land ! 
To whom, with all submission, on my knee, 
I do bequeath my faithful services 
And true subjection everlastingly. 

SaL And the like tender of our love we 
To rest without a spot for evermore. [m;ike, 

P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give 
you thanks. 
And knows not how to do it, but with tears. 

Bast. O, let us pay the time but ntedful woe. 
Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. 
This England never did, (nor never shall,) 
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror. 
But when it first did help to wound itself. 
Now these her princes are come home again. 
Come the three corners of the world in arms. 
And we shall shock them : Nought shall make 
If England to itself do rest but true, [us rue, 

[Exeunt* 



t ModeL 



The tragedy of King John, though not written with the utmost power of Shakspeare, it 
varied with a very pleasing interchange of incidents and characters. The lady's grief is very 
affecting ; and the character of the Bastard contains that mixture of greatness and levity whicA 
this author delighted to exhibit.— Johnson. 



THE LIFE AND DEATH OF 

KING RICHARD II. 



^cr^ouiS repregcntel)^ 



King Richard the Second. 

E D M u N D o/" Z/fl w^ leyy D. of York; > uncles to 

John of Gaunt ^D. of Lancaster; \ theKitig. 

Henry, surnamed Bolingbroke, Duke of 
Wreford,son to John of Gaunt ; after- 
wards King Henry IV, 

Dukt- of A u M E RLE, son to the Duke of York. 

Mowbray, Duke if Norfolk, 

Duke of Surrey. 

Earl of Salisbury. Earl Berkley. 

Bushy,") 

Bagot, \ creatures to King Richard, 

<iREEN, J 

Lords, Heralds, 



Earl of Northumberland. 
Hknry Percy, his son. 
Lord Ross. Lord Willoughby, Lord 

FiTZWATER. 

Bishop of Carlisle. Abbot of Westminster. 
Lord Marshal ; and another Lorrt. 
Sir ViEYici£.ofExton. Sir Stephen Scroop. 
Captain of a hand of Welshmen, 

Queen to King Richard, 

Duchess of Gloster. 

Duchess of York. 

Lady attending on the Queen. 

Jicers, Soldiers, two Gardeners, Keefer, Messenger, Groom, and 

other Attendants, 

Scene, — dispersedly in England and Wales, 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace. 

Crt^fr King Richard ; attended: John q/" 
Gaunt, and other ti ob\ts, tr it h him. 

K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd 
Lancaster, 
Hast thou, according to thy oath and band*. 
Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son; 
Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, 
Which then our leisure would not let us hear, 
Aiiainst the duke of Norfolk, Ihomas Mow- 
Gaunt. I have, my liege. [bray? 

K. Rich. I'ell me moreover, hast thou 
sounded him. 
If he appeal the duke on ancient malice ; 
Or wortiiily as a good subject should, 
On some known ground of treachery in him? 
Gaunt. As near as I could silt him on that 
argument, — 
On some apparent danger seen in him, 
Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice. 
K. Rich. 'Ihcn call them to our presc«ce ; 
face to face, 
And frowningbrowto brow,our8elvc» will hear 
The accuser, and the accused, freely speak : — 
[Exeunt simu Attendants. 
High-stomach'd are they both, and lull of ire, 
lu rage deaf as the J^ea, hasty as fire. 
Re-enter Attendants, with Bolingbroke 
and Norfolk. 
Baling. May many yearsof happy days befal 
My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! 
yor. Each day still betterother's happiness; 



Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, 
Add an immortal title to your crown! 

AT. Rch. We thank you both: yet one but 
flatters us, 
As well appeareth by the cause you come : 
Namely, to appeal f each other of high treason. 
Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object 
Against the duke of Is orfolk, Thomas Mow- 
bray? 

Boling. First, (heaven be the record of my 
In the devotion of a subject's love, [speech!) 
Tendering the precious safety of my prince. 
And free from other misbegotten hale, 
Come I appellant to this princely presence.- 
l*^ow, Thomas Mowbray, do 1 turn to thee, 
ALd mark my greeting well ; for what I speak. 
My body shall make good upon this earth. 
Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. 
Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant; 
Too good to be so, and too I'ad to live ; 
Since, the more fair and crystal is the sky, 
The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly. 
Once more, the more to aggravate the note, 
Willi a foul traitor's name slurt" I thy throat; 
And wish, (so please my sovereign, )ere I move. 
What my tongue speaks, ray right-drawn sword 
may prove. [zeal : 

Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my 
'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, 
'Ihe bitter clamour of two eager tongues, 
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain : 
The blood is hot, that must be cool'd for this. 
Yet can 1 not ot such tame patience boast. 



JScene /.] 



KING RICHARD II. 



403 



As to be hushVl, and nought at all to say : [me 
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs 
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; 
Which else would post, until it had rtturn'd 
1 hese terms of treason doubled down his throat. 
Setting aside his high blood's royalty,. 
And let him be no kinsman to my liege, 
1 do <lefy him, and 1 spit at him; 
Call him — a slanderous coward, and a villain : 
Which to maintain, I would allow him odds; 
And meet him, were I tied to run afoot 
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, 
Or any other ground inhabitable* 
Where ever Englishman durst set his foot, 
Mean time, let this defend my loyalty, — 
By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. 

Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I 
throw my gage. 
Disclaiming here the kindred of a king; 
And lay aside my high blood's royalty, [cept : 
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to ex- 
it guilty dread hath left thee so much strength, 
As to laUeup mine honour's pawn, thei) stoop; 
By that, and all the rites of knighthood else, 
W ill I make good against thee, arm to arm, 
What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. 

Nor. 1 take it up ; and, by that sword I swear, 
Which gently lay'd my kniglithcod on my 
I'll answer thee in any fair degree, [shoulder, 
Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: 
And, when I mount, alive may I not light, 
If 1 be traitor, or unjustly fight! 

K. Rich. \V hat doth our cousin lay to Mow- 
bray's charge? 
It must be great, that can inheritf ns 
So much as of a thought of ill in him. 

Boling. Look, what I speak my life shall 
prove it true ; — [nobles, 

That Mowbiay hath received eight thousand 
In name of lendings for your highness sol- 
diers ; [menis, 
The which he hath detain'd for lewd j em ploy- 
Like a false traitor, and injurious villain. 
Besides I say, and will in battle prove, — 
Or here, or elsewhere, to the furthest verge 
That ever was survey'd by English eye, — 
That all the trtdsous, for these eighteen years 
Complotted and contrived in this land, [spring. 
Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and 
Further I say,— and further will maintain 
Upon his bad life, to make all this good, — 
That he did plot the duke of Gloster's death; 
huggest^ his soon believing adversaries; 
And, consequently, like a traitor coward. 
Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams 

of blood : 
Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, 
tven from the tongueless caverns of the earth. 
To me, for justice, and rough chastisement ; 
And,, by the glorious worth of my descent. 
This arm shaU do it, or this life be spent. 

AT. Kith. How high a pitch his resolution 
soars 1 — 
Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this? 

Aor. O, let my sovereign turn away his face. 



And bid his ears a little while be deaf. 
Till I have told this slander of his blood j]. 
How God, and good men, hate so foul a liar, 

K.Rick, Mowbray, impartial are our eyes 
and ears : 
Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, 
(As he is but my father's brother's son,) 
Now by my sceptre's awe I make a vow. 
Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood 
Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize 
The unstooping fi^rmnessofmy upright soul; 
He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou ; 
Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow. 

Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy 
heart, [liesl I 

Through the false passage of thy throat, thou 
Three parts of that receipt 1 had tor Calais, 
Disbursed I duly to his highness' soldiers; 
The other part reserved 1 by consent ; 
For that my sovereign liege was in my debt. 
Upon remainder of a dear account, 
Since last I went to France to fetch his queen: 

Now swallow down that lie, For Gloster's 

death, 

I slew him not; but to my own disgrace. 
Neglected my sworn duty in that case.— 
For you, my noble lord of Lancaster, 
The honourable father to my foe, 
Once did I lay in ambush for your life, 
A trespass that (ioth vex my grieved soul : 
But, ere I last received the sacrament, 
I did confess it; and exactly begged 
Your grace's pardon, and, I hope, I had it. 
This is my fault: As for the rest appeal'dlT, 
It issues from the rancour of a villain, 
A recreant and most degenerate traitor : 
Which in myself I boldly will defend ; 
And interchangeably hurl down my gage 
Upon this overweening** traitor's foe t. 
To prove myself a loyal gentleman 
Even ill the best blood chamber'd in his bosom 
In haste whereof, most heartily I pray 
Your highness to assign our trial day. [by me; 

K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, beruied 
Let's purge this choler without letting blood : 
This we prescribe though no physician ; 
Deep malice makes too deep incision : 
Forget, forgive; conclude, and be agreed ; 
Our doctors say, this is no time to bleed. — 
Good uncle, let this end where it begun; [sou. 
We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your 

Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become 

my age : [?'*§©• 

Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk'* 

K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his. 

Gaunt, When, Harry? when? 

Obedience bids, I should not bid again. 

K.Rich. Norfolk, throw down ; we bid; 
there is no b»)ot tt. [foot 

Nor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign,at thy 
My life thou slialtcomm«ind,but not my sh-tme 
The one my duty owes; but my fair name, 
(Despite of death, that lives upon niv gravej 
To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have. 
I am disgraced, impeach'd, and batiied here*. 



• Uninhabitable. 

his ancestry. 



t Possess. 
IT Charged 



t Wicked. 
►* Arrogant. 



$ Prompt. II Reproach to 

if No advantage in deiav. 



404 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act I. 



JHerced to the loul with slauder's venomed 

spear ; [blood 

The which no balm can core, but his heart- 
Which breached this poison. 

K. Rich. Rage must be withstood; 

Give me hia gage: — Lions make leopards-tame. 

Aor. Yea, bat not change their spots ; take 

but my »hame, 
And 1 resign my gage. My dear dear lord, 
The purest treasure mortal limes atford, « 
Is — spotlt^ss reputation; that away. 
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. 
A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest 
Is — a bold spirit in a loyal breast. 
Mine honour is my life; both grow in one ; 
Take honour from me, and my life is done: 
Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try ; 
In that 1 live, and for that will I die. 

K.Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage; 

do >ou begin. [foul sin! 

Boling. O, God defend my soul from such 
Shall I seem crest-fallen in rny father's sight ? 
Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height 
Before this out-dar'd dastard! Ere my tongue 
Shall wound mine honour with such feeble 

wrong. 
Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear 
The slavish motive of recanting fear; 
And spit It bleeding in his high disgrace. 
Where shame doth harbour even in Mowbray's 

face. [Exit Gaunt, [command : 

AT. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to 
Which since we cannot do to make you friends. 
Be ready, as yoiir lives shall answer it, 
A.t Coventry, upon St. Lambert's day ; 
There shall your swords and lances arbitrate 
The swelling difference of your settled hate ; 
Since we cannot atone * you, we shall see 
Justice design t the victor's chivalry. — 
Marshal, command our ofiicers at arms 
Be ready to direct these hoine-aldrms. I Exeunt, 

SCENE IL The same. A Room in the 
Duke of Lancaster's Palace. 
Enter Gaunt, and Duchess of Gloster. 
Gaunt. Alas ! the part j 1 had in Gloster'a 

blood 
Doth more solicit me, than your exclaims. 
To stir ag«in>t the butchers of his life. 
But since correction lieth in those hands. 
Which made the fault that we cannot correct, 
}'ut we ourquarrrel to the will of heaven ; 
W ho when he sees the hours ripe on earth. 
Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. 

Oucii. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper 
Hath love in thy oid blood no livinufire? [spur 
Edwrtid's seven sons, wheieof thyself art one, 
^^ ere as seven phiaU of his sacred blood. 
Or Seven fair branches springing from one 

root : [course. 

Some oi those seven are dried by nature's 
t^oiue of those branches by the destinies cut ; 
But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Glos- 
One phial full of Edw■ard*^ sacred blood, [ter, — 
Oil*; ilounshiug branch of his uiost royal root — 



I Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt ; 
Is hacked down, and his summer leaves all fad i 
By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe. [ed. 
Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine; that bed, 

that womb, 
That metal, that self-mould, that fashioned 

thee, [breaih'st. 

Made him a man ; and though thou livest and i 
Yei art thou slain in him: thou dost consent $ 
In some large measure to thy father's death. 
In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, 
W ho was the model of thy father's life. 
Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair: 
In suflfering thus thy brother to be slanghter'd, 
Thou shovv'st the naked pathway to thy life. 
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee : 
That which in mean men we entitle — patience. 
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. 
What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life. 
The best way is— to'venge my Gloster's death. 
Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel ; for hea- 
ven's substitute. 
His deputy anointed in his sight. 
Hath caused his death : the which if wrongfully, 
Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift 
An angry arm against his minister. 

Duch. Where, then, alas ! may I complaia 

myself? [and defence. 

Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion 

Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, ©Id 

Thougo'st to Coventry, thereto behold [Gaunt, 

Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: 

O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's 

spear. 
That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast! 
Or, if misfortune miss the first career, 
He Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom. 
That they may break his foaming courser's back. 
And throw the rider headlong in the lists, 
A caititt II recreant^ to my cousin Hereft»rdl 
Farewell, old Gatmt; thy sometime brother'* 

wife. 
With her companion grief must end her life. 

Gaunt. Si8ter,farewell ; I must to Coventry : 

As much good stay with thee, as go with mel 

Duch. Yet one word more; — Grief boundeth 

where it falls. 
Not with the empty hollowness, but weight ; 
I take my leave before 1 have begun : 
For sorrow ends not when it St-emeth done. 
Commend me to my brother, Edmund York. 
Lo, this is all:— Nay, yet depart not so; 
Though this be all, do not so quickly go; 
I shall remember more. Bid him— O, what? 
With all good speed at Flashy *• visit me. 
Alack, and what shall good oH York there see. 
Hut empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls. 
Unpeopled ottices, untrodden stones? 
And what cheer there for welcome, but my 

groans? [there. 

Therefore commend me; let him not come 
To seek out sorrow that dwells every vyhere : 
Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die; 
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. 

{Exeunt 



Reconcile. 



t Shew. 

V Cowardly. 



J Relationship. $ A?!=«-nt. 

•• Her house in Essex. 



y A base villain. 



KING RICHARD II. 



40.3 



SCENE III. Gosford Green, 7te«r Coventry. 

Lists set out, and a Throne* Heralds, ^c» 

attendi)ig. 

Enter the Lord Marshal, arid Aumerle. 
Mar. My lord Aumerle, is Hnrry Hereford 
arni'd i [in. 

Aum. Yea, at all points; and longs to enter 
Mar. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfiiily and 
b«'ld, [trumpet. 

Stays but the snrnmons of the appellant's 
Aum. Why tlien, the champions are pre- 
pared, and stay 
For noihiiisi but his majesty's approach. 
Fiuuri.Ji Of Irum'ptts. Enter King Rich- 
ard, who takes his seat on hU throne; 
G\v\T, atid sererul Nobiemen^uito take 
their plact-s. A Trunipef i sounded, and 
ansirertd by another Trumpet within, 
Tlien enter Norfolk in armour , prect d- 
ed by a Herald. 

K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder cham- 
The cause of his ai rival here in arms : [pion 
Ask him his name; and orderly proceed 
To swear him in the justice of his cause. 
Mar, In God's name, and the king's, say 
whothonart, [arms; 

And why thon com'st, thus knightly clad in 
Against what man thou com'st, and what thy 

quarrel: 
Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thy oath ; 
And so defend thee heaven, and thy valour! 
Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke 
ot Norfolk ; 
Who hither come engaged by my oath, 
(Which, heaven defend a knightshould violate!) 
Both to defend my loyalty and truth, 
To God, my king, and my succeeding issue, 
Against the duke of Hereford that appeals me; 
And, by the grace of God, and this mine arm, 
To prove him, in defending of myself, 
A traitor to my God, my king, and me : 
And, as I truly light, defend me heaven! 

{He takes Ids seat. 
Trumpet sounds. E'wier Boling broke, 
in armour, preceded by a Herald. 
K. Rich. Marshal,ask yonder kniy;lit inarms, 
Both who he is, and why he cometh hither 
Thus plated in habiliments of war ; 
And formally according to our law 
Depose him in the justice of his cause- 
yiar. What is thy name? and wherefore 
com'st thou hither, 
Before Ring Richard ,i n his royal lists? [quarrel? 
A^gainst whom comest thou; and what's thy 
Speak like a true knight, so defend thee htaven! 
Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and 
Am 1; who readyhere do stand in arms, [Derby, 
To prove, by heaven's grace, and my body's 
valour, [folk. 

In lists, on Thomas Mowbray duke of Nor- 
That he's a ti aitor, foul and viangerous, 
To God of heaven, king Richard, and to me; 
And, as I truly tight, defend me heaven! 

Mar. On pain or death, no person be so 
Or daring-hardy, as to touch the lists; [bold. 



Except the marshal, and such officers 
Appointed to direct these fair designs. 

Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my so 
vereign's hand. 
And bow my knee before his majesty : 
For Niowbray and myself, are likf two nn-.r 
That vow a long and weary pilgrimage; 
Then let us take a ceremonious leave, 
And loving farewell, of our several friends. 

Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your 

hio;hness, [leave. 

And craves to kiss your hand, and take his 

K. Rich. We will descend, and fold him 
in our arms. 
Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, 
.^o be thy fortune in this royal fi.ht ! 
Farewell, my blood; whichif to-day thou shed, 
Lament we may, but not revenue tliee dead. 

t^ol/ng. (), let no noble eye profane a tear 
For me, if 1 be gored with Mowbray's spear; 
As contident, as is the fa, con's flight 
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.-«» 
My loving lord,[7t> Lord Marshal.] I take my 

leave of you ; — 
Of you, my noble cousin, lord Aumerle : — 
Not sick, although I have to do with death; 
But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. 
Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet 
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet : 
O thou, the earthly author of my blood, — 

[Tb Gaunt 
Whose youthful spirit in me regenerate. 
Doth with a two fold vigour lift me up 
To reach at victory above my head, — 
Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers; 
And with thy blessings steel my lance's point. 
That it may enter Mowbray's waxen* coat, 
And furbisht new the name of John of Gaunt, 
Even in the lusty 'haviour of his son. 

Gaunt. He tven in thy good cause make 
thee prosperous ! 
Be swift like lightning in the execution ; 
And let thy blows, doubly redoubled. 
Fall like amazing thundt-r on the casque j 
Of thy adverse pernicious enemy i [\\\e. 

Rouse up thy youthtul blood, be valiant and 

Boling. Mine innocency, and Saint George 
to thrive ! {He takes his seat. 

Nor. [Rising.'] However heaven, orfortuue, 
cast my lot. 
There lives or dies, true to king Richard's 
A loyal, ju^t, and upright gentleman : [thron-,'. 
Never did captive with a freer heart 
Cast oft his chains of bondage, and embrace 
His golden uncontroll'd eniranchisement. 
More than my dancing soul doth celebrate 
This feast of battle with nine adversary.— 
Most mighty liege, and my companion peers, 
Take from my mouth the wish of happy years: 
As senile and as jocund, as to jest vi, 
Go 1 to fight ; TriUh hath a quiet breast. 

K Ricn. Farew ell, my lord: securely legpy 
Virtue with valour couched in thine f ve- 
Order the trial, marshal, auu ct-^n;. 

[The King and the Lords return to t/.eir 
seats. 



• Yielding 



+ V.riy^hten up. 



X Helmet. 



§ Play a part in a matk. 



*06 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Art /. 



Mar, Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and 

Derby, 
Receive ihy lance ; and God defend the right ! 
BoLhig. [RisingJ\ Strong as a lower in hope, 

I cry — amen. 
yiur. Go bear this lance [To an Officer.] 

to Ihoiiias duke of Norfolk. [Oerby, 

1 Her, Hurry or Hereford, Lancaster, and 
Stands here for God, his sovereign, and him- 
Or pain to be found false and recreant, [self. 
To piove the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mow- 
bray, 

A traitor to his God, his king, and him, 
And dares him to set forward to the fight. 

2 Hiv. Here siandeth Thomas Mowbray, 

duke of Norfolk, 
On pain to be foujid false and recreant, 
Both to defend hiniself, and to approve 
Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, 
To Go<l, his sovereign, and to him, disloyal ; 
Courageously, ind with a free desire, 
Attending i.ui the sii^nal to begin. 

Mar. Sound, trumpets ; and set forward, 

combatants, [.4 Charge sounded. 

Stay, The king hath thrown his warder* down. 

K. H c/i. Let them lay by their helmets and 
their speais, 
And boih retnrci back to their chairs again: — 
Withdraw with us: and let the trumpets sound. 
While we return these dtikCvS what we de- 
cree. — [A Cong Flourish. 
Draw near. [Tofht^ (\»ii bat ants. 
And list, what with our council we havedone. 
For that ourkingdom's earth should not be?oil'd 
With that detr blood which il haih fostered +; 
And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect 
Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' 

swords; 
[And for we think the eagle-winged pride 
Of sky-aspiring and ambitioi's ttjou^hts. 
With rival-liaiing envy, set you on [cradle 
To wake our peace, which in our country's 
Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep ;] 
Which so roused up v\ith boisterous untuned 

drums. 
With harsh resoundingtrumpets'dreadful bray. 
And grating shock of wrathful iron arms. 
Alight from our quiet confines fright fair peace, 
And make us wade even in our kindred's blood ; 

Therefore we banish you our teriitories : 

You, cousin Hereford, upun pain ot death. 
Till twice tivesummers have enricii'd our fields. 
Shall not regreet our fair domiuions, 
Bat tread the stranger paths of banishment. 

BoAiig. Vour will be done: ihis must my 

comfort be, [me; 

That sun, that warms you here, shall shine on 
And those his golden beams, to you here lent. 
Shall point on me, and gild my bani>hinent. 

K. Rirh. Norfolk, for thee remains a hea- 
vier doom. 
Which I with some unwillingness pronounce: 
The fly-slow hours shall not determinate 
The d«tek»s limit of iliy dear exlUr ; — 
The hopeless word of — never to return 
Breathe 1 against thee, upon pain of life. 



Nor, A heavy seutence, my most sovei eigu 
liege, [moiiih: ' 

And all unlook'd for from your highnes.*' 
A dearer merit, not so deep a maim 
As to be cast forth in the common air. 
Have I deserved at your highness' hand. 
The language I have learn'd these forty years^ 
My native English, now 1 must forego : 
And now my tongue's use is to me no more. 
Than an unstring'd viol or a harp ; 
Or like a cunning instrument cased up, 
Or, being open, put into his hands 
That knows no touch to tune the harmony. 
Within my mouth you have engaol'd my 

tongue. 
Doubly portcullis*d+ with my teeth and iip»; 
And dull, unfeeling, barren ih;norance 
Is made my goaler to attend on me. 
I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, 
Too far in years to be a pupil now ; 
Whatis thy sentence then, but speechless death, 
Which robs my tongue from breathing native 
bieathf [ate i\ 

K. Hlch. It boots thee not to be compassion- 
After onr sentence plaining comes too late. 

Nor- Then thusi turn me from my country'* 
liiiht. 
To dwell iu solemn shades of endless night. 
[Retiring. 

K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath 
witli thee. 
Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands ; 
Swear by the duty that >ou owe to heaven, 
(Our pari therein we banish with yourselves,) 
To keep the oath that sve administer: — 
You never shall (so help you truth and heaven !' 
Embrace each other's love in banishment; 
Nor never look upon each other's face ; 
Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile 
This lowering tempest of yt)ur home-bred hate ; 
Nor never by advised || purpose meet. 
To plot, contrive, or complot any ill, 
'G.dnst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. 

BoLing. 1 swe.ir. 

Nor. And I, to keep all this. 

Boling. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy ; — 
By this time, had the king permitted us. 
One of our souls had waiider'd in the air, 
Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh. 
As now our flesh is banish'd from this land : 
Confess thy treasons, ere thou tiy the realiu ; 
Since tiiou hast far to go, bear not along 
The clogging burden ot a guilty souL 

Nor. No, Bolingbroke, if ever I were 

traitor. 

My name be blotted from the book of life. 

And I from heaven banish'd, as from hence! 

But what thou art, Leaven, thou, and I do 

know; rue -— 

And all too soon, I fear, the king shall 

Farewell, my liege : — Now no way can I stray; 

Save back to England, ail the world's my 

way. [El if. 

K. Rich, Uncle, even in the glasses of thine 
eyes 
I sec tl.y grieved heart ; thy J»ad aspect 



• Truncheon. 



t Nursvd. 



Barr'd, $ To move rompasflion. 



I! C i««?f^cd, 



.^rt'« > ///. 



KING RICHARD II. 



J. ^7 



Hath from the nnniber of his baiiishM years 
I'inck'd four away : Six frozen winters spent, 
Return [To Boling.] with welcome home 

from banishment. [word! 

BoU"if How long a time lies in one little 

Fonr la'iging wintets and four wanton sprinijs. 

End in a word ; Such is the breath of kin^s. 

Gaunt. I thank my liege, that, in regard 

of me, 
He shortens four years of my son's exile : 
But little vantage shall I teap thereby; 
For. ere the six ye^rs, that he hath to spend. 
Can change their moons, and bring their times 

about, 
My oil-drie-l lamp, and time-bewasted lisfht. 
Shall be extinct with age, and eufiless night; 
My ineh of taper will he burnt and done, 
A.nd blindfold death not 4et m*:- see my son. 
K. Rich. Why, uncle, thou hast many years 

to live. [canst give : J 

Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou 



Gaunt. What is six winters? thrv aie 
quickly gone. [one hour t<Mi. 

Boling. To men in joy; but grief makc^ 
Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou tak'st i-t 
pleasure. ['tsi>, 

Bol'mfi. My heart will sigh, when I miscall 
Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage. 
Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weaiy 
steps 
Esteem a foil, wherein thou art to set 
The precious jewel of thy home-return. 
Baling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I 
make 
Will but remember me, what a deal of world 
1 W'ander from the jewels that I love. 
Must I not serve a long apprenticehood 
To foreign passages ; and in the end, 
Having my freedom, boist of nothing else, 
Buf that 1 was a journeyman to grief? 
Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven 
visits. 



Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sor- 1 Are to a wise man ports and happy havens : 



row: [morrow: 

And pluck nights from me, but not lend a 
Thon canst help time to fnrrow me with age. 
But stop no wrinkle in hi« pilgrimaL'e; 
Thy word is current with him for my death ; 
But, dead, thy king.dom cannot buy my breath. 
K. E'ich. Thy son is banish'd upon good 
advice*. 
Whereto thy tongue a party + verdict gave ; 
Why at our justice seem'gt thou then to lower? 
Gaiivt. Things sweet to taste, prove in 
digestion sour. 
You urged me as a judge; but I had rather 
You would have bid me argue like a father: — 
O, had it been a stranger, not my child, 
To smooth his fault I should have been more 
A partial slander J sought I to avoid, [mild: 
And in the sentence my own life destroyed. 
Alas, I look'd, \\ hen some of you should say, 
' was too strict, to make my own away ; 
But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue, 
Against my will to do myself this wrong. 
K. Rich. Cousin, farewell: — and, uncle, 
bid him so ; 
Six years we banish him, and he shall 20. 
[Flourish. Exeunt K. Rich a.rd and IVain. 
Aum. Cousin, farewell : what presence must 
not know, 
>^'rom where you do remain, let paper shove. 
Mar. My lord, no leave take 1 ; for I will 
ride. 
As far as land will let me, by your side. 
Gaunt. O, to what purpose dost ihou hoard 
thy words. 
That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends? 
Boling. I have too few to take my leave 
of yoa. 
When the tongue's office should be prodigal 
To breathe the abundant dolour § of the heart. 
Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy absence for a 
lime. [time. 

Boling. Joy absent, grief is present f r that 



Teach thy necessity to reason thus; 
There is no virtue like necessity. 
Think not, the king did banish thee: [sit, 

But thou the king : Woe doth (he heavier 
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. 
Go, say — I sent thee forth to purchasp honour, 
And not— the king exiled thee : or suppose, 
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air. 
And thou art flying to a fresher clime. 
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it 
To lie that way thou go'st, not whence tbo-i 
Suppose the sin^iingbirds, musicians; [consf-st: 
The grass whereon thou tread'st, the pr-- 

sencell strew'd; [more 

The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps, no 
Than a delightful measure, or a dance: 
For gnarling^ sorrow hath less power to bite 
The man that mocks at it, and sets it light. 

Boling. O, who can hold a flre in his hand. 
By thinking on the froety Caucasus? 
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite. 
By bare imagination of a feast? 
Or wallow naked in December snow. 
By thinking on fantastic summer's he 
O, no ! the apprehension of the good. 
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse : 
Fell sorrow's tooth dotli never rankle more. 
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. 
Gaunt Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee 

on thy way : 
Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not htay 
Bolinn. Then, Englaud'.s ground, farevvell • 

sweet soil, adieu ; 
My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet } 

Where-e'er I wander, boast of this I can, • 

Though banish'd, yet a trueborn Englishman. 

[E.ieunr, 

SCENE IV. The sawe» A Room in the 

King's Castle, 

Enter King Hichard, Bagot, ffwtf Grken 

A I' M E R L E follouing. 

K. Rich. We did observe. — Cousin Aumerle 



Con«>i^lerntion. 
'i Grief. 



t Had apart or shrjtc. t Reproach of parti:dity. 

11 Presence cliamber at court. I1 (»ro\\|iij^. 



408 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IL 



How far brought yoa high Hereford on hig 

way? [him so, 

Aum. 1 brongbt high Hereford, if yon cill 

But to Ihe next highway, Hiid there I hft him. 

A'. /ii( Ji. And say, what ston- of parting 

tears were she<!? [eist wind, 

An?fi. M'aiih.none by me: exceptthe norih- 
\\'hicii then blew bitterly ap^ainst our faces, 
Awaked the sleeping rheum ; and so, by 

chanfe, 
Did i:rnce our hollow parting with a tear. 
K. R ell. What said our cousin, when you 
Autn. FareweH: [parted with him ? 

And, for mv heatt disdained that my tongue 
Should so profane the word, that taught me 

cr.ift 
To counterfeit oppression of such grief, 
That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's 

grave. [enVl hours, 

Marry, would the word farewell have length- 
And added years to his short banishiwent, 
He should have Uad a volntne of farewells; 
But, since it would not, he had none of me. 
K. Rch. He is our cousin, cousin ; but 'tis 

doubt, [ment, 

When time shall call him home from banish- 
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. 
Ouiself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, 
Observed his courtship to the common people : 
How he did seem to dive into tl'eir hearts, 
V\ iih humble and familiar courtesy ; 
What reverence ht di I throw away on slaves ; 
Wooing poor craftsmen, with t!ie craft of 

smiles, 
And patient underbearing of his fortune, 
As 'twere, to banish their aftects with him. 
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wcnch ; 
A brace of draymen bid -God speed him well, 
Knd had the tribute of his supple knee. 



With — Thanks my couyitryme/iy my loihtg 

friends ; — 
As were onr Kn.land in reversion his, 
And he our subifccfs* next degree in hope. 
Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go 
• the^e thoughts. [Ian!; — 

Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ire 
Expedient* manage must be imde. my liege; 
Ere further leisure yield them furtlier means, 
For their advantaiie, and sour highness' los-,. 
K. Rich. We will ourself in person to iIms 
war. 
And, fort our coffers — with too great a ccTt 
And liberal largess, — are urown somewluit 

light. 
We are enforced to farm onr royal realm ; 
Tiie revenue whereof shail furnish ns 
F«'r our artaiis in hand : If that come short, 
Our substitutes at home shall have bl.mk 
charters ; [ri; h. 

Whereto, when they shall know what men .;re 
They sh dl subscribe thent for large sums of 

gold, 
And sead them after to supply our wants; 
For we will make for Irelattd presently. 

Enter Bushy. 
Bushy, what news ? [my lord ; 

B/i.shy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous s.; k. 
Suddenly taken; and hatti fent posi-haste, 
To entreat your majei^ty to visit him. 
K. Rich. Whrrelies he? 
Rushy At El>-honsie. [sician's mii d. 

K. Rich. Now |«Mt it, heaven, in Ivis p' y- 
To help hinj to his grave immediately ! 
The lining of his cotters shall make coats 
To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. — 
Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit Wim : 
Pray God, we may make haste, and come too 
latel ^Extunt. 



ACT II. 



5CENE I. London. A Room in Ely-hnuse. 

Gaunp on a Couch ; the Duke */York, 
and Otht rs .standing by him. 

Gaunt. Will the king come? th it I may 
breathe my last 
in wholesome c« unsel to his unstaied youth. 
YorU. \ ex not > ourself, nor strive not with 
your lireath ; 
F(«r all Ml vain comes counsel to his ear. 
Gaunt. O, but they say, the tong^ies of 
dying men 
Enforce atiention, like deep harmony : 
Where words are scarce, they are seldom 
spent in vain : [words in pain. 

Fin- they breathe truth, that breathe their 
He, ih«it no more must say, is lisi« n'ti more 
Than they whom youth and ease have taught 
to glose;; 
More art men's ends mark'tl, than their lives 
oefo'-e : 
Tht* tet'iujf sui\ and music at the close, 
i« «l'v' )\>X Uste of sweets, is swcelesl i.iil ; 

• Itlxpedilii.us. ♦ 



Writ in remembrance, more than things loag 

past : [hear, 

ThouLih Hichard my life's counsel would nut 

My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. 

York. No ; it is siopp'd with other th.tler- 

ing sounds, 
As, praises of his state : then, there are fouij'i 
Lascivious metres ; to whose venom sound 
1 he optii car of youth doth always listen: 
Report of fashions in proud Italy ; 
W hose manuerf still our tardy apish nation 
Limps after, in base imiiaiion, 
Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, 
(So it be new, there's no respect how vile), 
That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears? 
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard. 
Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard. 
Direct nil him, whose way himsell will 

ch«)ose ; [tlu>u 10**^. 

*Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath v\ »u 

Gunut. MeUiinks, I am a prophet nt.w 

iii>piied ; 
And thus., i:\piring do for( tt 1 oi him 

lecaiise. i Flatter. 



Scene J.] 



KING RICHARD II. 



409 



His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last ; I 

l^or v»olo*it fires soon burn out thi-'mselves : 
SiiKilt showers last long, but sucldon storms 

are short ; 
He tW*i& betimes, that spurs too fast betimes ; 
\\'ith eager feeding, food doth cht)ke the 
Lii;ht vanity, insatiate cormorant, [feeder : 
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. 
1 his royal throne of kings, this sceptr^'d isle, 
T his earth of majesty, tliis seat of Mars, 
This other Eden, demi-paradise ; 
This fortress, built by nature for herself. 
Against infection, and the hand of war ; 
This happy breed of men, this little world ; 
TMis precious stone set in the silver sea, 
Which serves it in the office of a wall. 
Or as a moat defensive to a house. 
Against the envy of h ss happiei- lands ; 
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this 

England, 
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, 
Faar'd by their breed, and famous by their 

birth, 
Benowned for their deeds as far from home, 
(For Christian service, and true chivali-y,} 
As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry, 
Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son : 
'1 his land of such dear souls, ttiis dear dear land. 
Dear for her reputation through the world, 
Is now leaseil out (I die pronouncing it). 
Like to a tenement, or pelting* farm : 
England, bound in witli tlic triumphant sea, 
"Whose rocky shore beats back tiie envious 

siege [shame, 

Of watery Neptune, is now bound in svith 
With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds ; 
That England, that was vvoni to conquer others, 
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself : 
O, vvrould the scandal vanisli with my life, 
How happy then were n)y ensuing death ! 
JSnter King Richakd, and Queen ; Au- 
MERLE, Bushy, Grekm, Bagot, Ross, 

and WiLLOUGHBY. 

York. The king is come: deal mildly with 

his youth ; [more. 

For young hot colts, being raged, do rage the 

Queen. How faies our noble uncle, Lan- 
caster? [with aged Gaunt? 

fC. Rich. What comfort, man? iiow is't 

Gaunt. O, how that name befits my com- 
position ! 
Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt + in being ofld : 
Within me g "ief hath kept a tedious fast ; 
And who abstains from meat, that is not gaunt ? 
For sleeping England long time have I watch'd; 
W<atching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt: 
The pleasure, that some fathers feed upon. 
Is my strict fast, I mean— my children's look? ; 
An<1, therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt : 
Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, 
Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones. 

K. Kick. Can sick men play so nicely with 
their names ? [itself: 

Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to mock 
Since thou dost seek to kill my nam- in ni.e, 
1 mock my name, great king, to flatter thee. 



A. Rich. SIkhTUI dying iiicn tiata-r with 
those that live? [that die. 

Gavnt. No, no; men living flatter those 
K. Rich. J hou, now a dying, say'st — thou 
flatter'st me. [hicker be. 

Gaunt. Oh ! no ; thou diest, though I tUe 
K. Rich. I am in health, I breathe, and see 
thee ill. [see thee iU ; 

Gaunt. Now, He that made me, knows I 
III in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. 
Thy death bed is no lesser than the land. 
Wherein thou liest in reputation sick : 
And thou, too careless patient as thou art, 
Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure 
Of those physicians that first wounded thee: 
A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, 
Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; 
And yet, incaged in so small a verge. 
The waste is no whit lesser thfvn thy land. 
O, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eyfe. 
Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons. 
From forth thy reach he would have laid ftiy 

s4iame ; 
Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd, 
W hich ai t possess'd-I now to depose thyself. 
Why, cousin, wert ihou regent of the world. 
It were a shame to let this land h^' leate : 
But, for thy world, enjoying but this land, 
Is it not more than shame^to shame it so? 
Landlord of Eitgland art thou now, not king: 
Thy state of law is bon<lslave to the law; 

And thou 

K. Rich. a lunatic lean-witted fool. 

Presuming on an ague's privilege, 
Dar'st with thy frozen admonition 
Make pale our oheek ; chasing the royal bUooH, 
With fury, from hi« native residence. 
Now by my seat's right royal majesty, 
Wert thou not brother to great Edw ard's son. 
This tongue that r-nns so roundly in thy head. 
Should run thy head from tliy unreverend 
shoulders. [ward's son. 

Gaunt. O, spare me not, my brother Ed- 
For that 1 was his father Edwanl's son; 
That blood already, like the pelican. 
Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunktnly caroused •, 
My brother Gloster, plain well-meaning soul, 
(Whom fair befal in heaven 'mongst happy 
May be a precedent and witness good, [sf-nis!) 
That thou respect'st not spilling Ed want's 

blood : 
Join with the present sickness that I have; 
And thy unkindniess be like crooked age. 
To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower. 
Live in thy shame, but die not shame with 

thee!— 
These words hereafter thy tormentors be ! — 
Convey me to my bed, then to my grave: 
Love they h) live, that love and honour have. 
{Exit, borne out by his Attendants. 
K. Rich. And let them die, that age and 
sullens have ; 
For both hast thou, and both become the grave. 
York. 'Beseech your majesty, impute his 
To wayward sickliness and age ifj him: [word* 
He loves you, on my life, and ho.ds you dear 



' Paltry. 



t I^an, thin. 



i Mad. 



4)3 



isUAKSFEARE. 



^J.ct II 



k% Harry duke of Hereford, were he here. 

A', liich. Right; you say true ; a» Hereford's 
love, 80 Ills. 
K% theirs, so mine; and all be as it is. 
Enter No kt h u m b i; r l. a. js u. 

\otth. INIy liege, old Gaunt coninieiids him 
to your majesty. 

K. Rich. What says he now ? 

\urth. Nay, nothing; all is said: 

K'i? tongue is now a siringless instrument; 
Words, lire, ind all, old Lancaster hath »ptnt. 

York. Be Vork the next that must be bank- 
rupt so! 
Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. 

A. Hick. J he ripest fruit first falls, and so 
dotli he ; 
IMstime is spent, our pilgrimage must be: 

Sn much for tliat -.Now for our Irish wars : 

We must supplant those rough rug-headed 

kerns • ; 
Wiiich live like venom, where no venom else, 
}^ui only they, hath privilege to livet. 
And for these ijrent attViirs do ask some charge, 
Towards our .issistance, we do seize to us 
The plate, coin, levenues, and moveables, 
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd. 

York. How lonysliaii I bepatitnt? Ah, how 
Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong? [long 
N<»1 Gloster's death, nor Hereford's banish- 
ment, • [wrongs, 
Not Gaunt's rebuke*, nor England's private 
Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbr»ke 
About his maniage, nor my own disi^race. 
Have ever made my sour my patient cheek, 
Oi bend one wrinkle on my sovereign'isface. — 
I MM the last of noble Edward's sons, 
Of whom thy failier, prince of Wales, was t^rst; 
In war, was never lion raged ir.ore tierce. 
In peace was never geniie lamb more mild, 
'J'han was that young md princely gentleman : 
His face thou hast, for even so look'd he, 
Accumplish'd with the number of thy hours |; 
Biit,nhenhefrown'd,itvvasagainstthe French, 
And not against his friends: his noble hand 
Did win what he di^ spend, and spent not that 
Which his triumph iHt f^ither's hand had won : 
His hands were guilty of no kindred's blood. 
But bloody with the inennes of his kin, 
(), Richard ! York is too far gone with grief, 
O' else he never would compare between. 
K. Kick. Why, uncle, what's the matter? 

Y'uV .. O, my liege, 

Pardon me, if yon please ; if not, I pleased 
Not to he pnrdoned, am content withal. 
Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands. 
The royalties and rights of banishM Hereford ? 
Is not (iaunt dead 1 and doih not Herefoi d live i 
Was not Gaunt just? and is not Harry true? 
Did not the one desei ve to have an heir? 
Is n d his heir a well-de«erving son? 
lake Hereford's rights away, and take from 
liis <hart«'rs, and his customary rights, [time 
jAt not to-mornjw then ensue lod ly ; 
iJ'- not thyself, for how urt fhou a king, 
Bui bv fair sequence and succession? 



Now, afore God (God forbid, I say true I) 
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights 
Call in the letters patent that he hath 
By his attorn ies-ge.neral lo sue 
His livery vj, and deny his offer'd homage, 
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, 
You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts. 
And prick my tender patience to those thoughti 
Which honour and allegiance cannot think. 
K. Hicu. Think what you will; we seize into 
onr hands 
His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands 
York. I'll not be by, the while: my liege^ 
farewell: 
W^hat will ensue hereof, there's none can tell; 
But by bad courses may be understood, 
That their events can never fall out good. \^Exit. 
AT. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Will- 
shire straight; 
Bid him repair to us to Ely-house, 
To see this ousiness : To-morrow next 
We will for Ireland ; and 'tis time, I trow ; 
And we create, in absence of ourself, 
Our uncle York lord governor of England, 
For he is just, and always loved us well. — 
Come on our queen : to-morrow must we part; 
Be merry, for oar time of stay is shoit. 

[Flourish* 
{Exeunt King, Queen, Bushy, Aomerj jc, 

(Jreen, «/irf Bagot. 
North. Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster 
is dead. [duke. 

Ross. And living too ; for now his sou is 
Willo. Barely in title, not in revenue, [right. 
North. Richly in both, if justice had her 
Ro-ss. My heart is great; but it must break 
with silence, 
Ere't he disburden'ti with a liberal ll tongue. 
North. Nay, speak thy mind; and let hii» 
ne'er speak more. 
That speaks thy words again to do thee harm! 
fVillo. Tends that ihou'dbt speak, to the 
duke of Hereford? 
If it be so, out with It boldly, man; 
Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. 
Ross. No good at ail, that I can do for him ; 
Unless you call it good to pity him. 
Bereft and gelded II of his patrimony. 
North. Now, afore heaven, *iis shame, such 
wrongs are borne. 
In him a royal prince, and many more 
Of noble blood in this dcclinini; land. 
The king is not himself, but basely led 
By flatterers; and what they will inform. 
Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all, 
That will the king severely prosecute 
'Gainst us, our lives, our children, and our heirs. 
Ross. The commons hath he pill'd** with 
grievous taxes, 
And lost their hearts : the nobles hath he fined 
For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. 
WUio. And daily new exactions are <ie- 
vised ; 
As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what : 
But what, o'God's name, doth become of this ^ 



• Irish soldieri. 
t When of Lii> ag 



t AlIodiDg to the idea that no venomous reptiles live in Ireland. 
5 iaking po»sl.•^elou. jj k^xi:^. %. Depiive«l. •* Filiated. 



j^-ene /.] 



XING RICH4RD li. 



411 



North. Wars have not wasted it, for wari'd 
he hath not. 
But basely yielded upon compromise 
That which his ancestor? achieved with blows : 
More hath he spent in peace, than they in wars. 
Ross, The earl of Wiltshire hath the realm 
in farm. [brok»en man. 

Willo, The king's grown bankrupt, like a 
North, Reproach, and dissolution, hangeth 
over him. [wars, 

Ross. He hath not money for these Irish 
His bnrdenous taxation? notwithstanding. 
But by the robbing of the banisli'd duke. 
North. His noble kinsman: most degene- 
rate king! 
But, lords, we hear thisfearfn! tempest sing. 
Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm : 
We see the wind net sore upon our sails, 
And yet we strike not, but securely perish*. 

Ross. We see the very wreck that we must 
And unavoided is the danger now, [suffer; 
For suffering s > the cause? of our wreck. 
North. >Jot so; even through the hollow 
eyes of death, 
I spy life peering; but I dare not say 
How near the tidings of our comfort is. 
fVillo. Nay, let us share thy thoughts as 
thou dost ours. [land : 

Ross. Be confident to speak, Northumber- 
We tliree are but thyself; and. speakin>j; so. 
Thy words are but as thoughts ; tiierefore be 
bold. [Bi«nc, a bay 

North. Then thus : — I have from Port le 
In Brittany, received intelligence. 
That Harry Hereford, Reignold lord Cobham, 
P'he fon of Richard earl of Arundel,] 
That late broke from the duke of Exeter, 
H.IS brother, archbishop late of Canterbury, 
Sir Thomas Erpinghani, sir John Raniston, 
Sir John Norbery, sir Robert Waterton, and 

Francis Quoint, 

All these well fiirnisli'd by thedukeof Bretagne, 
With eight talltahips, three thousand men of 

war, 
Are making hither with all d^ie expedience J, 
And shortly mean to touch our northern shore : 
Perhaps, they had ere this ; but that they stay 
T\ie first departing of the king for Ireland. 
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke, 
I-mp^ out our drooping country's broken wing, 
Redeem from broking pawn the blemish'd 

crown, 
Wipe off the dust that hides our sceptre's giltH, 
And make high majesty look like itself, 
Away, with me, in post to Ravenspurg: 
-Put if you faint, as fearing to do so, 
Stay, and be secret, and myself will go. 

RoiS. To horse, to horse I urge doubts to 

them that fear. [be there. 

Willo, Hold out my horse, and I will first 

SCENE II. ITie same. A Room in the ' 

Palace. 

Enter Queen, Bushy, and Bagot. 

Bushy. Mrtdam,y our majesty is too much «ad: 



Yon promised, when you parted with the kin^ 
Tc lay aside life4iarming heaviness. 
And entertain a cheerful disposition. 

Queen. To please the king, 1 did ; to please 
myself, 
I cannot do it ; yet 1 know no cause 
Why 1 should welcome such a guest as grief, 
Save bidding farewell to so sweet a guest 
As my sweet Richard: Yet, again, methinks, 
Some unborn soriow, ripe in fortune's womb. 
Is coming towards me; and my inward soul 
With nothing trembles: at something it grieves, 
More than with parting from my lord the king. 

Rushy, hach substance of a grief hath 
twenty shadows. 
Which show like grief itself, but are not so: 
For sorrow's eye, glazed with blinding tears. 
Divides one thing entire to many objects; 
Like perspectivesli, which, rightly gazed upon. 
Show nothing but confusion ; eyed awry. 
Distinguish form : so your sweet majesty. 
Looking awry upon your lord's departure. 
Finds, shapes of grief, more than himself to wail , 
Which, look'don as it is, is nought but shadows 
Of what it is not. Then, thrice gracious queen, 
More than your lord's departure weep Botj 

more's not seen : 
Or if it be, 'tis with false sorrow's eye. 
Which , for thi ngs true, weeps things imaginary 

Queen. It may be so ; but yet my inward 
soul 
Persuades me, it is otherwise: Howe*er it be, 
I cannot but be sad; so heavy sad, [think, — 
As, — though, in thinking, on no thought I 
Makes me with heavy nothing faint and shrink. 

Rushy. 'lis nothing but conceit**, my gra- 
cious lady. [rived 

Queen. Tis nothing less: conceit is still de- 
From some futefathtr grief; mine is not so; 
For nothing hath begot my something grief; 
Or something hath the nothing that 1 grieve: 
Tis in reversion that I do possess; 
But what it is, that is not yet known; whac 
I cannot name ; 'tis nameless woe, I wottt. 
Enter Green. 

Green. God save your majesly ! — and weM 
met, gentlemen : — 
I hope, the king is not yet shippM for Ireland. 

Queen. Why hopest thou so? 'tis better 

h«pe he is ; [hope ; 

For his designs crave haste, his haste good 

Then wherefore dost thou hope, he is not 

shipp'd? [tired his power j|. 

Green, That he, our hope, mieht have re- 
And -driven into despair an enemy's hope. 
Who strongly hath set footing in this land : 
The banish'd Holingbroke repeals himself. 
And with uplifted arms is safe arrived 
At Ravenspurg. 

Queen, Now God in heaven forbid ! 

Green. O, madam, 'tis too true : and that 

is worse, — [Henry Percy, 

The lord Northumberland, his young son 

The lords of Ross, Beaumond, and W illoughby, 

V/ith all their powerful friends, are fled to him. 



• Peri=sh by confidence in oi»r security. + Stout. J Expedition. $ Supply with new 
featii«r«. i! Giidinjj. 51 Pictures. *• Fanciful conception. tt Know. 



It brawn it back 



tl? 



SHAKSPEVRE. 



^£tct ir. 



Bushy. Why have yoo uot proclaim'd 

Northumberland, 
And all the rtst of the revolting faction 
TraHocs ? [cester 

Crr*v//.VVehave : whereon the earl of Wor- 
Hath broke his staff, resit^nM his sttvvardship, 
And all the household servants tied witli hini' 
To Boliiigbroke. [my woe, 

Qnten. So, Green, thou art the midwife to 
And Bolingbioke my soi row's dismal heir: 
Now hath my soul brousjht forth her piodigy ; 
And I, a gasping nevv-deliver'd mother, 
Have woe t > woe, sorrow to sorrow join'd. 

Bushy. Despair n><t, midam. 

Queen, Who shall hinder me? 

1 will despair, and he at enmity 
W uh cozt-niiig hope ; he is a flatterer, 
A parasite, a keeper-'nack of death, 
\S ho gently would dissolve the bands of life. 
Which false hoij^* link^ers in extremity. 
Enter Yokk. 

(rt'ten. Here comes the duke of York, [neck; 

Q ecH. With sigrs of war about his aged 

full of careful business are his looks ! 

r..rk-. 

Tor heaven's sake, speak comfortable words. 

York, should I do so, 1 should belie my 
thouiihts : 
Comfort's in lieaven; and we are on the earth, 
Where nothing livts but crosses, care, and 
^ <.ur husband he is gone to save far otf, [grief. 
\' hilst others come to make him lose at home : 
H' re am I left to underprop his land; 
'.' ho, weak with age, cannot support my- 
self! [made; 

Now comes the sick hour that his suifeit 

Now shall he try his friends that flatter'd him. 

Enter a Servajit. 

Serv, My lord, your son was gone before 
I came. [way it will ! 

york. He was?— Why, so!— go all which 
The nobles they are fled, the commons cold. 

And will, I fear, revolt on Hereford's side. 

•■ Hrrth, 

'/et thee to Plashy, to my sister Gloster ; 
hid her send me presently a thousand pound: — 
Told, take my ring. 

Serv. My lord, I had forgot to tell your lord- 
!". rlay, as I came by, I called there ; [ship: 
lint 1 shall grieve you to report the rest. 

York. What is it, knave I [died. 

Scrv. An hour before 1 came, the duchess 

York. God for his mercy! what a tide •)f woes 
• omes rushing on this woful land at once I 

1 koow not what to do : — I woidd to God, 
.-^o my untruth* had not provoked him to it,) 

i te king had cut off my head with my bro- 
ther's. — [land ? — 
What, are there posts despatch'd for Ire- 
I J o w shall we do for money for these w-ars ? — 
Comt, sister, — cousin, I would say : pray, par- 
don me. — [provide some carU, 
(io, fellow, [f'o the Servant ] get thee home. 
And britjg away the armour that is there. — 

[Exit Servant. 
Geutlemen, will you go muster rnen I if I know 



How, or which way, to order these affairs, 
j Thus thrust di>orderly into my hands, 
I Never believe me. Both are my kinsmen ; 
The one's my sovereign, whom both my oath 
And duty Idds defend; the other a;j;ain. 
Is my kinsman, whom the king hath wrong'd; 
I Whom conscienceand my kindred bidsto right. 
i Well,somewhal we mustdo. — Come,cou8in,rJi 
j Dispose of you : — (io, nmster up your men, 
I And meet me presently at Berkley-castle. 

I should to Plashy loo ; 

But time will not permit : — a^llis uneven. 
And every thing is left at six and seven. 

[Ex( lint York and Qneen. 
Bushy. The wind sets fair for news to go 
to Ireland, 
But none returns. For ns to levy power. 
Proportionable to the enen»y. 
Is all impossible-. [love. 

Green. Besides our nearness lo the king in 
Is near five hale of those love not the king. 
Bugot. And that's the wavering commons: 
for iheir love 
Lies in their purses; and who so empties ihem, 
By so nmcii tills their hearts with deadly hate. 
Bushy. Wherein the king stands generally 
condemn'd. [^e, 

Bagot. If judgment lie in them, then so do 
Because we ever have been near the king. 
Green. Well, I'll for refuge straight to 
Bristol castle; 
The earl of VVilt>ltire is already there. [oflSce 
Bushy. Thither will I with you : foi little 
1 he hateful commons will perform for us; 
Except like curs to tear us all to pieces. — 
Will y<.)u go along with us? 

Bugot. No ; I'll to Ireland to his majesty. 
Farewell: if heart's presjtges be not vain, 
We three here part, that ne'er shall meet 
again. [Holingbroke. 

Bushy. That's as York thrives to beat back 
Green. Alas, poor duke 1 the task he un> 
dertakes [o'cy; 

Is — numb'ring sands, and drinking oceans 
Where one on his side fights, thousands will 
fly. [and ever. 

Bushy. Farewell at once ; for once, for ail. 
Green. Well, we may meet again. 
Bagot. I fear me, never. [Exeunt, 

SCKNE III. The Wilds in Glostershire. 

Enter Bolingbroke and Northumber 

LAND, with Forces. 

Baling. How far is it, my lord, to Berkley 

North. Believe me, noble lord, [now? 

I am a stranger here in Glostershire. 

These high wild hills, and rough uneven w&j-s, 

Draw out our miles, and make them weari* 

some : 
And yet your fair discourse hath been assiigar. 
Making the hard way sweet and delectable. 
r»ut, I bethink me, what a weary way 
From Ilavenspurg to Cotswold.wiHl be found 
In Kfvs and Willougiiby, wanting your com- 

pany; 

Which, I protest, hath very much beguiled 



• ^i!:''^vaU/ 



^cene llIA 



KIxNG aiCHAllD II. 



413 



The tediousncss and process of luy travel : 

Initlheirsis sweeten'd with the hope to have 

1'iie present benefit which I poss«'ss : 

-And hope to joy, is little less in joy, 

Than hope enjoy'd : by this the weary lords 

Shall make their way seem short; as mine 

hath done 
By sight of what 1 have, your noble company. 

Boling. Of much less valne is my coirjpany, 
Than your good words. But who comes here l 
Enter IIarry Percy. 

North. It is my son, young Harry Percy, 
Sent from my brother Worcester, whcnceso- 
Harry, how fares your uncle? [ever. — 

f^ercy. 1 had thought, my lord,to have iearn'd 
his health of you. 

North. Why, is he not with tJie queen? 

Percy. No, my good lord, he hath torsook 
the court. 
Broken his staff of office, and dispersed 
The household of the king. 

North. U hat was his reason I 

lie was not so resolved, when last we spake 

together. [traitor. 

Pf rty.Because your lordshipwas procliiiniecl 
Tut he, my lord, is sjono to Bavenspiug, 
1 o otter service to the duke of Htr^-ford ; 
Aad sent me o'er by Berkle>,to discover 
V-. hat power the duke uf ^ ork h;id levied there 
Then with direriion to repair to Kavenspurg. 

North. Have you f(wgot th« dukf oi Kei^e 
ford, boy? [forgot 

Percy. No, my good lord ; for that is not 
Which ne'er I did remember: to my know 
1 never in my life did look on him. [ledge. 

North. Then learn to know him now; thi^ 
is the duke. [service, 

Percy. My gracious lord, I lender you mj 
Such as It is, i'eing tender, raw, and young ; 
Which elder days ^hall ripen, and confirm 
'lo more approved s*ivice and desert, [sure, 

Boling. I thank thee, gentle Percy ; and be 
I count myself in nothing else so happy, 
As in a soul rerneirjb'ring my good friends; 
And, as my fortune ripens witii thy love, 
Ii shall be still tliv true love's recompense : 
My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus 
seals it. [ftir 

Norlh. How far i»itto Berkley ? And what 

Keeps go<Kl old York there with his men of 

war? [of trees, 

Percy. Ihere stands the castle, by yon tuft 
Mann'd wich three hundred men, as 1 have 



heard : 



Seymour; 



And in it are the lords of York, Berkley, and 
None else of name, and noble estimate. 
JbJntfr lioss a f?d Willcilghhy. 
I^vrth. Here come the lords of Ross and 
Willoughby, 
Bloody with spun ir*g, fiery red with hafcte. 
Boikig. Welcome, my lords: I wot*, your 
love pursues 
A banish'd traitor : all my treasury 
IS yet but unfelt thanks, which, iiioreeniich'd 
fehail be your love and labour's recompense. 



Ross. Your presence makes us rich, most 
noble lord. [i^tin it. 

fTillo. And far surmounts our labour to at- 
Boling. Evermore thanks, the exchequer of 
the poor; 
Which, tiJi my infant fortune comes to ye<irs, 
Stands for my bounty. But who comes here ? 
Enter Berk lily. 

North. It is my lord of Berkley, as I guess. 

Berk. My lord of Hererord, n)> message is 
to you. [\or; 

Boling. My lord, my answer is — to Lanc.as- 
And I am come to seek that name in Eui^iand : 
And I must find that title in your tongue. 
Before I make reply to aught you say. [meaning 

Berk. Mistake me not, my lord ; 'lis not my 
To raze one title of your honour out : — 
To you, my Lord, Iconic, (what lord you will,; 
From the most glorit.us regent of this land, 
The duke of York: to know, what pricks jouon 
To take advantage of The absent time t, [arms. 
And fright our native peace with self-born 
Enter YOKK attended. 

Boling. 1 shall not need transport my words 

by you ; [uncle ! 

Here comes his grace in person. — My noble 

{Knrels, 

y Ork. Show me thy humble heart, and not 
Whose duty is deceivnble and false, [thy knee, 

Boling. My gracious uncle! — 

ycrk. Tut, tiitl 
Grace me no grace, nor uncle me no uncle : 
1 am no traitor's untie ; and that word — grace, 
in an ungracious niouih, is but profane. 
Why have those banish'd and forbidden legs 
Dared once to touch a dust of England's 
ground? ' (to march 

But then more why; Why have tJiey dared 

iSonjany miles upon her peaceful bosom ; 
FiiijhliM'j: her pale-faced villages with war, 
Ami ostKiitaiion of despisi-d arms? [hence? 
Comest thou because tl.e anointed king is 
W hy, foolish hoy, the king is left behind, 
And in my loyal bosom lies Ids power. 
Were I but now thelord of such hot youth, 
Vs when brave Gaunt, thy father, and myself. 
Rescued the Black Prince, that youiig Mars 
of men, [French; 

From forth the ranks of many thoutand 
(), then, how quickly should this arm of mine, 
Now pri5t)ner to the palsy, chastise thee, 
And minister correction to th> fault! [fault; 

Boling. My ^raciousuncie, let nie know my 
On what condition stands it, and wherein? 

York. Even in condition of the worst de- 
gree,— 
In gross rebellion, and detested treason : 
Thou art a banish'd man, and here art come. 
Before iheexpii ation ot thy rime. 
In braviag arms against thy sovereign 

Boling. As 1 was banish'd, I was banish'd 
But as I come, I come tor Lanca.**ter. Hereford; 
Aivd, noble uti.le, I beseech your grace. 
Look on my wrongs with aninditlerent ; eye : 
You are tuy father, for, methinks, in you 



• Know. 



t Time of the king's absence. 



; Impartial. 



414 



SilAKSPEAIlE. 



[Act III. 



I see old Gaunt nlive, (), then, jny father ! 
Will you periTiit that I shall stand condejun'tl 
A wand'ring vagabond ; my rights and royal- 
ties [away 
Pluck'd from my arms perforce, and j;iven 
'J o upslart unthrifts ? Wheiefore was I born? 
If tliat my coosiu king be king of England, 
It must be jiranied, 1 am duke of Lancaster. 
You have a sou, Ann»erle, my neble kinsman ; 
Had you first died, and he had been thus trod 

down, [ther. 

He should have found his uncle Gaunt a fa- 
To rouse his v/rongs •, «Hd chase them to »e 
I am denied to sue my livery f here, [bay. 
And yet my letters-patent give \ne leave : 
My father's goods are alldistrain'd, aud sold ; 
And these, and all, are all amiss employ'd. 
What would yon have me do I am a subject. 
And chaMe»ge law : Attornics are denied me ; 
And therefore personally I lay my claim 
To my inhet itance of tree descent. 
North, The noble duke hath been too much 

abused, [right. 

Ross. It stands your grace upon j, to do him 
Vf'illo. Base men by his endowments are 

madegieait [this, — 

York. My lords of England, let me tell you 
I have had feeling of my conf^in's wrongs, 
Ann laboiir'd all J could to do him ri^ht : 
But in this kinrl to come, in braving arms, 
Be his own carver, and cut out Ins way. 
To lind out right with wrong. — it may not be; 
And you. that do abet him in this kind, 
Cherish rei)ellioM, an«l are rebels alL 

North. The nobie duke hath sworn, his 

coming is 
But for his own : and, for the rigl.t of that, 
We all have strongly sworn to give him aid ; 
And let hisn ne'er see joy, that breaks that 

oath. 
York. Well, well, I see the lesue of these 

arms ; 
. cannot mend it, I must needs confess, 
Because my power is we«k, and aJl ill left : 
But, if 1 could, by Hitn that gave me life, 
I would attach you all, and make you stoop 
Ifnto the sovereign mercy of the king ; 
But, siBce 1 cannot, be it known to you. 



I I do remain as neuter. So, fare you well ; — 
Unless you please to enter m the castle, 

■ An<l there repose you for this ni^ht. 

I Bodn.g. An oifer, uncle, that we will accept. 
But we must win your grace, to go with us 
To Bristol casile ; which, Ihey say, is held 
By Bu.^hy, Bagol, and tlieir complices. 
The caterpillars of the commonwealth, 
Which Ihave sworn to weed, and pluck away 
York. It may be, I will go with you :— but 
yei I'll pause; 
For I aiei loath to break our country's laws. 
Nor friends, nor foes, to me welcome you are : 
Things past redress, are now with me past care. 

[ExeutU* 

SCENE IV. A Camp in Wales. 
jEwfer Salisbury, awrf a Captain. 
Capt. My lord of Salisbury, we have staid 
ten days, 
And hardly kept our countrymen together. 
And yet we hear no tidings from the king ; 
Therefore we will disperse ourselves : farewell. 
lSuL Stay yet another day, thou trusty 
Welshman ; 
The king reposeth all his confidence 
In thee. [not stay. 

Cop, 'Tis thoueht, the king is dead ; we will 
The bay -trees in our country are all wither'd. 
And meteors fright the fixed stars of heaven ; 
The pale-taced moon looks bloody on the earth. 
And lean-look'd prophets whisper fearful 
chan<4e; [leap, — 

Rich men look sad, and ruffi-ins dance and 
I'he one, in fear to lose what they enjoy, 
The other, to enjoy by rage and war : 
These signs forerun th«- death or fall of kings. — 
Farewell; our countrymen are ijrone a:id tied, 
As well assured, Richard their king is dead. 

[Kiit. 
Sal. Ah, Richard ! with the eyes of heavy 
\ see thy glory, like a shooting star, [mind. 
Fill to the base earth from the firmament I 
Thy sun sets weeping in the lowly west, 
Vv iinesj«ing storn)8 to come, woe, and unrest : 
Thy friends are fled, to wait upontl.y foos; 
And crossly to thy good all fortune goes. 

[Exit. 



ACT III. 



8CENE I. Bolingbrokc's Camp at Bristol. 
Enter Bolingbkoke, York, Northum- 

bi;RL4ND, PtllCY, VV'lLLOUG M UY.RuSS : 

(Jjjicers behind with Blsuy and Gek n, 
vrisoners, 

I 
Holing. Bring forth these men. — 
Bushy, and Green, I will not vex your souls 
Siice presently your souls must part your 

bodies), 
With too mu«h urging your pernicious li es, 
For t ?/ere no chanty : yet, to wash your olood 



From oflF ray hands, here, in the view of men, 

I will unfold some causes of your death. 

You have misled a prince, a royal king, 

A happy eentleinan in blood and lineaments. 

By you unhappied and disfigured clean §, 

You have, in manner, witii your sinful hours, 

Made a divorce betwixt his queen and him; 

Br<»ke the possession of a royal bed. 

And Hiain'd the beaut> of a fair qneen's cheeks 

With tears drawn from her eyes by your foul 

wrongs. 
Myself — a prince, by fortune of my birth ; 



Thi pertoa* wbw wronj; hiiu. 



t Poftsesfion of my land, &c. 
^ Coinpletely. 



U if your Interest 



Scene I] 



KING RtCliAHD II. 



415 



T^ear to the king in bluod ; and near in love, 

1 lii you did make liirn misinterpret m , 

Have stoop'd my neck under your injmies, 
And sigh'd my English breath in foreign 
Eating tlie bitter bread of banishment : [clouds, 
Whilst you have led upon my signories, 
DisparkM * my parka, and feJlM ray forest 
woods; [coat I-, 

From my own windows torn my household 
Razed out my impress ;$:, leaving me no sign, — 
Save men's opinions, and my living blood, — 
To show the world I am a gentleman. 
This, and much more, much more than twice 
all this, [liver'd over 

Condemns you to the death: — See them de- 
To execution and the hand of death. [to me, 
Buihy. More welcome is the stroke of death 
n Bolingbroke to England.— Lords, fare- 
well, [take our soulsj 
Green. My comfort is, — that heaven will 
And plague injustice with the pains of hell. 
BoLing. My lord Northumberland, see 
them despatch'd. 

{Exeunt Northumberland a7id 
others, uith Prisoners. 
Uncle, you say, the queen is at your house; 
For heaven's sake, fairly let her be entreat-Ld : 
Tell her, I send to her my kind commends^ ; 
Take special care my greetings be deliver'd. 
York. A gentleman of mine I have de- 
spatch'd 
With letters of your love to her at large. 
Bolfng. Thanks, gentle uncle. — Come, lords, 
away ; 
To ftght with (ilendower and his complices; 
Awhile to work, and, after, holiday. lEaeunt. 

SCENE II. The Coast fWdlea. A castle 

in view. 
Flourish : Drums and Trum/pets. Enter 
King RiCHAKU, Bi.-hop of Carlisle, Au- 
Mi RLE, atid Soldiers, 

K. Rich. Barkloughly castle call yon this 
at hand? [grace the air, 

Aufn, Yea, my lord : How brooks your 
After late tossing on the breaking seas I 

K, Rick. Needs must 1 like it well ; I weep 
for joy, 

To stand upon my kingdom once again. 

Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand, 
Though rebels wound thee with their horses' 

hoofs : 
As a long parted mother with her child 
Plays fondly with her tears, and smiles in 

meeting ; 
So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee, my earth. 
And do thee favour with my royal hands. 
Feed not thy sovereign's foe, my gentle earth. 
Nor with thy sweets comfort his ravenous 

sense : 
But let thy spiders, that suck up thy venom, 
And heavy-gaited toads, lie in their way ; 
I>oJng annoyance to the treicheious feet, 
V\ hich witli usurping steps do ti ample thee. 
Yi»*.ld stiiigiiig nettles to mine enemies: 
And when they from ihy bosom pluck a flower, 



Guard it, I pray thee, with a lurking adder; 
Whose doable tongue may with a mortal toach 
Throw death upon thy sovereign's enemie*.— 
Mock not my senseless conjur iiion, lords ; 
This earth shall have a feeling, and these stone* 
Prove armed soldiers, ere her native king 
Shall falter under foul r-ebellious arms. 

Bishop. Fear not, my lord ; that Power, 
that made you king. 
Hath power to keep you king, in spite of aM. 
The nreans that heaven yields must be em- 
braced. 
And not nei^lected ; else, if heaven would. 
And we will not, heaverr's otter we refuse ; 
The proffer'd means of succour and redress. 
Au7n. He means, my lord, that we are too 
remiss; 
Whilst Bolingbroke, thiough our security. 
Grows strong and great, in substance, and in 
fi'iends. 
K. Rich. Discomfortable cousin! know'st 
thou not. 
That when the searching eye of heaven is hid 
Behind the globe, and lights the lower world. 
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen. 
In nrnrders, and in outrage, bloody here ; 
But when, from under thi? teirestrial ball. 
He fires the proud tops ot the eastern pines, 
.4nd darts his light through every guilty holg 
Then muiders, treasons, and detested sins, 
The cloak of night being pluck'd irom oft their 
backs, [selvesi 

Stand bare and naked, trembling at them- 
So when this thief, thi.- traitor, i^olingbroke, — 
Who all this while hath levUl'd in the ni-ht. 
Whilst we were u andeiing with the antipodes, 
Shrill see us rising in our ihi one the cast, 
His trea.son? \\'\\i sit b.tishing in his face, 
N;t able to endure the sight of d.^y 
Bur, self-afFi ighted, treinbie at his sin. 
Not all the water in the rough rn(?e sea 
Can wa.sh the balm from an anointed king: 
The breath of worldly men cannot depose 
The deputy elected by the Lord : 
For every man that Ho!in<j;broke hath press'd. 
To lift shrewd steel against our golden crown, 
Goil for his Richard h^ith in heavenly p,ty 
A glorious angel: th.^n, if angeis fight, 
Weak men must fall; for heaven still guards 
the right. 

Enter Salisbury. 
Welcome, my lord ; How far off lies your 
power II ? 
Sal. Nor near, nor further off, my gracioua 
lord, [tontjue. 

Than this weak arm: Discomfort guides my 
And bid.s me speak of nothing but despair. 
One day too late, I fear, my nobl-i lord, 
Hath clouded all thy happy days on earth : 
(), call back yesterday, bid time return. 
And thou shalt have twelve thousand tighting 
To-day, to-da.\, unhappy day. too late, [n.eni 
O'erthrows ihy joys, friends, fortune, and thy 

state! 
For all the Welshmen, hearing tho» wert dead 
Are gone to Bolingbroke, dit-pcrsM and tied. 



• Thrown down the bedge.^. t Of arma. j Mottc. $ Commendafion* \ F«.^rce 



4)6 



SHAKSPEAHE. 



[iir/ 111 



Aum. Oonifort, my liege: wliy looks your 
grace 80 pale ^ [tliousand men 

K. huh. But now, the blood of twenty 

Did triumph in my faco, and tiiey are lied; 
And, till so much blood tliiiher come again. 

Have 1 not reason to look pale and deadi 
All souls that will Lc safe, fly from my side; 
For lime hath set a blot upon my pride. 

Aum. Comfort, my liege, remember who 
you are. [king? 

A' liich. 1 had forgot mystlf : Am I not 
Awake, thou sluggard majesty! thon sleep'st. 
Is not the king's najue forty thousand names? 
Arm, arm, my name! a puny subject strikes 
At ihy great glory.— Look not to the ground, 
^ e favourites of a king; Arc we not high? 
ilijih be our thoughts: I know, my unclt York 
Hath power enough to serve our turn. But who 
Coines here ? 

Enter Scroop. 

Scroop. More health and happiness be- 
tide my liege, 
Ihan can my care-tuned tongue deliver him. 

K. Rich. Mine ear is open, and my heart 
prepaied; 
The worst is worldly loss, thou canst unfold. 
Say, is my kingdom lost? why, 'twas my care; 
And what loss is it, to be riil of care? 
Sliives Bolingbroke to be as great as we? 
(ireater he shall not be; if he serve God, 
VV e*ll serve him too, and be his fellow so : 
Revolt our subjects? that we cannot mind ; 
'I'hey break their faith to God, as well as ns : 
Cry, woe, destruction, ruin, lojss, decay : [day. 
The worst is— death, and death will have his 

Scroop. Glad am I, that your higluitssis so 
To bear the tidings of calamity. [ai ni'd 

Like an unseasonable stormy day, [shores, 
Which makes the silver rivers drown their 
As if the world were all dissolved to tears; 
So high above his limits swells the rage 
Of Bolingbroke, covering jour fearful land 
A\ iih hard bright steel, and hearts harder than 
steel. [less scalps 

\\ hite-beaids have arn/d their thin and hair- 
A<jainst th\ majesty; bo}8,witli women's vOi( es, 
Sti ive to speak big, and clap their female joints 
in stift unwieldly arms against thy crowir 
The very beadsmen learn to bend iheir bows 
Of double-fatal yew a-ainst thy stale; 
\ ea, distaft-women manage ru'ty bills 
Against thy seat ; both young ;ind old rebel. 
And all goes worse than I have power to tell. 

K. Rich. Too well, too well, thou tell'st a 
tale so ill. 
\\ here is the earl of Wiltshire? where is Bagot? 
\\ hat is heconte of Biislij ? where is Green? 
1 liat they have let the dangerous enemy 
N'ea.sure tJiir confines withhuch peaceful steps? 
If we prevail, iheir heads shall pay for it. 
I warrant, they have made peace with Boling- 
broke. [indeed, mv lord. 

Scrorjj. Peace have they made with him, 

A'. Rich, O villains, vipers, damn'd with- 
out redemption! 
I)og», easily w on to fawn on «ny man I 
Snakrs, i:i my heart blood wi»rii.'d, ibat mine 
niv h»*Krll 



Three Jud.isses, each one thrice worse tJ»ai 

Judas! 
W^ould they make peace? terrible hell niaka 
Upon their spotted s^jnls for tins otfence ! [w ar 
Scroop. Sweet love, 1 see, changing his pro- 
perty. 
Turns to the sourest and nmst deadly hate: — 
Again uncurse their souls ; their peace is made 
With heads, and not with hands: those wliom 

you curse, [wound, 

Have felt the worst of death's destroying 

And lie full low, graved in the hollow ground. 

Aum. Is Bushy, Green, and the earl of 

Wiltshire, dead ? [heads. 

Scroop. Yea, all of them at Bristol lost their 
Aum. Where is the duke my father with 

his power? [man speak : 

A. Rich. No matter where; of comfort na 
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitiphs ; 
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes 
W rite sorrow on the bosom of the earth. 
Let's choose executors, and talk of wills: 
And yet not so, — ^for what can we bequeath, 
Save our deposed bodies to the ground i 
Our lands, our lives, and all are Bolinghrcke's^ 
And nothing can we call our own. but death; 
And that small model of the barren earth, 
Which serves as paste and cover to our bones. 
For heaven's sake, let us sit upon the ground. 
And tell sad stories of the death of kings : — 
How some have been depos«.d,soBieslain inwar; 
Some haunted by the ghosts they have deposed ) 
Some poisoii'd by their wives, some sleepini; 

kili'd ; 
All murder'd: — For within the hollow crown. 
That rounds the mortal temples of a king, 
Keeps death his court : and there the antic siti, 
Scofiing his state, and grinning at his pomp; 
Allowing him a breath, a little scene 
To monarchize, be fear'd,and kill with looks} 
Infusing him with self and vain conceit, — 
As if this flesh, which walls about our life, 
Were brass inipregnable ; and, humoiir'd thus, 
Comes at the last, and with a little pin [king I 
Boies through his castle wall, and— fareweli 
Coveryour heads, and mock not flesh and blood 
With solemn reverence; throw away respect, 
Tradiiit>n, tbrm, and ceremonious duty, 
For you have but mistook me all this while : 
1 live with bread like you, feel want, taste grief, 
Need friends: — Subjected thus, 
Hov> can J on say to me — I am a king? 
Car. My lord, wise men ne'er wail their pre* 

sent woes, 
But prci>entl5 prevent the ways to wail. 
Jo fear the foe, since fear oppress»th strength. 
Gives, in your weakntss,streng»i'untoyourfoe. 
And so } our follies figlit against yourself. 
Fear, and besiain; no worse can come, to fi^lit' 
And fi^ht and die, is death destroying death ; 
W herefearingd>ing,pays death servilebreatli: 
Au7n. My father hath a power, inquire ot 
And learn to m tke a body of a limb. /nl"» ; 
A'. Rich, Thou chidest me well: — Piond 

Bolingbroke, I come ('to i. 
To change blows with thee for our nay ol 
This a^.tjfc-fit of fr.ir is rvi-i- lil'\\ ri ; 
.fni t.ij> l.;Bk li i.s lo win oui ov. u. 



i 



Xrenc 11. 



KING RICHARD IT. 



417 



Say, ocr(>op, where lif's onr nncle with his 

power ( [sour. 

SpeaK svveeily, man, although thy looks be 

iSooop. Men ju ige by the complexionof the 

The Slate and incTination ot the day : [sky 
So may > on by my dnil and heavy eye. 

My tongue hath but a heavier tale to say. 
1 play the torturer, by small and small. 
To lengthen out the worst that must be spoken : 
Your uncleYork hathjoin'd withBolingbroke; 
And all your northern castles yielded up. 
And all your southern gentlemen in arms 
Upon his party *. 

K. Rich. Thon hast said enough. 

I3eshrew+ thee, cousin, which didst lead me 
for t h [To A u M L R L E . 

Of that sweet way T was in to dtspair! 
What say you now ? What comfort have we 
By heaven, V\\ hate him everlastingly, [now? 
That bids me be of comfort any more. 
Go, to Flint castle; there I'll pine away; 
A king, woe's slave, shall kino;ly woe obey, [go 
That power; I have, discharge; and let them 
To ear ^ the land thathath some hope to grow, 
For I have none :— Let no man speak again 
To alter this, for counsel is but vain. 

Aum. My liej^e, one word. 

K. Rich. He does me don hie wrong 

That wounds me with the flatteries of his 

tongue. [Away, 

Discharge my followers, let them hence ; — 

From Richara's night, to Bolingbroke's fair 

day. [tlxeunt. 

SCENE III. 

Wales. Before Flint Castle, 
Writer, ivith Drnm and Colours, Bo ling- 
broke and Forces ; York, Northum- 
berland, am^ Others. 
Boling. So thatby this intelligence we learn, 
The Welshmen are dispersed; and Salisbury 
3s gone to meet the king, who lately landed. 
With s(<me few private friends,upon thiscoast. 
North. The news is very fair and good, my 
lord ; [head. 

Richard, not far from hence, hath hid his 
York. It would beseem the lord Northum- 
berland, 
To say — king Richard :— Alack the heavy day, 
When such a sacred king should hide his head ! 
North. Your grace mistakes me ; only to 
Left I his title out. [be brief Ij, 

York. The time hath been, [would 

Would you have been so brief with him, he 
Have been so brief with you, to shorten you. 
For taking so the head II, your whole head's 
length. [should. 

Boling. Mistake not, uncle, further than you 
York. Take not, good cousin, further than 
you should, [head. 

Lest you mis-take: The heavens are o'er your 
BuLing. I know it, uncle; and oppose not 
M.y=elf against their will, — But who comes 
liAiter Percy. [here? 

»» cu, Harry ; what, will not this castle yield? 



Percy Jihe castle royally is n)aiinM,njy loid. 
Against thy entrance. 

Boling. Royally ! 
Why, it contains no king ? 

Percy. Yes, my good lord, 

It doth contain a king ; king Bichard lies 
Within the llnuts of yon lime and slone : 
And with him are the lord Aumerle, lord Sa- 
lisbury, 
Sir Stephen Scroop ; besides a clergyman 
Of holy reverence, who, I cannot learn. 

North. Belike, it is the bishop of Carlisl'i. 

Boling. Noble lord [7"o N or-ih. 

Go to the rude ribs of that ancient castle; 
Through braxen trumpet send the breath of 

parle** 
Into his rnin'd ears, and tliu^ deliver. 
Harry Bolingbroke [hand ; 

On both his knees doth kiss king Ricii.iid'i 
And sends allegiance, and true fiiith of l!e;«t. 
To his most royal person: hither come 
Even at his feet to lay my arms and power ; 
Provided that, my banishment r< peal'd. 
And Innds restored again, be freely granti-d : 
If not, I'll use the advantage of my po\\<>r. 
And lay the summer's dust with showers o( 
blood, [lishnun : 

Rain*d from the wounds of slaughter'd Eng 
The which, how far off from the mind of iiir 

lingbioke 
It is, such crimson tempest should bedreiuh 
Thefresh green lap of fair king Richard's land, 
My stooping duty tenderly shall show. 
Go, signify as much; while here we march 
Upon the grassy carpet of this plain. — 

[NORTHUMBt.RLAND OdViUCeS tO ( ht 

Castle, ivith a Trumpet. 
Let's march without the noise of threat'niiig 

drum. 
That from the castle's totter'd battlements 
Our fair appointments may be well perused. 
Metliinks, king Richard and myself should 
W ith no less terror than the elemeuts [meet 
Of tire and water,when their thund'ring shock 
At meeting tears the cloudy cheeksof heaven. 
Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water: 
The f age be his, while on the earth I rain 
My waters; on the earth, and not on him. 
March on, and mark king Richard how he 

looks. 

A parlc sounded, and ansicered by another 

Trumpet within. Flourish. Filter on 

the vails King Richard, the Bishop of 

Carlisle, Aumerle, Scroop, and Salis 

BURY. 

York. See, see, king Richard doth himself 
As doth the blushing discontented sun [appear 
From out the fiery portal of the east ; 
When he perceives the envious clouds are bent 
To dim his glory, and to stain the track 
Of his bright passage to the Occident. 
Yet looks he like a king; behold, his eye, 
As bright as is the eagle's, lightens fortii 
Controlling majesty; Alack, alack, for woe, 
That any harm should ^taiu so fair a sho^ ! 



Part. 



} Lil t.tliue. 



X Force. § Plough. 

•♦ PaHey. 



, Short. 



f Stvch libel t> 



413 



SHAKSPEARF. 



Urf lit 



K. Rich. We are amaKwlj and thus long 
have we stood 
To watch the fearful bending of thy knee, 

[7(> Northumberland. 
Be-ause we thought onrself thy lawful king : 
And if we be, how dare thy joints forget 
To pny their awful duty to our presence? 
If we lie not, shosv us the hand of God 
That hath disnilss'd us from our stewardship; 
For well we know, no hand of blood and bone 
Can gripe the sacred handle of owr sceptre, 
Unless he do profane, steal, or usurp. [done. 
And though you think, that all, as you have 
Have torn their souls, by turning them from us, 

And we are barren, and bereft of friends ; 

Yet kno\v — my master. God omnipotent. 
Is must'ring in his clouds, on our behalf, 
Arndes of pestilence; and they shall strike 
Your rhihiren yet unborn, and unbegot. 
That lift your vassal hands against my head. 
And threat the glory of my precious crown. 
Tell Bolmiibroke, (for yond*methinks, he is,) 
That every stride he makes upon my land. 
Is danij;erons treason : He is come to ope 
The purple testament of bleeding war ; 
Hut eie the crown he looks for live in peace. 
Ten thousand bloody crowns of mother^' sons 
Shall ill become the flower of England's fare *: 
Change the complexion of her maid-pale peice 
I'o scarlet indignation, and bedew 
Her pastures' grass vviih faithful English blood. 

IVorth^. The King of heaven forbid, our lord 
Shoidd so with civil ami uncivil arms [the king 
Be rush'd upon ! Thy thrice-noble cousin, 
Harry Bolingbroke, doth humbly kiss thy 
And by the honourable tomb he swears, [hand ; 
Tuat stands upon thy royal grand.eire's bones; 
And by the royalties of both your bloods. 
Currents that spring from one most gracious 

head ; 
And by the buried hand of warlike Gaunt ; 
And by the worth and honour of himself, 
Comprising all that may be sworn or said, — 
His coming hither hath no further scope, 
Than for his lineal royalties, and to beg 
Enfranchisement immediate on his knees: 
Which on thy royal party granted once. 
His glittering arms he will commend + to rust. 
His barbed steeds to stables, and his heart 
To faithful service of your majesty. 
This swears he, as he is a prince, is just; 
And, as I am a gentleman, I credit hirn. 

K. Rich. Northumberland, say, — thus the 

king returns; 

His noble cousin is right welcome hither ; 
And all the number of his lair demands 
Shall be accomplish'd without contradiction: 
With all the gracious utterance ihou hast, 
Sptstk to his gentle hearing kind commends. — 
We do debase curself, cousin, do we not, 

[7b AUMF.RLE. 

To look so poorly, and to speak so fair? 
Shall we call b.ick Northumberland, and send 
Deti.nce to the traitor, and so die? 

Anrn, No, good my lord; \ti*% fight with 
gentle words. 



Till time lend friends, and friends their heip- i 

■ful swords. [tongue of minr, 

/r. Rch. O God! O God! that e'er tl-.i. 
That laid the sentence of dread banishnuni 
On yon proud man, should take it off a.;ain 
V\ ith words of sooth ^ I U,that I were as great 
As is my grief, or lesser than my nante! 
Or that I could forget what I hive been! 
Or not remember what I must be now! 
Svvell*st thou, proud heart? I'll give thee scope 

to beat, [me. 

Since foes have scope to beat both thee and 

Aum. Northumberland comes back Irom 

Bolihgbioke. [Must he submit? 

K, Rich. What must the king do now? 
The king shall do it. Must he be deposed? 
Tlie king shall be contented : Must he lose 
The name of king? o'God's name, let it go : 
I'll give njy jewels, for a set of beads; 
My gorgeous palace, for a hermitage ; 
My gay apparel, for an alms-man's gown ; 
My ligured goblets, for a dish of wood ; 
My sceptre, for a palmer's walking-statf ; 
My su! jecls, for a pair of carved saints; 
And my large kingdom for a little grave, 
A little little grave, an obscure grave: — 
Or I'll be buijed in the king's highway, [feet 
Sor.ie way of common trade, where subjects' 
May hourly trample on their sovereign's head ; 
For i>n my heait they tread, now whilst I live; 
And, buried once, why not upon my head? — 
Aumerie, thou weep'st ; My tender-hearted 

cousin ! — 
\'\ e'll make foul weather with despised tears j 
Our si:ihs, and they, shall lodge the sunimet 

corn, 
A\nd make a dearth in this revolting land. 
Or shall WG play the wantons with our woes. 
And make some pretty match with sbedtlinf 

tears? 
As thus : — To drop them still upon one place 
Till they have fretted us a pair of graves 
W ithin the earth; and, therein laid, T/zerf //>* 
Two kinsmen, dig^^'d their grates uith wi cp 

ini^ eyes ? 
Would not this ill do well?— Well, well, I set 
1 talk but iflly, and you mock at me. — 
Mostmi.hty prince, my lord Northumberland, 
Whatsaysking Bolingbroke! will his majesty 
Give Richard leave to live till Richird die? 
You make a leg$, and Bolingbroke says — ay. 
North. My lord, in the base |1 court he doth 

attend [down? 

To speak with you ; may't please yon to coni« 

K. Rich. Down, down, 1 come; like glisler 

inv Phaeton, 
Wanting the manage of unrnly jades. 

[SowTn. retires to Bo ling 
In the base court? Base court, wht re king% 

prow base, 
To come at traitors' calls, and do them grace. 
In the base court? Comedown? Down, court 

down king! [should sing. 

For night-owls shriek, where mounting lirk. 

[ Exuint , from abot e 

Boling. What says his Majesty ? 



♦ Comndt. 



t Softness. 



§ A bow. 



11 Lov-'er 



r 



Ac(ne III 



KING RICHARD II. 



4\9 



yoi th. Sorrow and grief of heart 

Makes him speak fondly *, like a frantic man : 
Vot he is come. 

£nter King Richard, and his Attendants, 
below. 

Baling, Stand all apart, 

A.nd show fair duty to his majesty. 

My gracious lord, [Kneeling. 

K. Rich. Fair cousin, you debase your 
princely knee. 
To make the base earth proud with kissing it : 
Me rather had, ray heart might feel your love, 
Thau my unpleased eye see your courtesy. 
Up, cousin, up; your heart is up. I know. 
Thus high at least, [Touching his oivn head.] 
although your knee be low. 

Baling. My gracious lord, I come but for 
mine own. [yours, and all. 

K. Rich. Your own is yours, and I am 

Boiirig. So far be mine, my most redoubted 
lord, 
4s my true service shall deserve your love. 

K. Rich. Well you deserve : — They well 
deserve to have, 
/hat know the strong'st and surest way to get. 
IJncle, give me your hand : nay, dry your eyes ; 
Tt-ars show tlieir love, but want their remedies. 
Cousin, I am too young to be your father. 
Though you are old enough to be my heir. 
What you will have, I'll ^ive.and willing too; 
For do we must, what force will have us do. 
Set on towards London:— Cousin, is it so ? 

Boling. Yea, my good loid. 

K. Rich, Then 1 must not say, no. 

[Flourish. Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. Langley. The Duke of York's 

Garden. 

Enter the Queen, and two Ladies. 

Queen. What sport shall we devise here in 
this garden, 
'fo drive away the heavy thought of care? 

1 Lady. JMadam, we'll play at bowls. 

Queen. 'Twill make me think, 

Fhe world is full of rubs, and that my fortune 
3<,uns 'gainst the bias f. 

1 Lady. Madam, we will dance. 

Queen. My legs can keep no measure in de- 
lighi, 
When my poor heart no measure keeps in grief : 
S'herefore, no dancing, girl ; some other sport. 

1 Lady. Madam, we'll tell tales. 

Queen. Of sorrow, or of joy? 

1 Lady. Of either, madam. 

Queen. Of neither, girl : 

Tor if of joy, being altogether wanting. 
It doth remember me the more of sorrow ; 
Or, if of grief, being altogether had, 
It adds more sorrow to my want of joy : 
For what I have, I need not to repeat; 
And what I want, it boots | not to complain. 

1 Lady. Madam, I'll sing. 

Queen. 'Tis well, that thou hast cause; 

"But thou shouldst please me better, wouldst 
thou weep. 



1 Lady. I could weep, madam would it 

do you good. 
Queen. And J could weep, would weeping 

do me good. 
And never borrow any tear of thee. 
But stay, here come the gardeners: 
Let's step into the shadow of these trees. — 

Enter a Gardener, and ttvo Servants. 
My wretchedness unto a row of pins, 
Ihey'll talk of state: for every one doth so 
Against a change: Woe is forerun with wee, 
[Queen and La(iies retire. 
Card. Go, bind thou up yon* dangling 

apricocks. 
Which, like unruly childreji, make their sire 
Stoop with oppression of their prodigal weight : 
Give some supportance to the bending twigs. 
Go thou, and like an executioner. 
Cut off the heads of too-fast growing sprays 
That look too lofty in our eommouwealth: 

All must be even in our government. 

You thus ecnploy'd, I will go root away 
The noisome weeds, that without profit suck 
The soil's fertility from wholesome flowers. 
1 Serv. Why should we, ii the compass of 

a palej. 
Keep law, and form, and due proportion, 
Showing, as in a model, our hrm estate ? 
When our sea-walled garden, the whole land 
Is full of weeds ; her fairest flowers choked up, 
Her fruit-tvees all unpruned, her hedges ruin'd. 
Her knots II disorder'd, and her wholesome 
Swarming with caterpillars? [herbs 

Gard. Hold thy peace : — 

He that hath suffer'd this disorder'd spring, 
Hath now himself met with the fall of leaf: 
The weeds, that his broad spreading leaves did 

shelter, 
That seemM in eating him to hold him up, 
Are pluck'd up, root and all, by Bolingbroke; 
I mean, the earl of Wiltshire, Bushy, Green. 
1 iS'erv. What, are they dead? 
Gard. They are ; and Bolingbroke [is it, 
Hath seized the wasteful king. — Oh! what pity 
That he had not so trimm'd and dress'd his 

land, 
As we this garden ! We at time of year 
Do wound the bark, the skin of our fruit-trees ; 
Lest, being over-proud with sap and blood. 
With too much riches it confound itself: 
Had he done so to great and growing men, 
1 hey might have lived to bear, and he to taste 
Their fruits of dnty. All superfluous branches 
We lop away, that bearing boughs may live: 
Had he done so, himself had borne the 

crown. 
Which waste of idle hours hath quite thrown 

down. 
1 Serv. What, think you then, the king shall 

be deposed ? 
Gard. Depress'd he is already ; and deposed, 
'Tisdoubtll, he will be: Letters came last night 
To a dear friend of the good duke of York*s, 
That tell black tidings. 

Quee7i. O, I am press'd to death 

I Foolwhly. t A weight fixed on one side of the bowl which turns it from the straight line 
I i^'rofits. i Knclosure, U Figures pi tnied in box. 1' ^o douht. 



420 



SHAKSPEAUE. 



f4c- ly 



l*" rough want of speaking; ! — Thoa, old Adam's 

likeness, 

\ Coming from htr concealment. 
Set to dices this siardeii, how darea [news ? 
'ihy harsli-rude tongue soand this unpl^asing 
What Eve, what serpent hath suggesttid thee 
To make a second fall of cursed man? 
Why dost thou say, king Richard is deposed? 
Darest thou, thou little better thing than earth, 
Divine his downfal ? Say, where, when, and 

how, [wretch. 

Caniest thou by these ill tidings? speak, ihoii 
Gard. l^ardon me, madam : little Joy have I, 
To breathe this news; yet, what I say, is true. 
King Kichard, he is in the mighty hold 
Of Bolingbroke; their fortunes both are 

weigh'd : 
In your lord's scale is nothing but himself: 
And some few vanities that make hiia light; 
But in the balance of great Bolingbroke, 
Besides himself, are all the English piers, 
A.ud with that odds he weighs king Richard 

down. 



Post you to London, and you'll find it so; 
I speak no more than every one doth kiu»w. 
i^aeeii, Nimble mischance, that art so light 

of foot. 
Doth not thy embassage belong to me, 
And am I last that knows it? O, thou il iuk'st 
lo serve me last, that I may longest keep 
rhy sorrow in my breast. — Come, ladies, go. 
To meet, at London, London's king in woe- — 
What, was 1 born to this! that my sad look 
Should grace the triumph of great Bolingbroke? 
Gardener, for telling me this news of woe, 
I would, the plants thou graft'st, may nevei 

grow. \^Exeu4it Queen awd Ladit-s, 

Gard. Poor queen! so that thy state might 

be no worse, 
I would, riiy skill were subject to thy curse. — 
Here did she drop a tear ; here, in this place, 
I'll set a bank of rue, sour herb of grace : 
Rue, even for ruth * here shortly shall ; e seen. 
In the remembrance of a weeping queen. 

\^Exeunt, 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. London. Westminster Hall. 
V/ie Lords spiritual on the right side of the 
Throne; the Lords temporal on the left ; 
the Commons betoio. Enter Boling- 
broke, AuMERLE, Surrey, Nokthcm- 
BERi.AND, Percy, Fitzwater, another 
Lord, Bishop tf Carlisle, Abbot of West- 
minster, and Attendants. Officers behind, 
with Bagot. 

Bolhtg. Call forth Bagot; 

Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind ; 
VV hat thou dost know of noble Gloster's death ; 
VVlvo wrought it with the king, and who \)er- 
f he bloo'ly office of his timelessf end. [form'd 
Bagot. Then set before my face the lord 
Aumerle. [that man. 

Boling. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon 
Bagot. My lord Aumerle, I know your 
daring tongue 
Scorns to unsay what once it Lath deliver'd. 
Ih that dead time whe* Crlogter's death was 

plotted, 
1 heard you say, — Is not my arm of lengthy 
Tnut reucheth from the restful /Cii^gliyh 
A.S ftir us Calais, to my H?icle*s head? [cuurt 
Amongst much other talk, that very lime, 
1 heard >ou siy, that you hud rattier refuse 
The otter of nn hundred thousand cri>wns, 
Than Bolingbroke's return to England ; 
A'hiing v.ithal,how blest this land would be. 
In this your cousin's death. 

^iim. Princes, and noble lords. 

What answer shall I make to this base man? 
Shall I so much dishonour my fair stais. 
On equal terms to give him chastisement? 
Either I mnst, or have mine honour soii'd 

With the attainder of his sland'rom lips. 

There is rny gage, the manual seal of death, 

• l*ity. 



That marks thee ont for hell : I say, t.iou est, 
And will maintain, what thouhaat raid, is false 
In thy heart blood, though being all loo base 
To stain the temper of my knightly swoi d. 

Bolivg. Bagot, forbear, thou shalt not lake 
it up. [bt St 

Aunt. Excepting one, I would he v/cre ihe 
In all this presence, that hath moved me so. 

Fitz. If that thy valour stand on sy mp.it hies. 
There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thinr: 
By that fair sun that shows me where thou 
stand'st, ,if, 

I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spakest 
That thou weri cause of noble Gloster's <!fath. 
If thou deny'st it, twenty times thou liest ; 
And I will turn tliy falsehood to thy heart, 
Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. 

Aum. Thou darest not, coward, live ti> ste 
that day. [lumr. 

Fitz. Now, by my soul, I would it we' c this 

Aum. Fiizwatei thou art damn'd to h* U tor 
this. [as inie, 

Percy. Aumerle, thou liest; his hoii«»iir is 
In this appeal, as thon art all unjust: 
And, that ihou art so, theie I throw my gairc, 
I'o prove it on thee to the extreniesl poii.i 
Of mortal breathing ; seize it, if thou dar' si. 

Aim. And if 1 do not, may my hands iut«.)tf, 
And never brandish more revengeful sled 
Over the glittering helmet of my foe! 

Jjoni. I take the earth to the like, forsworn 
Aumerle; 
And spur thee on with full as many lie? 
As may be holl I'd in thy treacherous ear 
From sun to sun : there is my honour's pa^vn; 
Engage il to the trial if ihou darest. 

Aum. Wlio sets me else? by heavc-n V\\ 
throw at all : 
I have a thansand ii|)iiit» in on*- hit-iief, *'\ 

f l/iitiinely. 

i 



Scene /.J 



KING RICHARD II. 



421 



I'o answer tweniy tliousand such as you. [well 

Surrey. My Und Fit/-\vattr, I do j emcniber 
Tht- very timeAumerle and you did talk, [then ; 

Fitz. My lord, 'tis true: you wei e in presence 
And you can witness with ine, this is true. 

Surrey. As false, by heaven, as heaven itself 

Fitz. Surrey, thou liest. [is true. 

Surrey. Dishonourable boy ! 

That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword, 
Thai it shall render vengeance and revenge, 
Till thou the lie-giver, and that lie, do lie 
In earth as quiet as thy father's scull, 
la proof whereof, there is my honour's pawn ; 
Enjiage it to the trial, if thou darest. [horse 1 

F tz. How fondly dost thou spur a forward 
If I dare eat, or drink, or breathe, or live, 
1 dare meet Surrey in a wilderness. 
And spit upon him, whilst I say, lie lies. 
And lies, and lies : there is my bond of faith, 
To tie thee to my strong correction. — 
Ah I intend to thrive in tiiis new world, 
Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal : 
Besides, I heard the bnnish'd iSorfolk say. 
That tliou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men 
To execute the noble duke at Calais, [a gage, 

Aum. Some honest Christian trust me with 
That Norfolk lies; here I do throw down this. 
If lie may be repeat'd to try his honour, [gage, 

Boliig. These differences shall all rest under 
Till Noifolk be repeal'ci : repeal'd he shall be, 
Andjthough mineenemy,restored again [turn'd, 
To ail his land and signories: when he's re- 
AgHinst Aumerle we will enforce his trial. 

Car. That honourable day shall ne'er be seen. 
Many a time hath banish'd Norfolk fought 
For JesM Christ : in glorious Christian field 
Streaming the ensign of the Christian cross. 
Against black Pagans, Turks, and Saracens: 
And, toil'd with works of war, retired himself 
To Italy; and there, at Venice, gave 
His bttdy to that pleasant country's earth, 
Aiid his pure soul unto his captain Christ, 
Lnder whose colours ht had fought so long. 

Biilii'g. Why, bishop, is Norfolk dead? 

Car. As suie as I live, mj lord, [the bosom 

Biliiig, Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to 
Of good old Abraham!— Lords Appelhints, 
"^ our differences siiall all rest under gage. 
Till we assign you to your days of trial. 
E.'iter York, attended. 
York. Great duke of Lancaster, I come to 
thee [ing soul 

From plume-pluck'd Richard ; who with will- 
Adopts thee heir, and his high sceptre yields 
To the po.«session of thy royal hand: 
. Ascend his throne, descending now from him — 
And long live Henry, of that name the fourth ! 
Bolli.g. In God's name, I'll ascend the regal 
Car. Many, God forbid! — [throne. 

Worst in this royal presence may I speak. 
Yet best beseeming me to speak the truth. 
Would God, that any in this noble presence 
Weie enough noble to be upright judge 
Of noble Richard; then true nobless* would 
Learn him forbearance from so foul a wrong. 
What subject can give sentence on his king? 



And who fits here, that is not Richard'ssnbjectt 
Thieves are not judged, but they are by to hear, 
Although apparent gu It be seen in them: 
And shall the figure of God's majesty. 
His captain, steward, deputy elect. 
Anointed, crowned, planted many years, 
3^e judged by subject and inferior breath. 
And he himself not present? O, forbid it, God, 
That, in a Christian climate, souls refined 
Should show so heinous, black, obscene a deedl 
I speak to subjects, and a subject speaks, 
Stirr'd up by heaven, thus boldly for his king. 
My lord of Hereford here, whom you call king, 
Is a foul traitor to proud Hereford's king: 
And if you crown him, let me prophesy, — 
The blood of English shall manure the ground. 
And future ages groan for this foul act; 
Peace shall go sleep with Turks and Infidels, 
And, in this seat of peace, tumultuous wars 
Shall kin with kin, an<i kind with kind cou. 
Disorder, horror, fear, and mutiny, [found; 
Shall here inhabit, and this land be call'd 
The field of Golgotha, and dead men's skulls. 
O, if you rear this house against this house. 
It will the wofullest division prove, 
That ever fell up n this cursed earth: 
Prevent, resist it, let it not be so, 
Lest child, child's children, cry against yon — 
woe! [your pains, 

North, Well have you argued, sir; and, for 
Of capital treason we arrest you here: — 
My lord of Westminster, be it your charge 
To keep him safely till his day of trial. — 
May't plense you. lords, to grant the common's 
suit. [mon view 

Boli'ig. Fetch hither Richard, that in corn- 
He may surrender; so we shall proceed 
Without suspicion. 

York. I will be his conduct t. {Exit, 

Boltng. Lords, you that are here under our 
arrest, 
Procure your sureties for your days of answer* 
Little are we beholden to your love, 

{To Carlisle. 
And little look'd for at your helping hands. 
Re-etiter York, with King Richard, and 
Ofliceis bearing the crou7i, 4c- 

K. Bich. Alack, why am 1 sent for to a king, 
Before I have shook off the regal thoughts 
Where\\ ith 1 reign'd ? I hardly yet have learn*/ 
To insinuate, flatter, bow, and bend my knee:— 
Give sorrow leave a while to tutor me 
To this submission. Yet I well remember 
Thefavours;ofthesemen : Were they notmine? 
Did they not sometime cry, all hail! to me? 
So Judas (lid to Christ: but he, in twelve. 
Found truth in all, but one; I, in twelve 

thousand, none. 
God save the king!— Will no nnan say, ament 
Am I both priest and clerk? well then, amen. 
God save the king! although I be not he; 
And yet, amen, if heaven do tbink him me. — 
To do what service am I sent for hither? [will, 

York. To do that office, of thiiie own good 

Which tired majesty did make thee offer, • 

The resignation of thy stale and crown 



• Nobleness. 



t Conductor. 



t Countenances. 
o 



422 



SHAKSPEARE. 



^Arf rV 



Tu Heory Bolingbroke. [seize the crown; 

K. Hick. Giveine the crown: — Here, cousin, 
Jlere,ou thibside, my hand; on thai side, thine. 
Now is this ^.olden crown like a deep well, 
That owes* two buckets filling one another; 
The emptier ever dancing in the air. 
The other down, unseen, and tull of water : 
That buckctdown.and full oftears, am I, [hiiih. 
Drinking my griefs, whilst you mount up on 

Boling. 1 thought you had been willing to 
resign. [are mine: 

K, Rich. My crown, I am; butstili my griefs 
You m ly my glories and my state depose, 
But not my griefs; dtill am 1 kint^ of those. 

Baling. Part of your cares you give rae with 
your crown. [my cares down. 

K. Rich. Your cares set up, do not pluck 
My care is — loss of care, by old care done ; 
Your care is — gain of care, by new care won : 
The cares I give, I have, though given away; 
They tendt the crown, yet still with me they 
?tay. [crown? 

JSoling. Are you contented to resign the 

FC. Rich. Ay, no; — no. ay; — for I must no- 
Therefore no no, for I resign to thee, [thing be ; 
Now mark me how I will unrio myself: — 
I give this heavy weight from otf my head. 
And this unwieldy sceptre from my hand, 
The pride of kingly sway from out my heart; 
With mine own tears 1 wash aw^y my balmi. 
With mine own hands I give away my crown. 
With mine own tongue deny my sacred state, 
Wiih mine own biealh release all dutevjus 
All pomp and majesty I do forswear; [oaths; 
My manors, rents, revenues, 1 forego; 
My acts, decrees, and stntntes, I <leiiy : 
God pardon all oaths, thrtt are broke to me! 
God keep all vows unbroke, are made to thee! 
Make me, that nothing have, with nothing 

grieved ; 
And thou with all pleased, that hast all achieved! 
Long njayNt thou live in Kichard'sseal to sit. 
And soon lie Richard in an earihy pit! 
fiod save king Henry, unking'd Richard says, 
And send him many years of sunshine days ! — 
What more remains? 

I^orth, No more, but that you read 

[Ojferhig a Paper, 
These accusations, and these grievous crimes, 
Committed by your person,and your followers, 
Against the state and profit of this land ; 
That, by confeasing them, the souls of men 
May deem that you are worthily deposed. 

A . Rich. Must I do so? and must 1 ravel out 
My weaved-up follies? Gentle Northumiier- 
If thy offences were upon record, [l.ind, 

Would it not shame thee in so fair a troop. 
To read a lecture of them? If thou wouldst, 
There shoiil 1st thou find oneheiii«ius article, — 
Containing the deposing of a kiiijj, 
And cr.'.cking the strong warrant of an oaih, — 
MarkM with a blot, damn'd in the book of 

heaven : — 
Nay, all of you, that stand and look upon me, 
Whilst that my wretchedness doth bait my- 
self, — (hands, 
Though some of you, with Pilate, wash your 



Showing an outward pity; yet you Pilates 
Have here deliver'd nie to my sour cross. 
And water cannot wash aw^y your sin. 

North. My lord, despatch ; read o'er thene 
articles. [cannot see: 

K. Rich. Mine eyes are fwll of tears, 1 
And yer salt water blinds them not so much. 
But they can see a sort§ of traitors here. 
Nay, if I turn mine eyes upon myself, 
I find myself a traitor with the rest: 
For I have given here my soul's consent. 
To undeck the pompous body of a king; 
Make glory base ; and sovereignty, a slave ; 
Proud majesty, a subject; state, a peasant. 

North. My lord, 

K, Rich. No lord of thine, thou haught||, 
insulting man, 
Nor no man's lord : I have no name, no title, — 
No, not that name was given me at the font,— 
But 'lis usurp'd: — AlacU the heavy day. 
That I have worn so many winters out, 
And know not now what name to call niyselfj 
O, that I were a mockery king of snow, 
Standing before the sun of IJolingbroke, 
To laelt myself away in water-drops! — 
Good king,— great king, —(and yet not greatly 

good,) 
An if my word be sterling yet in England, 
Let it command a mirror hither straight ; 
That it may show me what a face I have, 
Since it is bankrupt of his majesty. 

Boling. Go some of you, and fetch a 
looking-glass. {Eiit an Atten<lant. 

North. Read o*er this paper, while the 
glass doih come. [I come to hell.. 

K. Hick. Fiend! thou tormenl'st me ere 

Baling. Urije it no more, my lord Nor- 
thumberland, [satisfied. 

North, 'ihe commons will not then be 

K. Rich. They shall be satisfied : PU read 
enouiih, 
When 1 do see the very book indeed 
Where all my sins are writ, and that's — myself. 

Ri -enter Attendant, ulth a Glass. 
Give me that glass, and therein will I read. — 
No deeper wrinkles yet? Hath sorrow struck 
So many blowb upon this face of mine, 
And made no deeper wounds? O, flattering 
Like to my followers in prosperity, [glass, 
Thou rio;^t beguile me! VVas this fare the face. 
That every day under his household roof 
Did keep ten thousand men? V\ as (his the face, 
'J'hal, like the sun, did make beholders wink { 
Wa# this the f tee, that faced so many follies. 
And was at last out-faced by Bolingbroke? 
A brittle glory shineth in this lace: 
As britile as the glory is the face; 

[Ott.\hes the Glass a<:ainst the ground. 
For there it is, crack'^l in a hundred shivers. — 
Mark, silent king, the nioial of this sport, — 
How soon my soiri»w hath de«troy'd my la e. 

Bolina. The shadow of your sorrow hath 
The shadow of your face. [dertroy'd 

K. /Uch. Say that again. 

The sliadow of my sorrow? Hal let's see: — 
1 1 1S ver> true, my grief lies all v^ ithin; 
I And these external marmers of lament 



S ene I.] 



KING RICHARD II. 



Aie merely sliadows to the unseen grief, 
That swells vviih silence in the tortnrefl soul ; 
There lies the substance; and i thank thee, 

k\i\'j:,. 
For thy great bounty, that not only givest 
Me c.uise to wail, but teachest nie the way 
How to lament the cause. I'll beg one boon, 
And then be gone, and trouble you no more. 
bhall I obtain it? 

Baling. Name it, fair cousin. 

K. Rich. Fair cousin? Why, I ain greater 
than a king: 
For, when I was a king, my flatterers 
Were then but subjects; being now a subject, 
I have a king here to my flatterer. 
Being so great, I have no need to beg. 

JJuiiJig. Yet ask. 

A . Rich. And shall I have? 

Bolitig. You shall. 

K. Rich. Then give me leave to go. 

Boling, Whither? 

K. Rich, Whither you will, so I were from 
youi sights. [the Tower. 

Buling. Go, some of you, convey him to 



423 



K.Rich. O, good ! Convey ? — Conveyors • 

are you all, 
That rise thus nimbly by a true king's fall. 
[Eievnt K. Richard, so^/ie Lords, 
and a Guard. 
Boling. On Wednesday next, we solemnly 
set d»jvvn 
Our coronation: lords, prepare yourselvps 

[Exeunt all but the Abbot, Bishop 
c/'Cai lisle, ani Almerlk. 
Abbot. A wofiil pageant have we here be- 
held. [nt»boru 
C\ir. The woe's to come; the children yet 
Sh.iU feel this day as sharp to them hs thorn. 
Aiini. You holy clergymen, is there mo plot 
To rid the realm of this pernicious blot? 

Abbot. Before Ifreelys[)eak my mind herein 
You shall not only take the sacranient 
To bnry t mine intents, but to ettect 
Whatever I sliall happen to devise: — 
I see your brows are lull of discontent, 
Your hearts of sorrow, and your eyes of tears 
Come home with me to supper; I will lay 
A plot, shall show us all ameiryday. {Exeunt, 



ACT V. 



SCENF I. London. A Street leading to 
the Tower. 
Enter Queen, a7id Ladies. 
Queen. This way the king will come ; 

this is the way 
To JnliMs Ceesar's ill-erected tower j, 
T;> vvln>»e f int bosom my condeamed lord 
]s dooi'i'd a prisoner, by proud Bv*lingbroke: 
\^i:\Q let us re5t, if this rebellioiiP earfh 
Have any resting for her true kind's queen. 

F.nter King RicHARU, ana Guards. 
But soti, but see, or rather do not see, 
?i.!y fair i ose wither: Yet look np; behold; 
I'n^it you in pity may dissolve to dew, 
Au'l wash him fresh again with true-love 

tears.— [stand ; 

Ah, thou, the model where old Troy did 
Til n rii;ip§ of honour; thou king Richard's 

tomb. [teous inn. 

And not king Richard; thon most beau- 
V\ Ity should hard-favour'd grief be lodged in 

thee, 
\\ 1 en triumph is become an ale-house guest? 
K. Rich. Join not with grief, fair woman, 

do not so, [soul, 

To make my end too sudden : learn, good 
'1 <> think our former state a happy dream; 
I rum which awaked, the truth of what we are 
fjhowfms but this : I am sworn brother, swiet, 
1o grim necessity; and he and I [France, 
W Ml keep a league till death. IJie thee to 
And cloister thee in some religious house: 
( nrholy lives must win a new woi hl'scrown^ 
■VVt.ich our prof.ine hours here have stricken 

down. [and mind 

Queen. What, is my Richard both in shape 



Transform'd, and weaken'd? Hath Eoling- 
broke [heart? 

Deposed thine intellect? hath he been in thy 
The lion, dying, thnisteth lorth his paw. 
And wounds the earth, if nothing else, with 

I m ^''^^ 

j To be o'eipower'd; and wilt tliou, pupil-like, 
t Take thy correction mildly ? ki.«^s fi e rod; 
\ And fdwn on r<ige \Ailh base humility, 
I "Which art a lion, and a king of beasts ? 

K. Rich. A king of beasts, indeed; if aught 

but beast, 

I had. been still a happy king of men. 

Good sometime queen, prepare thee hence 

for Fr^mce : [takest. 

Think, I am dead : and that even here thou 

! As from my deain-bid, my last livins: leave. 

In winter's tedious nights, sit by the hre 
I \\\\\\ good ohi folks; and let them tell thee 
Of wotnl ages, long ago betid || : [tit lea 

i And, ere thou hid good niLiht, to quitU t! eir 
: 1 ell thou the lamentable fall of me, [urief, 
I And send the hearers weeping t<^ their beds. 

For why, the seiiseies:< brands will sympathize 
■ The heavy accent of thy moving totiLUe, 

And, in compH.>-sion, weep the tiie t)Ui : 
, And some will mourn in ashes, some coal- 
For the deposing of a riiihtfnl king. [black. 
Enter NoRTHL JiBl-.Ri.AND, ottciidi d. 
Aorth. My lord, the mind oi i:5olingbi-oke 
is changed ; 
You must to Pomfret, not unto the Tower. — 
And, madam, there is order la'en lor jou; 
With a!! swift speed jou must awii) lo 
France. [w hereW'thaj 

K. Rich. Noi thnmberland, tium ladder 
Themounting Boliugbjoke ascends my i! rone 



• Jugj^lcrs, also ro fibers. 



•f Conceal, 
Jj Faij{«d. 



X Tower of 1 rtidon. 
^ lie even v»ith iheia. 



J PicU-.ii; of ^reauiess 



421. 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act V 



Tlie time shal. not be many hours of a^e 
Afore than it is, ere foul tin, gathering head, 
^hall break into corruption: thou 8halt think, 
Though he divide the realm, and j^ive thee half, 
Jt is too little, helpine; him to all ; 
And he shall think, that thou, wh ch know'st 

the way 
To plant unrightful kings, wilt know again, 
Being ne'er so little mgtd, another way 
To pluck him headlong from the usurped 
throne. 
c love of wicked friends converts to fear ; 
■1 fear, to hate; and hate turns one, or both, 
worthy danger, and deserved death. 
North. My guilt be on my head, and there 
an end. 
Take leave, and part ; for you must part 
forthwith. 
K, Rick, Doubly divorced? — Bad men, ye 
violate [me; 

A twofold marriage ; 'twixt my crown and 
And then, betwixt me and my married wife: — 
Let me unkiss the oath 'twixt thee and me! 
And yet not so, for with a kiss 'twas made. — 
Part us, Northumberland ; 1 towards the 
north, [clime; 

Where shivering cold and sickness pines the 
My wife to France, from whence, set forth 

in pomp. 
She came adorned hither like sweet May, 
Sent back like Hallowmas*, or short'st of 
day. 
Queen. And must we be divided ? must we 
part? [and heart fiom he^rt. 

K. liich. Ay, hand from hand, my love. 
Queen. Banish us both, and send the king 
with me. ['icy. 

North. That were some love, but little po- 
Queen. Then whither he goes, thither let 
me go J [one woe. 

K. Rich. So two, together weeping, make 
Weep thou for me in France, I for thee here; 
Roller tar ottthan — near, be ne*er the near*!. 
Go, count thy way with sighs; 1, mine with 
groans. [est moant. 

Queen. So longest way shall have the long- 
K. Rich. Twice for one strp I'll groan, the 
way being short. 
And piece the way out with a heavy heart. 
Come, come, in wooing sorrow let's be brief. 
Since, wedding it, there is such lenjth in 
grief. [part ; 

One kin8 shall stop our mouths, and dumbly 
I'hus give I mine, aiid thus i take thy henrt. 
[They kiss. 
Quren. Give me mine own again ; 'twere 
no good part, 
To take on me to keep, and kill thy heart. 

[Am ag^ain. 
So, now I have mine own again, begone, 
That I may strive to kiM it with a groan. 
A. Rich. We make woe wanton with this 
fonil del.iy : 
Once more, adieu; the rest let sorrow ^ay. 

[KiLunt. 



SCENE 11. 7'/*€ same. 

A Room in the Duke of York's Palace, 
Enter York and Ai.» Duchess. 

Duch. My lord, you told me, you would 
tell the rest, 
When weeping made you break the story off 
Of our two cousins coming into London. 

York. V\ here did 1 leave? 

Duch. At tliat sad stop, my lord. 

Where rude misgovern'd hinds, from win 

dows' tops, [head. 

Threw dust and rubbish on king Richard's 

York. Then, as I said, the duke, great Boling- 
Mounted upon a hot and fiery steed, [broke, — 
Which his aspiring rider seera'd to know, — 
With slow, but stately pace, kept on his course. 
While all tongues crie<l — God save thee, Bo- 
iingbroke! [spake. 

You would have thought the very windows 
So many greedy looks of young and old 
Through casements darted their desiring eyes 
Upon his visage ; and ihat all the walls, 
With painted imageryi, had saiti at once, — 
Jesu preserve thee! welcome, Bolingbroke! 
Whilst he from one side to the other turning. 
Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed's neck, 
Bespake ihcm thus, — I thank you, countrymen: 
And thus still doing, thus he pa&s'd along. 

Duch. Alas, poor Richard 1 where rides he 
the while? 

York. As in a theatre, the eyes of men. 
After a well-graced actor leaves the stage. 
Are idly bent^ on him that enters next. 
Thinking his prattle to be tedious: [eyes 

Even so, or with much more contempt, men's 
Did scowl on Richard ; no man cried, God 

save him; 
No joy fu I tonL'ue gave him his welcome home : 
But dust was thrown upon his sacred head ; 
Which with such gentle sorrow he shook ott, — 
His face still combating with tears and smiles. 
The badges of his grief and patience,— [sleel'd 
That had not Gorl, for some strong purpose. 
The hearts of men, they must perforce have 
And barbarism itself have pitied him. [melted. 
But heaven h;ith a hand in tln»e events; 
To whose high will we bound our calm contents. 
To Bolingbroke are we sworn subjects now. 
Whose state and honour 1 for aye \\ allow ! 
Enttr AuMKKLi:;. 

Duch. Here comes my son Aumerle. 

York. Aumerle that waf ; 

But that is lost, for being Richard's friend, 
And, madam, you must call him Kutlaudnow. 
1 am in piiiianu-nt pledge for his truth. 
And lasliiiii tVally ti> the new-made kins;. 

Duch. Welcome, my son: Who are the 

violets now, [springi 

That ptriw the green lap of the new-come 

Aum. Madam, \ know no', nor 1 grenily care 
God knows 1 had as lief be noi.c,iis one. [not: 

>o;A. Well, bear you well in this new 
spring of lime. 
Lest you be cropp'd before you come to prime 



All-hallowi, I. e , All-saint», Nov- I. f Mever the nigher. t Tapestry hung fioit 

the wiiidows. ^ Carele»6ly turned. |) Ever 



Srene IL 



KING RICHARD II. 



425 



What news from Oxford? hold those justs 
and triumphs ? 

Aum. For aught I know, my lord, they do. 

York. Yon will be there, I know. 

Aum, If God prevent it not ; I purpose so. 

York. What seal is that, that hangs without 
thy bosom? 
Yea, look'st thou pale? let me see the writing. 

Aum. My lord, 'tis nothing. 

York. No matter then who sees it ; 

I will be satisfied, let me see the writing. 

Aum. I ilo beseech your grace to pardon me ; 
It is a matter of small consequence, 
Which forsome leasons I would not have Been. 

York. Which for some reasons, sir, I mean 
I fear, 1 fear, [to see. 

Diich. What should you fear ' 

Tis nothing but some bond that he is enter'd 
For gay apparel, 'gainst the triumph day, [into 

York. Bound to himself? what doth he 
with a bond 
That he is bound to ? Wife, thou art a fool. — 
Boy, let me see the writijig. [not show it 

Aum. I do beseech you, pardon me; I may 

York. I will be satisfied ; let me see it, I say. 

[Snatches it, and reads. 

Treason! foul treason! — villain 1 traitor! slave! 

Uuch. What is the matter, my lord? 

York. Ho! who is within there? [F./iter a 
Servant. j Saddle my horse : 
God for his mercy! what treachery is here! 

Dnch. Why, what is it, my lord? [horse: — 

York. Give me my boots, I say : saddle my 
Now by mine honour, by my life, my troth, 
X will appeach the villain. {t^jit Servant. 

Durh. What's the matter ? 

York, Peace, foolish worn in. [matter, son? 

Durh. I will not peace : — Whit is the 

Aum. Good mother, bu content ; it is no more 
Than my poor life must answer. 

Vucli. Tliy life answer! 

Re-enter Servant, with Boots. 

York. Bring me my boots, I will unto the 
king. [thou art amazed t ; 

Duch. Strike him, Anmer-le. — Poor boy, 

Hence, villain ; nevermore come in my sight. 

[7o the ^:ervaut. 

York. Give me my boots, I s !y. 

Duch. Why, York, what wilt thou do? 
Wilt thou not hide the trespass of thine own ? 
Have we more sons ? or an- we like to have f 
Is not my teemingi date drnuk up with time? 
And wilt thou piuck my fair son from mine age, 
And rob me of a happy mother's name ? 
Is he not like thee { is he not thiue own? 

York. Thou fond mad won. an, 
Wilt thou conceal this dark conspiracy? [ment. 
A dozen of them here have ta'cn the sacra- 
And interchangeably set down their hands, 
To kill the king at Oxtord. 

Duch. He shall be none ; 

We'll keep him here: Then what i» that to 

York. Away, [him ? 

Fond woman ! were he twe«ty times my son, 
1 would appeach h m. 

Duch. Hadst thou groan'd for him. 



As 1 have done, th(ju'dst be more pitiful. 
But now I know thy mind ; thou (iost suspect 
That I have been disloyal to thy bed. 
And that he is a bastard, not thy son : [mind : 
Sweet York, sweet husband, be not of that 
He is as like thee as a man may be. 
Not like to me, or any of my kin. 
And yet I love him. 

York, Make way, unruly woman. 

{r.xit, 

Duch. After, Anraerle ; mount thee upon his 

horse; 
Spur, post ; and get before him to the king. 
And beg thy pardon ere he do accuse thee. 
I'll not be long behind ; though I be old, 
I doubt not but to ride as fast as York : 
And never will I rise up from the ground, 
Till Bolingbroke have pardon'd thee: Away ; 
Begone. [hZxeunt, 

SCENE III. Windsor. A Room in theCustle. 

£'wferBoLiNGBROKi;,rt,y King; Percy, and 

other Lords, 

Boling. Can no man tell of my unthrifty 
son? 
Tis full three months since I did see him I ist: — 
If any plague hang over us, *tis he. 
I would to God, my lords, he might be found: 
Inquire at London, 'mons£St the taverns there. 
For there they say, he daily doth frequent. 
With unrestrained loose conipanions; 
Even such, they say, as stand in narrow lanes. 
And beat our watcli, and rob our passengers ; 
While he, young, wanton, and etieminate boy, 
Takes on the point of honour, to support 
So dissolute a crew. [the prince; 

Percy. My lord, some two days since I saw 
And told hini of these triumphs held at Oxford. 

Baling. And what said the gallant ? [stews ; 

Percy. His answer was, — he would unto tie 
And from the commou*st creature pluck a 

glove. 
And wear it as a favour; and with that 
He wi uld unhorse the lustiest challenger. 

Boiing, As dissolute, as desperate: yet, 
through both, 
I see some sparkles of a better hope, 
Which elder days may happily bnng forth. 
But who comes here? 

Enter At merle, hastily, 

Aum. \\ here is the king? 

Boliifg. What means 

Our cousin,that he stares and looks so wildly ? 

Aum. God save your grace. I do beseech 
your majesty. 
To have some conferencewith your grace alone. 

Boiing. Withdraw yourselves, an<l leave us 
here alone. [Ejeunt¥ERcY und Lords. 
What is the matter with onr cousin now ? 

Aum. For ever may my knees grow to the 
earth, [Knefx. 

My tont^ue cleave to my roof within my mouth. 
Unless a pardon, ere I rise, or speak. 

Ucl/ng. Intended, or conmiitted, was tliif 
If but the first, how htinous e'er it be, [fault* 
To win thy after love, I pardon thee. 



• Tilts ar.<l toui naoients. 



+ Perplexed, t 



>nfoniided. ; BrfccdK»g. 

2 3 



426 



SliAKSPEARE. 



[Act V 



Aum. 'J'hen give nu' leave tliat I may turn the 
riiat no man ent«'rtill iny tale be done, [key, 
Boling. Have tliy (le>-ire. 

[Atj M t u LE loeks the door. 
York. [Within.] My luege, beware; look 
to tliyself ; 
Thou ha?t a traitor iu Ihy presence there. 
BuUng. Villain, I'll make thee safe. 

[Druiuing. 
Aum. Stay thy revengeful hand ; 
Tlion hast no cause to fear. [hardy king : 

York. [Wit kill.'] Open the door, secure, fool- 
Shall 1, for love, speak tieas«n to thy face? 
Open the door, or 1 will break it open. 

[Bo LING BROKE opcHs the door. 
Enter York. 
Bolins. What is the matter, uncle? speak ; 
Recover breath ; tell us how near is danger. 
That we may arm us to encounter it. 

York. Peruse this writing here, and thou 
shall know 
The treason that my haste forbids me show. 
Aum. Remember, as thou read'st, thy pro- 
mise past: 
I do repent me ; read not my name there, 
My heart is not confederate with my hiind. 
York. 'Twas, villain, ere thy hand did set 
it down. — 
I tore it from the traitor's bosom king : 
Fear, and not love begets his penitence : 
Forget to pity him,lcslthy pity prove 
A. serpent that will sting tliee to the heart. 
Holing. O heinous, strong, and bold conspi- 

loyal father of a treacherous son ! [racy! 
Thou sheer*, immaculate, and silver fountain. 
From whence this stream through muddy pas- 
sages, 

Hath held his current and defiled himself! 
Thy overflow of good converts to bad ; 
And thy abundant goodness shidi excuse 
This deadly hlot in thy di'4re>singt s».n. 

York. So shall my virtue be his vice's bawd ; 
And he>hall»pend mine honour with hisshame. 
As thrifiless sons their scraping fathers' gold. 
Mine honour lives when his dishonour dies. 
Or my shamed life in his dishonour lies : 
Thoukill'st me in his lile; uiving him breath, 
The traitor lives, thf true m.in'sput to «leath. 
Duch.[H ithin.] What ho, my liege! for 

God's sake let me in. 
Bolhtg. What shrill-voiced suppliant makes 
this eager cr> ? [king; 'tis I. 

Ditch. A woman, and thine aunt, great 
Sprak with me, pity me, open the door ; 
A beggar begs, thnt never betig'd btfore. 
Boeing. Our scene isalter'd, — from a serious 
thing, [KtJi^l. — 

And now changed to The Bfgc,ar and the 
My dangerous cousin, let your mother in ; 

1 know, she's come to pi ay for your fonl sin. 

York. If thou do pardon whosoever pray, 
More sins, for this forgiveness, prosper may. 
Thi-4 f(rsterM joint cut ott, the rest rests sound; 
Tl*i«, let alone, will all the rest confound. 

I'lnttr Duche.-8. [man; 

Dnch O kina:, believe not this hard heai led 



Love, loving not itself,none otiiercan. 

York. Thou frantic woman, what dost 
thou make$ here! 
Shall thy old dugs ojice more a traitor rear? 
Duck. Sweet York, be patient ; Hear me 
gentle liege. [A/iteY*. 

Bolliig, Ri;-e up, good aunt. 
Ditch. Not yet, I thee beseech : 

For ever will I kneel upon my knees, 
And never see day that the happy sees, 
Till thou give joy ; until thou bid me joy, 
By pardoning Kutland my transgressing boy. 
Aam. Unto my mother's prayers 1 bend my 
knee. [/\neels, 

York. Against them both my truejoJnts bend- 
ed be. [Kneels. 
Ill may'st thou thrive, if thou grant any graci! 
Duck. Pleads he in earnest ? look upon his 
face; 
His eyes do drop no tears, his prayers are in 
jest ; [our breast : 
His words come from his mouth, our's frou. 
He prays but faintly, and would be denied ; 
We pray with heart, and soul, and all beside: 
His weary joints would gladly rise, 1 know ; 
Our knees shall kneel till to the ground lliey 
His prayers are full of false hypocrisy ; [grow: 
Onrs, of true zeal and deep integrity. [have 
Our prayers do out-pray his; then let thnn 
That Jiiercy v\hich true prayers ought to have. 
Boling, Good aunt, stand up. 
Duck. Nay, do not say — stand up ; 
Bur, pardon, first ; and afterwards, stand up. 
An if I were thy nurse, thy tongue to teach. 
Pardon — should be the first word of thy speech. 
I never lon^'d to hear a word till now ; 
Say — pardon, kiU'^ ; let pity teach thee how : 
The woi (I is sivort. but not so short as sweet ; 
No word like, pardon, for kings* mouths so 
meet. [noiint z moy jj. 
York. Speak it in French, king ; saj , yar- 
Duck. Oost thon teach pardon pardon to 
destroy i 
Ah, my sour husband, my hard-hearted lord, 
That sei'st the word itself against the word ! — 
Speak pardon, as 'tis current in our laud ; 
The chopping French we do not understand. 
Thine eye begins to speak, set thy tongue theie: 
Or, in thy piteous heart plint thou Ihme ear ; 
That, hearing how our plaints and praters do 

pierce, 
Pity may move thee, pardon to rehearse. 
Boling. Good aunt, stand up. 
Duck. I do not sue to stand. 

Pardon is all the suit I have in hand. [me. 
Boling. I pardon him, as God shall pardon 
Dnch. O hippy vantage of h kneeling kneel 
Yet am I sick for fear : speak it again ; 
Twice saying pardon, doth not pardon twain. 
But make^ one pardon strong. 

Boling. With all my hear* 

I pardon him. 

Ditch. A god on eaith thou art. 

Boling. But for our trusty broiher-in-law,— 
and the abbot, 
Wi4h all the rest of that consorted crew,— 



Iransp ireut. r Transgtesaing. 



I An old ballad. 



$Do. 



y ICxtMise nie 



AVfA/r ///.] 



KIISG RICHARD II. 



427 



Desti oction siraight shali dog theiM at the heels. 
Good uncle, help to order several powers* 
To Oxford, or where'er these ts aiiors are : 
They shall not live within this world, I swear, 
But I will have them, if I once know where. 
Uncle, farewell, — and cousin too, ;idiea : [trne. 
Your mother well hath pray'd and prove you 
I>uch. Come, my old son ; — I pray God 
make thee new. [/i'lewwf. 

SCENE IV. 
Enter Ext on, and a Servant. 
Exfon. Didst thou not mark the king, what 
words he spake? {fear? 

Have 1 no friend will rid me of this living 
Was it not so 1 
Serv. Those were his very words. 

Exton. Hffve J no friend? quoth he: he 
spake it twice, 
And urged it twice together; did he not? 
Serv. He did, 

Exfon. And, speaking it, he wistfully look'd 
on me ; [man 

As who should say,— I would, thou wert the. 
That would tlivorce this terror from my heart; 
Meanintr, the king at Pomfret. Come, let's go ; 
I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe 

[Ex< unt, 

SCENE V. Pomfret. The Dungeon of the 
Castle. 
Enter Yi\\\g Richard. 
K. Rich. I have been studying how 1 may 

compare 
This prison, where I live, unto the world : 
And, for because the world is populous, 
And here is not a creature but mjself, 
I cannot do it; — Yet 1*11 hammer it out. 
My brain I'll prove the female to my soul; 
My soul, the father: and these two beget 
A generation of stiH-breeding thoughts, 
And these same thoughts people this little 

world t ; 
In humours, like the people of this world. 
For no thought is contented. The better sort, — 
A« thoughts of things divine, — are intermix'd 
With scruj.les, and do set the word itself 
AL'ainst the word I : 

As \\\K\?^ ,-^Come little ones ; and then again, — 
It. is as hard to come, as for a camel 
l\i thread the postern is if a needle's eye. 
Th«)Ughts tending to ambition, they do plot 
Inlikely wondi-rs : howthesevain weak nails 
May tear a p.sssage throu^ih the ilinty ribs 
Of this hard world, my ragged prison walls; 
And, for they catmot, die in their own pride, 
l^onght? tending to content, lliitter tht-mselveg, 
That th-y are not the iirsi of fortune's slaves, 
N<n'sl!all n(rt he the last; like silly I)eggar8, 
• Who, sitting in the slocks refuge their shame, 
'Ihat many have, and others must sit there: 
And in this thonghi they find a kind of eaw?, 
Bearing their own mistortuneon the back 
Of such as have before endured tJ>e like. 



i bus play 1, in one person, many people. 
And none contented : Sometimes am I king; 
Then treason makes me wish myself a beggar. 
And so I am : Then crushing penury 
Persuades me 1 was belter when a king; 
Then am I king'd again : and, by-and-by, 
Think that I am unking'd by Bolingbroke, 
And straight am nothing : — liut, whate'er I am, 
Nor I, nor any man, that but man is, 
With nothing shall be pleased, till he be eased 
With being nothing. — Music do 1 hear \ 

[Aluyic, 
Ha, ha ! keep time :— How sour sweet music is. 
When time is broke, and no proportion kept! 
So is it in the music of men's lives. 
And here have I the daintiness of ear. 
To check time broke in a dissorder'd string; 

nt, for the concord of njy state and time, 
Hnd not an ear to hear my trne time broke. 
I w.i>ted time, and now doth liine waste me. 
For now hath time made me his numb'ring 

clock : [.i*""l 

My thoiigiits are minutes ; and, with sighs, they 
Their watches on to mine eyes, the outwaid 

watch, 
Whereto niy finger, like a dial's point, 
Is pointing still, in cleansing them frotn tears. 
NoWj^ir, tiie sound, that tells what hour it is. 
Are ciimorous groans, that strike upon my 

heart, [groans, 

Which is the bell: So sighs, and tea- s, aiid 
Show minutes, times, and hours : — but my time 
Runs posting on in Bolingbroke's proud joy. 
While 1 stand fooling here, his Jack o*the 

clocks. 
This music mads me, l^t it sound no more; 
For, though it have holpe madmen to their wltf^ 
In me, it seems it will make wise men mad. 
Yet blesiing on his heart that gives it me! 
For 'tis a sign of love; and love to Richard 
Is a strange brooch** in this all-hating woild. 
Enter Groom. 
Grown. Hail, royal prince! 
K. lUch. Thanks, noble peer; 

The cheapest of us is ten iiroais too dear. 
What art thou ? ami how con est thou hither. 
Where no man never comes, but that sad d(»g 
That brings me food, to make misfortune li\ei 
Groom. I was a poor grootn of thy stable, 

king, [wards York, 

Whetnhou wert king; who, travelling to- 
W ith much ado. at length have gotten leave 
To U)ok tipon my 5om»-timestt mastei's face. 
O. how it yern'd my heart, when I beheld. 
In London ptreeis, that coronation day. 
When Hoiingbroke rode on roan Barharyl 
That horse, thai thou so often hast bestrid ; 
That horse, th;it 1 so carefuily have dress'd! 

K. liicli. Rode he on Barbary? Itll me 

How went he under him ? [gentle friend. 

Groom. So proudly, as if he <bsdain'd the 

ground. [on his back ! 

K. Kirli. So proud that Polingbroke wa5 

That jade hatli eat bread from mv royai band; 



* Forces. t His own body. \ Holy scripture. 6 Little gate. 

,1 J'lck. % Strike for him. like the tienre of a man on a ' eli 

** Ao oraami'iited buckle, ajiii A\.i,v iijivii.] .n geu^iai. tt M^wnex 



4.2S 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Acf V. 



This hand hath made him proud with clapping 

him. [down, 

Would he not stumble? Would he not f^ll 

(Since pride must have a fall), and break the 

neck 
Of that proud man that did usurp his back"? 
Forgiveness, horse ! why do 1 rail on thee, 
Since thou, created to be awed by man. 
Wast born to bear? I was not made a horse ; 
>nd yet I bear a burden like an ass, 
Spur-gaird, and tired, by jauncing* Boling- 
broke. 
Enter Keeper, tvith a Dish. 
Keep* Fellow, give place ; here is no longer 
stay, [To the Groom. 

K, Rich. If thou love me, Ms lime thou 

wert away. 

Givom. What my tongue dares not, that my 

heart shall say. [t^xtt. 

Keep, My lord, wilPt please yon to fall to? 

JSf, Rich. Taste of it first, as thou art wont 

to do. 
Keep. My lord, I dare not ; sir Pierce of 
Exton, who 
Lately came from the king^ commands the 
contrary. [caster, and thee! 

K. Rich. The devil take Henry of Lan- 
Patience is stale, and I am weary of it. 

{Btuts the Keeper. 
Keep. Help, help, help 1 

Enter Exton, and Servants, armed. 

K, Rich. How now? what means death in 

this rude assault? [sti umeui. 

Villain, thine own hand yields thy death's in- 

[Snatching a weapon and killing one. 

Go thou, and till another room in. hell. 

[He kills anotlitr, then Exton 
strikes him don n. 
That haad shall burn in never quenching fire, 
That staggers thus my person. — Exton, thy 

fierce hand 
Hath with the king's blood staiii'd the kind's 

own land. 

Mount, mount, my soul ! thy seat is up on high ; 

Whilst my gross flesh sinks downward, here 

to die. [ Dies 

^ Exton. As full of valour, a« of royal blood : 

Both have I spilt; O, would the deed were 

good ! 
For now the devil, that told me — I dkl well, 
Says that this deed Ls chronicled in hell. 
This dead king to the living king Pll hoir; — 
Take hence the rest, and give them burial here. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE VI. Windsor. A Room in the 

Castle. 
Flourish. fiyiffrBoLiNC broke, and York, 
with Lord* and Attendants. 
Roling. Kind uncle York, the latest news 
we hear 
Is — that the ri-bels V^ave consumed with fire 
Our town of Cicester in Glosiershire ; [not. 
But whcUier they b« ta'en, or slain, we hear 

* J^nnting^. 



I £'w^er Northumberland. 

j Welcome, my lord : What is the news? 

iSorth. First, to thy sacred state wish I »U 
h;ippiness. 
The next news is, — I have to London sent 
The heads of Salisbury, Spencer, Blunt, and 

Kent : 
The manner of their taking may appear 
At large discoursed in this paper here. 

[Presenting a paper* 
Boling. We thank thee, gentle Pei-cy, for 
thy pains; 
And to thy worth will add right worthy gains. 
Enter Fitzwater. 
Fitz. My lord, I have from Oxford sent to 
Loudon 
The heads of Brocas, and Sir Bennet Seely ; 
Two of the danjierous consorted traitors, 
That sought at Oxford thy diie overthrow. 

Bolhig. Thy pains, Fitzwater, shall not b*? 
Rit:ht noble is thy merit, well I wot. [forgot; 
Enter Percy with the Bishop o/' Carlisle. 
Percy. The grand conspirator, abbot ol 
Westminster, 
Withclogof conscience, and sonr melancholy. 
Hath yielded up his body to the grave ; 
But here is Carlisle living, to abide 
Thy kingly doom, and sentence of his pride. 

Boiing. Carlisle, this is your doom: — 
Choose out some secret place, some reverend 

room. 
More than thou hast, and with it joy thy life; 
So, as thou livest in peace,, die free from strife 
For though mine enemy thou hast ever been. 
High sparks of honour in thee have 1 seen. 
Enter Exton, witti Attendants bearing a 
Coffin. 
Exton* Great king, within this coffin I pre 
Thy buried fear: lierein all breathless lies [seoj 
The mightiest of thy gre.itest enemies, 
Richaid of Bourdeaux, by me hither broughJ. 
Baling. Exton, I thank thee not; for tho« 
hast wrought 
A deed of slander with thy fatal hand. 
Upon my head, and all this famous land. 
Exton. 1 rom your own mouth, my lord, 
did I this dee<l. [nit-d,. 

Boling. They love not poison that do poisoa 
Nor do I thee; though I did wish him dead,. 
I hate the murderer, love him murdered. 
Thegnilt of conscience take thou foriliy labour, 
Butneither my good word, nor princely fav.mr: 
With Cain go wander through the shade o* 

night. 
And never show thy head by day nor lighl.— 
Lords, I protest, my soul is full of woe. 
That bloi d should spiinkle me to make m«! 

grow : 
Come, mourn with me for what I do lament. 
And put on sullen black incontinentt; 
I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land, 
To wash this blood oft' from my guilty hand : — 
March sadly afier; grace my mournings ber» 
In weeping after this untimely bier. [ita«a»d» 

i Imowdiately. 



Il64t Pifti n9 

KING HENRY IV 



Persons; reprcssenteD. 



King Henry the Fourth 
Henry, Prmce of Wales, 
Prince John of Lancaster ^ 



1 ENR Y , Prmce of Wales, > Sons to 



the 



. , King. 
Earl of Westmoreland, ) Friends to the 
Sir Walter Blunt, S King. 
Thomas Percy, Karl of Worcester. 
Henry Percy, Earl of Narthumberland: 
Henry V^KCYySurnamed Hotsfur,^^ jfOW\ 
Edward Mortimer, Earl of March. 
Scroop, Archbishoy of York. 
Archibald, Earl of Douglas, 
Owen Glendower. 
sir Richard Vkrnon. 

Lords, OJi'cers, Sheriff, Vintner, Chamberlain, Drawers, two Carriers, Travellers 

(f'd Attendants.. 

Scvne, — England, 



Sir John Falstapf, 

FOINS. 

Gads HILL. 

Peto. 

Bardolph. 

Lady Percy, zvife to Hotspur, and sisiet 

to Mortimer. 
Lady Mortimer, daughter to Glendoirer^ 

and unfe to Mortimer, 
Mrs. QuiCKLY», Hostess of a Tavern in 

East cheap. 



ACT I. 



SCENE L London. A Room ifi the Palace. 

Enter King Henry, Westmoreland, Sir 
Walter Blunt, and Others. 

K. Hen. So shaken as we are, so wan with 

care. 
Find we a time for frighted peace to pant. 
And brea'he short-winded accents of new broils 
To be commenced in stionds* afar remote. 
No more the thirsty Erinuyst of this soil 
^hali daub her lips with her own children's 

blood ; 
No more shalltrenching war channel her fields, 
>»'or bruise her llow'rets with the armed hoofs 
Of hostile paces : those opposed eyes. 
Which,— like the meteors of a troubled heaven. 

All of one nature, of one substance bred, 

Did lately meet in the intestine shock 
And furious close of civil butchery. 
Shall now, in mutual, well-beseeming ranks, 
March all one way; and be no more opposed 
Against acquaintance, kindred, and allies: 
The edge of war, like an ill-sheathed knife. 
No more shall cut his master. Therefore, 
As far as to the sepulchre of ('hrist, [friends, 
(Whose sohlie- now, under whose bles»ed cross 
We rire impressed and engaged to fight,) 
Forthwith a power; of English shall we levy: 
Whose arms were moulded in iheir mothers' 

womb 
To chase these pagans, in those holy fields. 



Over whose acres, walk'd those blessed feet. 
Which, fourteen hundred years ago, wer 
For our advantage on the bitter cross, [nail'c 
But this our purpose is atwelvemoivth old. 
And bootless j 'tis to tell yo« — we will go; 
Therefore we meet not now : — Then let me beat 
Of you, my gentle cousin Westmoreland, 
What yesternight our council did decree. 
In forwarding this dear expedience ||. [tion. 

Went. My liege, this haste was hot in qiie» 
And many limits IF of the charge set down 
But yesternight: when, all atii wart, there cam* 
A post from Wales, loaden with heavy news; 
Whose worst was, — that the noble Morlimei 
Leading the men of Herefordshire to fight 
Against the irregular and wild Glendower, 
Was by the rude hands of that Welshmu 
And a thousand of his people butchered ; [taken 
Upon whose dead corps there was such misuse. 
Such beastly, shameless transformation. 
By those VVeishwomen done, as may not be. 
Without much shame, re-told or spoken of. 

K. Hen. It seems, then, that the tidings o« 
this broil 
Brake ott our business for the Holy Land. 

West. This, nwtch'd with other, did, my 
gracious lord ; 
For more uneven and unwelcome news 
Came from the north, and thus it did import 
On Holy-rood (iay**,ihe gallant Holspnr there 
Young Harry Percy, and bra.ve Archibald. 



• Strands, baaks of the sea. 



tThe Fury of discord. t I'orce, army. 

n. f E^tiuiaies. •• bepieiuhei i-i. 



430 



SHAKSPKARE. 



[Arf r. 



Thrti ever valiant and approved Scot, 

At Holmedon met, 

Where tUey did spend a sari and bloody hoar; 

As by discharge of their artillery, 

And shape of likelihoi d, the news vf»8 tofd ; 

For he that brouijht them in the very heat 

And pride of their contention did take horse, 

Uncertain of the issue any way. 

AT. Urn. Here is a dear and true-indns- 

trions friend, 
Sir Waller Blunt, new li!j;hted from his horse, 
Stain'd • with the variation of each soil 
Betwixt that Holmedon and this seat of ours; 
And he hath brought us smooth and welcome 

news. 
The earl of Douglas is discomfited ; 
Ten thi)usand bold Scots, two-and-twcnty 

knights, 
Balk'd + in their own blood, did sir Walter see 
On Holmedon's plains : Of prisoners, Hotspur 

took 
Mordake the earl of Fife, and eldest son 
To beaten' Douglas; and the earls of Athol, 
Of Murray, Angus, and Menteith. 
And is not this an honouiable spoil? 
A gallant prize? ha, cousin, is it not? 

ff7A/. In faith. 
It is a conquest for a prince to boa>t of. 

JC. H< 11. Yea, there thou makesi me sad, 

and niakest me sin 
In envy that my lord Northumberland 
Should be ihe father of so blest a son : 
A son, who is the theme of honour's toni^ne; 
AroongPt A grove, the very straiglite^t pimt; 
Vt ho is sweet fortune's minion, and her pride: 
Whilst I, h> looking on the praise of him, 
See riot and dishonour stain the brow 
Of my Noting Harry. O, that it conid be 

pro veil, 
That some night-tripping fairy had exchanged 
In cradle-rlothcs our children wheie they lay. 
And cali'd mine — Percy, his — Plantagenet ! 
Ttien would I have his Hariy, and h» mine. 
But let him from my thoughts: — What think 

you C(*/.', 
Of this young Percy's pride? the prisoners. 
Which he in ihis adventure hath surprised, 
To his own use he keeps; and sends me word, 
I shall have none but Mordake earl of Fife. 
l^'e.st. This is his uncle's teaching, this is 

Worcester, 
Malevolent to you in all aspects J; [op 

WWc h makes him prunes himself, a- d bristle 
The crest of youth against your dignity. 
K. Hen. But I have sent for him to answer 

this ; 
And, for this cause, awhile we mnst neglect 
*)ur holy pur|>ose to Jerusalem. 
Cousin, on VVednesday next our conncil we 
V\ Kit hnid at Windsor, so inform the lords: 
But come yo<irself with speed to us again; 
For more is to be said, and to be done, 
Than oat of anger can be uttered; 

Hest. I will, my liege. [Eieuttt. 



SCENE 11. The same. Another Room in 

tht Palace. 

Enter Henry Pri?ice of ffa/es, and 

Falstaff. 
Fal. Now, Hal, what time of day is it, lad ? 
P. Hen. Thou art so fat-witted, with think- 
ing of old sack, and unl>ui toning thee an<T 
wipper, and sleeping upon benches after Huon, 
I that thou hasi foij/otien to demand that truly 

■ wbicli thou wouldsi truly know. What ibe 
devil hast thou to do with th* lime of the day t 
unless h<uns were -cups of sack, and minntei 

; capons, and cU>cks the tongues of bawds, and 
j dials tlie sii^ns of teapiuii-iiouses, and the 
j blessed sun himself a fair hot wench in flame- 

■ coloor'd tattata ; I see no reason, why ihuii 
j shouldst be so superrtuous to demand the time 
1 of the day. 

FaL Indeed, you come near me, now, Hal : 
for we, that take purses, go by tlie moon and 
seven stars; md not by ihabiis, — he, t/ior. 
wanaering knight soja/r. An<l, I pray thee, 
sweet wag, when thou art king, — as, God save 
thy grace, (majesty, 1 should say, for grace 
thou wilt have none,) 

P. Hen. \\ hat, none? 

Fill. No, by \uy troth; not so much as will 
serve to be prologue to an egg an<l buiier. 

P. Hen. Weil, how theni come, roundly, 
roundly. 

fal. Marry, then, sweet wag, when thou 
art kin-, let not ns, that are squires of the night's 
body, be cumd thieves of the day's ueauiy !♦ t 
us be — Diana's foresters, gentlemen of the 
shade, minions il of the moon: And let men 
say, we be men of good government : b<ing 
governed as the sea is, by our noble and cliasu* 
mistress ihc mooii, under whose countenance 
We — steal. 

P. H( u. Thou say'st well ; and it hr.lds well 
too: for the roiiune of us, that are the moon's 
men, doth ebb and flow like the sea ; being go- 
verned as the sea is, by the moon. As, for 
proof, now: A purse of gold most resolut- Jy 
snatched on Monday night, and nu>st di»s<»- 
lutely spent on Tuesday morning; got vviih 
swearing — lay by f ; and spent with crying — 
brini in *• : now, in as low an ebb as the fool 
of the ladder; and by and by, in as high a flow 
as the ridge of the gdlows. 

F<iL &y the Lord, thou say'st trae, lad. 
Atxl is not my hostess of the tavern a ni(»sl 
s«eet wench ( 

l\ H(n. As the honey of Hybla, my old lid 
of the castle. And is nut a butf jerkin a nio<< 
sweet ro: e of durance tt? 

h'al. How now, how now, mad wag? what, 
in thy quips, and thy quiddities i what a plagiMi 
have 1 to do with a butt jerkin ? 

P. Hen. Why, what a pox have 1 to do 
with my hostess of the tavern? 

Fal. Well, thou hast called her to a reckoa 
ing many a lime and uft. 



• Covered with dirt of different colour*. t Piled up in a heap. J Points, 

^ Tiiin, aj« birds clean tlieii feailn-rs. ti FavonriltS. ^ Stand »UU. 

•• More v\ in«i. tf I'he <lrese oi Micnffs' i>fficor>. 



Scene IT.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



431 



P. Hen. Did I ever call for thee to pay thy 
part? 

Fdl. No ; I'll give thee thy due, thou hast 
paid all there. 

P. Hen. Yea, and elsewhere, so far as my 
coin would stretch ; and, where it would not, 
I have used my credit. 

Fal. Yea, and so used it, that were it not 
here apparent that thou art heir apparent, — 
But, 1 pr'ythee, sweet wag, shall there be 
gallows standing in England when thou art 
king? and resolution thus fobbed as it i«, with 
the rusty curb of old father antic the law? Do 
not thou, when thou art king, hang a thief. 

P. Hen. No; thou shall. 

Fal. Shall I? O rare! By the Lord, I'll be 
a brave judge. 

P. Hen. thou judgest false, already; I 
mean, thou shalt have the hanging of the 
thieves, and so become a rare hangman. 

Fal. Well, Hal, well; and in some sort it 
jumps with my humour, as well as waiting in 
the court, I can tell you. 

P. Hen. For obtnining of suits? 

Fal. Yea, for obtaining of suits: wherecf 
the hangman hath no lean wardrobe. 'S blood, 
I am as melancholy as a gib * cat, or a lugged 
bear. 

P. Hen. Or an old lion ; or a lover*s lute. 

Fal. Yea, or the drone of a Lincolnshire 
bagpipe f? 

P. Hen. What say est thou to a hare, or the 
melancholy of Moorditch? ^ 

Fal. Thou hast the most unsavoury similes; 
and art, indeed, the most comparative, ras- 
calliest, — sweet young prince, — But, Hal, 1 
pr'yjhee, trouble me no more with vanity. I 
would to God, thou and I knew where a com- 
modity of good names were to be bought. An 
old lord of the council rated me the other day 
in the street about you, sir; but I marked him 
not: and yet he talked very wisely but I re- 
garded him not : and yet he talked wisely, and 
in the street too. 

P. Hen. Thou didst well ; for wisdom cries 
out in the streets, and no man regards it. 

Fal. O thou hast damnable iteration j; and 
Jirt, indeed, able to corrupt a saint. Thou hast 
done much harm upon me, Hal,— God forgive 
thee for it! Before I knew thee, Hal, I knew 
nothing; and now am I, if a nian should speak 
truly, little better than one of the wicked. I 
must give over this life, and I will give it over ; 
by the Lord, an I do not, I am a villain ; 1*11 be 
iamned for never a king's son in Christendom. 

P. Hen. Where shall we take a purse to- 
morrow. Jack ? 

Fdl. Where thou wilt, lad, I'll make one; 
an 1 do not, call me villain, and baffle § me. 

P. Hen. I see a good amendment of life in 
Ihee ; from praying, to purse-taking. 
Enter Poins, at a dist'ince. 
Fal. \Vhy, Hal, 'tis my vocation, Hal ; 'tis 



no sin for a man to lab ur in his vocatifwi. 
Poins!— Now shall we know if Gadshill have 
set a match II . O, if men were to be saved by 
merit, what hole in hell were hot enough fi r 
him? This is the most omnipottnt villain, that 
ever cried, Stand, to a irue^ man. 

P. Hen. Good morrow, Ned. 

Poins. Good morrow, sweet Hal. — What 
says monsieur Remorse? What says Sir John 
Sack-and-Sugar ? Jack, how agrees the devil 
and thee about thy soul, that thon soldest liitii 
on Good-friday last, for a cup of Madeira, and 
a cold capon's leg? 

P. Hen. Sir John stands to his word, the 
devil shall have his bargain ; for he was never 
yet a breaker of proverbs, be will give the 
devil his due. 

Poins. Then art thou damned for keeping 
thy word with the devil. 

P. Hen. Else he had been damned for co- 
zening the devij. 

Poins. But, my lads, my lads, to-morrow 
morning, by four o'clock, early at Gadshill: 
There are pilgrims going to Canterbury with 
rich offerings, and traders riding to London 
with fat purses: I have visors** for you all,y<»n 
have horses for yourselves; Gadshill lies to- 
night in Rochester; 1 have bespoke supper to- 
morrow night in Eastcheap ; we may do it as 
secure as sleep : If you will go, 1 will stiiffyonr 
purses full of crowns; if you will not, tasry at 
home, and be haneed. 

Fal. Hear me, Yedward ; if I tarry at home, 
and go not, I'll hang you for going. 

Poins. You will, chops? 

Fal. Hal, wilt thou make one? 

P. Hen. Who, I rob? I a thief? not I, by 
my faith. 

Fal. There's neither honesty, manhood, nor 
good fellowship in thee, nor thou camest not of 
the bloud royal, if thou darest not stand fur 
ten shillingstf. 

P. Hen. Well, then once in my days I'll 
be a mad-cap. 

Fal. Why, that's well said. 

P. Hen, Well, come what will, I'll tarry 
at home. 

Fat. By the Lord, I'll be a traitor then, 
when thou art king. 

P. Hen. I care not. 

Poins. Sir John, I pr'ythee, leave the 
prince and me alone ; I will lay him down suck 
reasons for this adventure, that he shall go. 

FaL \\ ell, may'st thou have the spirit of 
persuasion, and he the ears of profiting, that 
what ihou speakest may move, an! what he 
hears may be believed, that the true prince may 
(for recreation sake,) prove a false thief; for 
the poor abuses of the time want countenance. 
Farewell: Yon shall find me in Eastcheap. 

P. Hen. Farewell, thou latter spring! Fare- 
well All-hallow n summerjj! [Ejtit FaLstaff. 

Poins. Now, my good sweet honey lord. 



* Gib-cat^ should be lib-cat f— a. Scotch term at this day for a gelded cat. t Croak of a 

frog. J Citation of holy texts. § Treat me with ignominy. || Made an appoint- 

"le'.it. ^ Honest. ** Masks. ++ 1 he value of a roin calle^l real or / .- // /. 

T-tFme fveather at All-iiallown-ti-de, i. e. .All Saints, N- v. isi., is called an All hal!o\»n eiiMuiier 



432 



«.*AlvJSPiiAiit. 



Act L 



ride with us to- morrow ; 1 have a jest to exe- 
cute, that I cannot manage alone. Falstaff, 
Bardolph, Peto, and Gadshill, shall rob those 
men that we have already way-laid ; jonr^elf, 
and 1, will not be there : and when they have 
the booty, if you j>nd I do not rob them, cut 
this head from my shoulders. 

P. Hen. But how shall we part with them 
in setting forth '{ 

Poins. Why, we will set forth before or 
after them, and appoint them a place of meet- 
ing, wherein ii is at our pleasure to fail; and 
then will they adventure upon the exploit 
themselves : which they shall have no sooner 
achieved, but we'll set upon them. 

P. Hen. Ay, but, 'tis like, that they will 
know us, by our horses, by our habit.^, and by 
every other appointment, to be ourselves. 

Pi)i?is. Tut ! our horst- s they shall not 5ee, I'll 
tie them in the wood ; ©ur visors we will change, 
after we leave them ; and, sirrah, I liave cases 
of buckram for the nonce*, to immask our 
noted outward garments. 

P, Hen. But, I doubt, they will be too hard 
for us. 

Poins. Well, for two of them, I know them 
to be as true-bred cowards as ever turned back ; 
and for the third, if he fight longer than he sees 
reason, I'll f( rswear arms. The virtue of this 
jest will be, the incomprehensible lies that this 
same fat rogue will tell us, whm we meet at 
supper : how thirty, at least, he fought with ; 
what wards, what blows, what extremities he 
endured ; and, in the reproof t of this, lies the 
jest. 

P. Hen. Well, I go with thee: provide hs 
all things necessary, and meet me to-nu)rrow 
night in Eastcheap, there I'll sup. Farewell. 

Poins. Farewell, my lord. [Eji:t Poins. 

P. lien. I know you ail, and will a while 
uphold 
The nnyoked humour of your idleness : 
Yet herein will I imitate the sun; 
Who doth permit the base contagious clouds 
To smother up his beauty from the world, 
That, when he please again to be himself, 
Being wanted, he may be more wonder'd at, 
By breaking through the foul and ugly mists 
Of vapours, that did seem to strangle him. 
If all the year were playing holidays, 
To sport would be as tedious as to work ; 
But, when they seldom come, they wish'd-for 

conie, 
And nothing pleaseth but rare accidents. 
So, when this loose behaviour I throw off. 
And pay the debt I never promised. 
By how much better than my word I am, 
By so much shall 1 falsify men's hopts; ; 
And, like bright metal on a sullen § gronnd, 
My reformation, glittering o'ermy f lult, [eyes. 
Shall show more goodly, and attract more 
Than that which hath no foil to set it off. 
Pll s<» ofiend. to make offence a skill; 
i^edeendngtime, when men think least I will. 



SCENE III. 
The same. A7iothtr Ror.m in the Palact 
Enter King Henry, Northumberland, 

Worcester, Hotsim^r, Sir WAL^L^ 

Bll'nt, and Others. 

K. Hen. My blood hath been too cold and 
Unapt to stir at these indignities, [temperate. 
And you have found me; for, accordingly, 
You tread upon my patience : but, be sure, 
I will from henceforth rather be myself. 
Mighty, andtobefear'd, than my condition f| ; 
W hich hath been smooth as oil, soft as young 
And therefore lost that title of respect, [down, 
Which the proud soul ne'er pays, bui to the 
proud. [<leservi'S 

Wor. Our hoose, my sovereign liege, little 
The scourge of greatness to beustd on it ; 
And that same greatness too which onr own 
Have help to make so portly. [hands 

North. My lord, [danger 

K. Hen. Worcester, get thee gone, furl see 
And disobedience in thine eye: O, sir. 
Your presence is too bold and peremptory. 
And majesty might never yet endure 
The moody frontier^ of a servant brow. 
You have good leave •• to leave us ; when we 
need [y«u- — 

Your use and counsel, we shall send for 
[Exit W^orcesteb. 
Yon were about to speak. [To North , 

^orth. Yea, my good lord. [manded, 
Those prisoners in your hii-hness' name de- 
Which Har% Percy here at Holmedon t(»ok. 
Were, as he says, not with such stiength denied 
As is deliver'd to your majesty : 
Either envy, therefore, or misprision 
Is guilty of this fault, and not my son. 

Hot. My liege, I did deny no prisoners. 
But, I remember, when the fight was tlone. 
When I was dry with rage, and extreme toil. 
Breathless and faint, leaning upon my swtud, 
Came there a certain lord, neat, trimly dres<*d. 
Fresh as a bridegroom ; and his chin, new 

reap'd, 
Show'd like a stubble-land at harvest-home ; 
He was perfumed like a milliner; 
And 'twixt his finger and his thumb he held 
A ponncet-box tt, which ever and anon 
He gave his nose, and took't away again ; — 
Who, therewith angry, when it next came 
there [ialk'<i ; 

Took it in snuff:— and still he smiled, and 
And, as the soldiers bore dead bodies by, 
Hccaird them— untaught knaves unmanneily. 
To bring a slovenly unhandsome corse 
Betwixt the wind and his nobility. 
'W ith many holiday and lady terms 
He qiiesiion'd me; among the rest demanded 
My prisoners, in your majesty's behalf, [cold, 
I then, all smarting, with my wounds being 
To he so pester'd with a popinjay tt, 
Out of my grief §5 and my impatience, 
Answer'd neglectiniily, 1 know not what : 
He should, or he should not ;— for he n)ade 
me mad. 



• Occasion. + Confutation. J Expectations. ^ Dull. || Disposition, 

% F. leiiuad. •• Ueatl> a^s^•nt. i\ A xm di hux loi musk or other perfumes. ^ Pairou 

J5) Pa«i. 



FIRST PART OF KiJNG I1EI>RY IV. 



433 



1\) see liini shine so brisk, and smell so sweet, 

And Uik so like a wailing gentlewoman, 

Of guns, and drums, and wounds, (God save 

the mark !) 
And telling me, the govereign'st thing on earth 
VV as parmaceti, for an inward bruise ; 
And that it was great pity, so it was, 
That villanous salt-pttre should be digg'd 
Out of the bowels of the harmless earth, 
VV'hich many a good tall * ft- How had destroy'd 
So cowardly ; and, but for these vile guns. 
He would himself have been a soldier. 
This bald unjointed rhat of his, my lord, 
I answer'd indirectly, as I said ; 
And, I beseech you, let not his report 
Come current for an accusation. 
Betwixt my love and your hi-h majesty [lord, 

2>*^//«f.Thecircumstance considered, goodmy 
Whatever Harry l^ercy then had said. 
To such a person, and in such a place, 
At such a time, with all the rest re-loid, 
May reasonably die, and never rise 
To do him wrons, or any way impeach 
What then he said, so he unsay it now. [ers; 

K. Hen. Why, yet he doth deny his prison- 
But with proviso,'and exception, — [straight 
That we, at our own charge, shall ransome 
His brother-in-law, the foolish Mortimer; 
Who, on my soul, hath wilfully beiray'd 
The lives of those that he did lead to fight 
Against the great magician, damn'd Glen- 
dower ; [March 
Whose daughter, as wre hear, the earl of 
Hath lately married. Shall our coffers then 
l!e emptied, to redeem a traitor home ? 
Shall we buy treason *? and indent t with fears, 
When they have lost and forfeited themselves? 
^ o, on the barren mountains let him starve ; 
For 1 shall never hold that man my friend. 
Whose tongue shall ask me for one penny cost 
To ransome home revolted Mortimer. 

Hot. Revolted Mortimer! 
He never did fall off, my sovereign liege. 
But by the chance of war ; — To prove that 
true, [wounds, 

Needs no more but one tongue for all those 
Thosemouthedwounds, which valiantlyhe took, 
When on the gentle Severn's sedgy bank. 
In single opposition, hand to hand. 
He did confound % the best part of an hour 
In changinghardiment§ with great Glendower: 
' Three times they breathed, and three times did 
they drink. 
Upon agreement, of swift Severn's flood ; 
\\ ho then, aftrighted with their bloody looks, 
IJ Ran fearfully among the trembling reeds. 
And hid his crisp f| head in the hollow bank 
Blood-stained with these valiant combatants. 
Never did bare and rotten policy 
Colour her working with such deadly wounds ; 
Nor never could the noble Mortimer 
Receive so many, and all willingly : 
Then let him not be slander'd with revolt. 

K. Hen. Tlio'i dost belie him, Percy, thou 
dost belie him. 



He never did encounter with Glendower; 

I tell thee, 

He durst as well have met the devil alone. 

As Owen Glendower for an enemy. 

Art not ashamed? But, sirrah, henceforth 

Let me not hear you speak of Mortimer : 

Send ine your prisoners Avith the speediest 

means, 
Or you shall hear in such a kind from me 
As will displease you. — My lord !Northumber 

land, 
We license your departure with your son : — 
Send us your prisoners, or you'll hear of it. 
{Exeunt King Henry, Bldnt, ffw6? Traiw. 

Hot. And if the devil come and roar for 
them, 
I will not send them:— -I will after straight. 
And tell him so ; for I will ease my heart. 
Although it be with hazard of my head. 

North. What, drunk with choler? stay, and 
Here comes your uncle. [pause awhile; 

Re-enter Worcester. 

Hot, Speak of Mortimer? 

Zounds, I will speak of him ; and let my soul 
Want mercy, if I do not join with him : 
Yea, on his part, I'll empty all these veins, 
And shed my dear blood drop by drop i'the 
But I will lift the down-trod Mortimer [dust. 
As high i'the air as this unthankful king. 
As this ingrate^ and canker'd Bolingbroke. 

North. Brother, the king hath made your 
nephew mad. {To Worcester. 

Wo^\ Who struck this heat up, after I was 
gone? [soners ; 

Hot. He will, forsooth, have all my pri- 
And when I urged the ransome once again 
Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd 

pale ; 
And on my face he turn'd an eye of death. 
Trembling even at the name of Mortimer. 

H or. I cannot blame him: Was he not 
proclaim'd. 
By Richard that dead is, the next of blood? 

North. He was; I heard the proclamation : 
And thto it was, when the unhappy king 
(Whose wrongs in us God pardon !) did set 
Upon his Irish expedition ; [forth 

From whence he, intercepted, did return 
To be deposed, and shortly, murdered. 

Wor. And for whose death, we in the world's 
wide mouth 
Live scandalized, and foully spoken of. 

Hot, But, soft, I pray you ; Did king Richard 
then 
Proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer 
Heir to the crown? 

North. He did ; myself did hear it. 

Hot. Nay, then I cannot blame his cousin 
king, [starved. 

That wish'd him on the barren mountains 
But shall it be, that you,— thai set the cro^rn 
Upon the head of this forgetful man; 
And, for his sake, wear the detested blot 
Of murderous subordination,— shall it be, 
That you a world of curses undergo; 



• ^r?v^. 



t Sicn an indenture. t Expend. 

H Curled. IT Lnjiralcful. 



$ Hardiness. 
«i P 



43 t 



SHAKSPEAllE. 



[^(7 /. 



BHitiii the agents, or base second nie<ins, 
'I he cords, the ladder, or the hangman rather? 
O, pardon nie, that 1 descetid so low. 
To show the line, and the predicament, 
Wherein you range under this subtle king. — 
Shall it, for shame, be spoken in these days. 
Or hll up chronicles in time to come, 
That mc n of your nobility and power. 

Did gage them both in an unjust behalf, 

As both of you, God pardon it! have done, — 
'io put down Kichard, that swtet lovely rose, 
And plant this thorn, this canker*, Boling- 

broke i 
And shall it, in more shame, be further spoken. 
That you are fooi'd, discarded, and shook off 
By him, for whom these shames ye under- 
went? 
No; yet time serves, wherein you may redeem 
Tourbanish'd honours, and restore yourselves 
Into the good thoughts of the world again : 
Kevenge the jeering, and disdain'dt contempt, 
Of this proud king; who studies, (Uy aiid 
'Jo answer all tlie debt tie owes to you, [night, 
Kven with the bloody payment of your deaths. 
'i herefore, 1 say, 

f^Vor. Peace, cousin, say no more : 

And now I will unclasp a secret book, 
A.i)d to your quick-conceiving discontents 
I'll read you matter deep and dangt-rous ; 
-<\5 full of peril, and advent'rous spirit. 
As to o'er-walk a current, roaring loud, 
(.Jn the unsteadrast footing of a spear. 

Hot, If he fall in, good night: — or sink or 
swim : 
Send danjier from the east unto the west. 
So iionour cross it from the north to south, 
And If I them grapple; — ^^) ! the blood more 
To r«'nse a lion, than to start a hare. [stirs. 

North. Imai^ination of some gre;it exploit 
Drives him beyond the bounds of patience. 

Hot. By heaven, meihinks, it were an easy 

leap. [moon; 

To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced 

(/r (live into the bottom of liie detp, 

Wheie fathom-line could never touch the 

ground. 
And piiick up drowned honour by the Jocks ; 
So he, th;d doth redeem her thence, rnigh.* 
Without coirival I, all h-r dignities : [wear, 
But out upon this half-faced fellowship $)] 

fVor. He apprehends a world of figures 1| 
here, 
But not the form of what he should attend. — 
Good cousin, give me audience for a while. 

Hot. 1 cry you mercy. 

If^or. Those same noble Scots, 
That are your prisoners, 

H()t. I'll keep them all ; 

By heaven, he shall not have a Scot of them : 
>■©, if a Scot would save his soul, he shall not: 
I'll krep them, by this hand. 

Hor. You start away, 

i^nd lend no ear unto my purposes. — 
^hose prisoners }ou shall keep. 



Hot. JSay, 1 wili; that's flat :^ 

He said, he would not ransome Mortimer , 
Forbad my tongue to speak of Mortimer; 
Br.t I will find him when he lies asleep. 
And in his ear I'll holla — Moriimer! 
Nay, 

Pll have a starling shall be taught to speak 
Nothing but Mortimer, and give it him. 
To keep his anger still in motion. 

fVor. Hear yon. 

Cousin ; a word. 

Hot. All studies here 1 solemnly defy H, 
Save how to gall and pinch this Bolingbroke: 
And that same sword-aud buckler** prince of 

Wale*,— 
But that I think his father loves him not. 
And would be glad he met with some mis- 
chance, 
Pd have him poison'd with a pot of ale. 

fVor. Farewell, kinsman! I will taik to yon. 
When you are better lemper'd to attend. 

North. Why, what a wasp-stung and im- 
patient fool 
Art thou, to break into this woman's mood ft j 
Tying thine ear to no tongue but thine own ? 

Hot. Why, Ittok you, i am whipp'd and 
scourged with rods, 
Nettled, and stung with pismires, when I hear 
Of this vile piliiiciau, Bolingbroke. 
In Richard's time. What do you call the place? 
A plague upon't— it is in Gloncestershire ; — 
*Twas where the mad-cap duke his uncle kept , 
His uncle York; — where I first b<»w'd my kne« 
Unto this king of smiles, this Bolingbroke 
When you and he came back from Ravens- 

North. At Berkley castle. Ipmg* 

Hot. You say true: 

V\ hy, what a candy :;; deal of courtesy. 
This fawning greyhound then did protier me 
Look,— «^'//e/i iii/i}(Jinit fort ane came to age, 
Aiu\,gt'/itie Harry Percy, •dn(\, ki id cousin, 
O, the devil take such co/eners! — God forgive 

me! • 

Good uncle, tell your tale, for I have done. 

li or. Nay, if you have not, to'i again; 
We'll stay your leisure. 

Hot. 1 have done, i'faith. 

Wor. Then once more to your Scottish pri 
soners. 
Deliver them up without their ransome straight 
And make the Douglas' son your only mean 
For powers in Scotland; which— for diven 

reasons. 
Which I shall send you written,— be assured. 
Will easily be granted.— You, my lord,— 

[7b Northumberland 
Your son in Scotland being thus employed, — 
bhall sei-retly into the bosom creep 
Of that same noble prelate, well beloved. 
The archbishop 

Hot. Of \ork, is't not? 

IVor. True; who bears hard 
His brother's death at Bristol, the lord Scroop 
I speak not this in estmiationj^. 



• The dog-rose. f Disdainful. % A rival. ^ Friendship. 

Shapes created by his imagination. % Refuse. •* The term for a hlih^tering 

<iU4n>|v() :,e ttliww. tr Mind, humotir • \^ Sugared. ^^i t'l.nj'jciuie 



iScene til.] 



riRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



436 



As what I think inigPit be, but what 1 know 
\i ruminated; plotted, ami set down; 
And only stays but to behold the face 
Of tl>al occasion that shall bring it on. 

Hot. I smell it; upon my life, it will do well. 

North. Before the game's afoot, thou still 
let*st slip. [pk>t: — 

Hot. Why, it cannot choose but be a noble 
And then the power of Scotland, and of York, 
To join with Mortimer, ha? 

Hor. And so they shall. 

Hot. In faith, it is exceedingly well aim'd. 

Wor. And 'tis no Utile reason bids us speed. 
To save our heads by raising of a head* : 
For, bear ourselves as even as we can, 
'ihe king will always Ihink him in our debt; 
And think we think ourselves unsatislied, 
TiU he hath found a time to pay us home. 



And see already, how he doth begin 
To make us strangers to his looks of love. 
Hot. He does, he does; we'll be revenged 

on hini; 
IVor. C(H5sin, farewell. I iS'o further go in rtii«. 
Than 1 by letters shall direct your course. 
When time is ripe, (wiiich \\ill be sufldenJy,) 
I'll steal to Glendower, and lord Moi tinier; 
W here you and Douglas, and our powers at 

once, 
(As I will fashion it,) shall happily meet. 
To bear our fortunes in our own strong arms. 
Which now we hold at niuch uncertainty. 
North. Farewell, good brother: we stwUl 

thrive, 1 trust. 
Hot, Uncle, adieu ! O let the hours be short. 
Till fields, and blows, and groans applaud our 
sport 1 {Hxeunt, 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. Rochester. An Inn Yard. 

Enter a Carrier, tvith a Lantern in his 
hand, 

1 Car. Heigh ho ! An't be not four by the 
day. I'll be hanged: Charles' wain t is over 
the new chimney, and yet our horse not packed. 
What, ojitier! 

Ost. [Witlihi.'] Anon, anon. 

1 Cur. I piy'thee, Tom, beat Cut'st saddle: 
put a few tlock* in the point ; the poor jade is 
wiung in the withers out of all cess j. 

Enter another Carrier. 

2 Car. Pease and beans are as dank || here as 
a dog, and that is the next way to give poor 
jades the botsU : tlTis house is turned upside 
down, since Hobin Ostler died. 

1 Cur. Poor fellow! never joyed since the 
price of oats rose; it was the death of him. 

2 Car* 1 think, this be the most villanous 
house in all London road for fleas : I am stung 
like a tench •*. 

1 Cur. Like a tench? by the mass, there is 
ne'er a king in Christendom could be better 
bit than I have been since the first cock. 

2 Car. Why, they will allow us ne'er a 
jorden, and then we leak in your chimney; 
and your chamber-lie breeds fleas like a 
loachn . 

1 Car. What, ostler! come away an<l be 
banged, come away. 

2 Car. I have a gammon of bacon, and two 
races of ginger, to be delivered as far as 
Charing-cross. 

1 Car. 'Odsbody! the turkeys in my pannier 
] are quite starved. — What, ostler!— A plague 
on tliee! hast thou never an eye in thy head? 
canst not hear? An 'twere not as good a iW^d 
as drink, to break the pate of thee, I am a 
very villain. — Come, and be hanged ! — Hast 
no faith in thee 1 



Enter Gads hill. 

Gads. GooQ morrow, carriers. What's 
o'clock ? 

1 Cur. I think it be two o'clock. 

Gads. I pr'ythee, lend me thy lantern, to 
see my gelding in the stable. 

1 Car. Nay, soft, 1 pray ye; I know a trick 
worth two of that, i'faith. 

Guds. 1 pr'ythee, lend me thine. 

2 Car. Ay, when? canst tell i — Lend roe thy 
lantern, quoth-a i — marry, I'll see thee hanged 
first. 

Gads. Sirrah carrier, what time do you 
mean to come to London? 

2 Car. Time enough to go to bed with a 
candle, I warrant thee. — Come, neighbour 
Mugs, we'll call up the gentlemen ; they will 
along with company, for they have great 
charge. [t\ieunt Carriers. 

Gads. What, ho! chamberlain! 

Chum. [W ithin.] At hand, qucth piek- 
pur8e+:f. 

Gads. That's even as fair as — at hand, quoth 

the chamberlain : for thou variest no moje 

from picking of purses, than giving direition 

doth from labouring ; thou lay'st the plot how. 

Enttr Chamberlain. 

Cham. Good morrow, master Gadshill. It 
holds current that 1 told you yesternight : 
There's a franklin $^ in the wild of Kent, hath 
brought three hundied marks with hirn in 
gold : I heard him tell it to one of his com- 
pany, last night, at supper ; a kind of auditor; 
one that hath abundance of charge too, God 
knows what. They are up already, and call 
for eggs and butler. They will away pre- 
sently. 

Gads. Sirrah, if they meet not with saint 
Nicholas' clerks IJIJ, Pll'give thee this neck. 

Cham. No, Pll none of it: 1 pr'ythee, keep 
that for the hangman; for, I kuow, thoii wor- 



• A bo<iy of forces. t The constellation, Ursa major. % Name of his horse. 

? jMeasnre. Il Wet. % Worms. ** Spotted like ?. tench. 

H A small fbh supposed to breed fleas, tj A proverb, from the pick-purse being always ready. 

^ Ireehuider lljl Ca.U Itsni for highway men. 



436 



SHAKSPEARE. 



slii^'st saint Nicholas as truiy as a mao of 
talst hood may. 

Gods. W hat talkest thou to me cf the hang- 
man? if 1 hang, I'll make a fai pair of gallows: 
lor, if I hang, old sir John hanyis with me; 
and, thou knowest, he's no starveling. Tut! 
there are other Trojans thai thou Ureamest 
not of, the which, for sport sake, are content 
to do the profession some t^race ; that would, 
if matters should be looked into, for their own 
Ciedit sake, make all whole. 1 am joined 
with no f«..ot land-rakers * ; no long-stati, six- 
penny strikers; none of these mad, musiachio 
purple-hued malt-worms: but with nobility, 
and tranquillity; burgomasters, and great 
oneyerst ; such as can hold in; such as v\ill 
sirike sooner than speak, and speak sooner 
tlian drink, and drink sooner than pray. And 
jet I lie; for they pray continually, to their 
taint, the commonwealth ; or, rather, not pray 
to her, but prey on her; for they ride up 
and down on her, and make her their boots;. 

Chatn. W hat, the common wealth their boots ? 
win she hold out water in foul way? 

Cads. She v^iil, she will; justice hath lac- 
quered herj. We steal as in a castle, cock- 
sure; we have the receipt of fern-seed, we 
walk invisible. 

Cham. Nay, by my faith ! I think you are 
more beholden to the night, than to fern-seed, 
tor your walking invisible. 

Gads. Give me thy hand : thou shalt have a 
share in our purchase ||, as I am a true^ man. 

Chum. Nay, rather lei me have it, as you 
are a false thief. 

Gads. Go to ; Homo is a common name to 
all men. Bid the ostler bring my gelding out 
of the stable, farewell, you muddy knave. 

^Exeunt. 

SCENE 11. The Road by Gadshill. 

Enter Prince Hekry and Poins ; Bar- 

DOLPH a7id Peto, at some distance. 

Poins. Come, shelter, shelter ; I have re- 
moved FalstaflPs horse, and he frels like a 
gummed velvet. 

P. Hen. Stand close. 

Enter Falstaff. 

Fal. Poins ! Poins, and be hanged \ Poins ! 

P. Hen. Peace, ye fat-kidneyed rascal; 
W hat a braw ling dost thou keep "? 

Fal. Where's Poins, Hal? 

P. Hen. He is walked up to the top of the hill; 
I'll go seek him. [Pretends to .seek Puins. 

Fal. 1 am accursed to rob in that thief's 
company: the rascal haih lemoved my horse, 
and tied him I know not where. If 1 travel 
but four foot by the squire ♦* further afoot, I 
shall break my wind. Well, I doubt not but 
to die a fair death for all this, if I *scape 
hanging for killing thatrogue. I have forsworn 
his wjnipany hourly any tinte this two-and- 
twenty years, and yet I am bewitched with 
the rogue's company. If the rascal have not 



given me medicines tt to make me. love him, 

I I'll be hanged; it could not be else; 1 have 

'drunk medicines. — Poins! — Hal! — a plague 

upon you both I — Birdolph !— Peto ! — I'll 

starve, ere I'll rob a foot further. An 'twere 

not as good a deed as drink, to turn traetj 

man, and leave these rogues, 1 am the veriest 

varlet that ever chewed with a tooth. Eight 

: yards of uneven ground, is threescore and ten 

i miles afoot with me; and the stony-hearted 

j villains know it well enough. A plague upon't, 

I when thieves cannot be true to one another! 

[They whittle,'] Whewl — A plague upon you 

all i Give me my horse, you rogues ; give me 

my horse, and be hanged. 

P. /iTew. Peace, ye fat-guts ! lie down; lay 
thine ear close to the ground, and list if thou 
canst hear the tread of travellers. 

FuC, Have you any levers to lift n»e up 
again, being down? 'Sblood, I'll not bear 
mine own flesh so far afoot again, for all the 
coin in thy father's exchequer. What a plague 
mean ye to colt§^ me thus? 

P. Hen. Thou liest, thou art not colted, 
thou art uncoiled. 

Ful. I pr'ythee, good prince Hal, help me 
to my horse; good king's son. 

P. Hen, Out, you rogue ! shall I be your 
ostler ! 

Fal. Go, hang thyself in thy own heir-ap- 
parent garters! If 1 be tn'en, I'll peach for 
this. An I have not ballads made on yoo 
all, and sung to filthy tunes, let a cup of sack 
be my poison ! V\ hen a jest is so forward, and 
afoot too, — I hate it. 

Enter Gadshill. 

Gads. Stand. 

Fal. So I do, against my will. 

Poi?is. O, 'lis our setter : I Know his voice. 
Enter B.\rdolph. 

Bard. What news? 

Gads. Case ye, case ye ; on with your visors ; 
there's money of the kiuL,'* coming down the 
hill ; 'tis going to the king's exchequer. 

Fal. You lie, you rogue; 'tis going to th» 
king's tavern. 

Gads, There's enough to make us all— 

Fal. To be hanged. 

P. Hen. Sirs, you four shall front them ir 
the narrow lane; Ned I'oins, and 1 will walk 
lower; if they 'scape from your encounter 
then they light on us. 

Peto. How many be there of them? 

Gads. Some eight, or ten. 

Fal. Zounds ! will they not rob us? 

P. Hen. What, a coward, sir John Paunch T 

Fal. Indeed, I am not John of Gaunt, yoai 
grandfather; but yet no coward, Hal. 

P. Hen. Well, we leave that to the proof. 

Poins. Sirrah Jack, thy horse stands be- 
hind the hedge; when thou needest him, there 
thou shalt tind him. Farewell, and stand fast 

Fal. Now cannot I strike him, if 1 should 
be hang«d. 



• Foot-pads. t Tublic accountants. j Booty. § Oiled, smoolhe<1 her over. 

g lu V. liat we acfiui'p. II Koncst. •* Square. H Love-pj wder. 

;; Honeft. JJ Make a youngster of me. 



Scene II.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



437 



P. Hen, Ned, where are our disguises'? 
JPoins, H«re, hard by ; stand close. 

[Exeunt P. Hlnrv a?id Poins. 
Fal. Now, my masters, happy man be his 
dole * say I ; every man to liis business. 
Enter 'IVavellers. 
1 TraiK Come, neighbour; the boy shall 
.ead our horses down the hill: we'll walk 
afoot awhile, and ease our legs. 
T/iieves. Stand. 
Ail Trav. Jesu bless us ! 
Fal. Strike ; down with them ; cut the vil- 
lains* throats i Ah ! whoreson caterpillarE ! 
bacon-fed knaves! ihey hate us youth : down 
with them ; fleece them 1 

I Trav. O, we are undone, both we and 
ours, for ever. 

Fal. Hang ye, gorbellied t knaves! Are ye 
undone? No, ye fat chuffs^; I would your 
store were here ! On, bacons, ou! What, ye 
knavesT young men must live: You are 
grand-jurors are ye? We'll jure ye, i'faith. 
[E.ievnt ¥ Ai.. yS^c.jdrivhig theTmveWevsout. 
Re-enter Prince Henry avd Pol^s. 
P. Hen, The thieves have bound the true 
men: Now could thou and I rob the thieves, 
and go merrily to London, it wou*d be argu- 
ment § for a week, laughter for a month, and 
good jest for ever. 
Poins, Stand close, I hear them coming. 

Re-enter Thieves. 
Fal. Come, my masters, let us share, and 
then to horse before day. An the prince and 
Poins be not two arrant cowards, there's no 
equity stirring: there's no more valour in that 
Voins, than in a wild duck. 

P, Hen, Your money ! [Rushing out 
upon them. 

Poins. Villains. 

[As they are sharing^ the Prince and 
Poins set upon them. Falstaff, 
after a blow or two, and the rest, 
run aicay, leaving thtir booty be- 
hind them.] 
P. Hen. Got with much ease. Now mer- 
rily to horse* [fear 
The thieves are scatter*d, and possess'd with 
So strungly, that (hey dare not meet each other; 
Each takes his fellow for an officer. 
- Away, good Ned. Falstaff sweats to death. 
And lards !l the lean earth as he walks along: 
Were't not for laughing, I should pity him. 
Poins, How the roj^ue roar'dl [Fxeunt. 

SCEI^E III. Warkworth. A Room in the 

Castle. 

Enter Hotsfor, reading a Letter, 

But, for mijie ow?i part, my lord, I 

could be well contented to be there, in re- 

1 sped of the love I bear yoiir house. — He 

I could be contented, — Why is he not then? In 

respect of the love he bears our house : — he 

shows in this, he loves his own barn better 

than he loves our house. Let me see some 

more. The purpose you unaer take is dan- 



1 



gerou-s ; — Why, that's certain; 'tis dangerous 
"to take a cold, to sleep, to drink : but 1 tell 
you, my lord fool, out of this nettle, danger, 
we pluck this ilower, safety. The purpose 
you undertake is dangerous ; the friends 
you have iiamed uncertain ; the time itself 
unsorted : and your whole plot too I'ght^ 
for the counterpoise of so great an opposi 
Lion. — Say you so, say you so \ I say unto you 
again, you are a shallow, cowai-dly hind, and 
you lie. \\ hat a lack-brain is this! By the 
Lord, our plot is a good plot as ever was laid; 
our friends true and constant : a good plot, 
good friends, and full of expectation : an ex- 
cellent plot, very good friends. What a frosty- 
spirited rogue is this! Why, my lord of York 
commends the plot, and the general course of 
the action. 'Zounds, an I were now by this 
rascal, I could brain him with his lady's fan. 
Is there not my father, my uncle, and myself? 
lord Edmund Mortimer, my lord of York, 
and Owen Glendower? Is there not, besides, 
tlie Douglas? Have I not all their letters, to 
meet me in arms by the ninth of the next 
month? and are they not, some of them, set 
forward already? What a pagan rascal is this! 
an infidel! Ha! you shall see now, in very 
sincerity of fear and cold heart, will he to the 
king, and lay open all our proceediniis. O, 
I could divide myself, and go to buflfets, for 
moving such a dish of skimmed milk with so 
honourable an action! Hang him I let him tell 
the king : We are prepared : I will set for- 
ward to-night. 

Enter Lady Percy. 
How now, Kate ? 1 must leave you within 

these two hours. [alone? 

Lady. O my good lord, why are you thus 

For what otfcnce have I, this fortnight, beea 

A banish'd woman from my Harry's bed? 

Tell me, sweet lord, what is't that takes from 

thee 
Thy stomach, pleasure, and thy golden sleep? 
Why dost thou bend thine eyes upon the earth; 
And start so often when thou sitt'st alone? 
Why hast thou lost the fresh blood in thy 

cheeks ; [thee, 

And given my treasures, and my rights of 
To thick- eyed musing, and cursed melancholy? 
In thy faint slumbers, I by thee have watch*tl. 
And l;eard thee murmur tales of iron wais: 
S peak terms of manage to thy bounding steed ; 
Cry, Courage! — to the field! And thou hast 

(alk'd 
Of sallies, and retires; of trenches, tents. 
Of palisadoes, frontiers, parapets; 
Of basilisks, of cannon, culverin ; 
Of prisoners' ransome, and of soldiers slain. 
And all the currentsIT of a heady fight. 
Thy spirit within thee hath been so al war. 
And thus hath so bestirr'd thee in thy sleep, 
That beads** of sweat have stood upon thy 

brow, 
Like bubbles in a late-disturbed stream: 
And in thy face strange motions haveappeir'd, 



• Portion. 



f Fat, corpulent, % Clowns. 
% Occurrences. 



i A subject. 
1/rops. 



Drops his f^t. 



43S 



SH Ak-SPEALIE. 



[Arf II 



Such as we see when men restrain their breath 
On some great sudden haste. O, what portents 

are these? 
Some heavy business hath my lord m hand. 
And I must know it, else he loves me not. 

Hot, What, ho ! is Gilliaras with the packet 
gone? 

Enter Servant, 

Serv, He is, my lord, an hour ago. 

Hot, Hath Butler brought those horses from 
the sheriff? [now. 

Serv, One horse, my lord, he brought e'en 

Hot. What horse? a roan, a crop-ear, is it 

Serv, It is, my lord. [not ? 

Hot. That roan shall be my throne. 

Well, I will back him straight : O esyerance*! 
Bid Butler lead him forth into the park. 

[Exit Servant. 

JLady. But hear yon, my lord. 

Hot, What say'st, my lady .^ 

Jjady, What is it carries you away? 

Hot, My horse. 

My love, my horse. 

Ijttdy, Out, you mad-headed ape ! 
A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen, 
As you are toss'd with. In faith, 
I'li know your business, Harry, that I will. 
1 fear, my brother Mortimer doth stir 
About his title ; and hath sent tor yon. 
To linet his enterprise: But if you go 

Hot, So far afoot, I shall be weary, love. 

J^ady. Come, come, you paraquito+, answer 
Directiv to this question that I ask. [me 

In faith, I'll break thy little Answer, Harry, 
An if thou wilt not tell me all things true. 

Hot, Away, 
Away, you trifier! — Love?— I love thee not, 
1 pare not for thee, Kate: this is no world 
To play with mammets), and to tilt with lips: 
Av e must have bloody noses, and crack'd 
Clowns, [horse! — 

And pass them current too. — Gods me, niy 
What say'st. thou, Kate? what wonld'sst thou 
have with me? [indeed ! 

Lady, Do you not love me? do you not. 
Well, do not then ; for, eince you love me not, 
1 will not love myself. Do you not love me? 
In ay, tell me, if you speak in jest, or no. 

Hot. Come, wilt thou see me ride ? 
And when I am o'horseback, I will swear 
1 love thee infinitely. But hark you, Kate , 
j ;iiust not li.ive you henceforth question me 
VVhither 1 eo, nor reason whereabout: 
>V'hithfr I must, 1 must; and, to conchule, 
This evejiirig miij^t I leave you, gentle Kate. 
I know you wise ; but yet no furtlier wise, 
Than Harry l^ercy's wife: constant you are; 
But yet a woman: and for secrecy, 
No Tady closer; for 1 well believe. 
Thou wilt not utter what thou dost not know; 
And so far will I trust thee, gentle Kate I 

7y«r/y. How! so far? [Kate! 

Hot. Not an inch further. But hark you. 
Whither I go, thither shall you go too ; 
To-day will I set forth, to-morrow you. — 



Will thi* content you, Kale? 
Lady, It must, of force, 

{Exeunt 

SCENE IV. Eastcheap. A Room in the 

Boar's Head Tavern, 

Enter Prince Henry aiid Poins. 

P, Hen. Ned, pr'ythee, come out of that fat 
room, and lend me thy hand to laugh a little. 

Poins, Where hast been, Hal? 

P. Hen. With three or four loggerheads, 
amongst three or four score hogsheads. 1 have 
sounded the very base string of humility. 
Sirrah, I am sworn brother to a leash |1 of i 
drawers ; and can call them all by their 
Christian names, as — Tom, Dick, and Fran- 
cis. They take it already npon their salva- 
tion, that though I be but prince of Wales, 
yet I am the king of courtesy; and tell me 
flatly I am no prond Jack, like Falstaflf ; but a 
Corinthian IT, a lad of mettle, a good boy, — hf 
the Lord, so they call me; and when I am 
king of England, I shall command all the 
good lads in Eastcheap. Ti»ey call drinking 
deep, dyeing scarlet : and when you breathe in 
your watering, 1 hey cry hem! and bid yon play 
it oflf. — To conclude, I am so good a proticienl 
in one quarter of an hour, that I can drink 
with any tinker in his own language during 
my life. I tell thee, Ned, thou hast lost much 
honour, that thou wert not with me in this 
action. But, sweet Ned, — to sweeten which 
name of Ned, I give thee this pennyworth o< 
sugar, clapped even now in my hand by an 
unrier-skiuker** ; one that never spake other 
English in his life, than — Eight shiilinfis and 
sijpencfy and — You are welcome ; with this 
shrill addition, — Anon, anon, sir! Score a 
pint of bastard in the Half-moon, or so. 
But, Ned, to drive away the time till Falstaff 
come, I pr'ythee, do thou stand in some bye- 
room, while I question my puny drav»er, to 
what end he gave me the sugar; and do thou 
never leave calling — Francis, that his tale to 
me may be nothing but — anon. Step aside, 
and I'll show thee a precedent. 

Poins. Francis ! 

P. Hen. Thou art perfect. 

Poins. ¥r:inc\s\ [filrif Poins. 

Enter Francis. 

Fran. Anon, anon, sir. — Look down into 
the Pomegranate, Ralph. 

P. Hen. Gome hither, Francis. 

Fran. My lord. 

P. Hen. How long hast thou to serve, 
Francis i 

Fran, Forsooth, five year, and as much aa 
to— . 

Poins. [IVithin.] Francis! 

Fran, Anon, anon, sir. 

P. Hen. Five years, by'rlady, a long lease 
for the clinking of pewter. But, Francis, 
darest thou be so valiant, as to play the 
coward with thy indenture, and to shew it :; 
fair pair of heels, and run from it i 



Motto of the Percy family. 
1! Three. 



H 



+ Strengthen. 
A M'encher. 



X Parrot. 
•• Tapster. 



5 Puppets. 



Scene IV.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



439 



Fran, O lord, sir! Pll be sworn upon all 
the books in England, I could find in my 
Leart — 

Poins. {Vf'ithin.'] Francis! 
Fran. Anon, anon, sir. 
P. Hen. How old art thou, Francis? 
Fran. Let me see, — About Michaelmas next 
I shall be — 
Poins. [Within.] Francis! 
Fran. Anon, sir.— Pray you, stay a little, 
my lord. 

F. Ben. Nay, but hark you, Francis: For 
the sugar thou gavest me, — 'twas a penny- 
wen th, was't not 1 
Fran, O lord, sir! I would, it had been two. 
P. Hen. I will give thee for it a thousand 
p« und : ask me when thou wilt, and thou 
si alt have it. 
Poins. [Within.] Francis! 
Fran. Anon, anon. 

P. Hen. Anon, Francis? No, Francis: but 
to morrow, Francis ; or, Francis, on Thurs- 
day ; or, indeed, Francis, when thou wilt. 
But, Francis,— 
Fran. My lord ? 

P. Hen. Wilt thou rob this leathern-jerkin, 
crystal-button, nott-pated, a^ate-ring, puke- 
stocking, caddis-garter, smooth-tongue, Spa- 
n.sh-pouch, — 

Fran. O lord, sir, who do you mean ? 
P. Hen. Why then, your brown bastard ♦ is 
y( ur only drink ; for, look you, Francis, your 
wliite canvass doublet will sully : in Barbary, 
sii , it cannot come to so much. 
Fran. \\ hat, sir? 
Poins. [Within.] Francis! 
P, Hen. Away, you rogue ! Dost thou not 
hear them call ? 

[Here they both call him; the Drawer 
stands amazed, not knotving which 
way to go.] 

Fnt erWntner. 
Vint. What! stand'st thou still, and hear*st 
such a calling? Look to the guests within. [Eait 
Fran.] My lord, old Sir John, with half a 
dozen more, are at the door ; Shall I let them in! 
P. Hen. Let them alone awhile, and then 
open the door. \Eait Vintner.] Poins ! 
Re'Cnter Poins. 
Poins. Anon, anon, sir. 
P. Hen. Sirrah, Falslaff and the rest of the 
thieves are at the door ; Shall we be merry? 

Poins. As merry as crickets, my lad. But 
hark ye ; What cunning match have you made 
with this jest of the drawer? come, what's the 
issue? 

P. Hen. I am now of all humours, that have 
show'd themselves humours, since the old days 
of goodman Adam, to the pupil age of this 
present twelve o'clock at midnight. [Re- 
tnter Francis with Wine.] What's o'clock, 
Francis? 

Fran. Anon, anon, sir. 
P. Hen. That ever this fellow should have 
fewer words than a parrot, and yet the son of 
a woman I — His industry is— upstairs, and 

• A sweet wine. 



down-stairs; his eloquence, the parcel of a 
reckoning. I am not yet of i'ercy's mind, the 
Hotspur of the north ; he that kills me some 
six or seven dozen of Scots at a breaktast, 
washes his hands, and says to his wite, — Fie 
upon this quiet life .' J want tiot k. O my 
sueet Harry, says she, hotv many Last thou, 
killed to-day? Give my roan horse a drench , 
says he; and answers, A'ow^f/b^^r^fe;^, an hour 
after ; a tnfie, a trifle. 1 pr'yihee, call in 
Falstaff; I'll play Percy, and that damned 
brawn shall play dame Mortinier his v\ife. 
KiiOy says the drunkard. Call in ribs, call in 
tallow. 

Enter Falstaff, Gadshill, Bardolph, 
and Pkto. 
Poins, Welcome, Jack. Where hast thou 
been 1 

Ful. A. plague of all cowards, I say, and a 
vengeance too I marry, and amen !— Give me a 
cup of sack, boy. — Ere 1 lead this lite long, I'll 
sew nether stocks +, and mend them, and foot 
them too. A plague of all cowards! — Give 
me a cup of sack, rogue. — Is there no virtue 
extant? [He drinks. 

P. Hen. Didst thou never see Titan kiss a 
dish of butter? pitiful-hearted Tit:in, that 
melted at the sweet tale of the sun I if thou 
didst, then behold that compound. 

Fai. You rogue, here's lime in ti)ip sack too : 
There is nothing but roguery to be found in 
vilianous man: Yet a coward is worse than 
a cup of sack with lime in it ; a vilianous 
coward. — Go thy ways, old Jack; die when 
thou wilt, if manhood, good manhood, be not 
forgot upon the face of the earth, then am I a 
shotten herring. There live not three good men 
unhanged in England ; and one of them is fnt, 
and grows old: God help the while! A had 
world, I say! I would I were a v\eaver; 1 
conld sint: psalms or any thing : A plague of 
all cowards, 1 say still. 

P. Hen. How noW; wool-sack? what mutter 
you? 

Fat. A king's son I If I do not beat thee out 
of thy kingdom with a dagger of lath, and drive 
all thy subjects afore thee like a flock of wild 
geese, I'll never wear hair on my face more. 
You prince of Wales! 

P. Hen. Why you whoreson round man! 
what's the matter ? 

Fal. Are you not a coward? answer me to 
that ; and Poins there ? 

Poins. 'Zounds, ye fat paunch, an ye call 
me coward, I'll stab thee. 

Fal. I call thee coward ! I'll see thee damned 
ere I call thee coward: but I would give a 
thousand pound, i could run as fast as tliou 
canst. You are straight enough in the shoul- 
ders, you care not who sees your back : C;j11 
you that backing of your friends? A plague 
upon such backing! give me them that will 
face me.— Give me a cup of sack : — I am a 
rogue, if I drunk to-<lay. 

P, Hen. O villain! thy lips are scare? 
wiped since thou drunk'st last. 

t Stockings. 



440 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act 11, 



Fal. All's one for that. A plague of all 
cowards, still say I. {He drinks, 

P. Hen. What's th« matter? 
Fal. What's the roatter? there T)e four of us 
nere haveta'en a thousand pound this morning. 
P. Hen. Where is it. Jack? where is it? 
Fal. Where is it ? taken from us it is : a 
hundred upon poor four of us. 
F. Hen. What, a hundred, man? 
Fal. I am a rogue, if I were not at half- 
sword with a dozen of them two hours to- 
gether. I have 'scaped by miracle. I am 
eight times thrust through the doublet ; four 
through the hose ; my buckler cut through and 
through ; my sword hacked like a hand-saw, 
ecce signnm. I never dealt better since I was 
a man ; all would not do. A plague of all 
cowards ! — Let them speak : if they speak 
more or less than truth, they are villains, and 
the sons of darkness. 
P. Hen. Speak, sirs ; how was it? 
Gads. We four set upon some dozen — 
Fal. Sixteen, at least, my lord — 
Gads. And bound them, 
Peto. No, no, they were not bound. 
Fal. You rogue, they were bound, every 
man of them ; or I am a Jew else, an Ebrew 
Jew. 

Gads, As we were sharing, some six or s.even 

fresh men set upon us, 

Fal. And unbound the rest, and then come 
in the other. 

P. Hen. What, fought ye with them all? 
Fal. All ? I know not what ye call, all ; but 
if I fought not with fifty of them, I am a bunch 
of radish : if there were not two or three and 
fifty upon poor old Jack, then I am no two- 
legged creature. 

Poins. Pray God, you have not murdered 
some of them. 

Fal. Nay, that's past praying for : for I have 
peppered two of them : two, I am sure, I have 
paid ; two rogues in buckram suits. I tell thee 
what, Hal, — if 1 tell thee a lie, spit in my face, 
and call me horse. Thou knowest my old ward; 
— here 1 lay, and thus I bore my point. Four 

rogues in buckram let drive at me, 

P. Hen, What, four? lliou said'st but two, 
even now. 

Fal. Four, Hal ; I told thee four. 
Point. Ay, ay, he said four. 
Fal. These four came all a-front, and mainly 
thrust at me. I made me no more ado, but 
took all thtir seven points in my targf-t, thus. 
p. Hen. Seven? why, there were but four, 
even now. 

Fat. In buckram. 
Poins. Ay, four, in buckram suits. 
Fat, Seven, by these hilts, or lam a villain 
else. 

P, Hen. Pr'ythee, let him alone; we shall 
have more anon. 

Fal. Dost thou hear me, HrI ? 
P. Hen. Ay, and mark thee too. Jack. 
Fal. Do so, tor it is wortli the listening to. 
riiese nine in buckram, that I told thee of, 



P. Hen. So, two more already. 
Fal. Their points being brok'?n, — 
Poins. Down fell their hose. 
Fal. Began to give me ground: But I fol 
lowed me close, came in foot and hand ; and, 
with a thought, seven of the eleven I paid. 

P. Hen. O monstrous ! eleven buckram men 
grown out of two! 

Fal. But, as the devil would have it, three 
mis-begotten knaves, in Kendal* green, came 
at my back, and lei drive at me ;— for it was so 
dark, Hal, that thou couldst not see thy hand. 
P, Hen. These lies are like the father that 
begets them ; gross as a mountain, open, pal 
pable.' Why, thou clay-brained guts ; thou 
knotty-pated fool ; thou whoreson, obscene, 
greasy tallow-keecht — 

Fal. What, art thou mad? art thou mad T 
is not the truth, the truth ? 

P, Hen. Why, how couldst thou know 

these men in Kendal green, when it was so 

dark thou couldst not see thy hand ; come tell 

us your reason : What sayest thou to this? 

Poins, Come, your reason. Jack, your 

reason. 
Fal. What, upon compulsion? No; were I 
at the strappado, or all the racks in the world, 
I would not tell you on compulsion. Givt. 
you a reason on compulsion! if reasons werw 
as plenty as blackberries, I would give no maJ 
a reason upon compulsion, I. 

P. Hen. I'll be no longer guilty of this sin ; 
this sanguine coward, this bed-presser, this 

horse-back-breaker, this huge hill of flesh! 

Fal. Away, you starveling, you elf-skin, 
you dried neats-tongue, bull's pizzle, you stock- 
fish, — O, for breath to utter what Is like thee I 
— you tailor's yard, you sheath, you bow-case, 

you vile standing tuck! 

P. Hen. Well, breathe awhile, and then to 
it again; and w4ien thou hast tired thyself in 
base comparisons, hear me speak but this. 
Poins. Mark, Jack. 

P. Hen. We two saw you four set on four ; 
you bound them, and were masters of their 

wealtli. Mark now, how plain a tale shall 

put you down.— Then did we two set on you 
four : and, with a word, out-faced you from 
your pri/.e, and have it; yea, and can show it 
you here in the house: — and, Falstatf, you 
carried your gnts away as nimbly, with a* 
quick dexterity, and roared for nieicy, and 
still ran and roared, as ever I heard bull-calf 
What a slave art thou, to hack thy sword as 
thou hast done; and then say, it \> as in fight/ 
What trick, what device, what starting-hole, 
canst tliou now find out, to hide thee from this 
open and apparent shame? 

Pi.i/is. Come, let's hear, Jack! What trick 
hast thou now ? 

Fal. By the Lord, I knew ye, as well as he 
that made ye. Why, hear ye, my masters: 
Was it forme to kill the heir-apparent f Should 
1 turn upon the true prince? Why, thou 
knowest, 1 am as valiant as Hercules : but 
beware instinct; the lion will not touch the 



• A own io Westmoreland famous for making cloth. 



t A round lump of fat. 



Scene JV.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



441 



true prince. Instinct is a ^reat matter ; 1 was 
a coward on instinct. I shall tliink the better 
of myselt' and thee, during my life; I, tor a 
valiant lion, and thou for a true prince. Hut, 
by the Lord, lads, I am glad you have the 

money. Hostess, clap to the doors; watcli 

to-ni^ht, pray to-morrow. — Gallants, lads, \ 
boys, hearts of gold. All the titles of good 
fellowship come to you ! What, shall we be 
merry ? shall we have a play extempore 1 

P. Hen. Content ; — aud the argument shall 
be, thy running away. 

Fal. Ah ! no more of that, Hal, an thou 
lovest me. 

Enter Hostess. 

Host. My lord the prince, 

P. Hen. How now, my lady the hostess? 
what say*st thou to me 1 

Host. Marry, my lord, there k a nobleman 
of the court at door, would speak with you : 
he says, he comes from your father. 

P. Hen. Give him as much as will make 
him a royal man, aud send him back again to 
my mother. 

FuL What manner of man is he? 
Host. An old man. 

Fal. W hat doth gravity out of his bed at 
midnight? — Shall I give hina his answer? 
P. He?i. Pr'>thee, do, Jack. 
Fal. 'Faith, and I'll send him packing. 

[Fa:?t. 
P. Hen. Now, sirs ; by'r lady, you fought 
fair ; — so did you, Peto ; — so did you, Bar- 
dolph: you are lions too, you ran away upon 
instinct, you will not touch the true prince ; 
no, — fie ! 

Bard. * Faith, I ran when I saw others run. 
P. Hen. Tell me now in earnest: How came 
Falstatf 's sword so hacked ? 

Peto. Why, he hacked it with his dagger; 
and said, he would swear truth out of England, 
but he would make yon believe it was done in 
fight; and persuaded us to do the like. 

Bard. Yea, and to tickle our noses with 
spear-grass, to make them bleed; and then to 
beslubber our garments with it, and to swear 
it was the blood of true men. 1 did that I did 
not this seven year before ; I blushed to hear 
his monstrous devices. 

P. Hen. O villain, thou stolestacup of sack 
eighteen years ago, and wert taken with the 
manner*, and ever since thou hast blushed 
extempore. Thou liadst fire and sw^ord on thy 
side, and yet thou ran'st away ! What instinct 
hast thou for it? 

Bard. My lord, do you see these meteors? 
^o you behold these exhalations ? 
P. Hen. I do. 

Bard. What think you they portend? 
P. Hen. Hot livers and cold pnrsest. 
Bard. Choler, my lord, if rightly taken. 
P. Hen. No, if rightly taken, halter. 
Be-enttr Falstaff. 
Here comes lean Jack, here comes bare-bone. 



How now, my sweet creature of bombast J 
How long is't ago. Jack, since thou sawes; 
thine own kr.ee? 

Fa6 My own knee? when I was about thy 
years, Hal, I was not an eaj^le's talon in the 
waist ; I could have crept into any alderman's 
thumb-ring : A plague of sighing and grief! it 
blows a man up like a bladder. There's villan- 
ous new s abroad : here was sir John Bracy 
from your father ; you must to the court in the 
morning. That same mad fellow of the north, 
Percy ; and he of Wales, that gave Amaimon i 
the bastinado, and made Lucifer cuckold, and 
swore the devil his true liegeman upon the 
cross of a Welsh hook, — What, a plague, call 

you him? 

Poins. O, Glendower. 
Fal. Owen, Owen; the same; — and hi» 
son-in law, Mortimer; and old Northumber- 
land ; and that sprightly Scot of Scots, Dong- 
las, that runs ©'horseback up a hill perpen- 
dicular. 

P. Hen. He that rides at high speed, and 
with his pistol kills a sparrow flying. 
Fal. You have hit it. 
P. Hen. So did he never the sparrow. 
Fal. Well, that rascal hath good mettle in 
him ; he will not run. 

P. Hen. Why, what a rascal art thou then, 
to praise him so for running? 

Ful. O'horseback, ye cuckoo! but, afoot, 
he will not budge a foot. 

P. Hen. Yes, Jack, upon instinct. 
Fal. I grant ye, upon instinct. Well, he is 
there too ; an<i one Mordake, and a thousand 
blue caps II more: Worcester is stolen away 
to-night; thy la'iher's beard is turned white 
with the news y ou may buy laud now a.s 
cheap as slinking r,ia ckerel. 

P.Htn. Why .^i^. I, 'tis like, if there come 
a hot June, and this civil butteting hold, we 
shall buy maidenheads as they buy hobnails, 
by the hundreds. 

Fal. By the mass, lad, thou saye.'it true ; it is 
like we shall have good trading that way. — 
Bttt, tell me, Hal, art thou not horribly afeard? 
thou being heir-apparent, could the world pick 
thee out three such enemies again, as that fiend 
Douglas, that spirit Percy, and that devil 
Glendower? Art thou not horribly afraid'} 
doth not thy blood thrill at it? 

F.Hen. Not a whit, i 'faith ; I lack some 
of thy instinct. 

Fal. Well, thou wilt be horribly chid to- 
morrow, when thou comest to thy father : il 
thou love me, practise an answer. 

P. Hen. Do thou stand for my father, and 
examine me upon the particulars of my life. 

Fal. Shall I? content :— This chair shall be 
my stateli^, this dagger my sceptre, and this 
cushion my crown. ^ 

P. Hen, Ihy state is taken for a joint-stool, 
thy golden sceptre for a leaden dagger, aud thy 
precious rich crow n for a pitiful bald crown I 



• In the fact. t Drunkenness and poverty. % Bombast is the stuffing of clothes, 

§ A demon, who is described as one of the four kings, who rule over all the demors in thfc 
world. Scotsmen in blue bonnels. H Chair of state. 



442 



SHAKbPEARE. 



[Act II, 



FaL Well, an the fire of grace be not quite I 
out of thee, now shalt thou be moved. — C.ive 
me a en p of sack, to make mine pyes look 
red, that it may be thought 1 have wept; for 
I must spt;ak in passion, and 1 will do ii in 
king (.'ambyses'* vein. 

P. Hen. VV^ell, here is' my leg f. 

FaL And here is my speech :— Stand aside, 
nobility. 

Host, This is excellent sport, i'faith. 

FaL Weep not, sweet queen, for trickling 
tears are vain. 

Host. O, the father, how he holds his coun- 
tenance ! 

FaL For God's sake, lords, convey my 
tristful j queen, 
For tears do stop the flood gates of her eyes. 

Host. O rare! he doth it as like one of these 
harlotry players, as 1 ever »ee. 

FaL. Peace, good pint-pot ; peace, good 
tickle- brain $. — Harry, I do not only marvel 
where thou spendest thy time, but also how 
thou art accompanied : for though the camo- 
mile, the more it is trodden on, the faster it 
grows, yet youth, the more it is wasted, the 
sooner it wears. That thou art my son, I 
have partly thy mother's word, partly my 
own opinion ; but chiefly, a viilanons trick 
of thine eye, and a foolish hanging of thy ne- 
ther lip, that doth warrant me. If then thou 
be son to me, here li^ the point; — Why, 
being sun to me, art thoft so pointed at ? Shall 
the blessed suti of heaveft pro^c a micherH, 
and eat blackberries? a quesu-nn not to be 
asked. Shall the son of Kngland prove a 
Ihief, and take purses? aquestit'ji to be asked. 
There is a thing, Harry, whi<i'Athou hast often 
heard of, and it is known X'o unny in our land 
by the name of pitch: t'jtis pi\ch, as ancient 
writers do report, doth defile ; so doth the 
company thou keepest: for, Harry, now I do 
not speak to thee in drink, but in tears ; not 
in pleasure, but in passion ; not in words only, 
but in woes also: — And yet there is a virtuous 
man, whom 1 have often noted in thy com- 
pany, but L know not his name. 

f . Hen. What manner of man, an it like 
your majesty? 

Fal. A good portly man, i'faith, and a cor- 
pulent ; of a cheerful look, a pleasing eye, and 
a most noble carriage ; and, as I think, his age 
some fifty, or, by'r lady, inclining to three- 
score ; and now 1 remember me, his name is 
Falstafi": if that man should be lewdly given, 
he decciveth me ; for, Harry, I see virtue in 
his looks. If then the tree may be known by 
the fruit as the fruit by the tree, then, peremp- 
"^orily 1 speak it, there is virtue in that Fal- 
itatf : him keep with, the rest banish. And tell 
me now, thou naughty varlet, tell me, where 
hast thou been this month ? 

P. Hen. Dost thou speak like a king? Do 
thou stand for me, and I'll play my father, 

• A character in a Tragedy by T. Prestou, 1570. t Obeisance. + Sorrowful. 

$ Name of a strong liquor. H A truant boy. IF A yoimg rabbit. •• Th*' ma- 

chine which separates flour from bran. tt A leather blackjack to hold beer. Jj lo 

Essex, where a large ox was roasted whoke. ^j Go no faster than 1 can follow. 



FaL Depose me? if thou doht it half so 
gravely, so majestically, both in word and 
matter, hang me up by the heels for a rab bit- 
sucker U, or a poulter's hare. 

p. Hen. Well, here I am set. 

FaL And here I stand: — ^judge, my masters. 

P. Hen. Now, Harry? whence come you? 

FaL My noble lord, from Easicheap. 

P. Hen. The complaints I hear of Ihee are 
grievous. 

Fal- 'Sblood, my lord, they are false: — 
nay, I'll tickle ye for a young prince, i'faith. 

P. Hen. Swearest thou, ungracious boy? 
heneeforth, ne'er look on me. ihou art vio- 
lently carried away from grace : there is a 
devil haunts thee, in the likeness of a fat old 
man : a tun of man is thy companion. Why 
dost thou converse with that trunk of humours, 
that bolting-hutch ** of beastliness, that swolii 
parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard ft of 
sack, that stuffed cloak-bag of guts, that roast- 
ed Manniugtree JT ox with the pudding in his 
belly, that reverend vice, that grey iniquity, 
that father runian,that vanity in years? Where 
in is he good, but to taste sack and drink it ♦ 
wherein neat and cleanly, but to carve a capor 
and eat it? wherein cunning, but in craft' 
wherein crafty, but in villany? wherein vil- 
lanous, but in all things? wherein worthy, but 
in nothiiig? 

FaL I would your grace would take me . 
with youy$l Whom means your grace? 

P. Hen. That villanous abominable raia- 
leader of youth, Falstaff; that old white- 
bearded Satan. 

FaL My lord, the man I know. 

P. Hen. I know, thou dost. 

FaL But to say I know more harm in him 
than in myself, were to say more than I know. 
That he is old, (the more the pity,) his white 
hairs do witness it : but that he is (saving your 
reverence) a whoremaster, that I utterly 
deny. If sack and sugar be a fault, God help 
the wicked ! If to be old and merry be a sin, 
then many an old host that I know, is damn- 
ed : if to be fat be to be hated, then Pharaoh s 
lean kine are to be loved. Ino, my i^ood lord ; 
banish Peto, banish Bardolph, banish Poins : | 
but for sweet Jack Falstatf, kind Jack Fal- 
staff, true Jack Falstaff, valiant Jack Falstatt, 
and therefore more valiant, being as he is, oil 
Jack Falstaff, banish not him thy Harry's 
company ; banish plump Jack, and banish all 
the world. 

/'. Hen. I do, I will. \A knocking heard, 
[Exeunt Hostess, Francis, flwd Baruolfh. 
Re-enter Bardoli'H, running. 
Bard. O, my lord, my lord ; the sherift, 
with a most monstrous watch, is at the door. 

Fal. Out, you rogue! play out the play: I 
have much to say in the behalf of that Falstatt. 
Re-enler Hostess, hast Up. 
Host. O Jesu, my lord, my lord I 



Scene IV,] 



FIRST PART or KING HENRY IV. 



443 



Fal. Heigh, heigh ! the devil rides upon a 
fiddle-stick: What's the matter? 

Host. The sheritt and all the watch are at 
the door : they are come to search the house ; 
Shall I let them in? 

Fill, Dost thou hear, Hal? never call a trne 
piece of ^old a counterfeit : thou art es«;en- 
tially mad, without seemin^ so. 

P. Hen. And thou a natural coward, with- 
ODt instinct. 

Fal. I deny your major: if yon will deny 
the sheriff, so ; if not, let him enter: if I be- 
c:-»me not a cart a? well as another man, a 
pla;j;ue on my bringin,; up ! I hope, I shall as 
soon be strangled with a halter, as another. 

P. He?i. Go, hide thee behind the arras* ; 
— the rest walk up above. Now, my masters, 
for a true face, and good conscience. 

Fal. Both which I have had ; but their 
date is out, and therefore I'll hide me. 

[E.\eu)tt all but the Prince a7id Poins. 

P. Hen. Call in the sheriff. 

Enter Sheriff «wd Carrier. 
Now, master sheriff; what'syour Avill with me? 

Sher. First pardon me, my lord. A hue 
and cry 
Hath foliow'd certain men unto this house. 

P. Hen. What men ? 

Slier. One of them is well known, my gra- 
A gross fat man. [cious lord, 

Car. As fat as butter. 

P. Hen. The man, I ilo assure you, is not 
here ; 
For I myself at this time have employed him. 
And, sheriff, I will engage my word to thee. 
That I will, by tomorrow dinner-time. 
Send him to answer thee, or any man, 
For any thing he shall be charged withal ; 



And. so let me entreat you leave the house. 

Slier. I will, my lord: There are two gen 
tlemen 
Have in this robbery lost three hundred marks 

P. Hen. It may be so : if he have robb'd 
these men. 
He shall be answerable ; and ?o, farewell. 

Sh-r. Good ninbt, my noble lord. 

P. Hen. I think it is good morrow : is it not? 

Sher. Indeed, my lord, 1 think it be two 
o'clock' [Exeunt Sheriff tfwrf Carrier. 

P. Han. ihis oily rascal is known as well 
as Paul's I. Go, call him forth. 

Poi'.'S. Falstaff!— fast asleep behind the 
arras, and snorting like a horse. 

P. Hen. Hark, how hard he fetches breath: 
Search his pockets. [PoiNs searches.] What 
hast thou found ? 

Poins. Nothing but papers, my lord. 

P. Hen. Let's see what they be : read them. 

Poins. Item, A capon, 2*. 2d. 
Item, Sauce, 4d. 
Item, S^dck, two gallons, 5^. 8^. 
Item, Anchovies, and sack after supper, 2^. 6f?. 
Item, Bread, a halfpenny. 

P. Hen. O monstrous, but one half-penny- • 
worth of bread to this intolerable daal of sack ! 
— What there is else, keep close ; we'll read it 
at more advantage : there let him sleep till 
day. I'll to the court in the morning : we 
must all to the wars, and thy place shall be 
honourable. I'Uprocure this fat •og' ;«?, a charge 
of foot ; and, I know, his death i^rili \f^^ .narcb 
of twelve score. *rhe money sh^l be i>><iJd back 
again with advantage. Be wiVa me betimes 
in the morning ; and so good morrow, Poins. 

Poins. Good morrow, good my lord. 

[Exetmt 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. Bangor. A Room in the Arch- i 
deacon's House. j 

Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Mortimer, 
and GlrnduW£r. 

Morf. These promises are fair, the parties 
s'lre, 
And our induction i full of prosperous hope. 

Hof. Lord Mortimer, — and cousin Glen- 
Will you sit down? [dower, — 

A.nd uncle W^orcester. — A plague upon it I 
I have forgot the m.ip. 

Glend. No, here it is. 

Sit, cousin Percy ; sit, good cousin Hotspur: 
For by that name as oft as Lancaster 
Doth speak cf you, his cheek looks pale ; and 
A lising sigh, he wisheth you in heaven, [with 

Hof. Antl you in hell, as often as he hears 
Owen (ilendower spoke of. 

Glend. 1 cannot blame hira : at my nativity. 
The front of heaven was full of fiery shapes. 
Of burning cressets §; and at my birth. 
The frame and huge foundation of the earth 



Shaked like a coward. 

Hot. Why, so it would have done 

At the same season, if your mother's cat had 
But kitten'd, though yourself had ne'er been 
born. [born. 

Glend. I say, the earth did shake when 1 was 
Hot. And I say, the earth was not of my 
mind. 
If you suppose, as fearing you it shook. 
Glend. The heavens were all on fire, the 
earth did tremble. [vens on fire. 

Hot. O, then the earth shook to see the hea- 
And not in fear of >our nativitv. 
Diseased nature oftentimes breaks forth 
In strange eruptions: oft tin? teeming earth 
Is wi':h a kind of colic pincli'<l and vex'd 
By the imprisoning of unruly wind 
Within her womb; which, for enlargement 
striving, [down 

Shakes the old beldame earth, and topples i 
Steeples, and moss-grown towers. At your 

birth, 
Our graudam earth, having thih distemperature. 



* Tapeatry. t St. Paul's cathedral. I Beginning. $ Lights set cross^ 

va>6 !»i>on beacons, and also upon poles which were used iu processions, &c. 1| Tumbles. 



444 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act 111, 



In passion shook. 

Glend. Cousin, of many iiit-n 

I do not hear these crossings. Give nie leave 
To tell you once again, — lliat at my birth, 
The front of heaven was full of fiery si)apes ; 
The goats ran from the mountains, and the 
heiHis [fields. 

Were strangely clamorous to the frighted 
These signs have marked me extraordinary ; 
And ail the courses of my life do show, 
I am not in the roll of common men. 
Where is he living, — clipp'd in with the sea 
That chides the banks of England, Scotland, 

Wales,— 
Which calls me pupil, or hath read to me? 
And bring him out, that is but woman's son, 
Can trace me in the tedious ways of art. 
And hold me pace in deep experiments. 

Jflot. I think there is no man speaks better 

Welsh : 

1 will to dinner. , [him mad. 

Alort, Peace, cousin Percy ; you will make 

Glend. I can call gpii its from the vasty deep. 

Hot, Why, so can I ; or so can any man : 
But will they come, when you do call for them? 

Glend, Why, I can teach you, cousin, to 
command 
The devil. 

Hot, And I can teach thee, coz,to shame the 
devil, [devil. — 

By telling truth; Tell truth, and shame the 
If thou havt power to raise him, bring him 
hifti/er, [hence. 

And I'll ^ ^ sworn, I have power to Lhame him 
O, while you ii've, tell truth, and shame the 

Mort. Come, come. [devil. 

No more of this unprofitable chat. 

Glend. Three tiwies haih Henry Boling- 

broke made head [Wye, 

Against my power ; thrice from the banks of 

And sandy- bottom'd Severn, have I sent him, 

Bootless* home, and weather-beaten back. 

Hot. Home without hoots, and in foul wea- 
ther too 1 
How 'scapes be agues, in the devil's name ? 

Glend. Come, here's the map; Shall we 
divide our right. 
According to our three-fold order ta'en ? 

Mort, The archdeacon hath divided it 
Into three limits, very equally : 
England, from Trent and Severn hitherto, 
By south and cast, is to my part assign'd ; 
All westward Wales, beyond the Severn shore. 
And all the fertile land within that bound, 
To Owen Glendower : — and, dear coz, to you 
The remnant northward, lying otf from Trent. 
And our indentures tripartiiet are drawn. 
Which being sealed interchangeably, 
(A business that this night may execute,) 
Tomorrow, cousin Percy, you, and I, 
And my good lord of Worcester, will set forth. 
To meet your father, and the Scottish power J, 
As is appointed us, at Shrewsbury. 
My father, Glendower, is not ready yet. 
Nor shall we need bis help these fourteen days : 



Within that space, [7Y> Glend.] you may have 

drawn totjelher 
Your tenants, friends, and neit;bbouring gentle- 
men, [lords, 

Glend, A shorter time shall send me to you. 
And in my conduct shall your ladies come: 
From whom you now mast steal, and take no 

leave ; 
For there will be a world of water shed. 
Upon the parting of your wives and you. 

Hot. Methinks, my moiety §, north from 
Burton here, 
In quantity equals not one of your's : 
See, how this river comes me cranking' in, 
And cuts me from the best of all my land, 
A huge half moon, a monstrous cantle || out. 
I'll have the current in this place damm'd up 
And here the smug and silver Trent shall run 
In a new channel, fair and evenly : 
It shaM not wind with such a deep indent. 
To rob me of so rich a bottom here. 

Glend. Not wind? it shall, it must; you 

Mort. Yea, [see, it dolb. 

But mark, how he bears his course, and runs 

me up 
With like advantage on the other side ; 
Gelding IF the opposed continent as much 
As on the other side it takes from you. 

Wor. Yea, but a little charge will trench 
him here, 
And on this north side win this cape of land ; 
And then he runs straight and even. 

Hot. I'll have it so ; a little charge will do it. 

Glend. I vvili not have it alter'd. 

Hot. Will not you 1 

Glend. No, nor yon shall not. 

Hot. Who shall say me nay ? 

Glend, Why, that will I. 

Hot. Let me not understand you then. 

Speak it in Welsh. 

Glend. I can speak English, lord, as well as 
For I wastrain'd up in the English court : [y«'n; 
Where, being but young, I framed to theliarp 
Many an English ditty, lovely well, 
And gave the tongue a helpful ornament ; 
A virtue that vvas never seen in you. [heart; 

Hot, Marry, and I'm glad of it with ail my 
I had rather be a kitten, and cry — mew. 
Than one of these same metre ballad-mongers: 
I had rather hear a brazen canstick ** tuin'd. 
Or a dry wheel grate on an axle-tree ; 
And that would set my teeth nothing on edge. 
Nothing so n)uch as mincing pottry ; 
'Tis like the forced gait of a »hnftiinL' nag. 

Glend. Come, you shall have Treiit tnrn'd. 

Hot. I do not care: I'd give thrice so mncli 
To any well-deserving friend ; [land 

But, in the way of bargain, marR ye me, 
1*11 cavil on the ninth part of a hair. 
Are the indentures drawn ? shall we be gone? 

Glend. The moon shines fair, you may away 
I'll haste the writer tt, and, withal, [to night : 
Break tj with your wives of your departure 

hence : 
I am afraid, my daughter will run mad. 



• Unsuccessful. t Three copiee. % Force. § Part. { Corner. 

•' Cutting. •• Candlestick. tf The writer cf the articles. Jt Break the matter 



Scene J.] 



FIJIST PART OF KliVG HENRY IV. 



445 



So much she doteth on her Mortimer. [Exit. 

Mort. Fie, cousin Percy! how you cross iny 
father ! [me, 

Hot, I cannot choose : sometimes he angers 
With telling me of the mold warp * and the ant, 
Of the dreamer Merlin and his prophecies ; 
And of a dragon and a finless fish, 
A clip-wing*d griffin, and a moulten raven, 
A couching lion, and a ramping cat, 
And such a deal of skimble-skamble stuff 
As puts me from my faith. I tell you what, — 
He held me, but last night, at least nine hours, 
In reckoning up the several devil's names, 
That were his lackeys : I cried, humph, — and 

■well, — go to, — 
But marked him not a word. O, he's as tedious 
As is a tired horse, a railing wife ; 
Worse than a smoky house : I had rather live 
With cheese and garlic in a windmill far. 
Than feed on cates f, and have him talk to me. 
In any summer-house in Christendom. 

Mort. In faith, he is a worthy gentleman; 
Exceedingly well read, and profited 
In strange concealments j; valiant as a lion, 
And wondrous affable ; and as bountiful 
As mines of India. Shall I tell you, cousin? 
He holds your temper in a high respect. 
And curbs himself even of his natural scope. 
When you do cross his humour; faith, hedoes: 
I warrant you, that man is not alive, 
Might so have templed him as you have done. 
Without the taste of danger and reproof; 
But do not use it oft, let me ewlreat you. 

IVor. In faith, my lord, you are too wilful- 
blame ; 
And since your coming hither have done enough 
To put hirn quite beside his patience. 
You must needs learn, lord, to amend this fault : 
Though sometimes it show greatness, courage, 

blood, 
(And that's the dearest grace it renders you,) 
Yet ofientimes it doth present harsh rage, 
Defect of manners, want of government, 
Fri<le, haughtiness, opinion, and disdain: 
The least of which, haunting a nobleman, 
L«!seih men's hearts; and leaves behind a stain 
Uptni the beauty of all parts !)e?ides, 
Beguiling thein of commendation. 

Hot. Well, 1 amschool'd; good manners be 
your speed I 
Here come our wives, and let us take our leave. 

Be-cnter Glendowlr, with the Ladies. 

Mi^rt. This is the deadly spite that angers me. 
My wife can speak no Englith, 1 no Welsh. 

Glend. My daughter weeps ; she will not 
part with you. 
She'll be a soldier too, she'll to the wars. 

Mart. Good faiher, tell her, — that she, and 
my aunt Percy, 
Shall follow in your conduct § speedily. 

^Glen DOWER speaks to his daugiUer in 

VV elsh, and she aiistrers him in the same. 

Glend. She's desperate here; a peevish *clf- 
will'd harlotry, 
Cue no persuasion can do good upon. 

• Mo'ie. f Dainties. 

' A compliment to queen Elizabeth. 



[Lady M. speaks to Mortimkr ew Welsh. 

iMort. I understand thy looks : that pretty 
Welsh [heavens, 

Which tiiou pourest down from these swelling 
I am too perfect in ; and, but for shame. 
In such a parley would 1 answer thee. 

[Lady M. speaks. 
I understand thy kisses, and thou mine. 
And that's a feeling disputation : 
But 1 will never be a truant, love, 
, Till I have learn*d thy language, for thy tongue 
Makes Weish as sweet as ditties highly penn'd. 
Sung by a fair queen in a summer's bower. 
With ravishing division, to her lutejl. 

Glend. Nay, if you melt, then will she run 
mad. {liiidy M. speaks a gai7i 

Mort. O, I am ignorance itself in this. 

Glend. She bids you 
Upon the wanton rushes lay you down, 
And rest your gentle head upon her lap. 
And she will sing the song that pleaseth you. 
And on your eye-lids crown the god of sleep. 
Charming your blood with pleasing heaviness; 
Making such difference 'twixt wake and sleep. 
As is the difference betwixt day and night, 
The hour before the heavenly-harness'd team 
Begins his solden progress in the east. 

Mort. With all my heart I'll sit, and hear 
her sing : 
By that time will our booklF, I think, be drawn, 

Glciid. Do so; 
And those musicians that shall play to you, 
Kangin the air a thousand leaiiues from hence ; 
Y'et straigiit they shall be here : ^it. and attend. 

Hot. Come, Kate, thou art perfect in lying 
down : Come, quick, quick; that 1 may lay 
my head in thy lap. 

Littdy p. Go, ye giddy goo»e. 

[Gi.ENDOWER speaks some Welsh 
ivords^ avd then the Mu'^.ic plays. 

Hot. Now 1 perceive, the devil understands 
Welsh ; 
And 'tis no marvel, he's so humorous. 
By'r-lady, he's a good musician. 

Ludy P. Then should you be nothing but 
musical ; for you are altogether governed by 
humours. Lie still, ye thief, and hear the 
lady sing in Welsh. 

Hot. i had rather hear Lady^ my brach **, 
huv» I in Irish. 

Lady P. Wouldst thou have thy head 
broken? 

Hot. ^o. 

Lady P. Then be still. 

Hot. Neither; 'tis a woman's fau!t. 

Lady P. Now God help thee I 

Hot. To the Welsh lady's bed. 

Lady P. What's that? 

Hot. Peace! she sings. 

A Welsh SONG sung by Lady M. 

Hot. Come, Kate, Pll have your song too. 

Lady P. Not mine, in good sooth. 

Hot. ^ot yours, in good sooth 1 'Heart, you 
swear like a com fit- maker's wife! Not you, ia 
good sooth ; and. As true as I live ; and. As 

t Secrets. $ Guard. »>*cort. 

% Our paper of conditiong. ♦» Hound. 

2Q 



446 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act III \ 



God shnll mend ine ; and, As sure as day : 
And uivest such sarcenet surety for thy ottths. 
As if thou never waik'dst further than Fins- 
bury *■. 
Swear me, Kate, like a iady, as thou art, 
A good mouth-tilling oath; and leave in sooth, 
And such protest ot pepper-gingerbread, 
To velvet-guards t, and Sunday citizens. ' 
Come, sing. 

Ladrj P. I will not sing. 

Hot. *Tis the next way to turn tailor, or be 
redbreast teacher. An the indentures be 
drawn, I'll away within these two hours ; and 
so come in when ye will. [Exit, 

Glend. Come, come, lord Mortimer; you 
are as slow, 
As hot loid Percy is on fire to go. [then 

By this, our book's drawn; we'll but seal, and 
To horse immediately. 

Alort, With all my heart. 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE II. London. A Room in the 

Palace. 

Enter King Henry, Prince of Wales, and 

Lords. 

AT. Hen, Lords, give us leave ; the Prince of 
Wales and I, [hand. 

Must have some conference: But be near at 
lor we shall presently have need of yon. — 

[Exeunt Lords. 
I know not whether God will have it so. 
For some displeasing service I have done, 
Th^t in his secret doom, ont of my tdood 
He'll breed revengement and a scourge for me ; 
But thou dost, in thy passages of life, 
Make ii.e believe, that thou art only mark'd 
For the hot vengeance atul the rod of heaven, 
To panish my mis-treadings. Tell me else. 
Could such inordinate and low desires. 
Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean 

attenipts;, 
Such barren pleasures, rude society, 
As thou art niatch'd withal, and grafted to. 
Accompany the greatness of thy blood, 
And hold their level with thy princely heart? 

P. Hen. So please your majesty, I would 
I could 
Quit all offences with as clear excuse. 
As well as, I am d«)ubtle?s I can purge 
Myself of many I am charged withal : 
Yet such extenuation let me beg, 
As, m reproof of many tales devised, — 
Which olt the ear of greatness needs must 
hear,— [gers. 

By smiling pick-thanks § and base newsmon 
1 may, for some things true, wherein my youth 
Hath faulty wander'd and irregular, 
i ind pardon on my true submission. 

K. Hen. God pardon thee ! — yet let me 
wonder. Harry, 
At thy affections, which do hold a wing 
<>!uite from the flight of all thy ancestors. 
J hy place in couucil thou hast rudely lost. 



Which by thy younger brotlieris supplied ; 

And art almost an alien to the hearts 

Of all the court and princes of my llood : 

The hope and expectation of thy time 

Is ruin'd : and the soul of every man 

Prophetically does fore-think thy fall. 

Had I so lavish of my presence been, 

So common-hackney'd in the eyes of men, 

So stale and cheap to vulgar company, 

Opinion, that did help me to the crown, \ 

Had still kept loyal to possession 1| ; 

And left me in reputeless banishment, 

A fellow of no mark, nor likelihood. 

By being seldom seen, I could not stir, 

But, like a comet, 1 was wonder'd at: 

That men would tell their children. This is he. 

Others would say, — Where? iv'uich is Boling 

broke ? 
And then I stole all courtesy from heaven. 
And dress'd myself in such humility, 
That I did pluck alUgiance from men's hearts, 
loud shouts and salutations from their mouths. 
Even in the presence of the crowned king. 
Thus did I keep my person fresh, and new; 
My presence, like a robe pontifical, 
Ke'er seen, but wonder'd at: and so my state. 
Seldom, but sumptuous, showed like a feast; 
And won, by rareness, such solemnity. 
Tlie skipping king, he ambled up and down 
With sb.allow jesters, and rash bavin IT wils, 
boon kindled, and &ooa bun.'d : carded bis 

state ; j 

Mingled his royalty with capering fools; * 

Had his great name pmianed with their scorns; 
And gave his c«>nnteiiance, ag dnst his name. 
To laugh at gib.ni boys, and stand the push 
Of every beardless vain comparative** : 
Grew a companion to the common streets. 
Enfeoffed tt himself to popularity : 
That being daily swallow'd by men's eyes, 
Ihey surfeited with honey : and began 
To loathe the taste of sweetness, whereof a 

little 
More than a little is by much to much. 
So, when he had occasion to be seen. 
He was but as the cuckoo is in June, 
Heard, not regarded ; seen, but with such eyes 
As. sick and blunttd with community, 
Atford no extraordinary gaze, 
.Such as is bent on sun-like majesty 
When it shines seldom in admiring eyes : 
But ratlier drowz'd, and hung their eye-lids 

down, 
Slept in his face, and render'd .such aspect 
As cloudy men use to their adversaries; 
Being with his presence glutted, gorged, and 

full. 
And in that very line, Harry, Ktand'st ihou : 
For thou hast lost thy princely privilege,^ 
With vile participation; not an e>e 
But is a-weary of thy connnon sight, 
Save mine, which haih desired tosee thee more; 
Which now doth that 1 would not have it do. 
Make blind itself with foolish tendernesb. 



• In Moorfields. + Laced velvet, the fir^pry of cockneys. J Lnworthy undertakings. 

^ Otlicioua parasites. || True to him that had then possession of the cro>''U< 

II Brushwood. •• Hival. tt Posse>6s«d 



Scene II,) 



riRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



P. Hen. I shall hereafter, iny thrice-graci- 
Be more myself. [ous lord, 

HC. Hen. For all the worlrl, 

As thou art to this hour, was Richard then 
When I from France set fool at Ravenspurg; 
And even as I was then, is Percy now. 
Now by my sceptre, and my soul to boot. 
He hath more worthy interest to the state. 
Than thou, the shadow of succession : 
For, of no riiiht, nor colour like to right. 
He doth fill fields with harness* in the realm; 
Turns head ajiainst the lion's armed jaws ; 
And, being no more in debt to years than thou. 
Leads ancient lords and reverend bishops on, 
To bloody battles, and to bruising arms. 
What never-dying honour hath he got 
Against renowned Douglas ; whose high deeds, 
Whose hot incursions, and great name in arms, 
Holds from all soldiers chief majority, 
And military title capital, [Christ ! 

Through all the kingdoms that acknowledge 
Thrice hath this Hotspur Mars in swathing 

clothes. 
This infant warrior in his enterprises. 
Discomfited great Doua;las: ta'en him once. 
Enlarged him, and made a friend of him. 
To till the mouth of deep defiance up. 
And shake the peace and safety of our throne. 
And what say you to this? Percy, >iorthum- 

berland, [timer. 

The archbishop's grace of York, Douglas, Mor- 
Capitulatet against ns, and are up. 
But wherefore do I tell these news to thee? 
Why, Harry, do I tell thee of my foes, 
Which art my near'st and dearest: enemy? 
Thou that art like enough, — t!i rough vassal fear, 
Base inclination, and the start or spleen, — 
To fight against me under Percy's pay. 
To dog his heels, and court'sy at his frowns, 
To show how much degenerate thou art. [it so ; 
P. Hen. Do not think so, you shall not find 
And God forgive them, that have so much 

sway'd 
Your majesty's good thoughts away from me! 
I will redeem all this on Percy's head, 
And, in the closing of some glorious day. 
Be bold to tell you, that I am your son ; 
W^hen I will wear a garment all of blood. 
And stain my favours in a bloody mask, [it- 
Which,wash'd away , shall scour my shame with 
And that shall be the day, whene'er it liglits, 
That this same child of honour and renown, 
This gallant Hotspur, this all-praised knight, 
And your unthought-of Harry, chance to meet: 
For every honour sitting on his hehn. 
Would they were multitudes ; and on my head 
My shames redoubled ! tor the time ■>Aili come. 
That I shall make this northern youth exchange 
His glorious deeds for my indignities. 
Percy is but my factor, good rny lord. 
To engross up glorious deeds on my behalf; 
And I will call him to so strict account. 
That he shall render every glory up. 
Yea, even the slightest worship of his time. 
Or I wiii tear the reckoning from his heart. 

♦ Armour. f Combine. X Most fatal. 
•• Feeds himself. 



447 



i his, in the naine of God, I promise here: 
Tite which if he be pleased I shdil perform. 
I do beseech your majesty may salve 
The lonLi-grown wounds of my intemperance: 
If not, the end of life cancels all bands ^; 
And i will die a hundred thousand deaths. 
Ere break the smailest parcel || of this vow. 

AT. Hen. A hundred thousand rebels die in 

tiiis :— [herein. 

Thou shalt have charge, and sovereign trust. 

Enter Blujst. 
How now, good Blunt? thy looks are full of 
speed. [speak of. 

Blunt. So hath the business that I come to 
Lord Mortimer of Scotland hath sent word, — 
That Douglas, and the English rebels, met. 
The eleventh of this month, at Shrew sbury : 
A mighty and a fearful head they are. 
If promises be kept on every hand. 
As ever offer'd foul play in a state, [to-day ; 

K. Hen. The earl of Westmoreldud set forth 
With him my son, lord John of Lancaster; 
For this advertisement H is five days old : — 
On Wednesday next, Harry, you shall set 
Forward ; on Thursday, we ourselves will 

march : 
Our meeting is Bridgnorth : and, Harry, you 
Shall march through Glostershire; by which 

account, 
Our business valued, some twelve days hence 
Our general forces at Biidgnorth shall meet. 
Our hands are full of business: Itt's away ; 
Advantage feeds him fat**, while nsen delay. 

{Exeunt. 

SCENE III. Eastcheap. A Room in tht 

Boar's Head Tavern. 

Enter Falstaff and Baruolph. 

Fal. Bardolph, am I not fallen away vilely 
since this last action? do 1 not bate? do I not 
dwindle? Why, my skin hangs about me like 
an old lady's hose gown; I am wither'd like 
an old apple-John. Well, I'll repent, and that 
suddenly, while I am in some liking t+; I shall 
be out of heart shortly, and then 1 shall have 
no strength to repent. An 1 have not forgotten 
what the inside of a church is made of, 1 am 
a pepper-corn, a brewer's horse ; the inside of 
a church! Company, villanous company, 
hath been the spoil of me. 

Bard. Sir John, you are so fretful, you 
cannot live long. 

Fal. Why, there it is ; — come sing me a 
bawdy song; make me merry. I was as virtn 
ously given, as a gentleman need to be; virtues . 
enough : swore little; diced, not above seven 
times a week ; went to a bawdy-house, not 
above once in a quarter — of an hour ; paid 
money that I borrowed, three or four times ; 
lived well, and in good compass: and now I 
live out of all order, out of all compass. 

Bard. Why, you are so fat, sir John, that 
you must needs be out of all compass; out of 
all reasonable compass, sir John. 

Fal. Do thou amend thy face, and I'll amend 

§ Bonds. »!1 Part. H Intelligence. 
+t Have some flesh. 



448 



SHAKSPEAKE. 



[ActlJh 



my life : Thou art our admiral*, thou bearest 
the lantern in the poop, — but 'tis iu the nose of 
thee; Ihou art the kiii-htof the burning lamp. 

Bard. Why, sir Joim, my face does you no 
harm. 

Fal. No, I'll be sworn ; I make as good use 
of it as many a man doth of a death's head,- or 
a memeHto mori: I never see thy face, but I 
think upon hell fire, and Dives that lived in 
purple ; for there he is in his robes, burning, 
burning. If thou wert any way given to vir- 
tue, I would s^vear by thy face ; my oath should 
be. By this tire: but thou art altoi^ether given 
over ; and wert indeed, but for the light in thy 
face, the son of utter darkness. When thou 
ran'st up Gad's-hill in the night to catch my 
horse, if I did not think thou hadst been an ignis 
fatuus, or a ball of wildfire, there's no pur- 
chase in money. O, thou art a perpetual tri- 
umph, an everlasting bonfire-light! Thou hast 
saved me a thousand marks in links and torches, 
walking with thee in the night betwixt tavern 
and tavern: but the sack that thou hast drunk 
me, would have bought me lights as good cheap, 
at the dearest chandler's in Europe. I have 
maintained that Salamander of your's with fire, 
any time this two and thirty years; Heaven 
reward me for it 1 

Bard. 'S blood, I would my face were in 
your belly! 

FaL God-a-mercy ! so should I be sure to 
be heart-burned. 

Enter Hostess. 
How now, dame Partlet the hen+? have you 
inquired yet, who picked my pocket? 

Host. Why, sir John! what do you think, 
sir John? Do you think I keep thieves in my 
house? I have searched, I have inquiitd, so 
has my husband, man by man, boy by boy, 
servant by servant : the tithe of a hair was 
never lost in my house before. 

Fill. You lie, hostess ; Bardolph w^as shaved, 
and lost many a hair: and I'll be sworn, 
my pocket was picked : Go to, you are a wo- 
man, go. 

Host. Who I? I defy thee? I was never 
called so in mine own house before. 

Fal. Go to, 1 know you well enough. 

Ho.st. No, sir John; yon do not know me, 
sir John: 1 know you, sir John: you owe me 
money, sir John, and now you pick a quarrel 
to beguile me of it : I bought you a dozen of 
shirts to your back. 

Fal. r>owlas, filthy dowlas : I have given 
them away to bakers' wives, and they have 
made bolters of them. 

Host. Now, as I am a true woman, holland 
of eight shillings an ell. You owe money here 
besides, sir John, for your diet, and by-drink- 
ings, and money lent you, four and twenty 
pound. 

Fu(. lie had his part of it; let him pay. 

Host. He? alas, he is poor; he hath no- 
thing. 

/>//, How! poor? look upon his face; 



What call you rich? let them coin his nose, 
let them coin his cheeks ; I'll not pay a denier. 
What, wil! you make a youuker of me? shall 
1 not take mine ease in mine inn, but 1 shall 
have my pocket picked? I have lost a seal- 
ring of my grandfather's worth forty mark. 

Host. O Jesu I I have heard the prince tell 
him, I know not how oft, that that ring was 
copper. 

Fal. How! the prince is a Jack J, a sneak- 
cup ; and, if he were here, I would cudgel him 
like a dog, if he would say so. 
Enter Prince Henry and Poins, marching. 

Falstaff meets the Prince, playing on 

his truncheon like afij'e. 

Fal. How now, lad ? is the wind in that 
door, i'faith ? must we all match? 

Bard. Yea, two and two, Newgate-fashion 1 

Host. My lord, I pray you, hear me. 

P. Hen. What sayest thou, mistress Quick- 
ly? How does thy husband? I love him well, 
he is an honest man. 

Host. Good my lord, hear me. 

Fal. Pr'ythee, let her alone, and list to me. 

P. Hen. What sayest thou, Jack? 

Fal. The other night I fell asleep here he- 
hind the arras, and had my pocket picked : this 
house is turned bawdy- house.they pick pockets. 

P. Hen. What didst thou lose. Jack ? 

Fal. Wilt thou believe me, Hal ? three or 
four bonds of forty pound a-piece, and a seal- 
ring of my grandfather's. 

P. Hen. A trifle, some eight-penny matter. 

Host. So I told him, my lord; and I said, 
I heard your grace say so: And, my lord, he 
speaks most vilely of you, like a foul-mouthed 
man as he is ; and said, he would cudgel you. 

P. Hen. What! he did not? 

Host. There's neither faith, truth, nor 
womanhood in me else. 

Fal. There's no more faith in thee than in a 
stewed prune ; nor no more truth in thee, than 
in a drawn fox ; and for womanhood, maid 
iVIarian j may be tha deputy's wife of the ward 
to thee. Go, you thing, go. 

Host. Say, what thing? what thing? 

Fal. What thing? why, a thing to thank 
God on. 

Host. I am no thing to thank God on, I 
would thou shouldst know it ; I am an honest 
man's wife: and, setting thy knighthood aside, 
thou art a knave to call me so. 

Fal. Setting thy womanhood aside, thou 
art a beast to say otherwise. 

Host. Say, w hat beast, tlion knave thou ! 

Fal. What beast? why an otter. 

P. Hen* An otter, sir .lohn! why an otter? 

Fal. Why, she's neither fish, nor flesh ; a 
man knows not where to have her. 

Host. Thou art an unjust man in saying so; 
thou or any man knows where to have me, 
thou knave thou ! 

P. Hen. Thou sayest true, hostess ; and he 
slanders thee most grossly. 

Host, So he doth you, my lord; and said 

• Admiral'* ship. f In the story-book of Reynard the Fox. I A term of contempt fit 
quenily ised by Shak»peare. j A man dressed like a woman, who attend* morris dancers. 



Scene IIIJ] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



449 



tliis other day, you ought him a thousand 
pound. 

P. Hen. Sirrah, do I owe you a thousand 
pound? 

Fal. A thousand pound, Hal? a million: 
thy love is worth a Uiillion ; thou owest me thy 
love. 

Host. Nay, my lord, he called you Jack, 
and said, lie would cudgel you. 

FaL Did I, Bardolph? 

Bard. Indeed, sir John, yon &aid so. 

FaL Yea ; if he said, my ring was copper. 

P. Hen. 1 say, 'tis copper : Larest thou be 
as good as thy word now ? 

Fal, VV hy, Hal, Ihoa knowest, as thou art 
but man, Idare : but, as thou art prince, I fear 
thee, as I fear the roaring of the lion's whelp. 

P. Hen. And why not, as the lion? 

FuL The king himself is to be feared as the 
lion : Dost thou think, I'll fear thee as 1 fear 
thy father? nay, an I do, I pray God my 
girdle break! 

p. Hen. O, if it should, how would thy 
guts fall about thy knees! But, sirrah, there's 
no room for faith, truth, nor honesty, in this 
bosom of thine; it is filled up with guts, and 
midriff. Charge an honest woman with pick- 
ing thy pocket! Why, thou whoreson, impu- 
dent, embossed * rascal, if there were any 
thing in thy poeket but tavern-reckonings, 
memorandums of bawdy-houses, and one poor 
penny-vvorth of sugar-candy to make thee long 
winded; if thy pocket VAere enriched with any 
other injuries but these, I am a villain. And 
yet you will stand to it; you will not pocket 
up wrong: Art thou not ashamed? 

Fai. iJobt thou hear, Hal? tliou knowest, in 
the state of innoceucy, Adam fell ; and what 
should poor Jack Falstaff do, in the days of 
villany? Thou seest, I have more tiesh than 

another man ; and therefore more frailty. 

You confess then, you picked my pocket ? 

P. Hen. It appears so by the story. 

Fal. Hostess, I forgive thee: Go, make 



ready breakfast ; love thy husband, look to thy 
servants, cherish thy guests : thou shalt find me 
tractabJe to any honest reason : thou seest, I 
am pacified. — Stili? — Nay, pr'ythee, be gone. 
\_Extt Hostess.] JN ow, Hal, to the news at court: 
for the robbery, lad, — How is that answered? 

P. Hen. O, my sweet beef^ I must still be 
good angel to thee : — The money is paid back 
again. 

FaL O, I do not like that paying back, 'tis 
a double labour. 

P. Hen. I am good friends with my father, 
and may do any thing. 

Fal. Rob me the exchequer the first thing 
thou doest, and doit with unwashed hands too. 

Bard. Do, my lord. 

P, Hen. I have procured thee, Jack, a 
char e of foot. 

FaL 1 would it had been of horse. Where 
shall I find one that can steal well? O for a 
fine thief, of the age of two and twenty, or 
thereabouts I I am heinously unprovided. 
Well, God be thanked for these rebels, they 
offend none but the virtuous; I laud them, I 
praise them. 

P. Hen. Bardolph 

Bard. My lord. [of Lancaster^ 

P. Hen. Go bear this letter to lord John 
My brother John ; this to my lord of West- 
moreland. — 
Go, Poins, to horse, to horse ; for thou, and I, 
Have thirty miles to ride yet ere dinnertime. — 
Jack 

.Meet me to-morrow i'the Temple-hall, 
At two o'clock i'the afternoon : [receive 

There shalt thou know thy charge ; and there 
Money, and order for their furniture. 
The land is burning ; Percy stands on high ; 
And either they, or we, must lower lie. 

Exeunt Prince, Poins, and BardolpHs 

Fal. Rare words 1 brave world ! Hostes*, 

my breakfast ; come : — 
O, I could wish this tavern were my drum. 

{Exit, 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. The Rebel Camp near Shrews- 
bury. 

Enter Hotspur, Worcester, awe? Doug- 
las. 

Hot» Well said, my noble Scot: If speaking 
truth, 
In this fine age, were not thought flattery. 
Such attribution should the Douglas t have. 
As not a soldier of this season's stamp j 
Should go so general current through the world. 
By heaven, I cannot flatter ; I defy 
Tlie tongues of soothers : but a braver place 
In my heart's love, hath no man than your- 
self: 
Nay, task me to the word ; approve me, lord. 

Jjoug. Thou art the king of honour : 



No man so potent breathes upon the ground. 
But I will beard § him. 
Hot, Do so, and *tis well : — 

Enter a Messenger, ivith Letters, 
What letters hast thou there?— I can but thank 
you. 
Mess, These letters come from your father. 
Hot. Letters from him ! why comes he not 
himself? [vous sick. 

Mess. He cannot come, my lord ; he's grie- 
Hot. *Zounds ! how has he the leisure to be 
sick, 
Insuchajustlingtime? Who leads his power l|? 
Under whose government come they along? 
Mess. His letters bear his mind, not I, my 
lord. [bed? 

Wor. I pryHhee tell me, doth he keep his 



Swoln, puffy. t This expression is applied by way of pre-eminence to the head of the 

Douglas family. J Disdain. j Meet him face to face. |j Forces. 

2 Q 3 



450 



SHAKSPEARE. 



,/«r/ ir 



J/Vaa. He Jid, my lord, four days ere 1 set 
f(M-th ; 
And at tlie liine of my departure thence. 
He was much fear'd by his physicians. 

H'o7\ 1 would the state of time had first 
be^n whole, 
Ere he b> sickness had been visited ; 
His health was never better worth than now. 

Hot. Svk now! droop now I this sickness 
doth .nfect 
The very lite-blood of our enterprise ; 

Tis catching; hither, even to our camp. 

He writes me here, — that inward sickness — 
And thiit his friends by deputation could not 
So soon be drawn ; nor did he think it meet. 
To lay so dangerous and dear a trust 
On any soul removed, but on his own. 
Yet (loih he i^ive us bold advertisement, — 
That with our small conjunction, we should on. 
To see how fortune is disposed to us : 
For, as he writes, there is no quailing* now ; 
Because tlie king is certainly possessM t 
Or" all our purposes What say you to it ? 

Wor. Your father's sickness is a maim to us, 

Hot. A perilous gash, a very limb lopp'doflf: 
And yet, in faith, 'tis not ; his present want 
Seems more than we shall find it : — Were it 
To set the exact wealth of all our states [good, 
All at one cast ? to set so rich a main 
On the nice hazard of one doubtful hour 1 
It were not good : for therein should we read 
The very bottom and the soul of hope ; 
The very list J, the very utmost bound 
Of all ouf fortunes. 

Doug. 'Faith, and so we should ; 

Where § now remains a sweet reversion : 
We may boldly spend upon the hope of what 
Is to come in : 
A comfort of retirement lives in this. 

Hot. A rendezvous, a home to fly unto. 
If that the devil and mischance look big 
Upon the maidenhead of our atJairs. 

fVor. But yet, I would your father had been 
The quality and hair|j of our attempt [here, 
Brooks no division : It will be thought 
By some, that know not why he is away, 
That wisdom, loyalty, and mere dislike 
Of our proceedings, kept the earl from hence ; 
And think, how such an apprehension 
May turn the tide of fearful faction, 
And breed a kind of question in our cause : 
For, well you know, we of the offering side 
Mivst keep aloof from strict arbitrement ; 
And stop all sight-holes, every loop, from 

whence 
The eye of reason may pry in upon us: 
This absence of your father's draws a curtain, 
That shows the ignorant a kind of fear 
Before not dreamt of. 

Hof. You strain too far. 

I, mther, of his absence make this use ; — 
It lends a lustre, and more great opinion, 
A Ivtrger dare to our great enterprise, [think, 
Thtin if the earl were here : for men must 



If \*e, witliout his help, can make a head 
To push against the kiiigdom ; with his help. 
We shall o'erturn it topsy-turvy down. — 
Yet all goes well, yet all our joints are whole. 
Doug. As heart can think : there is not such 
a word 
Spoke of in Scotland, as this term of fear. 
Enter Sir Richard Vernon, 
Hot, My cousin Vernon 1 welcome, by my 
soul. [come, lord. 

Ver, Pray God, my news be worth a wel 

The earl of Westmoreland, seven thousand 

strong, [John. 

Is marching hitherwards; with him, prince 

Hot, J>Io harm : What more? 

Ver, And further, I have learn'd, — 

The king himself in person is set forth. 
Or hitherwards intended speetiily, 
With strong and mijf^hty preparation, [his son. 

Hot. He shall be Welcome too. Where is 
The nimble footed mad-cap prince of Wales, 
And his comrades, that doff'dH the world 
And bid it pass? [aside, 

Ver. All fnrnish'd, all in arms. 

All plumed like estridges *♦ that wing the wind ; 
Bated like eagles having lately bathMtf; 
Glittering in golden coats, like images ; 
As full of spirit as the month of May, 
And gorgeous as the suu at midsummer; 
Wanton as youthful goats, wild as young bulls. 
I saw young Harry, — with his beaver on, 
His enisses jj on his thighs, gallantly arm'd,— 
Rise from the ground like feather'd Mercury, 
And vaulted with such ease into his seat, 
As if an angel dropp'd down from the clouds, 
To turn and wind a fiery Pegasus, [ship. 

And witch 5§ the world with noble horseman- 

Hot* >io more, no more; worse than the 
sun in March, [come ; 

This praise doth nourish agues. Let them 
They ( ome like sacrifices in their trim. 
And to the fire-eyed maid of smoky war. 
All hot, and bleeding, will we offer them : 
The mailed Mars shall on his altar sit, 
Up to the ears in blood. I am on fire, 
To hear this rich reprisal is so nigh, [horse. 
And yet not ours : — Come, let me take my 
Who is to bear me, like a thunderbolt, 
Against the bosom of the prince of Wales : 
Harry to Harry shall, hot horse to horse, 
Meet, and ne'er part, till one drop down a 
O, that Glendower were come I [corse. — 

Ver. There is more news : 

I learn'd in Worcester, as I rode along, 
He cannot draw his power this fourti en days. 

Doug. 1 hat's the worst tidings that 1 hear 
of yet. [sound. 

Wor. Ay, by my faith, that bears a frosty 

Hot. What may the king's whole battle 

Ver, To thirty thousand. [reach unio? 

Hot. Forty let it be ; 

My father and Glendower being both away, 
The powers of us may serve so great a day. 
Come, let us make a muster speedily : 



Languishing. 
•5 Thrown off. 



t Informed. J Line. $ Whereas. H The complexion, the character 
•• Dressed with ostrich feathers. tf Fresh as birds just washed. 

ti Armour. §§ Bewitch, charm. 



SVfWfc. II J 



FIRST PART OF KIMG HENRY IV 



451 



Doomsday it near ; die all, die merrily. 

Doug. Talk not of dying ; 1 am out of 

fear [year. 

Of death, or death's hand, for this one half 

[Exeunt. 
SCENE II. A Public Bond near Coventry. 
Enter Falstaff and Bakdolph. 

Fill. Bardolph, get thee before to Coventry ; 
fill nie a bottle of Siick : our soldiers shall 
march through ; we'll to Sutton-Coltield to- 
night. 

Bard. Will you ^ive me money, captain ? 

Fal lay out, lay out. 

Bard, 'ihis bottle makes an angel. 

f'\ii. An it it do, take it for tliy Idbonr ; and 
if it make twenty, take them all, I'll ans\\er 
the coiijage. Bid my lieutenant Petomeetrae 
at the lown's end. 

li.rd. I will, captain : farewell. [Exit. 

Fal. If I be not ashamed of my soldiers, I 
am a soured gurnet*. I have misused the 
king's press damnably. I have got, in ex- 
change of a hundred and fifty soldiers, three 
hundred and odd pounds. I press me ncne 
but good houseliolders, ye* men's sons : inquire 
me out contracted bachtlors, such as had been 
asked twice on the bans; such a commodity 
of warm slaves, as had as lief hear the devil 
as a drum ; such as fear the report of a caii- 
ver+, worse than a stmck fowl, or a hurt wild- 
duck. I presseJ nie none but such toasts and 
butter, with hearts in thei/ bellies no bigger 
than pins' heads, and they have bought out 
their services; and now my whole charge 
cousists of ancients, corporals, lieutenants, 
gentlemen of companies, slaves as ragged as 
Lazarus in the painted cloth, where the glut- 
ton's dogs licked his sores : and such as, in- 
deed, were never soldiers ; but discar led un- 
just serving-men, younger sons to younger 
brothers, revolted tapsters, and ostlers trade- 
fallen ; the cankers of a calm worid, and a 
lopg peace ; ten times more dishonourable 
ragged than an old faced ancient j: and such 
have I, to fill up the rooms of them that have 
bought out their services, that yoa would 
think that I had a hundred and fifty tattered 
prodigals, lately come from swine keeping, 
frcm eating draff and husks. A mad fell w 
met me on the way, and told me, I had un- 
loaded all the gibbets, and pressed tlie dead 
bodies. No eye hath sof-n such scarecrows. 
I'll not march through (Coventry with them, 
that's flat : — Nay, and the villains march wide 
betwixt the legs, as if they had eyves^on; 
lor, indeed, I had t' e most of them out of 
prison. There's but a shirt and a half in all 
my company : and the half-shirt is two nap- 
kins, tHcked together, and thrown over the 
shoulders like a herald's coat without sleeves ; 
and the shirt, to say the truth, stolen from my 
host at Saint Alban's, or the red-nose inn- 
keeper of Daii-.try||. But that's all one; 
they'll find linen enough on every liedge 



Enter Prince HKNRYflwd Westmoreland. 

P. Hen. How now, blown Jack? how now, 
quilt? 

Fal. What, Hal? How now, mad wag? 
what a devil dost thou in Warwickshire^ — 
My good lord of Westmoreland, I cry you 
merry; 1 thought your honour had already 
been at Shrewsbury, 

yt est. 'Faith, sir John, 'tis more than time 
that I were there, aiid you too; but my pow- 
ers are there already : The king, 1 can tell 
you, loi'ks for us all ; we must away all night. 

Ful. Tut, never fear me ; 1 am as vigilant 
as a cat to steal cream. 

P. Hen. I think, to steal cream indeed; 
for thy theft hath already made thee butter. 
But tell me, Jack; Whose fellows are these 
that come after? 

Fal. Mine, Hal. mine. 

P. Hen. I did never s^e such pitiful rascals. 

Fal. Tut, tut; good enough to toss; food 
for powder, food for powder ; they'll fill a 
pit, as well as better : tush, man, mortal men, 
mortal men. 

West. Ay, but, sir John, methinks they are 
exceeding poor and bare; too beggarly. 

Fal. 'Faith, for their poverty, — I know not 
where they had that: and for their bareness, — 
I am sure, they never learned that of me. 

P. Hen. No, I'll be sworn ; unless you call 
three fingers on the ribs, bare. But, sirrah, 
make haste; Percy is already in the field. 

Fal. What, is the king encamped? 

H est. He is, sir John ; I fear, we shall stay 
too long. 

Fal. Well, [of a feast. 

To the latter end of a fray, and the beginning 
Fits a dull fighter, and a keen guest. [Edcunt. 

SCENE III. The Rebel Cump near 

Shrewsbury. 

Enter Hotspur, Worcester, Douglas, 

and VtRNON. 

Hot, We'll fight with him to-night. 

Wor. It may not be. 

Doug. You give him then advantage. 

Ver. • Not a whit. 

Hot, Why say you so? looks he not for 

Ffr. Sodowe. [supply? 

Hot. His is certain, ours is doubtml. 

Wor. Good cousin, be advised; stir not to- 

Vcr. Do not, my lord. ['dght. 

Dovg. You do not counsel well; 

You speak it out of fear, and cold heart. 

Ver. Do me no slander, Douglas: by my life, 
(And I dare well maintain it with my life,) 
If well respected honour bid me on, 
1 hold as liMle counsel with wtak fear. 
As you my lord, or any Scot that lives: — 
Let it be seen to-morrow in the battle. 
Which of us fears. 

Doug. Yea, or to-night. 

Ver. Content. 

Hot, To-night, say I. 

Ver, Come, come, it may not be. 



• A fi»h. 



t A gun. t Standard. 

y Davcntry. 



\ Fetters. 



452 



SHAKSPE4RE. 



[Act If. 



wonder much, being men of such great 

leading *, 
That you foresee not what impediments 
Drag back our expedition : Certain horse 
Of my cousin Vernon's are not yet come up: 
Your uncle Worcester's horse came but to-day ; 
And now their pride and mettle is asleep, 
Their courage with hard labour tame and dull, 
That not a horse is half the half himself. 

Hot, So are the horses of the enemy 
In general, journey-bated, and brought low; 
The better part of ours is full of rest. 

FFor. The number of the king exceedeth ours: 
For God's sake, cousin, stay till all come in. 
[The Trumpet sounds a parley. 
Enter Sir Walter Blunt. 
Blunt. I come with gracious offers from 

the king. 
If yon vouchsafe me hearing, and respect. 

Hot. Welcome, sir Walter Blunt; and 'would 
You were of our determination ! [to God 

Someof us love you well: and even those some 
Envy your great deserving, and good name ; 
Because you are not of our quality t. 
But stand against «s like an enemy. 
Blunt. And God defend, but still I should 

stand so. 
So long as out of limit, and true rule, 
You stand against anointed majesty! [know 
But, to my charge. — The king hath sent to 
The nature of your griefs j; and whereupon 
You conjure from the breast of civil peace 
Such bold hostility, teaching his duteous land 
Audacious cruelty: If that the king 
Have any way your good deserts rorgot, — 
Which he confesseth to be manifold, — 
He bids you name your griefs : and, with all 

speed, 
You shall have your desires, with interest; 
And pardon absolute for yourself, and these. 
Herein misled by your sugoestion. 
Het. The king is kind ; and, well we know, 

the king 
Knows at what time to promise, when to pay. 
My father, and my uncle, and myself. 
Did give him that same royalty he wears: 
And, — when he was not six and twenty strong, 
Sick in the world's regard, wretched and low, 
A poor unminded outlaw sneaking home, — 
My father gave him welcome to the shore: 
And, — when he heard him swear and vow to 
ile came but to be duke of Lancaster, [God, 
To sue his livery ^, and beg his peace; 
With ttars of innocency, and terms of zeal, — 
My father, in kind heart and pity moved, 
Swore him assistance, and perform'd it too. 
Now, when the lords, and barons of the realm 
Perceived Northumberland did lean§ to him, 
The more au<l less came in with cap and knee; 
Xfet hiin in boroughs, cities, villages; 
Attended him on bridges, stood in lanes. 
Laid gifts before him, protfer'd him their onths. 
Gave him their heirs; as pages follow'd him, 
Kven at the heels, in golden multitudes- 
He prttsently, — as greatness, knows itself, — 



Steps me a little higher than his vow 
Made to my father, w hile his blood was poor. 
Upon the naked shore at Ravenspurg; 
And now, forsooth, takes on him to reform 
Some certain edicts, and some strait decrees. 
That lie too heavy on the commonwealth: 
Cries out upon abuses, seems to weep 
Over his country's wrongs; and, by this face. 
This seeming brow of justice, did he win 
The hearts of all that he did angle for. 
Proceeded further ; cut me off the heads 
Of all the favourites, that the absent king 
In deputation left behind him here, 
When he was personal in the Irish war. 
Blunt. Tut, 1 came not to hear this. 
Hot. Then, to the point. 

In short time after, he deposed the king; 
Soon after that, deprived him of his life ; 
And, in the neck of that, task'd the whole 
state: [March, 

To make that worse, suffer'd his kinsman, 
(Who is, if every owner were well placed. 
Indeed his king,) to be incaged in Wales, 
There without ransome to lie forfeited ; 
Disgraced me in my happy victories; 
Sought to entrap me by intelligence § ; 
Rated my uncle from the council-board ; 
In rage dismissed my father from the court; 
Broke oath on oath, committed wrong oa 

wrong: 
And, in conclusion, drove ns to seek out 
This head of safety; and, withal, to pry 
Into his title, the which we find 
Too indirect for long continuance. [kingt 

Blunt. Shall I retu<n this answer to the 
Hot. Not so, sir Walter; we'll withdrav 
awhile. 
Go to the king ; and let there be impawn'd 
Some surely for a safe return again. 
And in the morning early shall mine uncle 
liring him our purposes : and so farewell. 
Blunt. I would you would accept of grace 
Hot. And, may be, so we shall, [and love* 
Blunt. Pray heaven, you dov 

{Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. York. A Room in the Arch- 
bishop's House. 
Enter the Archbishop of York, and a 
Gentleman. 
Arch Hie, good sir Michael? bear this 
sealed brieflT, 
With winged haste, to the lord mareshal ; 
This to my cousin Scroop; ami all the rest 
To whom they arc directed: if you kaew 
How much they do import, you would mak« 
Gent. My good lord, [haste. 

I guess their tenor. 

Arch. Like enough, you do. 

To-morrow, good sir Michael, is a day, 
Wherein the fortune of ten thousand men 
Must 'bide the touch : For, sir, at Shrewsbury, 
As I am truly given to understand, 
The king, with mighty and quick-raised power. 
Meets with lord Harry : and I fear, sir Michael, 



• Conduct, ezperieBce. f Fellowship. % Grievances. $ The delivery of his lands 
$ The greater and the less. S Letter. 



Scene ir.] 



FIRST PART OF K1\G HEIMRY IV. 



453 



What with the sickness of Northumberland, 
(Whose power was in the first proportion,) 
And what with Owen Glendower's absence 

thence, 
(Who with them Mas a rated sinew too*, 
And comes not in, o'er-ruled by prophecies,) — 
I fear, the power of Percy is loo weak 
To wage an instant trial with the king. 

Gent. Why, good my lord, you need not 
fear; there's Douglas, 
And Mortimer. 
Arch. No, Mortimer's not there. 

Gent, But there is Mordake, Vernon, lord 
Harry Percy, 
And there's my lord of Worcester ; and a head 
Of gallant warriors, noble gentlemen, [drawn 
Arch, And so there is : but yet the king hath 



The special head of all the land together; — 
The prince of Wales, lord John ot Lancaster, 
The noble Westmoreland, and warlike Blunt; 
And many more co-rivals, and dear men 
Of estimation and command in arms. 

Gent. Doubt not, my lord, they shall be 
well opposed. [fear; 

Arch. I hope no less, yet needful 'tis to 
And, to prevent the worst, sir Michael speed : 
For, if lord Percy thrive n<»t, ere the king 
Dismiss his power, he means to visit us, — 
For he hath heard ^f our confederacy. 
And 'tis but wisdom to make strong against 

him ; 
Therefore, make haste : I must go write again 
To other friends ; and so farewell, sir Michael. 
Exeunt severally. 



ACT V. 



SCENE T. The King's Camp near 
Shrewsbury. 
Enter King Henry, Prince Henry, Prince 
John q/" Lancaster, Sir Walter Blunt, 
and Sir John Falstaff. 
K. Hen. How bloodily the snn begins to 
peer 
Above yon bosky f hill I the day looks pale 
At his distemperature. 

P. Hen. The southern wind 

Doth play the trumpet to his purposes; 
And, by his hollow whistling in the leaves. 
Foretells a tempest, and a blustering day. 
K. Hen. Then with the losers let it sympa- 
thize ; 
For nothing can seem foul to those that win. 
Trumpet. Enter Worcester and 
Vernon. 
How now, my lord of Worcester? 'tis not well. 
That you and I should meet npon such terms 
As now we meet : You have deceived our trust; 
And made us dotf j our easy robes of peace. 
To crush our old limbs in ungentle steel : 
This Is not well, my lord, this is not well. 
What say you to't? will yon again tinknit 
This churlish knot of all-abhorred wart 
And move in that obedient orb again. 
Where you did give a fair and natural light ; 
And be no more an exhaled meteor, 
A prodigy of fear, and a portent 
Of broached mischief to the unborn times? 

Wor. Hear me, my liege : 
l^or mine own part, 1 could be well content 
o entertain the lag-end of my life 
A'ith quiet hours; for, I do protest, 
1 have not sought the day of this dislike. 
K. Hen. You have not sought for it! bow 
comes it then? [it. 

Fal. Rebellion lay in his way and he found 
P. Hen. Peace, chewet$, peace. [looks 
Wor. It pleased your majesty, to turn your 
Of favour, from myself, and all our house; 
And yot I must remember you, my lord, 

• A strength on which we reckoned. 
$ A chattering bird, a pie. 



We were the first and dearest of your friends. 
For you, my staff of office did I break 
In Richard's time ; and posted day and night 
Jo meet you on the way, and kiss your hand, 
When yet you were in place and in account 
Nothing so strong and fortunate as 1. 
It was myself, my brother, and his son, 
That brought you home and boldly did outdare 
The dangers of the time: You swore to us, — 
And you did swear that oath at Doncaster, — 
That you did nothing purpose 'gainst the state ^ 
Nor claim no further than your new-fall'n right. 
The seat of Gaunt, dukedom of Lancaster : 
To this we swore our aid. But, in short space. 
It rain'd down fortune showering.on your head; 
And such a flood of greatness fell on you, — 
What with our help ; what with the absent king; 
What with the injuries of a wanton time ; 
The seeming sufferances that you had borne; 
And the contrarious winds that held the king 
So long in his unlucky Irish wars. 
That all in England did repute him dead, — 
And, from this swarm of fair advantages. 
You took occasion to be quickly woo'd 
To gripe the general sway into your hand : 
Forgot your oath to us at Doncaster ; 
And, being fed by us, you used us so 
As that ungentle gull, the cuckoo's bird, 
Useih the sparrow : did oppress our nest ; 
Grew by our feeding to so great a bulk, [sight, 
That even our love durst not come near your 
For fear of swallowing; but with nimble wing 
We were enforced, for safety's sake to fly 
Out of your sight, and raise this present head : 
Whereby we stand opposed by such means 
As you yourself have forged against yourself j 
By unkind usage, dangerous countenance. 
And violation of all faith and troth 
Sworn to us in your younger enterprise. 
K. Hen. These things, indeed, you have ar* 
ticulatedll, 
Proclaim'd at market-crosses, read in churches; 
To face the garment of rebellion 
With some fine colour, that may please the ey« 

t Woody. X Put off. 

I Exhibited in article*. 



454. 



SHAKSPE4RE. 



[Act F. 



Of fickle cbangeliiiifs, and poor discontents, 

Which gape, and rub the elbow, at the news 

Of hurlyburly innovation: 

And never yet did insurrection want 

Such water-colours, to iinpaint his cause; 

>ior moody beggars, starv'ng for a time . 

Of pellmell havoc and confusion. [a soul 

P. Hen. In both our armies, there is many 
Shall pay full dearly for this encounter. 
If once they join in trial. Tell your nephew, 
The prince of Wales doth >;)iu with all the 

world ^ 

In praise ot Henry Percy : By my hopes, — 
This present enterprise set off his head, — 
I do not think, a braver gentleman. 
More active-valiant, or more valiant-young, 
More daring, or more bold, is now alive, 
To grace this latter a^e with noble deeds. 
For my part, 1 may speak it to my shame, 
1 have a truant been to chivalry ; 
And so, I hear, he doth account me too: 
Yet this before my father's majesty, — 
I am content, that he shall take the odds 
Of his great name and estimation ; 
And will, to save the blood on either side. 
Try fortune with him in a single fight. 

/iC. Hen, And, prince of Wales, so dare we 
Albeit, considerations infinite [venture thee, 
Do make against it : — No, gool Worcester, do, 
We love our people well ; even those we love. 
That are misled upon your cousin's part : 
And, will they take the offer of our grace. 
Both he, and they, and you, yea, every man 
Shall be my friend again, and 1*11 be his : 
So tell your cousin, and bring me word 
What he will do:— But if he will not yield, 
Rebuke and dread correction wait on us, 
And they shall do their office. So, be gone; 
We will not now be troubled with reply: 
We oflfer fair, take it advisedly. 

[Exeunt Worcester artrf Vernon. 

P. Hen. It will not be accepted, on ray life : 
The Douglas and the Hotspur both together 
Are confident against the world in arms. 

K, Hen. H ence, therefore, every leader to his 
charge; 
For, on their answer, will we set on them : 
And God befriend us, as our cause is just ! 

[Exeunt K\x\%y Blunt, awd Prince John. 

Fal. Hal, if thou 5ec me down in the battle, 
and bestride me, so ; 'tis a point of friendship. 

P. Hen. Nothing but a Colossus can do thee 
that friendship. Say thy prayers, and farewell. 

Fal. I would it were bed-time, Hal, and 
all well. 

P. Hen, Why, thou owest God a death. 

[Exit. 

Fal. Tis not due yet ; I would be loath to 
pay him before his day. What need I be so 
forward with him that calls not on me? Well, 
'tis no matter : Honour pricks me on. Yea, 
but how if honour prick me off when I come 
on? how then? Can honour set to a lee? No. 
Or an arm ? No. Or take away the grief of a 
wound ? No. Honour hath no skill in surgery 
then ? No. What is honour ? A word. What 



is in that word, honour? What is that honour? 
Air. A trim reckoning .'—Who hath it? He 
that died o' Wednesday. Doth he feel it ? No. 
Doth he hear it? No. Is it insensible then? 
Yea, to the dead. But will it not live with the 
living? No. Why? Detraction will not suffer 
it : — therefore I'll none of it : Honour is a mere 
scutcheon*, and so ends my catechism. [Exit. 

SCENE II. The Rebel Camp. 
Enter Worcester and Vernon. 

Wor. O, no, my nephew must not know. 
The liberal kind offer of the king, [sir Richaid, 

f^^er. 'Twere best, he did. 

Wor. Then are we all undone. 

It is not possible, it cannot be. 
The king should keep his word in loving us; 
He will suspect ns still, and find a time 
To punish this offence in other faults : 
Suspicion shall be all stuck full of eyes: 
For treason is but trusted like the fox; 
Who, ne'er so tame, so cherish'd, and lock'd up, 
Will have a wild trick of his an<;estors. 
Look how we can, or sad, or mer«"ily, 
Interpretation will misquote our looks; 
And we shall feed like oxen at a staH, 
The belter cherish'd, still the nearer dtath. 
My nephew's trespass may be well forgot. 
It hath the excuse of youth, and heat of blood. 
And an adopted name of privilege, - 
A hair-brain'd Hotspur, goveru'd by a spleen; 
All his ofieiiccs live upon my head, 
And on his father's ;— we did train him on ; 
And, his corruption being ta'en from us, 
We, as the spring of all, shall pay for all. 
Therefore, good cousin, let not Harry know, 
In any case, the offer of the king. 

Ver. Deliver what you will, I'll say 'tis so. 
Here comes your cousin, 
ii'w/er Hotspur anrf Doug las; and 0^^cer^ 
and Soldiers, behind. 

Hot. My uncle is return'd:— Deliver up 
My lord of Westmoreland. — Uncle, what 
news ? 

IVor. The king will bid you battle presently. 

Doug. Defy lum by the lord of Westmore- 
land. 

Hot, Lord Douglas, go you and tell him so. 

Doug. Marry, and shall, and very willingly. 

[Exit. 

Wor. There is no seeming mercy in the king. 

Hot. Did you beg any? God forbid ! 

Wor. 1 told him gently of our grievances. 
Of his oath-breaking; which he mended thus,— 
By now forswearing that he is forsworn : 
He calls us rebels, traitors; and will scourge 
With haughty arms this hateful name in us. 
He-enter Douglas. 

Doug. Arm, gentlemen ; to arms! for I have 

thrown 

A brave defiance in King Henry's teeth, [it; 

And Westmoreland, that was engaged, did bear 

Which cannot choose but bring him quickly on. 

Wor. The prince of Wales stepp'd forth 
before the king, 
And, nephew, challenged you to single fight. 



• Painted heraldry in funeral*. 



Scene JJ.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



455 



Hoe, O, would the quarrel lay upon our 

heads ; [to-day, 

A.nd that no man might draw short breath 

But I, and Harry Monmonth ! Tell me, tell me, 

How gho w'd his tasking i seem'd it in contempt? 

Ver. No, by my soul ; I never in my lite 
Did hear a challenge urged more modestly. 
Unless a brother should a brother dare 
To gentle exercise and proof of arras. 
He gave you all the duties of a man; [tongue; 
Trimm'd up your praises with a princely 
Spoke your deservings like a chronicle ; 
Waking you ever better than his praise, 
By still dispraising praise, valued with you : 
And, which became him like a prince indeed. 
He made a blushing cital* of himself; 
And chid his truant youth with such a grace. 
As if he master'd there a double spirit, 
Of teaching, and of learning, instantly. 
There did he pause : But let me tell the world, — 
If he outlive the envy of this day, 
England did never owe t so sweet a hope. 
So much misconstrued in his wantonness. 

Hot Cousin, 1 think, thou art enamoured 
Upon his follies; never did I hear 
Of any prince, so wild, at liberty: — 
But, be he as he will, yet once ere night 
I will embrace him with a soldier's arm. 

That he shall shrink under my courtesy. 

Arm, arm, with speed : — And, fellows, soldiers, 
Better consider what you have to do, [fi lends. 
Than I, that have not well the gift of tongue, 
Can lift your blood up with persuasion. 
Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. My lord, here are letters for you. 

Hot. I cannot read them now. — 
O gentlemen, the time of life is short ; 
To spend that shortness basely were too long, 
If life did ride upon a dial's point, 
Still ending at the arrival of an hour. 
An if we live, we live to tread on kings ; 
If die, brave death, when princes die with us ! 
Now for our conscience, — the arms are fair. 
When the intent of bearing them is just. 
Enter an )tker Messenger. 

Mess, My lord, prepare ; the king comes on 
apace. ;tale, 

Hot. I thank him, that he cuts me from my 
For I profess not talking ; Only this — 
Let each man do his best: and here draw I 
A swor<t, whose temper I intend to stain 
With the best blood that I can meet withal 
In the adventore of this perilous day. 
Now,— Esperance j !— Percy .'—and set on.— 
Sound all the lufty instruments of war. 
And by that music let us all embrace: 
For, heaven to earth, some of us never shall 
A second time do such a courtesy. [The Trum- 
pets sound. They embrace, and exeunt. 

SCENE III. Plain near Shrewsbury. 
Excursions, and Parties fighting. Alarum 

to the Battle. Then enter Douglas and 

Blunt, meeting. 

Blunt. What is thy name, that in the battle 
thus 



Thou Grossest me? what honour dost thou seek 
Upon my head? 

Doug. Know then, my name is Douglas ; 
And I do haunt thee in the battle .bus, 
Because some tell me that thou art a kiiiii. 

Blunt, They tell thee true. [bought 

Dong. The lord ot ."-t irtord dear to-day li?ith 
Thy likeness : for, instead ot thee, king Han y, 
This sword hath ended him : so shall it ihee. 
Unless thou yield thee as my pri-oner. 

Blunt. I was not born a yielder, thou proud 
Scot; 
And thou shalt find a king that will revenge 
Lord Stafford's death. 

[Thet^Jight, and Blunt is slain. 
Enter Hotspur. 

Hot. O Douglas, hadst thou fought at Holrae- 
don thus, 
I never had triumph'd upon a Scot. 

Doug. All's done, all's won ; here breathless 
lies the king. 

Hot. Where? 

Doug. Here. 

Hot. This, Douglas? no, I know tliis face 
full well: 
A gallant knight he was, his name was Blunt; 
Semblably 5 fornish'd like the king himself. 

Duug. A fool go with thy soul, v\ hither it 
goes ! 
A borrow'd title hast thou bought too dear. 
Why didst thon tell me that thou wert a king? 

H'>t. The king hath many marching in his 
coats. [his coats ; 

Doug. Now, by my sword., I will kill all 
I'll murder all his wardrobe, piece by piece. 
Until I meet the king. 

Hot. Up, and away; 

Our soldiers stand full fairly for the day. 

{Exeunt, 
Other Alarums. Enter Falstaff. 

Fat. Though I could 'scape shot-free at 
London, 1 fear the shot here ; here's no scor- 
ing, but upon the pate — S*>ft! who art thou? 
Sir Walter Blunt; — there's honour for yon: 
Here's no vanity! — 1 am as hot as molten 
lead, and as he.ivy too : God keep lead out of 
me! 1 need no more weight than mine own 
bowels. — I hive led my raggamuffins vvhei^ 
they are peppered : there's but three of my 
hundred and fifty left aiive; and they are for 
the town's end, to beg vluring life. But who 
comes here ! 

Enter Prince Henry. 

P. Hen. What, stand'st thou idle here? 
lend me thy sword : 
Many a nobleman lies stark and stiff 
Under the hoofs or' vaunting enemies. 
Whose deaths are unrevenge«l : Pr*y thee, lend 
thy sword. 

Fal. O Kal, I pr'ythee, give me leave to 
breathe a while. — Turk Gregory never did 
such deeds in arms, as I have done this day. 
I have paid Percy. I have made him sure. 

P. Hen. He is, indeed ; and living to kill 
thee. Lend me thy sword I pi'ythee. 

Fal. Nay, before God, Hal, if Percy be 



Recital 



♦ Own. X The motto of the Percv family. $ In resemblance. 



456 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r 



alive, thou get'st not my sword ; but take my 
pistol, if thou wilt. 

P. He?i. Give it me : What, is it in the case? 

JFal. Ay, Hal; 'tis hot, 'tis hot; there's 
that will sack a city. 

[The Prince draws out a bottle of sack. 

P. Hen. What, is't a time to jest and dally 
now? [Throws it at him, and exit. 

Fat. Well, if Percy be alive, I'll pierce 
him. If he do come in my way, so : if he 
do not, if I come in his, willingly, let him 
make a carbinado * of me. 1 like not such 
grinning honour as sir Walter hath : Give me 
life: which if I can save, so ; if not, honour 
ccmes unlookcd for, and there's an end. 

[Exit. 

SCENE IV. Another Part of the Field. 
Alarums. Excursions. Enter the King, 
Prince Henry, Prince John, and West- 
moreland. 

K. Hen. I pr'ythee, [much: 

Harry, withdraw thyself; thou bleed'st too 

Ijord John of Lancaster, go you with him. 

P. John. Not I, my Icrd, unless I did bleed 

too. [up, 

P. Hen. I do beseech your majesty, make 

Lest your retirement do amaze your friends. 

K. Hen. I will do so : — [tent. 

My lord of Westmoreland, lead him to his 

i'Vest. Come, my lord, I will lead you to 

your lent. [your help: 

P. Hen Lead me, my lord? I do not need 

And heaven forbid a shallow scratch ahould 

drive 
The prince of Wales from such a field as this ; 
Where stain'd nobility lies trodden on, 
And rebels' arms triumph in massacres 1 
P. John. We breathe too long. — Come, 
cousin Westmoreland, [come. 

Qnr duty this wny lies ; for God's sake, 
i^Kicuut Prince John «wrf Westmoreland. 
P. Hen. By heaven, thou hast deceived 
me, Lancaster, 
( did not think thee lord of such a spirit: 
Before, 1 loved thee as a brother, John ; 
But now, I do respect thee as my soul. 
K. Hen. I saw him hold lord Percy at the 
point, [for 

With lustier maintenance than I did look 
Of such an ungrown warrior. 

P' Hen. O, this boy 

Lends mettle to us all ! [Exit. 

Alarums. Enter DoVGLks. 
Houg. Another king I they grow like Ily. 
dra's heads: 
I am the Douglas, f ital to all those [thou. 
That wear those colours on them. — What art 
That countcrfeit'st the person of a king? 
K. Hen. The king himself; who, Douglas, 
grieves at heart, 
So many of his shadows thou hast met. 
And not the very king. I have two boyg 
Seek Percy andthyself about the field: 
But, seeing thou fah'st on me so luckily, 
1 will assay thee ; so defend thyself. 



Doug. I fear, thou art another counterfeit; 
And yet, in faith, thou bear*st thee like a king 
Bnt mine, I am sure, thou art, whoe'er thou be 
And thus I win thee. 

[They fight ; the King being in danger, 
enter Prince Henry. 

P, Hen. Hold up thy Lead, vile Scot, or 
thou art like 
Never to hold it up again ! the spirits 
Of Shirley, Stafford, Blunt, are in my armi : 
It is the prince of Wales, that threatens thee ; 
Who never promiseth, but he means to pay. — 
\^They fight \ Dovci.Aifiies, 
Cheerly, my lord ; How fares your grace 1 — 
Sir Nicholas Gawsey hath for succour sent. 
And so hath Clifton ; I'll to Clifton straight. 

K. Hen. Stay, and breathe a while : — 
Thou hast redeem'd thy lost opinion + ; 
And show'd thou makest some tender of my life. 
In this fair rescue thou bast brought to me, 

P. Hen, O heaven! they did me too much 
injury. 
That ever said, I hearken'd for your death. 
If it were so, I might have let alone 
The insulting hand of Douglas over you ; 
Which would have been as speedy in your end. 
As ail the poisonous potions in the world. 
And saved the treacherous labour of your ton. 

K. Hen. Make up to Cjifton, I'll to sir Ni- 
cholas Gawsey. [Exit King Henry 
Enter Hotspur. 

Hot. If I mistake not, thou art Harry Mon- 
mouth, [my name. 

P. Hen. Thou speak'st as if I would deny 

Hot. My name is Harry Percy. 

P. Hen. Why, then I see 

A very valiant rebel of that name. 
I am the prince of Wales ; and think not, Percy, 
To share with me .n glory any more : 
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere; 
Nor can one England brook a double reign. 
Of Harry Percy and the prince of Wales. 

Hot. Nor shall it, Harry , for the hour is come 
To end the one of us; And 'would to God, 
Thy name in arm? were now as great as mine! 

P. Hen. I'll make it greater, ere I part from 
thee; 
And ill the budding honours on thy crest 
I'll crop, to make a garland for my head. 

Hot. I can no longer brook thy vanities. 
[Theyjight. 
Enter Falsi a ff. 

Fal. Well said, Hal! to it, Hal!— Nay, you 
shall find no boy's play here, I can tell you. 
Enter Douglas ; hefights with FAhSTA¥¥, 

who falls down as if he were dead, and 

exit' Douglas. Hotspur is wounded, 

and falls. 

Hot. O, Harry, thou hast robb'd me of my 
I better brook the loss of brittle life, [youth. 
Than those proud titles thou hast won of me; 
They wound my thought3,wor6ethan thy sword 

my flesh : [fool 

But thought's the slave of life, and life time's 
And time, that takes survey of all the world 
Must have a atop. O, I could prophesy, 



• A piuce of meat cut crotswise for Ub^ gridiron. 



t HeputatiojQ 



Voene IV.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



457 



But that the earthy and cold hand of death 
Lies on my tongue : — No, Percy, thou art dust, 
And food for [Dies. 

P, Hen. For worms, brave Percy : Fare 
thee well, ^eat heart! [shrunk ! 

Ill-weaved ambition, hov/ much art thou 
When that this body did contain a spirit, 
A kingdom for it was too small a bound ; 
But now, two paces of the vilest earth [dead, 
Is room enough : — This earth, that bears thee 
Bears not alive so stout a gentleman. 
If thou wert sensible of courtesy, 
I should not make so dear a show of zeal : — 
But let my favours ♦ hide thy mangled face ; 
And, even in thy behalf, Pll thank myself 
For doing these fair rites of tenderness, [ven ! 
Adieu, and take thy praise with thee to hea- 
Thy ignomy sleep wiih thee in the grave. 

But not remember'd in thy epitaph ! 

[He sees Falstaff on the ground. 
What! old acquaintance! could not all this 
Keep in a little life? Poor Jack, farewell ! [flesh 
I could have better spared a better man. 
O, 1 should have a heavy miss of thee. 
If I were much in love with vanity. 
Death hath not struck so fat a deer to-day. 
Though many dearer, in this bloody fray : — 
Embowell'd will I see thee by aud by; 
Till then, in blood by noble Percy lie. [Exit, 

Fal. [Rising slowly.'] Embowelled! if thou 
embowel me to-day, I'll give you leave to pow- 
dert me, and eat me too, to-morrow. *S blood, 
'twas time to counterfeit, or that hot icimrt- < 
gant Scot had paid me scot and lot too. I 
Counterfeit? I lie, I am no countertcic; To 
die, is to be a counterfeit ; for he is but the 
counterfeit of a man, who hath n.ot the life of 
a man : but to counterfeit dying, when a man 
thereby liveth, is to be no counterfeit, but the 
true and perfect image of life indeed. The bet- 
ter part of valour is— discretion ; m the which 
better part, I have saved my life. 'Zounds 
1 am afraid of this gunpowder Percy, though 
he be dead: How, if he should counterfeit 
too, and rise? lam afraid, he would prove 
the better counterfeit. Therefore Pll make 
him sure: yea, and Pll swear I killed him. 
Why may not he rise, as well as I? Nothing 
confutes me but eyes, and nobody sees me. 
Therefore, sirr ih, [Stabbing hi?n.'\ with a new 
"wound in your thigh, come you along with me. 
[Takes Hotspur 07i his back. 
Re-enter Prince Henry and Prince John. 

P, Hen. Come, brother John, full bravely 
Thy maiden sword. [has thou flesh'd 

P. John. But, soft! whom have we here? 
Did you not tell me, this fat man was dead ? 

' P. Hen. 1 did ; i saw him dead, breathless 

Upo« the ground. [and bleeding 

Art feou alive? or is it phantasy 
That plays upon our eyesight ? I pr'ythee, 
speak ; [ears : — 

We will not trust our eyes, without our 
Thou art cot what thou seem'st. 

Fal. No, that^s certain ; I am not a double 
mail : bat if I be not Jack Falstf.ff, then am 1 



a Jack. There is Percy : [Throning the body 
down.] if your father will do me any honour, 
so ; if not, let him kill the next Percy himself. 
I look to be either earl or duke, I can assure 
you. 

P. Hen, Why, Percy I killed myself, and 
saw thee dead. 

Fal. Didst thou? — Lord, lord, how this 
world is given to lying ! — 1 grant you, I waa 
down, and out of breath ; and so was he : but 
we rose both at an instant, and fought a long 
hour by Shrewsbury clock. If I may be be- 
lieved so; if not, let them, that should reward 
valour, bear the sin upon their own heads. 
Pll take it upon my death, I gave him this 
wound in the thigh : if the man were alive, 
and would deny it, I would make him eat a 
piece of my sword. 

P.John. This is the strangest tale that e*er 
I heard. [John. 

P. Hen. This )$ the strangest fellow, brother 
Come, bring your luggage nobly on your back \ 
For my part, if a lie may do thee grace, 
I'll gild it with tb^ happiest terms I have. 

[A Retreat is sounded.. 
The trumpet sounds retreat, the day is ours. 
Come, brother, let's to the highest of the field. 
To see what frierds are living, who are dead. 

[Exeiiut Priac* Henry and Prince Johk. 

Fal. Pll foUo^r, as they say, for reward. 
Ho that reward? me, God reward him ! If I do 
jrrow great, Pll giow less ; for Pll purge, and 
ieave »*tck, and live cleanly, as a nobleman 
should do. [Exit, bearing o£ the body* 

SCENE r. Another Part of the Field. 

TheTrumpets sound. Enter King Henry, 
Prince Henry, Prince John, West 
MORELAND, and Others, with Worces- 
ter, aiid Vernon, prisoners, 
K.Hen. Thus ever did rebellion find re- 
buke. — 

Ill-f pirited Worcester ! did we not send grace 

Pardon, and terms of love to all of you ? 

And wouldst thou turn our ofler? contrary? 

Misuse the tenor of thy kinsman's trust ? 

Three kni::hts upon our party slain to-day, 

A noble earl, and many a creature else. 

Had been alive this hour, 

If, like a christian, thou hadst truly borne 

Betwixt our armies true intelligence. 

Wor. What I have done, my safety uri;ed 

And I embrace this fortune patiently, [nie to ; 

Since not to be avoided it falls on me. 
K.Hen, Bear Worcester to the death, ;«tx4 
Vernon too : 

Other offenders we will pause upon, — 

£'2e?^«AV0RCESTER «/«<#VERNON,g7/«rrff <?. 

How goes the field ? fhe saw 

P. Heri. The noble Scot, lord Douglas, wheu 
The fortune of the day quite turn'd from him. 
The noble Percy slain, and all his men 
Upon the foot of fear, — fled with the rest; 
And, falling from a hill, he was so bruised. 
That the pursuers took him. At my tent 
The Douglaft is ; and I beseech your grace^ 



♦ Scarf, with which he covers Percy's face. 



t Salt. 
3 R 



458 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act V, 



I may dispose of him. 

K, Htn. With all my heart. 

P. Hen. Then, brother John of Lancaster, 
This honourable bounty shall belong; [to ^ou 
Go to the Douglas, aiid deliver him 
Up to his plfHsure, raiisomeless, and free : 
His valour, shown upon our crests to-day. 
Hath taught us how to cherish such high deeds. 
Even in the bosom of our adversaries. 

K. Hen. Then this remains, — that w^e divide 
our power. — 
Yoa, son John, ard my cousin Westmoreland, 



Towards York shall bend yon, with your dear- 
est speed, [Scroop, 
To meet Northumberland, and the prelate 
Who, as we hear, are busily in arms : [Wales, 
Myself, — and yen, son Harry, — will towards 
To fight withGlendower,and the earl of Ma^ch. 
Rebellion in this laud shall lose his sway, 
Meeting the check of such another day : 
And since this business so fair is done. 
Let us not leave till all our own be won. 

( Exeunt, 



J 



SECOND PART OP 

KING HENRY IV. 



person? repmentetJ* 



Alng Henry the Fourth : 

Henry Prince of Wales yafter-'\ 
wards King Henry V ; 

Thomas, Duke of Clarence ; 

Tnnce J OHV of Lancaster, after- 
wards (2 Henry V.) Duke ofyhis sons, 
Bedford ; 

Prince Humphrey of Gloster^ 
aftertoards (2 H e n r y Y.)Duke 
oJ'Gloster; 

Earl of Warwick ; ") ^^-^a c , 

EnrlofWEsrMOHE..ND; i f/,*^.^--"^ 

Gower; Harcourt; ) ^"""if 

Lord Chief Justice of the King's Beach. 

A Centleman attending on the Chief Justice, 

Earl of Northumberland. ^ 

Scroop, Archbishop of York ; j 

Lord Mowbray; yenemiesto 

Lord Hastings ; rthe King. 

Lord Bardolph; 



Tr avers and Mortoh, domestics of North' 

umberland. 
Falstaff, Bardolph, Pistol, and Page. 
PoiNS and Peto, attendants on Prince 

Henry. 

Davy, servant to Shalloiv, 

Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, and 

Bullcalf, recruits. 
Fang, and ^^k^-Ry Sheriff's officers. 
Rumour, c|?arfer. 
A Dancer, speaker of the Epilogue. 

Lady Northumberland. Lady Percy. 
Hostess Quickly. Doll Tear-Sheet. 
Lords and other Attendants ; Officers^ SoU 

(liers, Messenger, Drawers, Beadles, 

Grooms, 4c« 



Sir John Colevillb; 



Scene, ^England. 



INDUCTION. 



Wark worth. 



Before Northumberland's 
Castle. 



Enter Rumour, painted full of tongues. 

Rum. Open your ears ; For which of you 
will stop 
The vent ofhearing,when loud Rumour speaks? 
I, from the orient to the drooping west. 
Making the wind my post-horse, still unfold 
The acts commenced on this ball of earth : 
Upon my tongues continual glanders ride ; 
The which in every language I pronounce, 
Stuffing the ears of men with false reports. 
I speak of peace, while covert enmity, 
Under the smile of safety, wounds the world 
And who but Rumour, who but only 1, 
Make fearful musters, and prepared defence ; 
Whilst the big year,s vvol'nwithsomeother grief. 
Is thought with child by the stern tyrant war, 
And no such matter ? Rumour is a pipe 
Blown by surmises, jealousies, conjectures ; 
And of so easy and so plain a stop, 
That the blunt monster with uncounted heads, 
The still-discordant wavering multitude. 



Can play upon it. But what need I thua 
My well-known body to anatomize' 
Among my household? Why is rumour here t 
I run before king Harry's victory ; 
Who, in a bloody field by Shrewsbury, 
Hath beaten down young Hotspur and his 

troops. 
Quenching the flame of bold rebellion 
Even with th i rebels' blood. But what mean I 
To speak so true at first ? my office is 
To noise abroad, — that Harry Monmouth fell 
Under the wrath of noble Hotspur's sword ; 
And that the king before the Douglas' rage 
Stoop'd his anointed head as low as death. 
This have i rumour'd through the peasant towns 
Between that royal field of Shrewsbury 
And this worm-eaten hold of ragged stone*. 
Where Hotspur's father, oldNorthuinberl.iml, 
Lies crafty -sick : the posts come tiring on, 
And not a man of them brings other news 
Than they have learn'd of me ; from l.umour'a 

tongues 
They bring smooth comforts false, worse than 

true wrongs. [Exit, 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. The same. 



The Porter before the gate; Enter Lord 
Bardolph. 



Bard, Who keeps the gate here, ho ! — 

• Northumberland's castle. 



Where is the earl ? 
Port. What shall I say you are ? 
Bard. Tell thou the ear!, 

That the lord Bardolph doth attend hiiii 

here. 



4>60 



SHAKSPEARE. 



{Act /, 



Fort, His lordship is waik'd forth iuio the 
orchard ; 
Please it yonr honour knock bat at the gale. 
And he himself will answer. 

Enter Northumbirland. 

Bard. Here comes the earl. 

North. What news, lord Bardolph \ every 
minute now 
Should be the father of some stratagem • : 
The times are wild; contention, like a horse. 
Full of high feeding, madly hath broke loose, 
And bears down all before him. 

Bard. Noble earl, 

1 bring you certain news from Shrewsbury. 

North. Good, an heaven will ! 

Bard. As good as heart can wish : — 

The king is almost wonnded to the death ; 
And, in the fortune of my lord your son, 
Prince Harry slain outright ; and both the 
Blunts [John, 

K-ill'd by the hnnd of Douglas : young prince 
And Westmoreland, and Stafford, fled the field; 
And Harry Monmouth's brawn, the hulk Sir 
Is prisoner to your son: 0,such a day, [John, 
So fought, »o followM, and so fairly won. 
Came not, till now, to dignify the limes, 
Since Caesar's fortunes I 

North. How is this derived ? 

Saw yon the field? came you from Shrewsbury? 

Bard. I spake with one, my lord, that 
came fi on) thence ; 
A gentleman well bred, and of good name. 
That freely leudwr'd me these news for true. 

North.. Hf.T^? comes my servant Travers, 
whom 1 sent 
On Tuesday last to listen after news. 

Bard. My lord, 1 over-rode him on the way ; 
And he is fiiiuish'd with no ctrtaimies. 
Mure than he haply may retail from me. 
Enter Travers. 

North. Now, 1'ravers, what good tidings 
cumo with ^on ? [back 

Tra. My lord, bir John Unifrevile turu'd me 
With joyful tidings; and, being belter horsed, 
Ont-rode me. After him, came, spui ring hard, 
A ginileman almost for«pentt with speed, 
ThatstoppVlbymetobreaihe his bloodied horse: 
He ask'd the way to Chester ; and of him 
1 did demand, what news from Shrewsbury. 
He told me, that rebellion had bad luck. 
And that youi.g Harry Percy's spur was cold : 
With that, he gave his able horse the lead, 
And, bending forward, struck his armed heels 
Against the panting sides of his poor jade 
Up to the rowel-head ; and starting so, 
He seem'd in running to devour the way, 
Staying no longer question. 

North. Ha ! Again. 

Said he, young Harry Percy's spur was cold? 
Of Hotspur, coldspur? that rebellion 
Had met ill-luck? 

Bard. My lord, I'll tell you what ;— 

If my young lord your son have not the day. 
Upon mine honour for a silken point t 
I'll give ray barony : never talk of it. 

• Important or dreadful event. 

5 HiUlerling, bate, cowardly. 



North. Why should the gentleman, that 
rode by Travers, 
Give then such instances of loss ? 

Bard. Who, he? 

He was some hidling^ fellow, that had slolen 
The horse he rode on ; and, upon my life. 
Spoke at a venture. Look, here comes more 
news. 

Enter Morton. 

North. Yea, fehis man's brow, like to a title- 
leaf. 
Foretells the nature of a tragic volume : 
So looks the strond, whereon the imperious 

Hath left a witness'd usurpation [j. [flood 

Say, Morton, didst thou come from Shrews- 
bury? 

Jilor.l ran from Shrewsbury, my noble lord; 
Where hateful death put on his ugliest mask. 
To fright our party. 

North. How doth my son, and brother? 
Thoo tremblest ; and the whiteness in thy check 
Is apter than thy tongue lt> tell thy errand. 
Even such a man, so faint, so spiritless, 
8o dull, so dead in look, so woe-begone, 
Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night. 
And would have told him, hair his Troy was 

burn'd : 
But Priam found the fire, ere he his tongue. 
And I my Percy's death, ere thou report'st it. 
This thou wouldst say, — Your son did thus, 
and thus ; [glas ; 

Your brother, thus ; so fought the noble Dor 
Stopping my greedy ear with their bold deedi : 
But in the end, to stop mine ear indeed. 
Thou hast a sigh to blow away this praise, 
iui!amg with — brother, son, and all are dead. 

Mor. i)onglas is living, and your brother 
But, for niy lord your son, [y^U 

North. Why, he is dead. 

See, what a ready tongue suspicion hath! 
He, that but fears the thing he would not know. 
Hath, by instinct, knowledge from others' eyes. 
That what he fear'd is chanced. Yet speak. 
Tell thou thy earl, his divination lies; [Morton; 
And I will take it as a sweet disgrace. 
And make thee rich for doing n:e snch wrong. 

Mor. You are too great to be by mc gain- 
said : 
Your spirit is too true, your fears too certain. 

Norm. Yet, for all this, say not that Percy's 
I see a strange confession in thine eye : [dead. 
Thou ehakej-t thy head, and hold'st it fear, or 
To speak a truth. If he be slain, say so: [sin. 
The tongue otfends not, that reports his death : 
And he doth sin, that doth belie the dead ; 
Not he, which says the dead is not alive. 
Yet the first bringer of unwelcome news 
Hath but a losing oflfice; and his tongue 
Sounds ever after as a sullen bell, 
Remember'<l knolling a departed friend. 

Bard. I ctnuot think, my lord, your son \% 
dead. [lieve 

Mor. I am sorry I should force you to be- 
That, whith I would to heaven 1 had uoi seen: 
But these, mine e>es saw him in bloody w-^tate 

t Exhausted. + Lace taigod. 

II An attestation of it* ravage. 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



Seem J,\ 



Rend'ring^ faint quittance*, wearied and out- 

bre *th*d, [down 

To Harry Monmouth: whose swift wrath beat 
The never-daunted Percy to the earth, [up. 
From whence with life he never more sprung 
In fewt, hi» death (whose spirit lent a fire 
Even to the dullest peasant in his camp) 
Being bruited j once, took fire and heat away 
From the best tempered courage in his troops: 
For from his metal was his party steel'd ; 
Which once in him abated, all the rest 
Turn'd on themselves, like dull and heavy lead. 
And as the thing that's heavy in itself. 
Upon enforcement, flies with gr"*atest speed ; 
So did our men, heavy in Hotspur's lo>s, [fear, 
Lend to this weight such lightness with their 
That arrows fled not swifter toward their aim. 
Than did our soldiers, aiming at th ir safety. 
Fly from the field : Then was that i^ble Wor- 
cester 
Too soon ta'en prisoner: and that furivt«« Scot, 
The bloody Douglas, whose well-labouring 

sword [king. 

Had three times slain the appearance of the 
*Gan vail § his stomach, and did grace the shame 
Of those that turn'd their backs ; and, in his 

flii^ht. 
Stumbling in fear, was took. The sum of all 
Is, — that the king hath won ; and hath sent out 
A speedy power to encounter you, my lord. 
Under the conduct of young Lancaster, 
And Westmoreland : this is the news at full. 
North. For this I shall have time enough to 

mourn. 
In poison there is physic; and these news, [sick. 
Having been well, that would have made me 
Being sick,have in some measure made mewell: 
And as the wretch,whose fever- weaken'd joints. 
Like strengthless hinges, buckle under life. 
Impatient of his fit, breaks like a fire 
Out of his keeper's arms ; even so my limbs, 
Weaken'd with grief, being now enraged with 

grief, [nice 1| crutch ; 

Arc thrice themselves : hence therefore, thou 
A scaly gauntlet now, with joints of steel. 
Must glove this hand : and hence, thou sickly 

quoiflT, 
Thou art a guard too wanton for the head, 
W hich princes, flesh'd with conquest, aim to hit. 
Now bind mybnuvs with iron ; and approach 
The ragged'st hour that time and spite dare 

bring, 
To frown upon the enraged Northumberland! 
Let heaven kiss earth! Now let not nature's 

hand 
Keep the wild flood confined I let order die! 
And let this world no longer be a stage, 
1 o fei (1 contention in a lingering act ; 
But let one spirit wf the first-born Cain 
Reign in all bosoms, that each heart being set 
On bioiidy courses, the rude scene may enti. 
And darkness he the burier of the dead ! 
Tra. This str.uned passion doth you wrong, 

my lord. [your honour. 

Bard, Svve«t earl,divorce not wisdom from 

• Return of blows. t In few words. 

IT Cap. ** Distribution. t* Forces. 



4G1 



Mor. The lives of all your loving 'compliceg 
Lean on your health; the which, if you give 
To stormy passion, must perforce decay, [o'er 
You cast the event of war, my noble lord. 
Ami summ'd the account of chance, before 

you said, — 
Let us make head. It was your presurmise, 
That in the dole**of blows your son might drop: 
You knew, he walk*d o'er perils, on an edge. 
More likely to fall in, than to get o'er : 
You were advised, his flesh was capable 
Of wounds and scars; and that his forward 
spirits [ranged ; 

Would lift him where most trade of danger 
Yet did yoa say,— Go forth ; and none of this. 
Though strongly apprehended, could restrain 
The stiff- borne action : What hath then be 
fallen, [forth, 

Or what hath this bold enterprise brought 
More than that being which was like to be 1 

Bard. We all, that are engaged to this loss. 
Knew that we ventured on such dangerous seas. 
That, if WQf wrought out life, 'twas ten to one : 
And yet we ventured, for the gain proposed 
Choked the respect of likely peril fear'd ; 
And, since we are o'erset, venture again. 
Come, we will all put forth, body and goods. 

Mor, 'Tis more than time : And, my most 
noble lord, 

I hear for certain, and do speak the truth, 

The gentle archbishop of York is up. 
With well-appointed powers ff; he is a man. 
Who with a double surety binds his folIowei«. 
My lord your son had oniy but U '' corpse, 
But shadows, and the shows of rtlen, to fight: 
For that same word, rebellion, did divide 
The action of their bodies from their souls ; 
And they did fight with qucasinessiJ,constrain'd, 
As men drink potions ; th*t their weapons only 
Seem'd on our side, but, for their spirits and 
This word rebellion, ithad froze them up, [souls. 
As fish are in a pond : But now the bishop 
Turns insurrection to religion : 
Supposed sincere and holy in his thoughts. 
He's followed both with body and with mind ; 
And doth enlarge his rising with the blood 
Of fair king Richard, scraped from Pomfret 

stones. 
Derives from heaven his quarrel, and his cause ; 
Tells them he doth bestride a bleeding land. 
Gasping for life under great Bolingbroke ; 
And more§§, and less, do flock to follow him. 

North. I knew of this before ; but, to speak 
truth. 
This present grief had wiped it from my mind. 
Go in with me ; and counsel every man 
The aptest way for safety, and revenge : [speed ; 
Get posts, and letters, and make friends with 
Never so few, and never yet more need. 

[Exeunt, 
SCKNE II. London. A Street, 
Enter Sir John Falstaff, uith his Page 
hearing his Stiord and Buckler, 

Fat, birrah, you giant, what says the d0ct<Mr 
to my water t 

X R( ported. $ Let fall {| Trifling 

11 Aurtinst their stomachs $§ Greater 

2 R3 



«62 



SHAKSPEARE. 



Act I 



Page. He said, sir, the water itself was a 
good healthy water ; but, for the party that 
owed* it, he might have more diseases thau he 
knew for. 

FaL Men of all sorts take a pride to gird + 
at me : The brain of this foolish-compounded 
clay, man, is not able to vent any thing that 
tends to laughter, more than 1 invent, or is in- 
vented on me : I am not only witiy in myself, 
but the cause that wit is in other men. I do 
here walk before thee, like a sow, that hath 
overwhelmed all her litter but one. If the 
prince put thee into my service for any other 
reason than to set me off, why then I have no 
jud*^ment. Thou whoreson mandrake!, thou 
art fitter to be worn in my cap, than to wait at 
my heels. 1 was never manned with an a^ate ^ 
till now : but I will set you neither in gold nor 
silver, but in vile apparel, and send you back 
again to your master for a jewel ; the juvenal, 
the prince your master, whose chin is not yet 
fledged. 1 will sooner have a beard grow in 
the palm of my hand, than he shall get one on 
his cheek ; and yet he will not stick to say, 
his face is a face-royal : God may finish it 
when he will, it is not a hair amiss yet : he 
may keep it still as a face-royal, for a barber 
shall never earn sixpence out of it ; and yet he 
will be crowing, as if he had writ man ever 
since his father was a bachelor. He may keep 
his own grace, but he is almost out of mine, 1 

can assure him. What said master Dumble- 

ton about the satin for my short cloak, and 
slops? 

Pcige. He ^^d, sir. you should procure him 
better assurance than Bardolph : he would not 
take his bond and yours; he liked not the 
security. 

Fal. Let him be damned like a glutton ! 
may his tongue be hotter ! — A whoreson 
Achitophel ! a rascally yea-forsooth knave ! 
to bear a gentleman in hand, and then stand 
upon security ! — The whoreson smooth-pates 
do now wear nothing but high shoes, and 
bunches of keys at their girdles : and if a man 
is thorough II with them in honest taking up, 
then they must stand upon — security ! 1 had 
as lief they would put ratsbane in my mouth, 
as otfer to stop it with security. I looked he 
should have sent me two-andtwenty yards of 
satin, as I am a true knight, and he sends me 
security. Well, he may sleep in security ; fv.r 
ne h iih the horn of abimdance, and the light- 
ness of his wife shines throngli it : and yet can- 
not he see, though he have Ins own lantern to 
light him. Where's Bardolph? 

Page. He'«gone into Srnithfield,tobuy your 
worship a horse. ~ 

FaL. 1 bought him in Paul's, and he'll buy 
me a horse in Smithfield : an I could get me but 
a wife in the stews, 1 were manned, horsed, and 
wived H. 



Enter the Lord Chief Justice, and an 
Attendant. 

Page. Sir, here comes the gentleman tnat 
committed the prince for striking him aboa! 
Bardolph. 

FaL Wait close, I will not see him. 

Ch. Just. What's he that goes there? 

Atten. Falstaff, an't please your lordship. 

Ch.Just. He that was in question for the 
robbery ? 

Atten. He, my lord : but he hath since done 
good service at Shrewsbury ; and, as I hear, ii 
now going with some charge to the lord John of 
Lancaster. 

Ch. Just. What, to York? Call him back 
again. 

Atten. Sir John Falstaff! 

FaL Boy, tell him 1 am deaf. 

Page, You must speak louder, my master ii 
deaf. 

Ch. Jus. I am sure he is, to the hearing ol 

any thing good. Go, pluck hiin by the 

elbow ; I must speak with him. 

Atten. Sir John, 

FaL What! a young knave, and beg! Is 
there not wars? is there not employment? 
Doth not the king lack subjects? do not the 
rebels need soldiers? Though it be a shame 
to be on any side but one, it is worse shame to 
beg than to be on the worst side, were it worse 
than the name of rebellion can tell how to 
make it. 

Atten. You mistake me, sir. 

FaL Why, sir, did I say you were an honest 
man? setting mj knighthood and my soldier- 
ship aside, I had lied in my throat if I had 
said so. 

Atten. 1 pray yon, sir, then set your knight 
hood and your soldiership aside; and give me 
leave to tell you, you lie in your throat, if you 
s-.iy I am any other than an honest man. 

FaL I give thee leave to tell me so! I lay 
aside that which grows to me! If thou gett'st 
any leave of me, hang me ; if thou take>t 
leave, ihou wert better be hanged : .You hunt- 
counter**, hence! avaunt! 

Atten. Sir, my lord would speak with yon. 

Ch.Just. Sir John Taistaff, a word with 
you. 

F'lL My good lord! — God give your lordship 
good time of day. I am glad to see your lord- 
ship abroad : 1 heard say, > our lordship was 
sick : I hope, your lordship goes abroad by 
advice. Your lordship, though not c4can past 
your youth, hath yet some smack of age in 
you, some relish of the saltness of time; and 1 
most humbly beseech your lordship, to have a 
reverend care of > our health. 

67/. Just. Sir John, I sent for yoo before 
your expedition to Shrewsbury. 

FaL An't please your lordship, I hear, hit 



I 



• Owned. t Gibe. % A root supposed to have the shape of a man. 

^ A little figure cut in an agate. || In their debt. 

% Alladiug to an old proverb: Who goes to Westminster for a wife, to St. Pauri for a man, 
and to Smithfield for a horse, may meet with a whore, a knave, ajid a jade. 
•• A catch-pole or bum-bailiff. 



.^ene II.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



463 



majesty is retarned with some discomfort from 
Wales. 

Cfi. Just. I talk not of his majesty :— You 
v'oold not come when 1 sent for you. 

Fill. And I hear moreover, his highness is 
''alien into this same whoresou apoplexy. 

Ch. Just. Well, heaven mend him 1 I pray, 
let me speak with yon. 

Fa I. This apoplexy is, as I take it, a kind 
of lethargy, an't please your lordship ; a kind 
of sleeping in the blood, a whoreson tingling. 

Ch. Just. What tell you me of it? be it as 
it is. 

Fal. Ii hath its original from much grief; 
from study, and perturbation of the brain : I 
have read the cause of his effects in Galen ; it is 
a kind of deafness. 

Ch. Just. I think, yon are fallen into the 
disease ; for you hear not what I say to you. 

Fa/. Very well, my lord, very well : rather, 
an't please yon, it is the disease of not listening, 
the malady of not marking, that I am troubled 
withal. 

Ch. Just. To punish you by the heels, would 
amend the attention of your ears ; and I care 
not, if I do become your physician. 

Ful, 1 am as poor as Job, my lord; but not 
BO patient: your lordship may minister the 
potion of imprisonment to me, in respect of 
poverty; but how I should be your patient to 
follow your prescriptions, the wise may make 
some dram of a scruple, or, indeed, a scruple 
itself. 

Ch. Just. I sent for you, when there were 
matters a.f alnst you for your life, to come speak 
with me. 

Fill. As I was then advised by my learned 
counsel in the laws of this land-service, I did 
not come. 

Ch. Just. Well, the truth is, sir John, you 
live in great infamy. 

Fol. He thai buckles him in my belt, cannot 
live in less. 

Ch. Just. Your means are very slender, and 
yonr waste is great. 

Fal. I would it were otherwise ; I would my 
nieans were greater, and my w.dst slenderer. 

Ch. Just. You have misled the youthful 
prince. 

Fal. The youthful prince hath misled me : 
1 am the fellow with the great belly, and he 
my dug. 

CU. Just. Well, 1 am loath to gall a new- 
healed wound ; your day's service at Shrews- 
bury hath a little gilded over your night's ex- 
ploit on Gads-hill; you may thank the unquiet 
time for your quiet o'er-posling that action. 

Fal. My lord? 

Ch. Just. But since all is well, keep it so: 
Wake not a sleeping wolf. 

Fal. To wake a wolf, is as bad as to smell a 
fox. 

Ch. Just. What! you are as a candle, the 
better part burnt out. 

Fal, A wassel* candle, my lord ; all tallow : 



if I did say of wax, my growth would approve 
the truth. 

Ch. Just. There is not a white hair on your 
face, but should have his effect of gravity 1 
Fal. His effect of gravy, gravy, gravy. 
Ch. Just. You follow the young prince up 
and down, like his ill angel. 

Fal. ISJot so, my lord; your ill ai>gel t is 
light ; but, I hope, he that looks upon me, will 
take me without weighing : and yet, in some 
respects, I grant, I cannot go, I cannot tell J: 
Virtue is of so little regard in these coster- 
monger times, that true valour is turned bear- 
herd : Pregnancy § is made a tapster, and hath 
his quick wit wasted in giving reckonings : all 
the other gifts appertinent to man, as the 
malice of this age shapes them, are not worth 
a gooseberry. You, that are old, consider not 
the capacities of us that are young : you 
measure the heat of our livers with the bitter- 
ness of your galls: and we that are in the 
vawardji of our youth, I must confess, are 
wags too. 

Ch. Just. Do you set down your name in the 
scroll of youth, that are written down old with 
all the characters of age 1 Have you not a 
moist eye? a dry hand? a yellow cheek? a 
white beard? a decreasing leg? an increasing 
belly? Is not your voice broken? your wind 
short? your chin double? your wit single*!!? 
and every part about you blasted with anti-, 
quitv **? and will you yet call yourself young? 
Jp'ie, he, fie, sir John ! 

Fal. My lord, 1 was born aboir^: three of the 
clock in the afternoon, with a white head, and 
something a round belly. For my voice, — I 
have lost it with hollaing, and singing of an- 
thems. To approve my youth further, I will 
not: the truth is, 1 am only old in judgment 
and understanding ; and he that will caper with 
me for a thousand marks, let him lend me the 
money, and have at him. tor the box o'the 
ear that the prince gave you, — he gave it like a 
rude piince, and you took it like a sensible 
lord. I have checked him for it ; and the 
young lion repents : marry, not in ashes, and 
sack-cloth ; but in new silk, and old sack. 

Ch. Just. Well, heaven send the prince a 
better companion ! 

Fal. Heaven send the companion a better 
prince 1 I cannot rid my hands of him. 

Ch. Just. Well, the king hath severed you 
and prince Harry: I hear, >ou are going with 
lord John of Lancaster, sigainst the archbishop 
and the earl of Mortliuuiberland. 

Fal. Yea ; I thank your pretty sweet wit for 
it. But look you pray, all you that kiss nsy 
lady peace at home, that our armies join not in 
a hot day! for, by the Lord, 1 take but two 
shirts out with me, and I mean nc>t to sweat 
extraordinarily : if it be a hot day, an I brandish 
any thing but my bottle, I would I might never 
spit while again. There is not a dangerous 
action can peep out his head, but I am thrust 
upon it: Well, 1 cannot last ever: But it wai 



* A large candle for a teast. f The coin called an angel. X Pass current. 

j Readiness. U Forepart. *!T Small. •• Old age. 



434 



SilAKSPEARE. 



[Act ./. 



always yet the trick of our English nation, if 
they have a good tiling, to make it too common. 
If yoQ will needs say, I am an old man, you 
Bhouid give me rest. I would to God, my 
name were not so terrible to the enemy as it 
is. I were better to be eaten to death with 
rust, than to be scoured to nothing with per- 
petual motion. 

Ch. Just, Well, be honest, be honest ; And 
God bless your expedition! 

Fal. Will your lordship lend me a thousand 
pound, to furnish me forth? 

Ch.Just. Not a penny, cot a penny; you 
are too impatient to bear crosses. Fare you 
well : Commend me to my cousin Westmore- 
land. 

[Exeunt Chief Justice and Attendant 

Fal. If I do, fillip me with a three-man 
beetle*. — A man can no more separate age 
and covetousness, than he can part young 
limbs and lechery : but the gout galls the one, 
and the pox pinches the other ; and so both 
the degrees prevent t my curses. — Boy! 

Page. Sir? 

FaL What money is in my pursed 

Page. Seven groats and two-pence. 

Ful. I can get no remedy against this con- 
sumption of the purse: borrowing only lingers 
and lingers it out, but the disease is incurable. — 
Go, bear this letter to my lord of Lancaster; 
this to the prince ; this to the earl of West- 
moreland ; and this to old mistress Ursula, 
whom I have weekly sworn to marry since I 
perceived the first white hair on my chin : 
About it; yon know where to find me. [Exit 
Page.] A pox of this gout 1 or, a gout of this 
pox ! for the one, or the other, plays the rogue 
with my great toe. It is no matter, if I do 
halt; I have the wars for my colour, and my 
pension shall seen? the more reasonable: A 
good wit will make u?€ of any thing; I will 
turn diseases to commodity J. [Exit. 

SCENE III. York. A Room in ^^e Arch- 
bishop's Palace. 

Enter the Archbishop o/" York, the Lords 
Hastings, Mow brx\, and Bardolph. 

Arch. Thus have you heard our cause, and 
know our means; 
And, my most noble friends, I pray you all. 
Speak plainly your opinions of our hopes: — 
And first, lord marshal, what say you to it? 

Mowh. I well allow the occasion of our 
But gladly would be better satisfied, [arms; 
How, in our meant, we should advance our- 
selves. 
To look with forehead bold and big enough. 
Upon the power and puissance of llie king. 
Hast. Our present raufeters grow upon the 
file 
To five and twenty thousand men of choice ; 
And our supplie;? live largely in the hope 
Uf great Northumberland, wiiose b<.»soui burns 
\\ itii an incen;)ed fire of injuries. 



Bard. The question then, lord Hastingi^ 
standeth thus; 
Whether our present five and twenty thonsand 
May hold up head without Northumberland. 

Hu^t. With him, we may. 

Bard. Ay, marry, there's the point: 

But if without him we be thought too feeble. 
My judgment is, we should not step too far 
Till we had his assistance by the hand : 
For, in a theme so bloody-faced as this. 
Conjecture, expectation, and surmise 
Of aids uncertain, should not be admitte'i. 

Arch. 'Tis very true, lord Bardolph; for, 
indeed. 
It was young Hotspur's case at Shrewsbury. 

Bard, It was my, lord; who lined himtel' 
with hope. 
Eating the air on promise of supply. 
Flattering himself with project of a power 
Much smaller than the smallest of his thoughts \ 
And so, with great imagination. 
Proper to madmen, led his powers to death. 
And, winking, leap'd into destruction, [hurt 

Hast. But, by your leave, it never yet did 
To lay down likelihoods, and forms of hope. 

Bard, Yes, in this present quality of war ; — 
Indeed the instant action, (a cause on foot,) 
Lives so in hope, as in an early spring [fruit, 
We see the appearing buds; which, to prove 
Hope gives not so much warrant, as despair. 
That frosts will bite them. When we mean to 

build. 
We first survey the plot, then draw themodtl; 
And, when we see the figure of the house. 
Then must we rate the cost of the erection: 
Which if we find outweighs ability. 
What do we then, but draw anew the model 
In fewer otfices ; or, at least, desist 
To build at all? Much mote, in this great work, 
(Which is, almost, to pluck a kingdom down. 
And set another up,) should we survey 
The plot of situation, and the model ; 
Consent^ upon a sure foundation; 
Question surveyors ; know our own estate. 
How able such a work to tmdergo. 
To weigh against his opposite; or else. 
We fortify in paper, and in figures. 
Using the nanua of men, instead of men : 
Like one, that draws the model of a house 
Beyond his power to build it ; who, hali 

through. 
Gives o'er, and leaves his part-created cost 
A naked subject to the weeping clouds. 
And waste for churlish winter's tyranny. 

Hast, Grant, that our hopes (yet likely for 
fair birth,) 
Should be still born, and that we now possess'd 
The utmost man of expectation ; 
I think, we are a body strong enough. 
Even as we are, to equal with the king. 

Bard. What! is the king but five and twenty 
thonsand I 

Hast. To us, no more ; nay, not so much 
lord Bardolph. 
For his divisions, as the times do brawl. 



A large wooden hammer so heavy as to require three men to wield it. 
t Anticipate, j liofit. $ Agree. 



Scene IJJ.l SECOND TART OF li^i^i^ ilEMlV IV. 



465 



Aie in iliree heads: one power against the 
French, 

And one against Glendower ; perforce, a third 

Must take up us: So is the unfinn king 

In three divided ; and his cotiers sound 

With hollow poverty and emptiness. 
Arch. That he should draw bis several 
strengths together. 

And coifte against us in full puissance, 

Need not be dreaded. 
Hast. If h-e should do so, 

He leaves his back unarmed, the French and 
Welsh 

Baying him at the heels: never fear that. 
Bard. Who, is it like, should lead his forces 
hither? [moreland : 

Hast. The duke of Lancaster, and West- 

Against the Welsh, himself, and Harry Mon- 
mouth : 

Bnt who is substituted 'gainst the French, 

I have no certain notice. 
Arch. Let us on ; 

And publish the occasion of our arms. 

The commonwealth is sick of their own choice. 

Their over-greedy love hath surfeited : — 

An habitation giddy and unsure 



Hath he, that buildeth on the vulgar heart. 
O thou fond many ♦ ! with whal loud apj: inniw 
Didst thou beat heaven with blessing Boling- 

broke, [be T 

Before he was what thou wouldst have hira 
And being now trimm'd f in thine own desires. 
Thou, be.istly feeder, art so full of him. 
That thou provokest thyself to cast him up. 
So, 80, thou common dog, didst thou disgorge 
Thy glutton bosom of the royal Richard ; 
And now ihoo would»t eat thy dead vomit up. 
And howl'st to find it. What trust is in these 

times? [him die. 

They that, when Richard lived, would have 
Are now become enamour'd on his grave: 
Thou, that threw'st dust upon his goodly head, 
When through proud London he came sighing 
After the admired heels of Bolingbroke, [on 
Cry'st now% O earth, yield us that king 

again, [accurst ! 

And take thou this! O, thoughts of men 
Past, and to come, seem best ; things present, 

worst. [set on t 

Motvb. Shall we go draw our numbers, and 
Hast. We are time's lubjects, and time bids 

be gone. \^Exeunt, 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. London. A Street. 

Enter Hostess; Fang, and his Boy, with 
her ; and Snare /olio iving. 

Host. Master Fang, have you entered the 
action ? 

Fang. It is entered. 

Host. Where is your yeoman J? Is it a 
lusty yeoman ? will a' stand to*t T 

Fa7ig. Sirrah, where's Snare? 

Host. O lord, «y : good master Snare. 

Snare. Here, here. 

Fang. Snare, we must arrest sir John Fal- 
staflf. 

Host. Yea, good master Snare ; I have 
entered him and all. 

Snare. It may chance cost some of us owr 
lives, for he will stab. 

Host. Alas the day ! take heed of him ; he 
stabbed me in mine own house, and that most 
beastly : in good faith, a' cares not what mis- 
chief he doth, if his weapon be out : he will 
foin$ like any devil ; he will spare neither 
man, woman, nor child. 

Fang. If I can close wilh him, I care not 
for his thrust. 

Host. No, nor I neither: 1*11 be at your 
elbow. 

Fang. An I but fist him once ; an a* come 
but within my vice|| ; — 

Host. 1 am undone by his going ; I warrant 
you, he's an infinitive thing upon my score : — 
Good master Fang, hold him sure ; — good 
master Snare, let him not 'scape. He comes 
continuautly to Pie-corner, (saving your man- 



hoods,) to buy a saddle ; and he's indited to 
dinner to the lubbar's head in Lumbert-street, 
to master Smooth's the silkman : I pray ye, 
since my exion is entered, and my case so 
openly known to the world, let him be brought 
in to hii answer. A hundred mark is a long 
loan for a poor lone woman to bear: and I 
have borne, and borne, and borne ; and have 
been fibbed off, and fabbed off, and fubbed 
off, from this day to that day, that it is a shame 
to be thought on. There is no honesty in such 
dealing ; onless a woman should be made 
an ass, and a beast, to bear every knave's 

wrong. 

Enter Sir John Falstaff, Page, and Bar 

DOLPH. 

Yonder he comes ; and that arrant malmsey- 
nose knave, Bardolph, with him. Do your 
otfices, do your offices, master Fang, and 
master Snare ; do me, do me, do me your 
offices. 

Fat. How now 1 whose mare's dead ? what's 
the matter? 

Fang. Sir John, I arrest you at the suit of 
mistress Quickly. 

Fal. Away, varlets !— Draw, EardolpU ; 
cut me off the villain's head ; throw the quean 
in the channel. 

Hofit. Throw me in the channel? I'll throw 
thee in the channel. Wilt thou? wilt thou ? 
thou bastardly rogue! — Murder, murder! O 
thou honey-suckleli villain ! W\\\. thou kill 
God's olficers, and the king's ? O thou honey 
seed ** rogue! thou art a honey-seed ; a mac 
qnelier, and a woman-queller. 



Multitude. 



Grasp. 



t Dressed. 



% Homicidal. 



i A bailiff's follower. 



*♦ Homicide. 



§ Thrust, 



4.66 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act JL 



Fill, Keep them oflf, Bardolph. 

Fang. A rescue ! a rescue ! 

Host. Good people, bring a rescue or two. 
— Thou wo't, wo't thou? thou wo't, wo't 
thou 1 do, do, thou rogue ! do, thou hemp- 
seed ! 

Fal. Away, yon sculiion! you rampalliani 
you fustilarian ! Til tickle your catastrophe. 

Enter the Lord Chief Justice, attended. 

Cli. Just. What's the matter? keep the 
peace here, ho ! 

Host. Good ray lord, be good to me ! I be- 
seech you, stand to me ! 

Ch. Just, How now, sir John? what, are 

you brawling here ? [business? 

Doth this become your place, your time, and 

You should have been well on your way to 

York. — [thou on him ? 

Stand from him, fellow ; Wherefore hang'st 

Host. O my most worshipful lord, an't 
please your grace, I am a poor widow of 
Eastcheap, and he is arrested at my suit. 

Ch. Just. For what sum ? 

Ho^t. It is more than for some, my lord ; 
it is for all, all I have : he hath eaten me out 
of house and home ; he hath put all my sub- 
stance into that fat belly of his :— but I will 
have some of it out again, or I'll ride thee 
o'nights, like the mare. 

Fal. I think, I am as like to ride the mare, 
if I have any vantage of ground to get up. 

Ch. Just. How comes this, sir John ? Fie! 
what man of good temper would endure this 
tempest of exclamation? Are you not ashamed, 
to enforce a poor widow to so rough a course 
to come by her own? 

Fal. VV hat is the gross sum that I owe thee? 

Host. Marry, if thou wert an honest man, 
thyself, and the money too. Thou didst swear 
to me upon a parcel-gilt* goblet, sitting in my 
Dolphin-chamber, at the round-table, by a sea- 
coal tire, upon VV ednesday in Whitsun-week, 
when the prince broke thy head for liking his 
father to a .^^inging-mau of Windsor ; thou didst 
swear to nie then, as I was washing thy wound, 
to marry me, and make me my lady, tli>* wife. 
Canst thou deny it? Did not goodwife Ketch, 
the butcher's wife, come in then, and call me 
gossip Quickly? coming in to borrow a mess 
of vinegar ; telling us, she had a good dish of 
prawns ; whereby thou didst desire to eat some ; 
whereby I told thee, they were ill for a green 
wound ? And didst thou not, when she was 
gone down stairs, desire me to be no more so 
familiarity with such poor people; saying, that 
ere long they should call me madam ( And didst 
thou not kiss me, and bid me fetch thee thirty 
shillings? 1 put thee now to thy book-oath; 
deny it, if thou canst. 

Fal, My lord, this is a poor mad soul; and 
jhe says, up and down the town, that her eldest 
Bon is like you: she hath been in good case, 
and, the truth is, poverty hath districted her. 
Put for these foolish ollicers, I beseech vou, 1 
may have redress against them. 

Ch, Jus, Sir Joim, sir John, I am well ac- 



quainted with your manner of wrenching the 
true cause the false way. It is not a confident 
brow, nor the throng of words that come with 
such more than impudent sauciness from you, 
can thrust me from a level consideration ; you 
have, as it appears to me, practised upon the 
easy-yielding spirit of this woman, and made 
her serve your uses both in purse and person. 
Host. Yea, in troth, my lord. 
Ch. Jus. Pi 'ythee, peace : — Pay her the debt 
you owe her, and unpay the villany you have 
done with her; the one yon may do with ster 
ling money, and the other with current re- 
pentance. 

Fal, My lord, I will not undergo this sneap | 
without reply. You call honourable boldnes*. 
impudent sauciness : if a man will makt 
court'sy, and say nothing, he is virtuous : No, 
my lord, my humble duty remembered, I will 
not be your suitor ; 1 say to you, I do desire 
deliverance from these officers, being upon 
hasty employment in the kinj^'s affairs. 

Ch. Just. You speak as having power to do 
wrong: but answer in the effect of your repu- 
tation j, and satisfy the poor woman. 
Fal. Come hither, hostess.['Jukh/g her aside. 

Enter Govver. 
Ch.Just, Now, uiasterGower; What news? 
Gow. The king, my lord, and Harry prince 
of Wales 
kre near at hand: the rest the paper tells. 

Fal. As I am a gentleman; 

Host. Nay, you said so before. 

Fal. As I am a gentleman ; Come, no 

more words of it. 

Host. By this heavenly ground I tread on, I 
must be fain to pawn both my plate, and the 
tapestry of my dining-chambers. 

Ful. Glasses, glasses, is the only drinking : 
and tor thy walls, — a pretty slight drollery, or 
the story of the prodigal, or the German hunt- 
ing in water work, is worth a thousand of these 
bed -hangings, aiid the.-e tly-bitten tapestries. 
Let it be ten pound, if thou canst. Come, an 
it were not for ih\ humours, there is not a 
better wench in England. Go, wash thy face, 
and 'draw § thy action : Come, thou must not 
be in this humour with me; dost not know me? 
Come, come, I know thou wast set on to this. 

Ho.^t. Pray thee, sir John, let it be but 
twenty nobles; i'fiith I am loath to pawn my 
plate, in good earnest, la. 

Fal. Let it alone; I'll make other shift: 
you'll be a fool still ! 

Host. V\ ell, you shall have it, though I pawn 
my gown. 1 hope, you'll come to supper: 
You'll pay me all together? 

Ful. Will 1 live?- Go, with her, with her; 
[To Bardoi.ph.] hook on, hook on. 

Host. Will you have Doll Tear-sheet meet 
you at supper? 

Fal. No more words ; let's have her. 

[Kieuut Hostess, Bardolph, Officers^ 
uuif Page. 
Ch. Just. I have heard better news. 
Fal. VVhat's the news, my good, lord ? 



' Party gilt. 



t Snub, check. 



J Suitable to your character. 



$ Wfthdraw. 



Scene /.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



467 



Ch, Just, Where lay the king last night? 

Goiv. At Basingstoke, my lord. 

Fal. I hope, my lord, all's well : What's the 
news, my lord. 

Ck, Just. Come all his forces back ? 

Gow. No ; fifteen hundred foot, five hun- 
dred horse. 
Are march'd up to my lord of Lancaster, 
Against Northumberland, and the archbishop. 

FaL Comes the king back from Wales, my 
noble lord ? 

Ch, Just. Yon shall have letttrs of me pre- 
sently : Come, go along with me, good master 
(lower. 

Fal. My lord ! 

Ch. Just. What's the matter? 

Fal. Master Gower, shall I entreat you with 
me to dinner? 

Gmv. I must wait upon my good lord here : 
I thank you, good sir John. 

Ch. Just, Sir John, you loiter here too long, 
being you are to take soldiers up in counties as 
you go. 

Fal. Will you sup with me, master Gower? 

Ch. Just, What foolish master taught you 
these manners, sir John? 

Fdl. Master Gower, if they become me not, 
he was a fool that taught them me. — This is 
the right fencing grace, my lord ; tap for tap, 
and so part fair. 

Ch.Just. Now the Lord lighten thee! thou 
art a great fool. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IL The same. Another Street, 
Enter Prince Henrt and Poins. 

p. Hen. Trust me, I am exceeding weary, 

Poins, Is it come to that? I had thought 
weariness durst not have attached one of so 
bigh blood. 

P, Hen. 'Faith, it does me ; though it dis- 
colours the complexion of my greatness to ac- 
knowledge it. Doth it not show vilely in me, 
to desire small beer? 

Poins. W hy , a prince should not be so loosely 
studied, as to remember so weak a com position. 

P. Hen. Belike then, my appetite was not 
princely got ; for, by my troth, I do now re- 
member the poor creature, small beer. But, 
indeed, these humble considerations make me 
out of love with my greatness. What a dis- 
grace is it to me, to remember thy name ! or to 
know thy face to-morrow ! or to take note how 
many pair of silk stockings thou hast; viz., 
these, and those that were the peach-colour'd 
ones I or to bear the inventory of thy shirts ; as, 
oiie for superfluity, and one other for use ! — 
I'lit that the tennis-court-keeper knows bt-tter 
than I; for it is a low ebh of linen with thie, 
whtn thou keepest n<u racket there; as tlion 
ha?t not done a great while, because the rest of 
thy low-countries have ir ade a shift to eat up 
thy holland: and God k)ows, whether those 
that bawl out the ruin* of thy linen *, sh 11 i'n- 
heiit his kingdom : but the midwives say, 



world increases, and kindreds are mightilj 
strengthened. 

Poins. How ill it follows, after yoa have 
laboured so hard, you should talk so idly '? Tell 
me, how many good young princes would (!« 
so, their fathers being so sick as yours at this 
time is. 

P,Hen. Shall I tell thee one thing, Poins? 

Poins. Yes ; and let it be an excellent good 
thing. 

P. Hen. It shall serve among wits of no 
higher breeding than thine. 

Poins. Go to ; 1 stand the push of your one- 
thing thai you will tell. 

P. Hen. Why, I tell thee,— it is not meet 
that I should be sad, now my father is sick: 
albeit I could tell to thee, (as to one it pleases 
me,,for fault of a better, to call my friend,) I 
could be sad, and sad indeed too. 

Poins. Very hardly, upon such a subject. 

p. Hen. By this hand.thou think'st mean far 
in the devil's book, as thou, and Falstaff, for 
obduracy and persistency : Let the end try the 
man. But I tell thee, — my heart bleeds in- 
wardly, that my father is so sick: and keep- 
ing such vile company as thou art, hath in rea- 
son taken from me all ostentation of sorrow. 

Poins. The reason ? 

P. Hen. What wouldst thou think of me, if 
1 should weep! 

Poins. 1 would think thee a most princely 
hypocrite. 

P, Hen. It would be every man's thought : 
and thou art a blessed fellow, to think as every 
man thinks; never a man's thoughts in the 
world keep the roa^* -way better than thine: 
every man would think me an hypocrite in- 
deed. And what accites your most worship- 
ful thought to think so? 

Poins. Why, because you have been so 
lewd, and so much engrafted to Falstaft. 

P. Hen. And to thee. 

Poins. By this light, I am well spoken of, 
I can hear it with my own ears : the worst 
that they can say of me is, that I am a second 
brother, and that I am a proper fellow of my 
hands ; and 'those two things, I confess, I can- 
not help. By the mass, here comes Bardolph. 

P. Hen. And the boy that I gave Falstaff: 
he had him from me christian ; and look, if 
the fat villain have not transformed him ape. 
Enter Bardolph and Page. 

Bard. 'Save your grace I 

P. Hen. And yours, most noble Bardolph.' 

Bard. Come, you virtuous ass, [To the 
Page,] you bashfulfoo^must you be blushing^ 
wherefore blush you now 1 What a maidenly 
man at arms are you become? Is it .such a 
matter, to vet a poitle-pot's maidenhead? 

Page. He called me even now, my lord, 
through a red lattice t, and I could discern no 
part of his face from the window : at last, I 
spied his eyes; aiut, niethought, he had made 
two holee in the ale-wife's new petticoat, and 



^ jy\\-i^ .... 

children are not in the fault; whereupon the peeped through. 

* Chil(ken wrapt ap in Li» old shirts. t An alehouse window. 



4>6S 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act JJ, 



P, Hen. Hath not the boy profited ? 

Bard. Away, you whoreson iiprit^ht rabbit, 
away I 

Page* Away, you rascally A-lthea's dream, 
away! 

P. Hen. Instruct us, boy: What dream, boy? 

Page. Marry, my lord, Althea dreamed slie 
was delivered of a fire-brand ; and therefore 
I call him her dream. 

P. Hen. A crown's worth of good" interpre- 
tation.— There it is, boy. {(iices him money. 

Poins. O, that this good blossom could be 
kept from cankers ! — Well, there is sixpence 
to preserve thee. 

Bard. An you do not make him be hanged 
among you, the gallows shall have wrong, 

P. Hen. And how doth thy master, Bar- 
dolph 1 

Bard. Well, my lord. He heard of your 
grace's coming to town ; there's a letter for 
you. 

Poins. Delivered with good respect. — And 
how doth the martlemas*, your master? 
^ Bard. In bodily heaJth, sir. 

( Poins. Marry, the immortal part needs a 

physician: but that moves not him; though 
ihat be sick, it dies not. 

P. Hen. I do allow this went to be as 
familiar with me as my dog : and he holds 
his place; for, look you, how he writes. 

Poins. [Reads.] John Falstatf,' knight^ 

Every man must know that, as oft as he has 
occasion to name himself. Even like those 
that are kin to the king; for they never prick 
their finger, but they say. There is some of 
the king's blood spilt : Hoiv comes that 1 say's 
he, that takes upon him not to conceive; the 
answ^er is as ready as a borrower's cap ; / a7n 
the king's poor cousin, sir. 

P. Hen. Nay, they will be kin to us, or they 
rriW fetch it from Japhet. But the letter : — 

Poins. iVir John Yahtaff, knight, to the son 
of the king, nearest his father, Harry 
Prince of ff'^ales, greeting.— Why, this is a 
certificate. 

P. Hen. Peace! 

Poins. / will imitate the honourable Ro- 
man in brevity: — he sure means brevity in 
breath ; short-winded. — I commend me to thee, 
J commend thee, and I leave thee. Be fwt 
too familiar with Poins ; for he misuses thy 
favours so much, that he swears thou art 
to marry his sister Nell. Repent at idle 
times as thou may'st, and sofarewell. 

Thine, by yta arid no, (which is as much 
as to say, as thou usest him,) Jack 
Falstatf, with my familiars ; John, with 
my brothers and sisters ; and sir John 
with all Europe. 
My lord, I will steep this letter in sack, and 
make him eat it. 

P. Hen. That's to make him eat twenty of 
his words. But do you use me thus, Ned ? 
must I marry your sister? 

Poins. May the wench have no worse for- 
tune I but I never said so. 

• Martinmas, St. Martin's day is Nov. 11. 



P. Hen. Well, thus we play the fools with 
the time ; and the spirits of the wise sit in the \ 
clouds, and mock us. — Is your master here in 
London? 

Bard. Yes, my lord. 

P. Hen. Where sups he? doth the old boai 
feed in the old frank i? 

Bard. At the old place, my lord ; in East' r 
cheap. 

P. Hen. What company? 

Page. Ephesians. my lord ; of the old churclu 

P. Hen. Sup any women with him? 

Page, None, my lord, but old mistress ' 
Quickly, and mistress Doll Tear-sheet. 

P. Hen. What pagan may that be? ' 

Page. A proper gentlewoman, sir, and a 
kinswoman of my master's. 

P. Hen. Even such kin as the parish heifen 
are to the town bull. — Shall we steal upon 
them, Ned, at supper? 

Poins. I am your shadow, my lord; I'll 
follow you, 

P. Hen. Sirrah, yon boy, — and Bardolph ; 
—no word to your master, that I am yet come 
to town : There's for your silence. 

Bard. I have no tongue, sir. 

Page. And for mine, sir, — I will govern it 

P. Hen. Fare ye well; go. {Exeunt Bar- 
dolph and Page.] — This Doll Tear-sheet 
should be some road. 

Poins. I warrant you, as common as the 
way between Saint Alban's and London. 

P. Hen. Howmight we see Falstaflf bestow 
himself to-night in his true colours, and not 
ourselves be seen? 

Poins. Put on two leather jerkins, and 
aprons, and wait upon him at his table as 
drawers. 

P. Hen From a god to a bull? a heavy 
deticension ! it was Jove's case. From a prince 
toa prentice? a low traiisformation ! thatshall 
be mine: for, in everything, the purpose 
must weigh with the folly. Follow me, Ned. 

{Exeunt. 

SCENE III. Warkworth. Before the Castle. 
i^/i^er Northumberland, Lady NoRTHUJtt- 
BORLAND, and Lady Perct 
North. I pray thee, loving wife, and gentle 
daughter. 
Give even way unto my rough affairs : 
Put not you on the visage of the times. 
And be, like them, to Percy troublesome. 
Lady N. I have given over, I will speak no 
more : 
Do what you will; your wisdom be your guide. 
North. Alas, sweet wife, my honour is at 
pawn ; 
And, but my going, nothing can redeem it. 
LiUdy P. O yet, for God's sake^ go not U. 
these wars! 
The time was, father, that you broke your word 
When you were nioreendear'd to it than now , 
When your own Percy, when my heart's, dear 
Harry, [father 

Threw many a northward look, to sec hie 



t Swoln excrescence. 



X Sty. 



Scene JII.\ 



SiiCOND PART OF KIAG HENRY IV. 



469 



Bring up his powers ; but he did long in vain. 
Who then persuaded you to stay at home? 
There w^re two honours lust ; yours, and your 

sou's. 
For yours, —may heavenly glory brighten it ! 
F«»v his, — it stuck upon Jiiin, as the sun 
In the grey vault of heaven : and, by his light, 
Did all the chivalry of England move 
To do brave acts ; he was, indeed, the glass 
Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves. 
He had no legs that practised not his gait : 
And speaking thick, which nature made his 

blemish, 
Became the accents of the valiant ; 
For those ihat could speik low. and tardih'. 
Would fjrn their own perfection to abuse, 
To seem like him : So that, in speech, in gait, 
In diet, in affections of delight, 
in military rules, humours of blood. 
He was the mark and glass, copy and book, 
That fashioned others. And him — O won- 
drous him! 
O miracle of men! — him did you leave, 
(Second to none, unseconded by you,) 
To look upon the hideous god of war 
In disadvantrige; to abide a field, Tname 

Where nothing but the sound of Hotspur's 
Did seem defensible : — so you left him : 
Kever, O never, do his ghost the wrong, 
To hold your honour more precise and nice 
With others, than with him ; let them alone; 
The marshal, and the archbishop, are strong: 
Had my sweet Harry had but halftheir 

numbers. 
To-day might I, hanging on Hotspur's neck. 
Have talk'd of Monmouth's grave. 

North. Beshrew* your heart, 

Fan- daughter ! you do draw my spirits from me, 
^Vith new lamenting ancient oversights, 
but I must go, and meet with danger there ; 
Or it will seek me in another place, 
4.nd find me worse provided. 

Lady IS. O, fly to Scotland, 

Fill that the nobles, and the armed commons, 
Have of their puissance made a little taste. 
Lady P. If they get ground and vantage of 

the king, 
Then join you with them, like a rib of steel. 
To make strength stronger ; but, for all our 

loves, 
First let them try themselves : So did your son ; 
He was so sutfer'd ; so came I a widow ; 
And never shall have length of life enough. 
To rain upon remembrance with mine eyes. 
That it may grow and sprout as high as heaven, 
For recordation to my noble husband. 

North. Come, come, go in with me : 'tis 

with my mind, 
As with the tide swell'd up unto its height. 
That makes a still-stand, running neither way. 
Fain would I go to meet the archbishop, 
But many thousand reasons hold me back: — 
I will resolve for Scotland ; there am I, 



Till time and vantage crave my company. 

SCENE IV. London. ARomninthe ho\\'% 

Head Tavern, in Eastcheap. 

Enter Two Drawers. 

1 Dratr. Wh^it the devil hast thou brou ' t 
there? apple Johns? thou know'st sir John 
cannot endure an apple-John +.^ 

2 Draw. Mass, thou sayest true : The prince 
once set a dish of apple-Johns before him, 
and told him, there were five more sir Joh s; 
and, putting off his hat, said, I will 7H>w ttike 
my leave of these \ix dry round, old wi- 
thered kn'fghts. It angered him to the heart : 
but he hath forgot that. 

I Draw. Why then, cover, and set them 
down: And see if thou e.'.nst find out Sneak's 
noise j; mistress Tear-sheet would fain hear 
some musie. Despatch: — The room where 
they supped, is too hot; they'll come iu 
s-traight. 

'i Draw. Sirrah, here will be the prince, 
and master Poins anon : and they will put od 
two of our jerkins, and aprons ; and sir John 
must not know of it: Bardolph hath brought 
word. 

1 Draw. By the mass, here will be old 
utis^: It will be an excellent stratngem. 

2 Draw. 1*11 see if 1 can find out Sneak. 

[ t^rit. 

Enter Hostess and Doli. Tear-sheet. 

Ho^t. I'taith, sweet heart, methinks now 
you are in an excellent good temperality : your 
pulsidge beats asextraordinarilyas heart would 
desire ; and your colo'if , I warrant you, is as 
red as any rose: But, i'faith, you have drunk 
too much canaries; and that's a marvelloua 
searching wine, and it perfumes the blood ere 
one can say, — What's this? How do you 
now? 

Dol. Better than I was. Hem. 

Host. Why, that's well said ; a good heart's 
worth gold. Look, here comes sir John. 
Enter Falstaff, singing. 

Fal. When Arthur first in court — Empty 
the Jordan.— J.w^ ivas a ivorthy king: [Exit 
Drawer.] How now, mistress Doll? 

Host. Sick of a calm : yea, good sooth. 

Fal. So is all her sect ; an they be once in 
a calm, they are sick. 

Dol. You muddy rascal, is that all the com- 
fort you give me ? 

Fal, You make fat rascals, mistress Doll. 

Dol. I make them ! gluttony and diseases 
make them ; I make them not- 
Far^. If the cook help to make the gluttony 
you help to make the diseases, Doll r we 
catch of you, Doll, we catch of you ; grant 
that, my poorvirtoe, grant that. 

Dol. Ay, marry; our chains, and our jewels. 

Fal. Your brooches , 'pearls , and owches •— 
for to serve bravely, is to come aaiiing off. 



• Ill-betide, 
t Sneak was a street minstrel : 



+ An apple that will keep two year.^. 
a noise of musicians anciently ?j^nitied a conceit, 
§ Merry doings. 

^ S 



470 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act If. 



you know: To come off the breach with his 
pike bent bravely, and to surgery bravely ; 
ic venture upon the charged chambers* 
bravely: 

Vol. Hang yourself, you muddy conger, 
han^ yourself! 

H'o.st. By my froth, this is the old fashion ; 
you two never meet, but you fall to ?iome dis- 
cord : you are both, in good troth, as rheuma- 
tic as two dry toasts; you cannot one bear 
with another's contirmities. What the good- 
ye r ! one must bear, and that must be you : 
[7b Doll.] you are the weaker vessel, as they 
say, the emptier vessel. 

Vol. Can a weak empty vessel bear such a 
huge full hogshead ? There's a whole mer- 
chant's venture of Bonrdeanx stuff in him; 
you have not seen a hulk better stuffed in the 
hold. — Come, I'll be friends with thee, Jack : 
thou art going to the wars; and whether I 
shall ever sec thee again, or no, there is no- 
body cares. 

Re-enter Drawer. 

Draiv. Sir, ancient j Pistol's below, and 
would speak with you. 

Dol. Hang him, swaggering rascal I let him 
not come hither : it is the foul mouth'dst 
rogue in England. 

Host. If he swagger, let him not come 
here : no, by my faith ; I must live amongst my 
neighbours ; I'll no swaggerers : 1 am in good 
name and fame with the very best: — Shut 
the door; — there comes no swaggerers here: 
I have not lived all this while, to have swag- 
gering now: — shut the door, I pray you. 
Fal. Dost thou hear, hostess ? — 

Host, Pray you, pacify yourself, sir John ; 
there comes no swaggerers 5 here. 

Fal. Dost thou hear 1 it is mine ancient. 

Host, Tilly-fally, sir John^ never tell me; 
y(,ur ancient swaggerer comes not in my 
doors. I was before master Tisick, the de- 
puty, the other day ; and, as he said to me,— 
it was no longer ago than Wednesday last, — 
Neighbour Quickly, says he; — master Dumb, 
our minister, was by then ; — Neighbour Quick- 
ly, says he, receive those that are civil; for, 
saith he, you are in an ill 7iame ; — now he 
said so, I can tell whereupon ; ^or, says he, 
yon are an honest woman, an dwell thought 
on; therefore take heed what guests you 
receive: Receivey says he, no swaggering 

companions. There comes none here; — 

you would bless you to hear what he said : 
no, Pll no swaggerers. 

Fal. He's no swaggerer, hostess; a tame 
cheater II, he ; you may stroke him as gently as 
a puppy greyhound: he will not swagger with 
a Barbary hen, if her featheru turn back in any 
ihow of resistance. — Call him up, drawer. 

Host. Cheater, call you him? I will bar no 
Aooest man my house, nor no cheater : But I 



do not love swaggering ; by my troth, I am 
the worse, when one says — swagger : feel, mas- 
ters, how I shake; look you, i warrant you. 
Dol. So you do, hostess. 
Host. Do U yea, in very truth , do T, an 'twere 
an aspen leaf: I cannot abide swaggerers. 
Enter Pistol, Baruolph, and Page. 
Pist. 'Save you, sir John ! 
Fal. Welcome, ancient Pistol. Here, Pis- 
tol, I charge you with a cup of sack : do you 
discharge upon mine hostess. 

Pist. I will discharge upon her, sir John, 
with two bullets. 

Fal. She is pistol-proof, sir; you shall 
hardly offend her. 

Host. Come, I'll drink no proofs, nor no 
bullets: Pll drink no more than will dome 
good, for no man's pleasure, I. 

Pist. Then to you, mistress Dorothy ; I 
will charge you. 

Dol. Charge me? I scorn you, scurvy com- 
panion. W^iiat! you poor, base, rascally, 
cheating, lacklinen mate! Away, you mouldy 
rogue, away ! I nm meat for your master. 
Pist. 1 know you, mistress Dorothy. 
Dol. j^v/ay, you cur-y)ur5ie rascal ! you filthy 
bung, awav! by this wine, I'll thnist my knife 
in your mouldy chaps, an yon play the saucy 
cuttle with me AM'ay you bottle-ale rascal! 
you basket-hilt stale juggler, you — Since 
when, i pray you, sir?— What, with your two 
points^ on your slioulders ? much**! 
Pist. I will murder your Tuif for this. 
Fal. No more, Pisrol; 1 would not have 
you go orf here: discharge yourself of our 
company, Piatol. 

Host. Ko, good captain Pistol ; not here, 
sweet captain. 

DoL Captain! thon abominable damned 
cheater, art thou not ashamed to be called — 
captain? If captains were of my mind, they 
would truncheon you out, for taking their 
names upon you before you have earned them. 
You a captain, you slave ! for what ? for tenring 
a poor whore's ruff in a bawdy-house? — He a 
captain ! Hang him, rogue! He lives upou 
mouldy stewed prunes, a.id dried cakes. A 
captain ! these villains will make th-e wor<i 
captain as odious as the word occupy ; which 
was an excellent good word before it was iii- 
sorted : therefore captains had need look to u 
Bard. Pray thee, go down, good ancient. 
Fal. Hark thee hither, mistress Doll. 
Pist. Not I : tell thee what, corporal Bar- 
dolph;— I could tear her:— Pll be revenged 
on her. 

Page. Pray thee, go down. 
Pist. Pll see her damned first ;— to Pluto's 
damned lake, to the infernal deep, with Ere- 
bus and tortures vile also. Hold hook and 
line, say 1. Down! down, dogs! dowr 
faitorsft! Have we no? Hiren here^? 



• Small pieces of ordnance. + Mrs. Quickly's blunder for gouJerCy i. e,, pox. 

i Ensign. § A blustering, fighting fellow. p Gamester. 

IT Laces, marks of his commission. •• An expression of disdain. 

tt Traitori, rascal*. tt A quotation from a play of G. Pecle's, 



Scene IV.] SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



471 



Host. Good captain Peesel, be quiet; it is 
very late, i'faitli : I beseek you now, aggravate 
your choler. 

Pist. These be good humours, inde€d I Shall 
packhorses, 
And hoilow pamper'd j^des of Asia, 
Which cannot go but thirfy miles a day. 
Compare with Caesars, and with Cannibals *, 
And Trojan Greeks? nay, rather damn them 
King Cerberus ; and let the welkin roar, [with 
Shall we fall foul for toys? 

Host. By my troth, captain, these are very 
bitter words. 

Bard. Be gone, good ancient : this will 
grow to a brawl anon. 

Pist. Die men, like dogs ; give crowns like 
pins ; Have we not Hiren here? 

Ho-t. O' my word, captain, there's none 
such here. What the good-year ! do you think, 
I would deny her? for God's sake, be quiet. 

Pist. Then, feed, and be fat, my fair Cali- 
polisf : Come, give's some sack. 

*S'/ fortuna me tormentUy sperato me 
co/ftetita. — 
Fear we broadsides? no, let the fiend give fire : 
Give me some sack;— and, sweetheart, lie 
thou there. [Laying doum his sword. 
Come we to full points here ; and are et 
Cetera's nothing; ? 
Fal. Pistol, I would be quiet. 
P/st, Sweet knight, I kiss thy neift: What! 
we have seen the seven stars. 

Dol. 1 hrust him down stairs ; 1 cannot 
endure such a fu-^tian rascal. 

Pist. Thrust him down stairs ! know we 
not Galloway nags V? 

Pal. Quoit jl him down, Bardolpb, like a 
shove-groat shilling : nay, if he do nothing but 
speak nothing, he shall be nothing here. 
Bard. Come, get you down stnirs. 
Pist. What! shall we have incision ? shall 
we im brue ? [Snatchhig t/p his sivord . 
Then death rock me asleep, abridge my dole- 
ful days^ ! 
Why then, let grievous, ghastly, gaping wounds 
Untwine the sisters three I Come, Atropos, I 
Host, Here's goodly stuff toward ! [say ! 
Pal. Give me my rapier, boy. 
Dul. I pray thee, Jack, I pray thee, do not 



Bard. Yes, sir. The rascal's drunk : you 
have hurt him, sir, in the shoulder. 
PaC. A rascal to brave me 1 

Doi. Ah, you swtet little rogue, you ! Alas, 
poor ape, how tho.i sweat'.st ! Come, let me 
wi[)e thy face ;— come on, you whortson 
chops : — Ah, rojiiie ! i'rViith, I lo\f thee. IhciU 
ait as valorous as Hector ot I'roy, worih five 
of Agamenmon, ai,d ten times better than ihe 
nine worthies. Ah, villain! 

P(d. A rascally slave I I will toss the rogue 
in a blanket. 

JJol. Do, if thou daresi for thy heart : if 
thou dost, I'll canvass thee between a pair ot 
sheets. 

Enter Music. 

Page. The music is come sir. 

Pal. Let (hem play; — Play, sirs. — Sit on 
my knee, Doll. A rascal biagiiing slave! the 
rogue fled from mt- like quicksilver. 

JJol. I'faiih, and thou followed^t him like a 
church, 'i hou whore-on little tidy Bartholo- 
mew boar-pig, when wilt thou leave fighting 
o'days, and toiiiiag ** o'niiihu, and begin to 
paich up thine old bt)d\ fo\ heaven? 
Enttr Oehhid Prince Henry and Poins, 
disguised like Drawers. 

Fal. Peace, good Doll ! do not speak like a 
death's head: do not bid me remember mine 
end. 

Dol. Sirrah, what humour is the prince of? 

Fal. A good shallow young fellow : he 
would have made a good pantler, he would 
have chipped bread well. 

Dol. 'J'iiey say, Pi. ins has a tiood wit. 

Pal. He a good wit ? hang liim, baboon ! 
his wit is as thick as Tewksbury mustard ; there 
is no more conceit in him, than is in a mallet. 

DoL. Why does the prince love him so then ? 

Pal. Because their legs aie bo'h of a big- 
ness : and he plays at quoils well ; and eats 
conger and fennel ; and drinks oft" caudles' 
ends for flap-dragons ; and rides the wild mare 
with the boy? ; and jumps upon joint-stools ; 
and swears with a good grace ; and wears his 
boot very smooth, like unto the sign of the 
leg : and breeds no bate with telling of discreet 
stories ; and such other g.imbol faculties he 



hath, that show a weak mind and an able 

Pal. Get you down stairs. [draw, j bo;ly, for the which the prince adndts him : 

[Drani//g, and driving Vj&toi. out. ' for i\\e prince himself is such another; the 

Host. Here's a goodly tumuli! Pll forswear' weight of a hair will turn tJie scales between 

keeping house, afore Pil be in these tirrils and ■ their avoirdupois. 

frights. So; nmrder, I warrant now. j P. hen. VVould not this nave of a wheel 

Alas, alas ! put up your naked weapons, put have his ears cut offi 

up your naked weapons. j Poins. Let's beat him before his whore- 

[Eieunt Pisroh and BakboIjTH.^ P. Hen. Look, if the withered elder hath 
Di>l. I pray thee. Jack, be quiet ; the rascal not his poll clawed like a p irrot. 



Is gone. Ah, you whoreson little valiant 
villain, you. 

, Host. Are you not hurt i*the groin? me- 

bought, he made a shrewd thrust at y our belly. 

Pe-enter Barvolpu. 

Fal, Have you turned him out of doors? 



Poins. Is it not strauije, that desire should 
80 many years outlive performance 1 

Pal. Kiss me, Doll. 

P. Hen. Saturn and Venus this year in con- 
juncliun ! what »<iys the almanac to that? 

Poins. And, look,whether the fiery Trigon tf 



Blunder for Hannibal. t Parod^f a line in the Battle of Alcasar, an old play. 

j Fist. Common hackneys. || Throw. U Part of an ancient gon^, 

*♦ Thrusting. ft An astionomical term. 



47P 



SHAKSPEARE. 



l^ct 11. 



Ills man, be not lisping to his master's old 
tables; his note-book, his counsel-keeper. 
Fal. Thou dost give me flattering busses. 
Dol. Nay, truly; I kiss thee with a most 
constant heart. 

Fal. I am old, I am old. 

Dol. I love thee better than I love e'er a 
scurvy young boy of them all. 

FuL What stutl wilt thou have akirtle* of? 
1 shall receive money on Thursday : thou sbalt 
have a cap to-morrow. A merry song, come : 
it ^row? late, we'll to bed. Thou*It forget me, 
when I arn gone. 

Dill. By my troth thou'lt set me a weeping, 
an ihoii sayest so: prove that ever I dress 

myself handsome till thy return. Well, 

hearken the end. 

Fal. Some sack, Francis. 

P. Hen, Polns. Anon, anon, sir. 

{Adiaricing^ 

Fal. Hal a bastard son of the king's? — 
And art not thou Poins his brother ? 

P. Hen, Why, thou ijlobe of sinful con- 
tinents, what a life dost thou lead 1 

Fal. A better than thou ; I am a gentleman, 
thou art a drawer. 

P, Hen. Very true, sir ; and I come to draw 
you out by the ears. 

Host. O, the Lord preserve thy good grace ! 
by my troth, welcome to London. — Now the 
Lord bless that sweet face of thine ! O Jesu, 
are you come from Wales 1 

Fal. Thou whoreson mad compoimd of 
majesty, — by this light flesh and corrupt blood, 
thou art welcome. 

[Leaning his hand upon Doll. 

DoL How ! you fat fool, I &corn you. 

Poins. My lord, he will drive you out of 
your revenge, and turn all to a merriment, if 
you take not the heat. 

P. Hen. You whoreson candle-mine, you, 
how vilely did you speak of-me even now, be- 
fore this honest, virtuous, civil gentlewoman ! 

Host. 'Blessing o' your good heart! and so 
•he is, by my troth. 

Fal. Didst thou hear me ? 

P. Hen. Yes ; and you knew me, as you 
did when you ran away by Gads-hill : you 
knew I was at your back ; and spoke it on 
purpose, to try my piatience. 

Fal. No, no, no ; not so ; I did not think 
thou wast within hearing. 

P. Hen. I shall drive you then to confess 
the wilful abuse; and then I know how to 
handle you. 

Fal. No abuse, Hal, on mine honour ; no 
abuse. 

P. Hen. Not? to dispraise me; and call 
me — pantler, and bread-chipper, and 1 know 
not what? 

Fdl. No abuse, Hal. 
Poins. No abuse ! 

Fal. No abuse, Ned, in the world ; honest 
Ned, none. 1 dispraised him before the wicked, 
that the wicked might not fall in love with 
him: — in which doing, I have done the part of 



a careful friend, and a true subject, and thy 
father is to give me thanks for it. No abuse, o 
Hal; none, Ned, none; no, boys, none. 

P. Hen. See now, whether pure fear, and 
entire cowardice, doth not make thee wrong 
this virtuous gentlewoman to close with us! Is 
she of the wicked? Is thine hostess here of the 
wicked? Or is the boy of the wicked? Or 
honest Bardolph, whose zeal burns in his nose, 
of the wicked I 

Poins. A-nswer, thou dead elm, answer. 

Fal. The liend hath pricked down Bardolph 
irrecoverable ; and his face is Lucifer's privy- 
kitchen, where he doth nothing but roast malt- 
worms. For the boy, — there is a good angel 
about him ; but the devil outbids him too. 

P, Hen For the women, 

Fal. For one of them she is in hell already, 
and burns poor soul I For the other, — I owe 
her money ; and whether she be damned for 
that, 1 know not. 

Host. No, I warrant you. 

Fal, No, I think thou art not ; I think thou 
art quit for that : Marry, there is another in- 
dictment upon thee, for sutteriug flesh to be 
eaten in thy house, contrary to the law ; for 
the which, I think, thou wilt howl. 

Host. All victuallers do so; What's a joint 
of mutton or two in the whole Lent? 

p. Hen. You, gentlewoman, 

Dol. What says your grace? 

Fal. His grace says that which his flesh 
rebels against. 

Host. Who knocks so loud at door? look to 
the door there, Francis. 

Enter Peto. 

P. Hen. Peto, how now? what news? 

Peto. The king your father is at Westminster, 
And there are twenty weak and wearied posts. 
Come from the north : and, as I came along, 
I met, and overtook, a dozen captains, [verns. 
Bare-headed, sweating, knocking at the ta- 
And asking every one lor sir John Falstatf. 

P. Hen. By heaven, Poins, I feel nie much 
So idly to profane the precious time ; [to blame. 
When tempest of commotion, like the south 
Borne with black vapour, d<ith begin to melt. 
And drop upon our bare unarmed heads. 
Give me my sword, and cloak : — Falstaft',good 
ni^ht. [Ea:einit Prince Hen., Poins, 
Peto, and Bardolph. 

Fal. Now comes in the sweetest morsel of 
the night, and we must hence, and leave it 
unpicked. [Knocking heard.'] More knock* 
iog at the door ? 

Re-enter Bardolph. 
How now? what's the matter? 

Bard. You m":st away to court, sir, pre- 
sently ; a dozen captains stay at door for yon. 

Fal. Pay the musicdans, sirrah. [To tlie 
Page.]— Farewell, hostess; — farewell, Doll.— - 
You see, my good wenches, how men of merit 
are sought after : the undeserver may sleep, 
when the man of action is called on. Fare- 
Wvcll, good wanches : if I be not sent away 
post, I will see you again ere I go. 



• A short cloak. 



Scene jT.] SECOr.D PART OF KIIvG HEIVRY IV, 



473 



Dol. 1 cannot speak ;— If my heart be not 
ready to burst : — Well, sweet .Jack, have a care 
of thyself. 

Fal. Farewell, farewell. 

[Kieunt Falstaff and Bardolph. 

Host. Well, fare thee well : I have known 
thee these twenty-nine years, come peas-cod 



ACT III. 



time ; but an honester, and truer-hearle«' 
man, — \\ ell, fare thee vvell. 

Bard. [fVtfh.7i.''j Mistress Tear-sheet, 

Bust. What's the matter? 

Bard. ^H ithift.] Bid mistress Tear-sheet 
come to my master. 

Host, O run, Doll, run ; run, good Doll. 
^ [Exeunt, 



SCENE I. A Boom in the Palace, 

Enter King Henry in his Nightgown, with 
a Page. 

K, Hen, Go, call the earls of Surrey and of 

Warwick ; [letters. 

But, ere they come, bid them o'er-read these 

And well consider of them : Make good 

speed. [Exit Page. 

How many thousand of my poorest subjects 
Are at this hour asleep! — Sleep, genile sleep. 
Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee. 
That thou nomore wilt weigh my eye-lids down. 
And fcteep my senses in forgetfulness? 
Why rather, sleep, liest thou in smoky cribs, ! 
Upon uneasy pallets stretching thee, [ber; 
And hush'd with buz/ing night-tiies to thy slum- 
Than in the perfumed chambers of the great. 
Under the canopies of costly slate, 
And lull'd with sounds of sweetest meloJy '* 
O tlH>u dull god, why liest tliou v^ith the vile. 
In loathsome beds; and leav'st the kingly 

couch, 
A watch-case, or a common Marum bell? 
Wilt thou upon the high and giddy mast 
Seal up the ship-boy's eyes, and rock his brains 
In cradle of the rude imperious surge; 
And in the visitation of the winds. 
Who take the ruffian billows by the top, 
Curling their monstrous heads, and hanging 

them 
With deaf'ning clamours in the slippery clouds, 
That, with the hurly *, death itself awakts? 
Can'st thou, O partial sleep! give thy repose 
To th'e wet sea-boy in an hour so rude; 
And, in the ca'^mest aud most stillest night. 
With all appliances and means to boot, 
Deny it to a king? Then, happy lowt, lie down! 
Uneasy lies the head thai wears a ciown. 
Enter Warwick a7id ScRRtY. 

War. Many good morrows to your majesty ! 

K.Hen. Is it good morrow, lords? 

Vi ar. 'Tis one o'clock, and past, [my lords. 

K. Hen. Why then, good morrow to you all. 
Have you read o'er the letters that t sent you? 

War. We have, my liege, [kingdom 

K. Hen. Then you perceive, the body of our 
How foul it is; what rank diseases giow. 
And with what danger, near the heart of it. 

War. It is but as a body, yet distemper'd ; 
Which to his former strength may he restored. 

With good advice, and little medicine: 

My lord Northumberland will soon becool'd. 

K. Hen. O heaven 1 that one might read the 
book of fate. 



And see the revolution of the times 

Make mountains level, and the continent 

(Weary of solid firmness), melt itself 

Into the sea! aid, other times, to see 

The beechy girdle of tlie ocean 

loo wide for Neptune's hips ; how chances 

And changes fill the cup of alteration [mock. 

With divers liquors I O, if this were se^n. 

The happiest youth, — viewing his progress 

through, 
What perils past, what crosses to ensue, — 
Would shut the b«-ok, and sit him do\\ n and die. 
*Tis not ten years gone, [friends, 

Since Riehard, and Northumberland, great 
Did feast together, and, in two years after. 
Were they at wars : It i? but eight years, sirice 
This Percy was the man nearest my soul; 
Who like a brother toil'd in my afiairs. 
And laid his love and life under my foot ; 
Yea, for my sake, even to the e>e6 of Richard, 
Gave him defiance. But which of }ou was by, 
(You, cousin Nevil, as I may remember), 

[To Warwick. 
W^hen Richard,— with his eye briinful of tears, 
Ihencheck'd and rated by Norihnmberlaiid, — 
Did speak these words, now proved a pro- 
phecy? 
Northnmberlandy thou ladder, by the tvlnch 
My cuvsh/ B( Ihigbri ke a>cends my throne ; 
Though then, heaven knows, 1 had no such in- 
But that nece-sity so I ow'd the state, pent; 
That 1 and greatness were compell'd lokiss:-— 
The time shall come, thus did he follow it. 
The time tvillcome, that Jovl ^^in, ^uihtring 

head, 
Shall break into corruytwn —so went on. 
Foretelling this same time's condition. 
And the division of our amity. 

War. There is a history in all men's livt'St 
Figuring the nature of the times deceased . 
The which observed, a man may prophesy, 
With a near aim, ot the main chance of things 
As yet not come to life; which in their seecss. 
And weak beginnings, lie enlreasured. [time ; 
Such things become the hatch and brood of 
And, by the necessary form of this, 
King Richard mitiht create a pertect guess. 
That great Noi thumbe riand, then false to him. 
Would, of that seed, grow to a greater falseness; 
Which should not iiud a ground to root upon. 
Unless on you. 

K. Hen. Are these things then necessities? 
Then let us meet them like necessities : — 
And that same wi.rd even now cries out onus; 
They say, the bishop and Isorthujubeilanci 



' Noise. 



t Those in lowly situations. 



2 S ' 



474 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act III 



Are fitty thousand strong. 

IVar, It cannot be, my lord ; 

Pnmou doth double, like ilie voice and echo, 
The nunibeis of ilie fear'd : — Please it ^our 
To iio to bed ; upon my life, my lord, [grace, 
The powers that ) oa already have sent forth, 
Shall bring this prize in very easily. 
To comfort you the more, I have received 
A certain instance, that Glendower is dead. 
Your majesty hath been tliis fortnight ill ; 
And these unseasoned hours, perforce, must add 
Unto your sickness. 

AT. Hen. I will take your counsel : 

And, were these inward wars once out of hand, 
We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land. 

SCENE II. Court before Justice Shallow's 

House i/i G.loucestershire. 
Enter Shallow and Sile:\ce, meethig ; 

Mouldy, Shadow, Wart, Feeble, 

Bull-calf, a}id Servants, behind. 

Shul. Come on, con)e on, come on ; give 
me your hand, sir, give me your hand, sir : an 
early stirrer, by the rood *. And how doth n,y 
good cousin Silence? 

Sit. Good morrow, good cousin Shallow. 

Shal. And how doth my cousin, your bed- 
fellow i and your fairest daughter, and mine, 
my god daughttr Ellen I 

iSil. Alas ! a black ouzel, cousin Shallow. 

Shal. By yea and nay, sir, I dare say wiy 
cousin William is become a good scholar; He 
IS at Oxford, still, is he not ? 

Sil. Indeed, sir; to my cost. 

Shal. He must then to the inns of court 
shortly: 1 was once of Clement's-inn ; where, 
I think, they will talk of mad Shallow yet. 

iSil. You were cailed— lusty Shallow, then, 
coasin. 

Shal. By the mass, I was called any thing ; 
and I would have done any ihing, indeed, and 
roundly too. There was I, and little John 
Doit of Stafford>hire,and black George Bare, 
and Francis Pickbone, and Will Squele a 
Cotswold man, — yon had not four such swinge- 
bucklers f in all the inns of court again: and, 
1 may say to you, we knew where the bona- 
robasj were; and had the best of them all at 
commandment. Then was Jack Falstaff, now 
sir John, a boy; and page to Thomas Mow- 
bray, duke of Nortolk. 

Sil. 1'his sir John, cousin, that comes hither 
anon about soldiers? 

Shal.^ J he same sir John, the very same. 
I saw him break Skogan's head at the court 
gate, when he was a crack §, not thus high: 
and tlie very same day did I fisiht with one 
Sampson Stockfish, a fruiterer, behind Gray 's- 
inn. O, the mad days that I have spent! and 
to see how many of mine old acquaintance are 
dead ! 

Sil. We shall all follow, cousin. 

Shal. Certain, 'tis certain; very sure, very 
ure : death, as the Psalmist saith, is certain 



to all; all shall die. How good it yoke of ' 
bullocks at Stamford fair'f 

Sil. Truly, cousin, I was not there. j 

Shal. Death is certain. — Is old Double ot ' 
your town living yet ? 

Sil. Dead, sir. 

Shal. Dead! — See, seel— he drew a good 
bow; — And dead! — he shot a tine shoot: — * 
John of Gaunt loved him well, and betted 
much money on his head. Dead!— he would 
have clapped i*the clout at twelve score jj ; and 
carried you a forehand shaft a fourteen aud 
fourteen and a half, that it would have done ; 

a man's heart good to see. How a score of 

ewes now? 

Sil. Thereafter as they be: a score of good 
ewes may be worth ten pounds. 

Shul. And is old Double dead! 
Enter Baruolph, tz/^t? oneuithhim. 

Sil. Here come two of sir John Falstaff's 
men as I think* 

Bard. Good morrow, honest gentlemen : 
I beseech yon, which is justice Shallow ? 

Shul. I am Robert Shallow, sir; a poor 
esquire of this county, and one of the king's 
justices of the peace: What i^ your good 
pleasure with me? 

Bard. My captain, sir, commends him to 
you: my captain, sir John Falsiatt: a tall U 
gentleman, by heaven, and a most" gallant 
loader. 

Shal. He greets me well, sir; I knew him 
a good backsword man : How doth the good 
knight? may 1 ask, how my lady his wife dolh t 

Bard. Sir, pardon ; a soldier is better ac- 
commodated, than with a wde. 

Shal. It it well said, in taith, sir; and it is 
well said in deed too. Better accommodated ! 
— it is good ; > ea, indeefl, it is : good phrases 
are surely, and ever were, very conmiendable. 
Accommodated! — it comes Uoxnuccominodo. 
very good ; a good phrase. 

Bind. Pardon me, sir; I have heard the 
word. Phrase, call you it? By this good day, 
I know not the phrase : but 1 will maintain 
tlie word with my sword, to be a soldierlike 
word, and a word of exceeding good com- 
mand. Accommodated; That is, when a man 
is, as they say, accommodated : or, when a man 
is, — being, — whereby, — he may be thought to 
be accommodated ; which is an excellent 
thing. 

Enter Falstaff. 

Shal. It is very just: — Look, here comes 
good sir John. — Give me your good hand : 
give me your worship's good hand : By my 
: troth, you look well, and bear your years very 
i well : welcome, good sir John. 
I Fal. I am glad to see you well, good mas- 
j ter Robert Shallow : — Master Sure-card, as I 
I think. 

j Shal. No, sir John ; it is my cousin Silence, 
in commission with me. 

I Fal. Good master Silence, it well befits you 
should be of the peace. 



Grnsj. 



t Rakes or rioters. % Ladies of pleasure $ Boy. 

white mark at twelve score yard*. IT Brsve. 



a Hit the 



iS(tJn //.j 



SLCOISD PART OF K l :\ G liE.MlY IV. 



475 



Sei. Your good worship i>^ weicotiie. 

Fal. Fie! this is hut weatiier. — Gentlemen, 
have you provided me here hdlf a doi^en suffi- 
cient rneii 1 

Sil. Marry, have we, sir. Will you sit? 

Fal. Let me see them, I beseech you. 

Shal. Where's the roil? where*s the roll? 
Where's the roll? — Let me see, let me see. 
So, so, so, so : Yea, marry, sir : — Ralph Moul- 
dy : — let them appear as I call ; let them do 

»o, let them do so. Let me see ; Where is 

Mouldy ? 

MouL Here, an't please you. 

Shal. What think you, sir John? a good- 
limbed fellow : young, strong, and of good 
friends. 

Fal. Is thy name Mouldy ? 

Moul. Yea, an't please you. 

Fal. 'Tis the more time thou wert used, 

Shal. Ha, ha, ha ! most excellent, i*faith ! 
things, that are mouldy, lack use : Very singu- 
lar good 1 — In faith, well said, sir John ; very 
well said. 

Ftl. l^rick him. [7*0 Shallow. 

MouL I was pricked well enough before, 
ail oM could have let me alone: my old 
dame will be undone now, for one lo do her 
Imsbandry, and her drudgery : you need not 
to have pricked me ; there are other men fitter 
to go out than I. 

Fal. Go to ; peace, Mouldy, you shall go. 
Mouldy, it is time you were spent. 

Moul. Spent! 

Shal. Peace, fellow, peace; stand aside; 
Know you where you are? — For the other, 
sir John : — let me see ; — Simon Shadow ! 

Ful. Ay marry, let me have him to sit under : 
he's like to be a cold soldier. 

Shal. Where's Sliadow ? 

Shad. Here, sir. 

Fal. Shadow, whose son art thou? 

Shad. My mother's son, sir. 
I Fal. Tliy mother's son! like enough; and 
|! thy father's shadow : so the son of the female is 
the shadow of tie male: It is often so, in- 
deed ; but not much of the father's substance. 

Shal. Do you like him, sir John ? 
|: Fal Shadow will serve for Slimmer, — prick 
l' liira ; — for we have a number of shadows to till 
op the muster-book. 

Shal. Thomas Wart ! 

Fal. Where's he? 

IVart. Here, sir. 

Fal. Is thy name Wart? 

Wart. Yea, sir. 

Fal. Thou art a very ragged wait. 

Sl'ial. Shall I prick him, sir John? 

Fal. It were superfluous; for his apparel ?s 
ouilt uponhis back, and the whole frame stands 
upon pins : prick him no more. 

Shal. Ha, ha, ha!— you can do it, sir; you 
can do it. I commend you well. — Fiancis 
Feeble. 

Fee. Here, sir. 

Fal. What trade art thon. Feeble? 

Fee. A woman's tailor, sir. 

Shal. Shall I prick him, sir? 

FuL You may: but if he had boon h 



man's tailor, he would have pricked you. — 
Wiit thou make as many holes in an enemy's 
battle, as thou hast done in a woman's petti- 
coat ? 

Fee. I will do my good will, sir; you can 
have no more. 

jPifl/. V/ell said, good woman's tailor! well 
said, courageous Feeble ! Thou wilt be as valiant 
as the wrathful dove, or most magnanimous 
mouse. — Prick the woman's tailo*- well, master 
Shallow; deep, master Shallow. 

Fee. I would Wart might have gone, sir. 

Fal. I would thou wert a man's tailor ; that 
thou might*st mend him, and make him fit to 
go. I cannot put him to a private soldier, that 
is the leader of so many thousands : Let thai 
suffice, mo«t forcible Feeble. 

Fee. It shall suffice, sir. 

Fal. I am bound to thee, reverend Feeble. 
Who is next ? 

Shal. Peter Bull-calf of the green ! 

Fal. Yea, marry, lei us see Bull-calf. 

Bull. Here, sir. 

Fal. 'Fore God, a likely fellow! — Come, 
prick me Bull-calf till he roar again. 

Bull. O lord ! good my lord captain ! 

Fal. What, dost thou roar before thou art 
pricked ? 

Bull. O lord, sir! I am a diseased man, 

FaL What disease hast thou ? 

Bull. A whoreson cold, sir; a cough, sir; 
which I caught with ringing in the king's af- 
fairs, upon his coronation-day, sir. 

Fal. Come, thou shalt go to the wars in a 
gown : we will have away thy cold ; and I will 
take such order, that thy friends shall ring for 
thee. — Is here all? 

ShaU Here is two more called than you» 
number; you must have but four here, sir ; — 
and so, I pray you, go in with me to dinner. 

Fal. Come, I will go drink with you, but J 
cannot tarry dinner. I am glad to see you, in 
good troth, master Shallow. 

ShaL O, sir John, do you remember since 
we lay all night in the windmill in Saiu4 
George's fields. 

Fal. No more of that, good master Shallow, 
no more of that. 

Sfial. Ha, it was a merry night. And i* 
Jane Night-work alive ? 

FaL She lives, master Shallow. 

Shat. She never could away with me. 

Fal. Never, never : she would always say, 
she could not abide master Shallow. 

Stial. By the mass, I could anger ht-r lo the 
heart. She was then a bona-roba. iJoth she 
hold her own well? 

Fal. Old, old, master Shallow. 

Shal. Nay, she niui?t be old; s!ie cannot 
choose but be old; certain she's old; and had 
Robin Night-work by old Night-work, lefore 
I came to Clemenrs-inn. 

SU. Thai's fifty-five year ago, 

Shal. Ha, cousin Silence, that ti;ou hadfi 
seen that that this knighl and 1 have seen ! — 
Ha, sir John, said I well. 

Fal. We have heard thecliimts at luuhjiglit^ 
master Shallow. 



•176 



SHAKSPKARE. 



\Act in 



Shal. That we have, that we have, that we 
« ive ; in faith, sir John, we have; our watch- 
word was. Hem, boys! — Come, let*s to dinner ; 
come, let's to dinner : — O, the da^s that we 
have seen ! — Come, come. 
[ExcunC Falstaff, Shallow, and Si- 
lence. 

Hull. Good master corporate Bardolph, 
stand my friend ; and here is four Harry ttu 
shillings in French crowns for you. In very 
truth, sir, I had as lief be hanged, sir, as go : 
and yet, for mine own part, sir, 1 do not care ; 
but, rather, because 1 am unwilling, and, for 
mine own part, have a desire to stay with my 
friends ; else, sir, I did not care, for mine own 
part, so much. 

Bard. Go to ; stand aside. 

Maul. And good master corporal captain, 
for my old dame's sake, stand my friend : she 
has nobody to do any thing about her, when I 
am gone : and she is old, and cannot help her- 
self : you shall have forty, sir. 

Bard. Goto; stand aside. 

Fee. By my troth I care not ; a man can die 
but once ; — we owe God a death ; — Fll ne'er 
bear a base mind: — an't be my destiny, so; 
an't be not, so : No man's too good to serve his 
prince ; and, let it co which way it will, he that 
dies this year is quit for the next. 

Bard. Well said ; thou'rt a good fellow. 

Fi€. 'Faith, Fll bear no base mind. 
Reenttr Falstaff and Justices. 

Fal. Come, sir, which men shall I have? 

Shul. Four, of which you please. 

Bard. Sir, a word with yon : — 1 have three 
pound to free Mouldy and Bull-calf. 

Fal. Go to ; well. 

iShul. Come, sir John, which four will you 
have 'I 

Fal. Do you choose for me. 
Skal. Marry then,— Mouldy, Bull-calf, 
Feeble, and Shadow. 

Fal. Mouldy and Bull calf: — For you, 
Mouldy, stay at home still , you are past ser- 
vice : — and, for your part, Bull-calf,— grow 
till you come unto it ; I will none of you. 

^hul. .Sir John, sir Joiin, do not yourself 
wrong : they are your likelitst men, and 1 
would have you served with the best. 

Fal. W ill you tell me, master Shallow, how 
to choose a man Y Care 1 for the limb, the 
Ihewes, the stature, bulk, and big asseinblance 
of a maul Give me the spirit, master Shal- 
low. — Here's Wait; — you see what a ragged 
appearance it is : he shall charge you, and 
discharge you, with the motion of a pewterer's 
hammer; cofiie off, and on, swifter than he 
that gibbets-on the brewer's bucket. And 
this same half-faced fellow, Shadow,— give 
me this man ; he presents no mark to the ene- 
my ; the foeman • may with as great aim level 
at the ertye of a penknife : And, for a retreat, 
now swiftly will this Feeble, the woman's 
tail r, run ofif 1 O, give me the spare men, and 



spare me the great ones. Put me a caliverf ' 
into Wart's haiid, Bardolph. f 

B(^ir(i. Hold, Wart, traverse!; thus, thus, thus, a 

Fal. Come, manage me your caliver. So: 
— very well :— go to :— very good : — exceeding ] 
good. — O, give me always a little, lean, old, ' 
chapped, bald shot §. — "Well said, i'faith, W art ; 
thou'rt a good scab : h«.>ld, there's a tester for 
thee. 

Shal. He is not his craft's-m aster, he doth 
not do it right. I remember at Mile-end green, 
(when I lay at Clement's inn, — I was then sir 
Dagonet in Arthur's show ||,) there was a littU 
quiver fellow, and *a would manage you hit 
piece thus : and 'a would about, and about, and 
come } ou in, and come you in : rah, tah, tah, 
would 'a say ; bounce, would 'a say ; and away 
again would 'a go, and again would *a come : — 
I shall never see such a fellow. 

Fal. These feliows will do well, mastei 
Shallow. — God keep you, master Silence ; I 
will not use many words with you : -Fare yow 
well, gentlemen both : 1 thank you : I must % 
dozen mile to night. — Bardolph, give the sol- 
diers coats. 

Shal. Sir John, heaven bless you, and pros- 
per your affairs, and send us peace! As yoi 
return, visit my house; let our old acquaint 
ance be renewed : peradvenlure, I will wit* 
you to the court. 

Fal. I would you would, master Shallow. 

Shal. Go to; I have spoke, at a word. 
Fare you well. 

it^itvnt Shallow and Silence. 

F(tl. Fare you well, gentle iientlemen. On, 
Bardolph; lead the men away. [Fxe/tnt 
Bardolph, Recruits, 4^"«] -^s I reiurn, 1 
will fetch off ihet-e justices. 1 do see the bot- 
tom of justice Shallow. Lord, lord, how sub- 
ject we old men are to this vice of lying I 
Ihis same starved justice hath done nothing 
but prate to me of the wildness of his youth, 
and the feats he hath done about TurnbuU- 
!*treetir ; and every third word a lie, duer paid 
to the hearer than the Turk's tribute. I do 
remember him at Clement's-inn, like a man 
made after supper of a cheese-paring: when 
he was naked, he was, for all the world, like 
a forked radish, with a head fantastically 
carved upon it with a knife: he was so for- 
lorn, that his dimensions to any thick t^ight 
were invisible : he was the very Genius of 
famine, yet lecherous as a monkey, and the 
whores called hini—mandrnkc: he came ever 
in the rearwjird of the f.ishion ; and sung tiiose 
tunes to the over-scutched Imswivts tliut he 
heard the carmen whistle, atid sware — they 
were h.is fancies, or his go<'d-nights **. And 
now is this Vice's danger ++ become a squire; 
and talks as familiany of John of Gaunt, as 
if he had been sworn brother to him: and I'll 
be sworn he never saw him but once in "the 
Tilt yard ; and then he burst Tj his he;id for 
crowding among the marshal's n>en. i saw 



• £D»my. t Gun. : March. $ Shooter. || An exhibition of archery 

% In rifrkt.iuell. •* Tifle^ of little poems. 

ii A wooden da-^-^er, like that ns«.d by the nuxlern Harh 1^010. t; Broke. J. 



I 



scene in SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



477 



t, and told John of Gaunt, he beat his own 
name * : for you might have truss'd him, and 
all his apparel, into an eel-skin ; the case of a 
treble hant-boy was a mansion for him, a 
court ; and now has he laud and beeves. 
Weli ; I will be acquainted with him., if I re- 



turn : and it shall go hard, but 1 will make hiiu 
a philosopher's two stones to me : If the yoniiw 
dace be a bait for the old pike, I see no rea- 
son, in the law of nature, but I may snap at 
him. Let time shape, and there an end. 

[Exit, 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. A Forest in Yorkshire 

ter the Archbishop 0/ York, Mowbray, 
Hastings, and Others, 

Arch. What U this forest call'd ? 
Hast. *Tis Gualtree forest, an't shall please 
your grace. [coverers forth, 

Arch. Here stand, my lords ; and send dis- 
To know the numbers of our enemies. 
Hast. We have sent forth already. 
Arch. 'lis well done. 

My friends, and brethren in these great atfairs, 
1 must acquaint you that 1 have received 
Tsew-daied letters from Northumberland ; 
Their cold intent, tenour, and substance, thus: — 
Heredoth he wish his person, with such powers 
As might hold sortancet with his quality. 
The which he could not levy; whereupon 
He is retired, to ripe his growing fortunes. 
To Scotland : and concludes in hearty prayers. 
That your attempts may overlive the hazard, 
And tearful meeting of their opposite. 
Muwb. 1 hus do the hopes we have in him 
touch ground, 
And dash themselves to pieces. 
Enter a Messenger. 
Hast. Now, what news? 

Mess. West of this forest, scarcely oflf a 
In goodly form comes on the enemy : [mile, 
And, by the ground they hide, I judge their 

number 
Upon, or near, the rate of thirty thousand. 
Mou'b. The just proportion that we gave 
them out. 
Let us sway on, and face them in the field. 
Enter Westmoreland. 
Arch. What well-appointed I Iai\der fronts 
us here? [land. 

Alowb. I think it is my lord of Westmore- 
M est. Health and fair greeting from our 
general, 
The prinre, lord John and duke of Lancaster. 
Arch. Say on, my lord of Westmoreland, 
What doth concern your coming? [in peace; 
West. Ihen, my lord, 

Unio \ our grace do I in chief address 
Tiie substance of my speech. If that rebellion 

a lie like itself, in base and abject routs, 
Led Oil by bloody yoiiih, guarded with rage, 
^nd co'iutenanced by boys, and beggary; 
1 - n , if damn'd commotion so appearM, 
lu his true, ji-itive, and most proper shape, 
^ ou, reverend fatlier, and these noble lords, 
H-ni iJOi been liere, to dress the ugly form 
Of base and blv^ody insurrection 
With your fair honours. You, lord archbishop, 

• Gaunt is thin, slender. t Ee suitable. 



Whose see is by a civil peace maintained ; 
Whose beard the silver hand of peace h.ath 
touch'd ; [tutor'd ; 

Whose learning and good letters peace hath 
Whose white investments figure innocence. 
The dove and vevy blessed spirit of peace, — 
Wherefore do you so ill translate yourself. 
Out of the speech of peace, that bears such grace. 
Into the harsh and boist'ions tongue of war? 
Turningyour.bookstogravej,yourink to blood. 
Your pens to lances ; and your tongue divine 
To a loud trumpet, and a point of war? 
Arch. Wherefore do 1 this? — so the ques 
tion stands. 
Briefly to this end : — We are all diseased ; 
And, with our surfeiting, and wanton hours. 
Have brought ourselves into a burning fever, 
And we must bleed for it : of which disease 
Our late king, Richard, being infected, died. 
But, my most noble lord of Westmoreland, 
I take not on me here as a physician ; 
Nor do 1, as an enemy to peace, 
Troop in the throngs of military men : 
But rather, show awhile like fearful war. 
To diet rank minds, sick of happiness ; 
And purge the obstructions, which begin to stop 
Our very veins of life. Hear me more plainly. 
I have in equal balance justly weigh'd 
What wrongs our arms may do, what wrongs 

we suffer. 
And find our griefs § heavier than our offences. 
We see which wa^ the stream of time doth runj 
And afe enforced from our most quiet sphere. 
By the rough torrent of occasion : 
And have the summary of all our griefs, 
When time shall serve, to show in articles ; 
Which, long ere this, we offerM to the king, 
And might by no suit gdn our audience: 
When we are wrong'd, and would unfold our 
We are denied access unto his person, [griefs 
Even by those men that most have done us 

wrong. 
The dangers of the days but newly gone, 
(Whose memory is yet written on the earth 
With yet-appearing blood,) and the examples 
Of every minute's instance, (present now,) 
Have put us in these ill-beseeming arms : 
Not to break peace, or any branch of it; 
But to establish here a peace indeed, 
Concurring both in name and quality. 

Wt.\t. W henever yet was your appeal de- 
nied? 
Wherein have you been galled by the king? 
What peer has been suborn'd tograteonyou? 
That you should seal this lawless bloody boo* 
Oi forged rebellion with a seal divine. 



roi!!p!*noly arc<.uticd. 



§ Grievance* 



"478 



SH'AKSPEAIIE. 



Act IV 



Ai»d consecrate commotion's bitter edget 
Arch. My brother general, the common- 
wealth, 
7 o brother born an household cruelty, 
I make my quarrel in particular. 

yVest. There is no need of any such redress ; 
Or, if ihere were, it not belongs to you. [all, 
Mowh. Why not to him, in part; and to us 
That feel the bruises of the days before-; 
And suffer the condition of these times 
To lay a heavy and unequal hand 
Upon our honours? 

l^Vest. O my good lord Mowbray, 

Construe the times to their necessities, 
And you shall say indeed, — it is the time 
And not the king, that doth you injuries. 
Yet, for your part, it not appears to me. 
Either from the king, or in the present time. 
That you should have an inch of any ground 
To build a grief on : Were you not restored 
To all the duke of Norfolk's signiories. 
Your noble and right-weil-remember'd fa- 
ther's? [ther lost, 
Motcb. What thing, in honour, had my fa- 
That need to be revived, and breathed in me 1 
The king, that loved him, as the state stood 

then. 
Was, force perforce, compelled to banish him : 
And then when Harry Bolingbroke, and he, — 
Being mounted, and both roused in their seats. 
Their neighing coursers daring of the spur, 
Their armed staves* in charge, their beaverst 
down, [steel, 

Their eyes of fire sparkling through sights $ of 
And the loud trumpet blo-vring thern together; 
Then, then, when there was nothing could have 

stay'd 
My father from the breast of Bolingbroke, 
O, when the king did throw his warder § down, 
His own life hung upon the stafif he threw : 
Then threw he down himself; and all their 

lives, 
That, by indictment, and by dint of sword. 
Have since miscarried under Bolingbroke. 
West, You speak, lord Mov/bray, now you 
know not what: 
The earl of Hereford was reputed then 
In England the most valiant jjentleman; 
Who knows, on whom fortune would then 

have smiled? 
Btit, if your father had been victor there. 
He ne*cr had borne it out of Coventry : 
For all the country, in a general voice. 
Cried hate upon him; and all their prayers, 

and love, 
Were set on Hereford, whom they doted on, 
And bless'd, and graced indee^, more than 

the king. 
But this is mere digression from my purpose. 
Here come I from our princely general. 
To know your griefs ; to tell you from his grace 
That he will give you audience: and wherein 
It shall appear that your demands are just. 



You shall enjoy them ; every thing set otf. 
That might so much as think you enemies. 

Moivb. But he hath forced us to compel this i 
And it proceeds from policy, not love, [offer; i 

West. Mowbray, you overween[l, to take ' 
it so; 1 

Thi-s offer coraes from mercy, not from fear : ' 
For lo ! within a ken U, our army lies ; ' ' 

Upon mine honour, all too confident 
To give admittance to a thought of fear. 
Our battle is more full of names than yours. 
Our men more perfect in the use of arms, ] 

Our armour all as strong, our cause the best ; ' 
Ttien reason wills our hearts should be as good : 
Say you not, then, our offer is compell'd. 

Mcwb. Well, by my will, we shall admit life 
parley. [fence* 

West. That argues but the shame of your or 
A rotten case abides no handling. 

Hast. Hath the prince John a full commission, 
In very ample virtue of his father, 
To hear, and absolutely to determine 
Of what conditions we shall stand upon? 

West. That is intended ** in the general's 
I muse tt, you make so slight a question, [name 

Arch. 1 hen take, my lord of Westmoreland, 
this schedule t|; 
For this contains our general grievances : 
Each several article herein redress'd; 
All members of our cause, both here and hence. 
That are insinew'd to this action, 
Acquitted by a true substantial form ; 
And present execution of our wills 
To us, and to our purposes, consign'd ; 
W^e come within our awful banks ^§ again. 
And knit our powers to the arm of peace. 

West. This will I show the general. Please 
you, lords. 
In sight of both our battles we may meet : 
And either end in peace, which heaven so 

frame! 
Or to the place of difference call the swords 
W^hich must decide it. 

Arch. My lord, we will do so. 

[Exit West. 

Afowb. There is a thing within my bosom, 
tells me, 
That no conditions of our peace can stand. 

Hast. Fear you not that: if we can make 
our peace 
Upon such large terms, and so absolute, 
As our conditions shall consist upon, [tains. 
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mouti- 

Mmvb. Ay, but our valuation shall he such, 
That every slight and false-derived cause, 
Yea, every idle, nic(j|||l, and wanton reason. 
Shall, to the king, taste of this action : 
That, were our royal faiths f 11 martyrs in love. 
We shall be winnowM with so rough a wind. 
That even our corn shall seem as light as chaff. 
And good from bad find no partition. 

Arch. No, no, my lordj Note this, — the 
king is weary 



• Lances. f Helmets. t The eye-holes of helmets. $ Truncheon. 

Think too highly. IT Sight. ** Understood. '* Wonder. 

ZZ Inventory. ^^ I'loper limits of reverence. fi;' Triviui ' 

%S 'ilie f.uiii due to a king. 



Scene I.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



479 



Of dainty and such picking* grievances : 

For he hath found, to end one danbt by death, 

Revives two greater in the heirs of life. 

knd theretore will he wipe his tables t clean; 

A.tid keep no tell-tale to ids memory. 

That may rvpeat and history his loss 

r» new remembrance: For full well he knows. 

He cannot so precisely weed this land. 

As his misdoubts present occasion: 

His foes are so enrooted with his friends, 

That, plucking to unfix an enemy. 

He doth unfasten so, and sliake a friend. 

So that this land, like an ottensive wife. 

That hath enraged him on to offer strokes, 

Ashe ii striking, holds his infant up, 

And hangs resolved correction in the arm 

That was uprear'd to execution. [rods 

Hast. Besides, the king hath wasted all his 
On late offenders, that he now doth lack 
The very instruments of chastisement : 
So that his power, like to a fangless lion. 
May offer, but not hold. 

Ar< h. 'Tis very true; — 

And therefore be assured, my good lord marshal, 
If we do now make our atonement well, 
Our peace will, like a broken limb united. 
Grow stronger for the brea.king. 

Moivb. " Be it so. 

Here Is return'd my lord of Westmoreland, 
i^f-ej/^tr Westmoreland. 

JVe.if. Ihe prince is here at. hand : Pleaseth 

your lordship, [armies? 

To meet his grace just distance 'tween our 

Mowb. Your grace of York, in God's name 
then set forward. 

Arch. Before, and greet his grace: — my 
lord, we come. [txeunt, 

SCENE II. Another Part of the Forest. 
Enter^from one side, Mowbray, the Arch- 
bishop, Hastings, a«rtf Others : from tiie 
other side, Prince John of Lancaster, 
Westivxoreland, Officers, and Attend- 
ants. 

P. John. You are well encounter'd here, 
my cousin Mowbray : — 
Good day to you, gentle lord archbishop ; — 
j^.nd so to you, lord Hastings, — and to all. — 
My lord of York, it better stiow'd with you. 
When that your flock, assembled by the bell, 
JHuclrcled you, to hear with reverence 
Vour exposition on the hoi} text ; 
'"han now to see yon hire an iron man;;, 
*jheering a rout of rebels with your drum, 
Turninglhe word to sword, and life to death. 
That man that sits w ithin a monarch's heart, 
And ripen-s in the sunshine of his favour. 
Would he abuse the countenance of the king. 
Alack, what mischiets might he set abroach. 
In shadow oi' such greatness! With you, lord 

bishop, 
It IS even so : — Who hath not heard it spoken, 
How deep you were within the books of God ? 
To ns, the speaker in his parliament ; 
To us, the imagined voic« of God himself; 



Tlie very opener, and intelligencer. 
Between the grace, the sanctities of heaven. 
And our dull workings § : O, who shall believe 
But you misuse the reverence of your place; 
Employ the countenance and grace of heaven. 
As a false favourite doth his prince's name, 
In deeds dishonourable '? You have taken up jj. 
Under the counterfeited zeal of God, 
The jsubjects of his substitute, my father ; 
And, both agaipst the peace of heaven and him. 
Have here up-swarm'd them. 

Arch. Good my lord of Lancaster, 

I am not here against your father's peace : 
But, as I told my lord of Westmoreland, 
The time misorder'd doth, in common sense, 
(^rowd us, and crush us, to this monstrous form. 
To hold our safety up. I sent your grace 
The parcels and particulars of our grief ; 
The which hath been with scorn shoved from 

the cocrt, 
Whereon this Hydra son of war is born : 
W^hose dangerous eyes may well be charm'd 

asleep, 
With grant of our most just and right desires ; 
And true obedience of this madness cured. 
Stoop tamely to the foot of majesty. 

Mowb. If not, we ready are to try our fortunes 
To the last man. . 

Hast. And though we here fall down 

We have supplies to second our attempt ; 
If they miscarry, theirs shall second them : 
And so, success^ of n)tschief shall be born; ^ 
And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up. 
Whiles En.;land shall have generation. 

P. Joli7i. You are too shallow, Hastings, 
njuch too shallow. 
To sound the bottom of tlie after-times. 

West. Pleaseth your grace, to answer them 
directly, 
How far-forih you do like their articles 1 

P. John. I like them all, and do allow** 
them well : 
And swear here by the honour of my blood. 
My father's purposes have been mistook, 
And some about him have too lavishly 
Wrested his meaning, and authority. — 
My lord, these griefs shall be with speed re- 
dress'd. [y^J"-. 

Upon my soul, they shall. If this may piease 
Dischaige your powers tt unto their several 

counties, 
As we will ours : and here, between the arm.its. 
Let's drink together frien(lly, and embrace ; 
That ail their eyes may bear those tokens home. 
Of our restored love, and amity. 

Ar«h. I take your princely word for these 
redresses. 

P. John. I give it you, and will maintain my 
w'ord : 
And thereu pon I drink unto your grace. 

Ha.st. Go, captain, {To an Officer,] and de- 
liver to the army [pan i 
This news of peace; let them have pay, and 
I know it will please them ; Hie thee, captaui. 
{Lxit Officii 



* Pidilins, insignificant. f Book for memorandums. I Clad in armour. 

J Labours of thought. j| Raised in arms. If Succession. * Approve- t+ Forces 



4S0 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[ActJV 



Arch. Tojoii, my noble lord of Westmore- 
land, [knew what pains 
JVcst. I pledge your grace : And, if you 
I have bestow'd, to breed this present peace. 
You would drink freely : but my love to you 
Shall show itself more openly hereafter. 
Arch. I do not doubt you. 
West. I am glad of it. — 
Health to my lord, and gentle cousin, Mow- 
bray, [season ; 
Motvb. Vou wish me health in very happy 
For I am, on tiie sudden, something ill. 
Arch. Against ill chances, men are ever 
merry ; 
But heaviness foreruns the good event. 

West. Therefore be merry, coz ; since sud- 
den sorrow [morrow. 
Serves to say thus, — Some good thing comes to- 
Arch. Believe me, lam passing light in spirit. 
Mowb. So much the worse, if your own rule 
be true. [Shouts withm. 
P. John. The word of peace is render'd ; 

Hark, how they shout! 
Mowb. This had been cheerful, after victory. 
Arch. A peace is of the nature of a conquest ; 
For then both parties nobly are subdued, 
And neither party loser. 

P. John. Go, my lord, 

And let our army be discharged too. — 

[Klif. Wl.STMORELAND. 

And, good my ord, so please you, let our trains ♦ 
f|March by us ; that we may peruse the men 
We should have coped withal. 

Arch. Go, good lord Hastings, 

And, ere they be dismiss'd, let them march by. 
[Exit Hastings. 
P. John. I trust, my lords, we shall lie to- 
night together. — 
/^e-e/i^<^r Westmoreland. 
Now, cousin, wherefore stands our army still? . 
We^t. The leaders, having charge from you 
to stand, 
Will not go ott until they hear you speak. 
P. John. They know their duties. 

Re-enter Hastings. 

Hast. My lord,our army is dispersed already: 

Tike youthful steers f unyoked, they take their 

courses [up, 

East, west, north, south ; or, like a school broke 

Each hurries toward his home, and spoiting- 

place. [the which 

WeMt. Good tidings, my lord Hastings; for 

I do arrest thee, traitor, of high treason : — 

And you, lord archbishop, — and you, lord 

Mowbray, 
Of capital treason I attach yon both, [able? 
Mmrb. Is this proceeding just and honour- 
We.st. Ls your assembly so ? 
Arch. Will you thus break yonr faith? 
P. John. i pawn'd thee none : 

I »?rt>mise(1 you redress of these same ^ritvanre?, 
VVheretjf you did complain; which, by mine 

honour, 
I will perform with a most christian care. 
TiH, for yon, rebels, — look to taste the due 
Aleci for I ehellioo, and »U(,h ar»g hu ynum. 

I «cn ariiiv. f Young I>uUoi:k.<. 



Most shallowly did you these arnjs commence. 
Fondly I brought here, and foolishly sent hence. 
Strike up our drums, pursue the scatter**! 
stray ; [day. — 

Heaven, and not we, hath safely fought to- 
Some guard these traitors to the block of death, 
1 reason's true bed, and yielder up of breath. * 

[Exeunt, 
SCENE III. A nother Part of the Forest, 
Alarums: Excttrsions. Enttr Fxu^tapf 
and CoLEviLE, meeting. 

Pal. What's your name, sir? of what con 
dition are you and of what place, I pray? 

Cole. 1 am a knight, sir ; and my name is— 
Colevile of the dale. 

Fal. Well then, Colevile is your name; a 
knight is your degree ; and your place, the dale : 
Colevile shall still be your name ; a traitor your 
degree; and the dungeon your place, — a place 
deep enough; so shall you still be Colevile of 
the dale. 

Cole. Are not you sir John Falstaflf ? 

Fal. As good a man as he, sir, whoe'er I a?n. 
Do ye yield, sir? or shall I sweat for you? If! 
do sweat, they are drops of thy lovers, and they 
weep for thy death : therefore rouse up fear and 
trembling, and do observance to my mercy. 

Cole. 1 think you are sir John Faistatf ; and., 
in that thought, yield me. 

EaL I have a whole school of tongues in 
this belly of mine ; and not a tongue of ihem aU 
speaks any other word but my name An I had 
but a belly of any indiffereucy, I were simply 
the most active fellow in Elurope: My womb, 
my womb, my womb undoes me. — Here comes 
our general. 

/i>*^er Prince John q/" Lancaster, Westmore- 
land, and Others. 

P. John. The heat is past, follow no further 

now ; — 

Call in the powers, good cousin Westmoreland, 

[Exit West. 

Now, Falstaflf, where have you been ail this 

while? 
When every thing is ended, then you come : 
These tardy tricks of yours will, on my fite. 
One lime or other break some gallows' back. 

Fa . I would be sorr)', my l(>rd, but it should 
be thus; I never knew yet, but rebuke and 
check was the reward of valour. Do yon think 
mc a swallow, an arrow, or a bullet ? have I, in 
my poor and old motion, the expedition of 
thought? I have speedeil hither with the very 
extremest inch of possibility ; I have foundered 
nine score and odd posts: and here, navel- 
tainted as 1 am, have, In my pure and imma- 
culate valour, taken sir John Colevile of the 
dale, a most furious kniiiht, and valorous 
enemy: ilut what of that? he saw mc, and 
yielded: that 1 may justly say with the hook- 
nosed fellow of Uome^, 1 came, saw, and 

Overcatfie. 

P. John,. It was more of his courtesy than 
your deswvmg. 

Fal. 1 know not ; here he is, and here I 



: Foolishly. 



$ Caesar. 



Scene III.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



4Sl 



yield him : and I beseech your grace, let it be 
booked with the rest of this day's deeds ; or, 
by the Lord, I will have it in a particular bal- 
lad else, with mine own picture on the top of 
it, Coleville kissing my foot : To the which 
course if I be enforced, if you do not all show 
like gilt two-pences to me ; and I, in the clear 
Bky of fame, o'eishine you as much as the full 
moon doth the cinders of the element, which 
fhow like pin's heads to her, believe not the 
word of the noble : Therefore let me have 
right, and let desert mount. 

F. John. Thine's too heavy to mount. 

Fal. Let it shine then. 

P. John. Thine's too thick to shine. 

Fal. Let it do something, my good lord, 
that may do me good, and call it what you 
will. 

P. John. Is thy name Colevile? 

Cole. It is, my lord. 

P. John. A famous rebel art thou. Cole- 
vile. 

Fal. And a famous true subject took him. 

Cole. I am, my lord, but as my betters are. 
That led me hither : had they been ruled by me. 
You should have won them Nearer than you 
have. 

Fal. i know not how they sold themselves : 
but thou, like a kind fellow, gavest thyself 
away ; and I thank thee for thee. 

He-enter WKSTMORi-LAXD. 

P. John. Now, have you left pursuit! 

li est. Retreat is made, and execution stay'd. 

P. John. Send Colevile, with his contede- 
To York, to present execution :— • [rates, 

Blunt, lead him hence ; and see yon guard him 
sure. \_Eieunt some ivtth Col,evile. 
And now despatch we toward the court, my 
I hear the king my father is sore sick : [lords ; 
Our news shall go before us to his majesty, — 
Which, cousin, you shall bear, to comfort him ; 
And we with sober speed will follow you. 

Fal. My lord, 1 beseech you, give me leave 
to go through Glostershire : and, when you 
come to court, stand my good lord*, 'pray, in 
your good report. 

P. John. Fare you well, Falstaff ; I, in my 
condition +, 
Shall better speak of you than you deserve. 

[Ea:it. 

Fal. I would you had but the wit ; 'twere 
better than your dukedom. — Good faith, this 
same young sober-blooded boy doth not love 
me ; nor a man cannot make him laugli ; — but 
that's no marvel, he drinks no wine. There's 
never any of these demure bovs come to any 
proof: for thin drink doth so over cool their 
bh)od, and making many fish-meais, that they 
fall into a kind of male green-sickness; and 
then, when they marry, they get wenches: 
they are generally fools and cowards; — which 
some of us should be too, but for inflammation. 
A good sherris-sack hath a two fold operation 
in it. It ascends me info the brain ; dries me 
there all the foolish, and dull, and crudy va- 



pours which environ it : mak» s it apprehen 
sive, quick, forgetlvel, full of niinble, fi«^ry 
and delectable shapes; which delivered o'ei 
to the voice, (the tongue,) which is the birth, 
becomes excellent wit. — The second proj-erty 
of your excellent sherris is, — the vv aiming of 
the blood; which, before cold and settled, left 
the liver white and pale, which is the oadge o*. 
pusillanimity and cowardice: but the sherrip 
warins it, and makes it course from the in- 
wards to the parts extreme. It illuniineth the 
face ; which, as a beacon, gives warning to aii 
the rest of this little kingdom, man, to arm : 
and then the vital commoners, and inland 
•^etty spirits, muster me all to their captain, 
the heart; who, great, and puflod up with thit 
retinue, doth any deed of courage; and this 
valour comes of sherris : So that skill in the 
weapon is nothing, without sack ; for that sets 
it a-work : and learning, a mere hoard of gold 
kept by a devil ; till sack commences it§, and 
seta it in act and use. Hereof comes it, that 
prince Harry is valiant : for the cold blood he 
did naturally inherit of his father, he hath, like 
lean, steril, and bare land, manured, hus- 
banded, and tilled, with excellent endeavour 
of drinking good, and good store of fertile 
sherris; that he is become very hot, and va- 
liant. If 1 had a thousand sous, the first hu- 
man principle I would teach them, should be 
— to forswear thin potations, and addict them- 
selves to sack. 

Enter Bardolph. 
How now, Bardolph % 

Bard. The army is discharged ail, and gone. 

Fal. Let them go. I'll through Gloster- 
shire ; and there will I visit master Robert 
Shallow, esquire: I have him already tern pe^-- 
ing between my finger and my thumb, and 
shortly will I seal with him [j. Come away. 

{Focennt. 

SCENE IS. Westminster. A Room in the 

Palace. 
Enter King Henry, Clarence, Prince 
Humphrey, Warwick, and Others. 

K. Hen. Now, lords, if heaven doth give 
successful end 
To this debate that bleedeth at our doors, 
W^e will our youth lead on to higher fields. 
And draw no swords but what are sanctified. 
Our navy is address'dlf, our power collected. 
Our substitutes in absence well invested-. 
And every thing lies level to our wish : 
Onlj', we want a little personal strength ; 
And pause us, till these rebels, now afoot, 
Come underneath the yoke of government. 

Jf'a7\ Both which, we doubt not, but your 
Shall soon enjoy. [majesty 

K. Hen. Humphrey, my son of Gloster, 
Where is the prince your brtither? 

P. Humph. 1 think he's gone to hunt, my 
lord, at Windsor. 

K. Hen. And how accompanied 1 

P. Humph. I do not know, my lord 



• Stand my good friend. t In my present temper. t Inventive § Brings i 

into action. || An allusion to the old use of sealing with soft wax. «[ Ready, prepared. 

2 T 



482 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Act IF 



I 



JC, Hen, la not his brother, Thomas of 
Clarence, with him 1 [presence here. 

P. Humph, No, my good lord ; he is in 

Cla, What would my lord and father ? 

K, Hen. Nothing but well to thee, Thomas 

of Clarence. [brother? 

How chance thou art not with the prince thy 

He loves thee, and thou dost neglect him, 

Thomas ; 
Thou hast a better place in his affection, 
Than all thy brothers : cherish it, my boy ; 
And noble offices thou may'st effect 
Of mediation, after I am dead. 
Between hi? greatness and thy other brethren : 
Therefore, omit him not ; blunt not his love : 
Nor lose the good advantage of his grace, 
By seeming cold, or careless of his m\\. 
For he is gracious, if he be observed *; 
He hath a tear for pity, and a hand 
Open as day for melting charity : 
Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he's flint ; 
As humorous as winter, and as sudden 
As fiaws congealed in the spring of day. 
His temper, therefore, must be well observed: 
Chide him for faults, and do it reverently. 
When you perceive his blood inclined to mirth : 
But, being moody, give him line and scope : 
Till that his passions, like a whale on ground. 
Confound themselves with working. Learn 

this Thomas, 
And thou shait prove a shelter to thy friends ; 
A hoop of gold, to bind thy brothers in ; 
That the united vessel of their blood, 
Mingled with venom of suggestion, 
(As, force perforce, the age will pour it in,) 
{Shall never leak, though it do work as strong 
As aconitumf, or rash gunpowder. [love. 

Cla. I shall o-bserve him with all care and 

K. Hen. Why art thou not at Windsor with 
him, Thomas? [London. 

Cla, He is not there to-day ; he dines in 

K, Hen. And how accompanied? can'st 
thon tell that ? 

Cla. With Poins, and other his continual 
followers. [weeds ; 

K. Hen. Most subject is the fattest soil to 
And he, the noble image of my youth, 
Is overspread with them : Therefore my grief 
Stretches itself beyond the hour of deatn ; 
The blood weeps from my heart, when I do 

shape. 
In forms imaginary, the unguided days. 
And rotten rimes, that you shall look upon 
"When I am sleeping wiih my ancestors. 
For when his headstrong riot hath no curb. 
When rage and hot blood are his counsellors. 
When means and lavish manners meet together, 
O with what wings shall his aftections Hy 
Towards fronting peril and opposed deeay ! 

H'ar. My gracious lord, you look beyond 
him quite : 
The prince but studies his companions, 
Like a strange tongue: wherein, to gain the 

language, 
Tis needful that the most immodest word 



Be look'd upon, and learn'd : which once 

attainM, 
Your highness knows, comes to no further use 
But to be known, and hated. So, like gross 

terms. 
The prince will, in the perfectness of time. 
Cast off his followers : and their memory 
Shall as a pattern or a measure live, 
By which his grace must mete the lives of 
Turning past evils to advantages. [others ; 

K. Hen, 'Tis seldom, when the bee doth 
leave her comb [land i 

In the dead carrion. — Who's here, Wesimore 
Enter Westmoueland. 
West. Health to my sovereign ! and new 
Added to that that I am to deliver ! [happiness 
Prince John, your son, doth kiss your grace's 

hand : 
Mowbray, the bishop Scroop, Hastings, and all, 
Are brought to the correction of your law ; 
There is not now a rebel's sword unsheath'd. 
But peace puts forth her olive every where. 
The manner how this action hath been borne. 
Here at more leisure may your highness read ; 
With every course, in his particular!. 

K. Hen. O Westmoreland, thou art a sum- 
mer bird. 
Which ever in the haunch of winter sings 
The lifting up of day. Look ! here's more news. 
Enter Harcourt. 
Har. From enemies heaven keep your ma- 
jesty ; [fall 
And, when they stand against you, may they 
As those that I am come to tell you of I 
The earl Northumberland, and the lord Bar^ 

dolph, 
With a great body of English, and of Scots, 
Are by the sheriff of Yorkshire overthrown: 
The manner and true order of the fight. 
This packet, please it you, contains at large. 
K. Hen. And wherefore should these good 
'^ews make mes.ick? 
Will fortune never come with both hands full. 
But write her fair words still in foulest letters? 
She either gives a stomach, and no food, — 
Such are the poor, in health ; or else a feast, 
And takes away the stomach, — such are the 
That have abundance, and enjoy it not. [rich, 
1 should rejoice now at this happy news ; 
And now my sight fails, and my brain is giddy : 
O me! come near me, now I am much ill. 

\^Siioons. 
P. Huviph. Comfort, your majesty ! 
Cla, O my royal fatlier \ 

West, My sovereign lord, cheer up yourself, 
look up. [these fits 

War. Be patient, princes ; you do know. 
Are with his highness very ordinary. 
Stand from him, give him air; he'll straight 
be well. [pHiigs: 

(Jla. No, no ; he cannot long hold out tluso 
The incessant care and labour of his mind 
Hath wrought the mure^, that should confine 
it in, [out. 

So thin, that life looks through, and will break 



• Has an attention shown him, t Wolfs bane, a poisonous herb. 1 The detail con 

tained in Prijice John's letter. ^ Worked the wall. 



:scer,e IV* 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



483 



P. Humph. The people fear me* ; for they 
do observe 
Uufather'd heirs t, and loathly birds of nature: 
The seasons change their manners, as theyearj 
Had found some mouths asleep, and leapM 
them over. [between § : 

Cla. The river bath thrice flowed, no ebb 
A.nd the old folk, time's doling chronicles, 
Say, it did so a little time before 
That onr great grandsire, Edward, sick'd and 
died. [covers. 

War. Speak lower, princes, for the kingre- 
P. Humph. This apoplex will, certain, be 
his end. [me hence 

K. Hen. 1 pray you, take me up, and bear 
Into some othvir chamber: softly, *pray. 

[Ihey convey the King into an inner 
part of the room, and place him on 
a Bed, 
Let there be no noise made, my gentle friends ; 
Unless some dulllj and favourable hand 
Will whisper music to my weary spirit. 
fVar. Call for the music in the other room. 
K. Hen. Set me the crown upon my pillow 

here. 
Cla. His eye is hollow, and he changes much. 
War. Less noise, less noise. 

Enter Prince Henry. 
P, Hen. Who saw the duke of Clarence? 
Cla. I am here, brother, full of heaviness. 
P. Hen. How now ! rain within doors, and 
How doth the kingt [none abroad ! 

P. Humph, Excee^ling ill. 
P. Hen. Heard he the good news yet? 

Tell it him. 

P. Humph, He altered much upon the hear- 
P. Hen. If he be sick [ing it. 

With joy, he will recover without physic. 
War. Not so much noise, my lords : — sweet 
prince, speak low ; 
The king, your father, is disposed to sleep. 
Cla. Let us withdraw into the other room. 
War. Will't please your grace to go along 

with us? 
P. Hen. JNo : I will sit and watch here by 
the king. {Exeunt all but P. Henry. 
Why doth the crown lie there upon his pillow. 
Being so troublesome a bedfellow ? 
polish'd perturbation! golden care! 
That keep'st the ports IT of slumber open wide 
To many a watchful night ! — sleep with it now! 
Yet not'so sound, and half so Jeeply sweet, 
As he,who9e brow,with homely biggin**bound, 
Snores out the watch of night. U majesty ! 
When thon dost pinch thy bearer, thou dost sit 
Like a rich armour worn in heat of day, 
That scalds with safety. By his gates of breath, 
There lies a downy feather, which stirs not : 
Did he suspire, tliat light and weightless down 
Perforce must move — My gracious lord ! my 

father !— 
This sleep is sound indeed ; this is a sleep, 
T\\At from this golden rigolft hath divorced 
So many Eiaglish kings. Thy due, from me. 



Is tears, and heavy sorrows of the blood ; 
Which nature, love, and filial tenderness. 
Shall, O dear father, pay thee plenteou?ly : 
My due, from thee, is this imperial crow n ; 
Which, as immediate from thy place and blood 
Derives itself to me. Lo, here it sits, — 

[Putting it on his head. 
Which heaven shall guard: And put the 

world's whole strength 
Into one giant arm, it shall not force 
This lineal honour from me : This from thee 
Will 1 to mine leave, as 'tis left to me. {Exit 
K. Hen. Warwick! Gloster! Clarence! 

Re-enter Warwick, and the rest, 
Cla. Doth the king call? 

War. What would yoiir ' majesty ? How 
fares y^ur grace? [tny lords / 

K, Hen, Why did you leave me here alone^ 
Cla. We left the prince my brother here 
my liege, 
Who undertook to sit and watch by you. 
K.Hen, The prince of W^ales? Where is 
he ? let me see him : 
He is not here. 

War. This door is open ; he is gone this way. 

■p. Humph. He came not through the chanj- 

ber where we stay'd. [from my pillows 

K. Hen. Where is the crown ? Who f ook it 

War. When we withdrew, my liege, we 

left it here. [go, seek him oot, 

K. Hen. The prince hath ta'en it hence : — 

Is he so hasty, that he doth suppose 

My sleep ray death? 

Find him, my lord of Warwick; chide him 
hither. [£12 2^ Warwick. 

This part of his conjoins with my disease. 
And helps to end me. — See, sons, what things 
How quickly nature falls into revolt, [you are : 
When gold becomes her object ! 
For this the foolish over-careful fathers 
Have broke their sleep with thoughts, their 
Their bones with industry . [brains with care. 
For this they have engross'd and piled up 
The canker'd heaps of strange-achieved gold ; 
For this they have been thoughtful to invest 
Their sons with arts, and martial exercises: 
When, like the bee,<tolling J;from every flower 
The virtuous sweets ; [honey. 

Our thighs packed with wax, our mouths with 
We bring it to the hive ; and, like the bees. 
Are murder'd for our oains. This bitter taste 
Yield his engrossments i to the ending father. — 

Re-enter Warwick. 
Now, where is he that will not stay so long 
Till his friend sickness hath determined jijl me? 
War. My lord, 1 found the prince in the 
next room. 
Washing with kindly tears his gentle cheeks ; 
With such a deep demeanour in great sorrow 
That tyranny, which never quaff'd but blood, 
Would, by beholding him, have wash'd his knife 
With gentle eye-drops. He is coming hither. 
K, Hen, But wherefore did he take away the 
crown? 



• Make me afraid. f Monsters. J As if the year. ^ An historical fact 

on Oct. 12, 1411. II Melancholy, soothing. ^ Gates. «• Cap 

tf Circle. tj Taking toll." ^ Accumulations. |i|] Ended. 



48i 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV 



Re-enter Prince Henry. 
Lo, where he comes. — Come hither to me, 

Harry : — 
Depart the chamber, leave us here alone. 

[Kit unt C L A R EN c£, Prince Humphrey, 
Li»r(ls, AC. 
P. Hen. I never thought to hear yon s{>eak 

again. [thought: 

K. Hen. Thy wish was father, H^rry, to that 
I stay foo lon^ by Chee, I weary ihee. 
Dost thou so hunger fur my empty chair. 
That thou wilt needs invest thee with mine 

honours 
Before thy hour be ripe? O foolish youth! 
Thou seek'st thegreatness that will overwhelm 
Stay hut a little; for my cloud of dignity [thee. 
Is held from filling with ^o weak a v\iud, 
That it will qiiickl) drop: my day is dim. [hours, 
Thou hast stolen thai, which, after some few- 
Were thine without otfence ; and, at my death, 
Thou hast seal'd up my expectation*: 
Thy life did manifest thou lov'dst me not, 
And thou wilt have me die assured of it. 
Thou hid'st a tiiousand daggers in thy thoiights ; 
W hich thou hast whetted »)n thy stony heart, 
To stab at half an hour or \\\\ life. 
What! canst thou not forbear me half an hour? 
Tl.en get thee gone, and tlig niy gr ive th} self ; 
And bid the meiry bells ring to ihine ear, 
That thou art crown'd, not that I am dead. 
Let all the tears that should bedew my hearse, 
Be drops of balm, to sine ify thy head : 
Only cinnponiid me with forgotten dust ; 
Give that which gave thee life unto the worms ; 
Pluck down my olticers, break my deciees; 
For now a time is conje to mock at form, 
Harry the fifth is crown'd : — Lp, vanity ! 
Down, royal state! all sou saee counsellors. 
And to the iingli>h court assenible now, [hence! 
From every region, apes of idleness! 
Now, ntighbour contiues, purge you of jour 

scum: [dance. 

Have you a ruffian, that will swear, drink, 
Revel the night, rob, murder and commit 
1 he oldest sins the newest kind of ways \ 
Be happy, he will trouble you no more: 
England shail double gild his treble guilt ; 
England shall give him offi-e, honour, miiiht : 
For tie tilth Harry from curb'd license plucks 
The muzzle of restraint, and the wild dog 
Shall tlesh his tooth in every inn>)cent. 
O my poor kingdom, sick with civil blows! 
When that my care could not withhold thy 

riots, 
A^hat will thon do when riot is thy care? 

thou wilt be a wilderness atrain, 
Peo[)l<-d with woives, thy old inhabitants ! 

P. Uni. O, pardon me, my liege! but for 
my tears, [h net ling. 

The moist impednnents unto my speech, 

1 had fcnesl ll'd tins de ir and deep rebuke, 
Ere you with urief had spoke, and I had heard 
The course of it so far. 1 here is your crown ; 
Awd He that wears the crown immortally. 



Long guard it yours ! If I affect it more, 
Than as your honour, and as your renown. 
Let me no more fron« this obedience rise, 
(Which my most true and in ward-duteous spirit 
Teacheth), this prostrate and exterior bending! 
Heaven witness with me, when 1 here came in, 
And found no course of breath within youi 

majesty. 
How cold it struck my heart! If I do feign, 
O, let me in my present wildness die; 
And never live to show the incredulous world 
1 he noble change that I have purposed ! 
Coming to look on you, thinking you dead, 
(And dead almost, my liege, to think you were,) 
1 spake unto the crown, as having sense, 
And thus upbraided it, Tiie care on thee 

dey ending. 
Hath frd upon the body of my father ; 
Therejore, thou, best of gald, art worst oj 

gold. 
Other, less fine in ccra^i, is more precious. 
Preserving Ifein medUAne potrbleX: 
But thou, mo^t fine, most honoured, most 

i enow/i'd, [liege, 

H(/st lat tnij bearer up. Thus, my most royaJ 
Accusing it, I put it on my head ; 
lo try with it, — as with an enemy. 
That had before my face nmrder'd my father,— 
The quarrel of a true inheritor. 
But if it did infect my blood with joy, 
Or swell my thoughts to any strain of pride; 
It an\ rebel or vain spirit of mine 
Did, with the least atteclion of a welcome 
Give entertainment to the might of it, 
Let G<'d for ever keep it from my head, 
And make me as the poorest vassal is. 
Thai doih with awe and terror kneel to it! 

K. Hen. O njy s..n ! 
Heaven put n in thy ndnd, to lake it hence. 
That thou nnght'st win the more thy falhei' • 
Pleading so wisely in excuse of it. [lov« , 

Come hiiher, Harry, sit thou by my bed; 
Andhe.ir, I think, the very latest counsel [sol. 
That ever I shall breathe. Heaven knows, m^ 
By what by-paths, and indirect crookM ways, 
1 met this crow n ; and I myself know well. 
How troublesome it sat upon my head : 
To thee it shall descend w th better quiet. 
Better opinion, better confirmation; 
For all the soil j of the achievement goes 
\\ ith me into tiie e.irth It seem'd m me. 
But .IS an honour suatch'd with boisterous 
And I had many living, to upbraid [hand ; 
My gain of it by their as^istances ; 
W Inch daily grew to quarrel, and to bloodshed. 
Wounding supposed peace : all these bold 
I hou see'st, witli peril I have auswerM ffear.s|j, 
Foi all my reinn Inih been but a? a seen • 
Acting that argument; and now niy death 
Changes the inode^ ; for what in me was pur- 
Falls upon thee in a more fairer sort ; [chased**, 
So thou the iiaria .d we.ir'st successively. 
Yet, though thou stand'st more sure than I 

could do. 



• ConGrmed my opiaion. f Weight. X To be taken. $ Spot, dirt. 

Frights. f State of things. •• Purchase, in Shakspeare, frequently meaui 

stolen goods. 



JScene JV.] 



SECOND PART OF KINO HENRY IV. 



Ihon art not tirra enough, since griefs are green ; 
And ali thy friends, which thou must make thy 
friend., [out ; 

Have but their stings and tetth newly ta'en 
liy whose fell working 1 was tirst advanced. 
And by whose power I well nnght lodge a fear 
To be ao;ain displaced: which to avoid, 
I cut them off; and had a purpose now 
To lead out many lo the Holy Land ; 
Lest rest, and lying stilj, might make them look 
Too near unto my etate. Lherefore, my Harry, 
Be ii thy coarse to Imsy giddy minds [out, 
With foreign quarrels ;that action, hence borne 
May waste the memory of the former days. 
More would 1, but my lungs are wasted so. 
That sireagth of speech is utterly denied me. 
How I came by the crown, O God, forgive ! 
And grant it may with thee in true peace live! 

^- Hen. My gracious liege, 
Von won it, wore it, kept it, gdve ii me ; 
Tiien plain, and right, must my possession be: 
Which I, with more than with a common pain. 
Gainst ail the world will riglitfuilv maintain. ' 



485 



Enter Prince John of Lancaster, Wak- 
WICK, Lords, and Others. 
A. Hen, Look, look, here comes my John 
r> _. ,of ^^ncaster. [royal faiherl 

jp Jorm. Health, peace, and happiness to ray 
A. Hen. Thou bring'st me happiness, and 
peace, son John ; 

But health, alack, with youthful wings is flown 

From this bare, wither'd trunk : upon thy sight. 

My worldly business makes a period. 

Where is my lord of Warwick? 
P. Hen. My lord of lA^arwick I 

K, Hen. Doth any name particular belong 

Unto the lodging where I first did swoon? 
M ar. 'lis call'd Jerusalem, my noble lord. 
K. Hen. Laud be to God! — even there my 
life must end. 

It hath been prophesied to me many years, 

I should not die but in Jerusalem ; 

Which vainly 1 supposed, the Holy Land :— 

But, bear me to that chamber; there I'll lie; 

In that Jeruisdlem shall Harry die. 

[Exeunt 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. Glostershirc. A Hall in Shal- 
low's House, 

Enter Shallow, Falstaff, Bardolph, 
and Page. 

Shal. By cock and pye, t-ir, you shall not 
away to-night. What, Davy, I say! 

FaL. You must excuse me, master Robert 
Shallow. 

SUaL. I will not excuse you ; you shall not 
be excused ; excuses shall not be admitted ; 
there is no excuse shall serve ; you shall not be 
excused. — Why, Davy ! 

Enter Davy. 

Davy. Here, sir. 

Shal. Davy, Davy, Davy, — let me see, 
Davy ; let me see : — yea, marry, William cook, 
bid him cou^e hither. — Sir John, yoa shall not 
bi." excused. 

Davy. Marry, sir, thus; — those precepts* 
cannot be served : and again, sir, — Shall we 
sow ihe headland with wheat? 

S'iiul. Wiih red wheat, Davy. But for Wil- 
liam cook ; Are there no jl^ng pigeons? 

Davy. Yes, sir. — Here is now the smith's 
note, for shotting, and plough irons. 

Shal. Let ii be castf, and paid: — ^ir John, 
I you shall not b« excused. 
' Davy. Now, sii , a new link to the bucket 

I must needs be had : — And, sir, do you mean to 
stop any of Williani's wages, about the sack he 
I lost the other day at Hinckley fair? 

Skill. He shall answer it : Some pigeons, 

Davy; a couple of short-legged hens; a joint 
of mutton ; and any pretty little tiny kick- 
shaws, tell William cook. 

Davy. Doth the man of war R^ay all night, 
•irt 

Shal. Yes, Davy. I will use him well ; A 

.• Warrants. 



friend i'lhe court is better than a penny iai 
purse. Use his men well, Davy ; for they are 
arrant knaves, and will backbite. 

Davy. No worse than they are back-bitten, 
sir ; for they have marvellous foul linen. 

Shal. Well conceited, Davy. About thy 
business, Davy. 

Davy. I beseech you, sir, to countenance 
William Yisor of Wincot against Clement 
Perkes of the hill. 

Snal. There are many complaints, Davy, 
against that Yisor ; that Visor is an arrant 
knave, on my knovi'ledge. 

Davy. I grant your worship, that he is a 
knave, sir : but yet, God forbid, sir, but a 
knave should have some countenance at his 
friend's request. An honest man, sir, is able 
to speak for himself, when a knave is not. 1 
have served your worship truly, sir, this eight 
years ; and if I cannot once or twice in a 
quarter bear out a knave against an honest 
man, I have but a very little credit with your 
worship. The knave is mine honest friend, 
sir ; therefore, I beseech your worship, let him 
be countenanced. 

Shal. Go to ; I say, he shall have no wrong. 
Look about, Davy. [Exit Davy.] Where are 
you, sir John? Come, off with your boots.— 
Give me your hand, master Bardolph. 

Bard, I am glad to see your worship. 

Skal. 1 thank thee with all my heart, kind 
master Bardolph :— and welcome, my tall 
fellow. \To the Page.] Come, sir John. 

{Exit Shallow. 

Fal. ril follow you, good master Robert 
Shallow. Bardolph, look to our horses. 
[Exeimt Bardolph and Page.] If I were 
sawed into quantities, 1 should make tour 
dozen of such bearded hermit'sstaves as mar 



t Accounted up. 



aX '» 



486 



SHAKSPEARE. 



dct r. 



ter Shallow. It is a wonderful thing, to see 
the semblable coherence of his men's spirits 
and his: They, by observinsj him, do bear 
themselves like fi)o!isli justices; he, by con- 
versing with them, is turned into a justice- 
like ferviMgniau ; their spiiits are so married 
in conjunction with ihe participntion of society, 
that they Hock together in consent, like so 
many wild-geese. If I had a suit to master 
Shallow, 1 would humour his men, with the 
imputation of being near their master : if to 
his men, 1 would curry with Master Shallow, 
that no man could better cotTimand his ser- 
vants. It is certain, that either wise bearing, 
or ignoivint carriatje, is caught, as men take 
diseases, « ne of another: theiefore, let men 
take heed of their company. I will devise 
matter enough out of this Shallow, to keep 
prince llany in continual laughter, the wear- 
ing-out i>f six fashions, (which is four terms, or 
two actions), aud he shall laugh without in- 
tervnUuiiis. O, it is much, that a lie, with a 
slight oath, and a jest, wiih a sad brow *, will 
do with a fellow that never had the ache in 
his shoulders ! O, you shall see him laugh, 
till his face be like a wet cloak ill laid upt. 

Shnl. [H'ithin.'] Sir John ! 

Fal. I come, master Shallow ; I come, 
master Shallow. \^Ej:it Falstaft. 

SCENE II. Westminster. A Room in the 

Palace. 

Enter Warwick, and the Lord Chief 

Justice. 

War. How now, my lord chief justice ? 
whither away ? 

^h. Just. How doth the king ? 

War. Exceeding well ; his cares are now 

Ch. Just. I hope, not dead. [all ended. 

War. He's walkM the way of nature ; 

And, to our purposes, he lives no more. 

CIl. Just. \ would, his majesty had call'd 
mc with him: 
The service that I truly did his life. 
Hath Ictt me open to all injuries. [you not. 

War. Indeed, I think, the young king loves 

Ch. Just. I know, he doth not ; and do arm 
myself, 
To welcome the condition of the time ; 
Which cannot look more hideously upon me 
Thsn I have drawn it in my fantasy. 
Enter Prince John, Prince Humphrey, 

Clarence, Westmoreland, «wc^ Others. 

War. Here come the heavy issue of dead 
Harry : 
O, that the living Harry had the temper 
Of him, the worst of these three gentlemen ! 
How many nobles then should hold their places, 
That must strike sail to spirits of vile sort I 

Ch. Just. Alas! I fear, all will be overturn'd. 

P. John. Good morrow, cousin Warwick. 

P. Humph. Cla. Good morrow, cousin. 

'■*. John. We meet fike men that had forgot 
to speak. 

War. We do remember ; but our argument 
U all too heavy to admit much talk. 



P. John. Well, peace be with him that hath 

made us heavy ! 
Ch. Just. Peace be with us, lest we be 
heavier ! [a friend,- indeed : 

P. Hnmjih. 0,good my lord, you have lost 
And I dare swear, you borrow not that face 
Of seeming sorrow ; it is^ sure, your own. 
P. John. 1 hough no man be assured what 
grace to find. 
You stand in coldest expectation : 
I am the sorrier ; 'would, 'twere otherwise. 
Cla. Well, you must now speak sir John 
Falstatf fair ; 
Which swims against your stream of quality. 
Ch. Just. Sweet princes, what 1 did, I did 
in honour. 
Led by the imp-irtial conduct of my soul ; 
And r.»ever shall you see, thai I will beg 
A ragged and forestall'd remission. — 
If truih and upright innocency fail me, 
I'll to the king my master th^t is dead, 
And tell him who hath senr me after him. 
War. Here comes the prince. 

Enter King Henry V. 
Ch. Just. Good morrow ; and heaven save 
your majesty I [majesty. 

King. This new and gorgeous garment. 
Sits not so easy on me as you think. — [fear; 
Brothers, you mix your sadness with some 
This.is the English, not the Turkish court ; 
NotAmurath an AmuraihX succeeds. 
But Harry Harry : Vet be sad, good brothers, 
For, to Sf)eak truth, it very well becomes you; 
Sorrow so royally in you appears, 
That I will deeply put the fa.-hion on. 
And wear it in my heart. Why then, be sad : 
But entertain no inore of it, good brothers. 
Than a joint burden laid upon us all. 
For me, by heaven, I bid you he assured, 
I'll be your fatl.er and your brother too ; 
Let me but bear your love, I'll bear your cares. 
Yet weep, that Harry's dead ; and so will I : 
But Harry lives, that shall conveit those tears^ 
By number, into hours of happiness. 
P. John, 4c. We hope no other from your 

majesty. 
King. You all look strangely on me :— and 
you most ; [7'</ the Chief Justice. 

You are, I think, assured I love you not. 
Ch. Just. I am assured, if I be measured 
rightly, 
Your m ijesty hath no just cause to hate me. 

King. So! 
How might a prince of my great hopes forget 
So great indigniii. s you laid upon me? 
What! rate, rebuke, and roughly send to 
prisun [easy ? 

The ii.iiiiediate heir of England! Was this 
May this be wash'd in Lethe, and forgotten? 
Ch. Just, i then did use the person of your 
father ; 
The image of his power lay then in me : 
And, in the administration of his law, 
Whiles I was busy for the commonwealth, 
Your highness pleased to forget my place. 
The majesty and power of law and justice, 

• A serious face. t Full of wrinklei. J Emperor of the Turks, died in \b9^ \ hw 

son, which succeeded him, had all his brc'hers strangled. 



^cene II.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY IV. 



4S7 



The image of the kiog whom I presented, 
And struck me in my very se<ii of judgment; 
Whereon, as an offender to your father, 
I gave bohl way to my anihority. 
And did commit you. If the deed were ill, 
Be you contented, wearing now the garland*, 
To have a son set your decrees at nought ; 
To pluck down justice from your awtul bench ; 
To trip the course of law, and blunt the sword 
That guards the peace and safely of your 
person : [image, 

Nay, more ; to spurn at your most royal 
And mock your workings in a second body +. 
Question your royal thoughts, make the case 
Be now the father, and propose a son : [yours ; 
Hear your own dignity so much profaned, 
See your most dreadful laws so loosely slighted, 
Behold yourself so by a son disdained ; 
And then imagine me taking your part. 
And, in your power, soft silencing your son : 
After this cold considerance, sentence me; 
And, as you are a king, speak in your state j, 
What 1 have done, that misbecame my place, 
My person, or my Heine's sovereignty. 

King. You are right, justice, and you weigh 
this well; 
Therefore still bear the balance, and the sword : 
And I do wish your honours may increase, 
1 ill you do live to see a son of mine 
Offend you, and obey you, as 1 did. 
So shall 1 live to speak my father's words; — 
Happy am I that have a man o bold. 
That dares do justice on my proper son: 
And not less happy, having such a son, 
That would deliver up his greatness so 
Into the hands of justice. — You did commit 
For which, I do commit into your hand [me : 
The unstained sword that you have used to 
bear ; [same 

With this remembrance, — that you use the 
With the like bold, just, and impartial spirit, 
As you have done 'gainst me. There is m y hand ; 
You shall be as a father to my youth ; [ear ; 
My voice shall sound as you do prompt mine 
And I will stoop and humble my intents 

To your well-practised, wise directions. 

And, princes all, believe me, I beseech you ; — 
My father is gone wild into his grave. 
For in his tomb lie my affections; 
And with his spirit sadly j I survive, 
To mock the expectation of the world ; 
To frustrate prophecies; and to raze oot 
Kotten opinion, who hath writ me down 
After my seeming. The tide of blood in me 
Hath proudly .tlow*d in vanity, till now: 
ISow doth it turn, and ebb back to the sea ; 
Where it shall mingle with the state of floods. 
And flow hencefortk in formal majesty. 
Jsow call we our high court of pa-rliament : 
And let us choose such limbs of noble counsel. 
That the great body of our state may go 
In equal rank with th-e best-govern'd nation; 
That war, or peace, or both at once, may be 
As things acquainted and familiar to us; 



In %vhich you, father, shall have foremost 
hand. — [To the Lord Chief Justice. 
Our coronation done, we will accite||. 
As 1 before remember'd, all our state: 
kjid ((Jod consigning to my good intents,) 
No prince, nor peer, shall have just cause t.) 

say, — 
Heaven shorten Harry's happy life one day. 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE III. Glostershire. The Garden 

o/' Shallow's House, 

Enter Falstaff, Shallow, Silence, 

Bardolph, the Page, and Davy. 

Shal. Nay, you shall see mine orchard: 
where, in an arbour, we wi-ll eat a last year's 
pippin of my own grafting, with a dish of 
caraways, and so forth : come, cousin Si- 
lence ; — and ihen to bed. 

Fal. 'Fore Cod, you have here a goodly 
dwelling, and a rich. 

iShal. Barren, barren, barren; begzars all, 
beggars all, sir John : — marry, good nir. — 
Spread, Davy ; spread, Davy ; well said. Davy. 

Fal. This Davy serves you for good uses ; 
he is your serving man, and your husbandman. 

Shal. A good varlet, a good vailet, a very 
good varlet, sir John.— By the mass, I have 

drunk too much sack at supper : A good 

varlet. Now sit down, now sit down : — come, 
cousin. 

Sil. Ah, sirrah! quoth-a, we shall 
Do nothing but eat, and make good cheer, 

[Singing. 
And praise heaven for the rnerry year ; 
When flesh is cheap and females dear. 
And lusty lads roam here and there. 
So merrily. 
And ever among so merrily. 

Fal. There's a merry heart ! — Good master 
Silence, I'll give you a health for that anon. 

Shal. Give master Bardolph some wine, 
Davy. 

Davy. Sweet sir,sit ; [SeatingViKKTiOi^vn 
and the Page at another tabic.] I'll be with 

you anon : — most sweet sir, sit. — Master 

page, good master page, sit: proface^! What 
you want in meat, we'll have in dtink. But 
you must bear; The heart's all. [Exit. 

Shal. Be merry, master Bardolph; and my 
little soldier there, be merry. 

Sil. Be merry, be merry, my ivife's as 
all**; [singing. 

For women are shrews, both short and tall : 
'Tis merry in hull, when beards wag all. 

And ivelcome merry shrovt-tiae. 
Be merry, be merry, &c. 

Fal. I did not think, master Silence had 
been a man of this mettle. 

Sil. Who I? I have been merry twice and 
once, ere now. 

Re-enter Davy. 

Davy. There is a dish of leather-coats +t for 
you. {Setting them before Bardolph 



* Crown. t Treat with contempt your acts executed by a representative. 

t In your regal character and office. § Gravely. || Summons. % Italian, much good 

may it do you. ** As all women are. ft Apples commonly called russetii;es. 



18^ 



SHAKSPEARE. 



TAot V 



Shal. Davy,— 

Daiy, Your worship? — I'll be with you 
Btraitiht. {To Bard.]— A cup of wine, sir? 

Sil. A cup of jvine, that*s brisk and fine. 

And drink unto the leman * mine ; 

[Singing. 
A7id a merry heart lives Img-a. 

Fal. Well said, master Silence. 

Sil. And we shall be merry ; — now comes 
in the svieet of the night. 

Fat. Health and long life to you, master 
Silence. 

Sil. Fill the cup, and let it come ; 

I'll pledge you a mile to the bottom. 

Shal. Honest Bardolph, welcome : If thou 
wantest any thing, and wilt not call, beshrew 
thy heart. — Welcome, my little tiny thief; 
[To the Page.] and welcome, indeed, too. — 
I'll drink to master Bardolph, and to all the 
cavaleroest about London. 

Davy. 1 hope to see London once ere I die. 

Bard. An I might see you there, Davy. — 

Shal. By the mass, you'll crack a quart 
together. Ha? will you not, master Bardolph? 

Bard. Yes, sir, in a pottle pot. 

Shal. I thank thee : — The knave will stick 
by thee, I can assure thee that : he will not 
out ; he is true bred. 

Bard. And I'll stick by him, sir. 

^Shal. Why, there spoke a king. Lack no- 
thing: be merry. {Knocking heard. 1 Look 
who's at door there : Ho I who knocks ? 

{Exit Davy. 

Fal. Why, now you have done me right. 
{To Silence, who drinks a bumper. 

Sil. Do me right, [Singing. 

And dub me knightX: 
Samingo j, 
Is't not so ? 

Ful. 'Tis so. 

Sil. Is't 50? Why, then say, an old man 
can do somewhat. 

Be-cnfer Davy. 

Davy. An it please your worship, there's 
one Pistol come from the court with news. 

Fal. From the court, let him come in. — 
Enter Pistol. 
How now, Pistol? 

Fist. God save yon, sir John ! 

Fal. What wind blew you hither, Pistol? 

Pist. Not the ill wind which blows no man 
to good — Sweet knight, thou art now one of 
the greatest men in the reilm. 

SI. Hy'r lady, I think 'a be ; but goodman 
Puff of Birson. 

Pist. Puff? 
Puff in thy teeth, mCff^t recreant coward base ! 
Si^- John, I am thy Pistol, and thy trieod, 
And helter-skelter have I rode to thee: 
And tidings do I bring, and lucky joys, 
And golden limes, and happy news of price. 

Fal. I pi'ythee now, deliver them like a 
man of this world. [biise ! 

Pist. A foutra for the world, and worldlings 



I speak of Africa, and golden joys. 

Fal. O base Assyrian knight, what is thy u 

news? K 

Let king Cophetua know the truth thereof. i 

Sil. And Bobin Hood, Scarlet, and John, j 

[Sings. 

Pist. Shall dunghill curs confront the He- .( 
And shall good news be baffled ? [licons? n 

Then, Pistol, lay thy head in Furies' lap. i 

Shal. Honest gentlemaa, I know not your > 
breeding. \ 

Pist. Why, then, lament therefore. J 

Shal. Give me pardon, sir; — If, sir, you 1 
come with news from the court, I take it, 
there is but two ways : either to utter them, 
or to conceal them. I am, sir, under the king, 
in some authority. 

Pist. Under which king, Bezonian? speak, 

Shal. Under king Harry. [or die. f 

Pist. Harry the fourth ? or fifth? 

Shal. Harry the fourth. 

Pist. A foutra for thine office !— 

Sir John, thy tender lambkin now is king ; 
Harry the fifth's the man. I speak the truth: 
When Pistol lies, do this; and flg me, like 
The bragging Spaniard. 

Ful. What ! is the old king dead ? 

Pist. As nail in door: the things 1 speak, 
are just. 

Fal. Away, Bardolph ; saddle my horse.- 
Master Robert Shallow, choose what office 
thou wilt in the land, 'tis thine. — Pistol, I will 
double charge thee with dignities. 

Bard. O joyful day !— I would not take a | 
knighthood for my fortune. . 

Pist. What? I do bring good news? 

Fal. Carry master Silence to bed. — Master j 
Shallow, my lord Shallow, be what thon 
wilt, I am fortune's steward. Get on thy 
boots; we'll ride all night: — O, sweet Pis- 
tol: — Away, Bardolph. [£"2:/^ Bard.]— Come, 
Pistol, utter more to me ; and, withal, devise 
something, to do thyself good. — Boot, boot, 
master Shallow; I know the young king ifi 
sick for me. Let us take any man's horses; 
the laws of England are at my commandment. 
Happy are they which have been my friends; 
and woe to my lord chief justice ! 

Pist. Let vultures vile sei'ze on his lungs also I 
Where is the life that late 1 led, say they : 
Why, here it is; Welcome these pleasant 
days. {Exeu7it. 

SCENE IV. London. A Street. 

Enter Be-d(\]es,draiiging m HostessQ u ick lt 

and Doll Tear-sheet. 

Host. No, thou arrant knave ; I would I 
might die, that I might have thee hanged: 
thou hast drawn my shoulder out of joint. 

1 Bead. The constables have delivered her 
over to me; and she shall have whipping 
cheer enough, I warrant her : There hath been 
a man or two lately killed about her. 

Dol. Nut-hook, nut-hook §, you lie. Come 



Sweet heart. f Gay fellows. 1 He who drank a bumper on his knees to the health 

of his mistress was dubb'd a knight for the evening. $ It should be Domingo ; 

it is part of a song in one of Nashe's plays. § A term of reproach for a catchpoll. 



^cene IV,] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY TV. 



489 



\ ^j } I'll tell thee what, thoa damned tripe- 
visaged rascal ; an the chilvi I now go with, 
ll do niisearry, thou hadst better thou hadsl 
I Btruck thy mother, thou pjper-faced villain. 
I Host. the Lord, that sir John were come! 
1 he would make this a bloody day to some- 
ij oody. But I pray God the fruit of her womb 
jl miscarry ! 

j: 1 Brad. If it do, you shall have a dozen 
I of cushions* again : you have but eleven now. 
j Come, I charge you both go with me.; for 
I the man is dead, that you and Pistol beat 
among you. 

Dot. I'll tell thee what, thou thin man in a 
censer! 1 will have you as soundly swinged 
for this, you blue-bottle roguet! you filthy 
famished correctioner! if you be not swinged, 
ril forswear half-kirtles j. 

1 Bead. Come, come, you she knight-errant, 
come. 

Host. O, that right should thus overcome 
might! Well; of snft'erance comes ease. 

Dol. Come, you rogue, come , bring me to 
a justice. 

Host. Ay; come,you starved blood-hound. 
Dol. Goodman death! goodman bones! 
Host. Thou atomy thou! 
Hoi. Come,you thin thing ; come, you rascal ! 
I Bead. Very well. \_bxeunt. 

SCENE V. A Public Place near West- 
minster Abbey. 
Enter Two Grooms, strewing Rushes. 

1 Groom. More rushes, more ruslies. 

2 Groom. The trumpetshavesounded twice. 
1 Groom. It will be two o'clock ere they 

come from the coronation : Despatch, despatch. 
\^tJxeunt Gjooms. 
Enter Falstafp, Shallow, Pistol, Bar- 
DOLPH, and the Page. 

Fill. Stand here by me, master Robert 
Shallow ; I will make the king do you grace: 
I will leer upon him, as 'a comes by ; and do 
but mark the countenance that he will give me. 

Pist. God bless thy lungs, good knight. 

Fal. Come here. Pistol ; stand behind me — 
O, if I had had time to have made new live- 
ries, I would have bestowed the thousand 
pound I borrowed of you. {To Shallow.] 
But 'tis no matter; this poor show doth better: 
this doih infer the zeal 1 had to see him. 

Shal. It doth so. 

Fat. It shows my earnestness of aflfection. 

Skal. It doth so. 

Fal. My devotion. 

Slial. It doth, it doth, it doth. 

Fal. As it were, to ride day and night ; and 
not to deliberate, not to remember, not to 
have patience to shift me. 

Shal. It is most certain. 

Fal. But to stand stained with travel, and 
sweating with desire to see him : thinking of 
nothing eisse ; putting all affairs else in obli- 
vion ; as if there were nothing else to be done, 
but to see him. 



Pist. 'Tis semper idem, for absque hoc 
nihil estj: 'Tis all in every part. 

Shal. *Tis so, indeed. [liver, 

Pi.st. My knight, I will inflame thy noble 
And make thee rage. 

Thy Doll, and Helen of thy noble thoughts. 
Is in base durance, and contagious prison; 
Haul'd thither 

By ujost mechanical and dirty hand : — 
Rouse up revenge from ebon den with fell 

Alecto's snake, 
For Doll is in ; Pistol speaks nought but truth. 

Fai. I will deliver her. 

\ Shout s w'ithifty and r he Trumpets sound, 

Pi.st. There roar'd the sea, and trumpet- 
clangor sounds. 
Enter the King and his Train, the Chief 
Justice among them. 

Fal. God save thy grace, king Hal! my 
royal Hal! 

Pi^t. The heavens thee guard and keep, 
most royal imp|| of fame I 

Fal. God save thee, my sweet boy ! 

King. My lord chief justice, speak to that 
vain rnan. [what 'lis you speak? 

Ch. Jt(.^t. Have you your wits ? know you 

Fal. My king! my Jove! 1 speak to thee, 
my heart! [thy pnyers; 

King. 1 know thee not, old man : Fall to 
How ill white hairs become a fool, and jester! 
I have long dream'd of such a kind of man. 
So siirfeit-sweird, so old, and so profane ; 
But, being awake, I do de>pi^e my dream. 
Make less thy body, hence H, and more thy 
grace; L^-^pe 

Leave gormandizing; know, the grave doth 
For thee thrice wider than for other men: — 
Reply not to me with a fool-born jfSl; 
Presume not, that I am the thing I was: 
For heaven doth know, so ihall the world 

perceive. 
That I have tui n'd away my former self ; 
So will I those that kept me company. 
When thou dost hear I am as 1 have been. 
Approach n)e; and thou shaltbe as thou wast 
The tutor and the feeder of my riots: 
Till then, I banish thee, on pain of death, — 
As I have done the rest of my misleaders, — 
Not to come near our person by ten mile. 
For competence of life, I will allow you. 
That lack of means enforce you not to evil: 
And, as we hear you do reform yourselves. 
We will, — according to your strength, and 
qualities,— [my lord. 

Give you advancement. — Be it your charge. 
To see performM the tenor of our word. — 
Set on. [Exeunt K'xwgyund his Train. 

Fal. Master Shallow,l ovveyou a thousand 
pound. 

Shal. Ay, marry, sir John; which I beseech 
you to let n»e have home with me. 

Fal. That can hardly be, master Shallow. 
Do not you grieve at this ; 1 shall be sent forin 
private to him : look you, he must seem ihua 
to the world. Fear not >our advancement; I 



To stuff her out to counterfeit pregnancy, f Beadles usually wore a blue livery. % Short 
cloaks. § 'Tis all in all, and all in every part. U Child, ottspring. ^ Henceforward. 



490 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act 



will be the mun >et, that ihall make you 
great. 

Shal. I cannot perceive how; unless jou 
give me your doublet, and stuff me out with 
straw. I beseech you, good sir John, let me 
liave five hundred of my thousand. 

Fal. Sir, I will be as good as my word: 
this that you heard, was but a colour. 

Shal. A colour, I fear, that you will die in, 
sir John. 

J^al. Fear no colours ; go with me to dinner. 
Come, lieutenant Pistol ; — come, Bardolph : — 
I shall be sent for soon at night. 
Re-enter Prince John, the Chief Justice, 
Officers, 8fC. 

Ch. Just. Go, carry sir John Falstaff fro the 
Take all his company along with him. [Fleet ; 

Fal. My lord, my lord, 



i-h. .Just. I cannot now speak : I will heai 
Take them away. [yo'i soon. 

Pist. Si for tuna me torment a ^ spero we 
contenta. [Exeunt Fal., Shal., ViBT.y 
Bard., Page, and Officers. 

P. John. 1 like this fair proceeding of t'ic 
He hath intent, his wonied followers [king's ; 
Shall all be very well provided for ; 
But all are banish'd.till their conversations 
Appear more wise and modest 1o the world. 

Ch. Just. And so they are. [ment, my lord. 

P. John. The king hath callM his parlia- 

Ch. Just. He hath. [expire, 

P. John. I will lay odds, —that, ere this year 
We bear our civil swords, iinfl native fire. 
As far as France : I heard a bird so sing. 
Whose music, to my thinking, pleased the king 
Come, will you hence? [Exeunt 



EPILOGUE SPOKEN BY A DANCER. 

First, my fear ; then, my court' sy : lasf^ my speech. My fear is, your displeasure , 
my court*sy, my duty; and my speech, to beg your pardons. Jf you look jor a goi d 
speech noiv, you undo me: for what I have to say, is of mine own making ; auh what, in- 
deed,! should say, ivill, I doubt, prove mine oivu marring. But to the purpose, and so to 
the veriture. —Be it known to yon, (as it is very ivell,) I was lately here in the end of a 
displeasing play, to pray your patience for it, and to promise you a better. J did mean, 
indeed, to pay you with this : which, if, like an III venture, it come unluckily home, 1 
break, and you, my gentle creditors, lose. Here, I promised you, I would be, and here 
J commit my body to your mercies: bate me some, and I U'ill pay you some, and, as most 
debtors do, promise you infinitely. 

Jf my tongue cannot entreat you to acquit me, will you command me to use my legs ? 
and yet that were but light payment, — to dance out of your debt. But a good conscience 
will make any possible satisfaction; and so will I. All the gentleicomen here hare for- 
given me ; if the gentlemen tvill not, then the gentlemen do not agree with the gentle- 
women, which was never seen before in such an assembly. 

One word mare, I beseech you. Jf you be not too 7nuch cloyed with fat meat, our 
humble author will continue the story, ivith Sir John in it, and made you merry tvith 
fair Catharine of France: ivhere, for any thing I knoio, Falstaff shall die of a sweat, 
unless already he be killed ivith your hard opinions ; for Oldcastle d,ed a martyr, and 
this is not the man. My tongue is wiary; ulien my legs are too, J will bid you good 
night: and so kneel down before you ;~but, indeed, to pray for the queen*. 

* Most of the ancient interludes conclude with a prayer for the King or Queen. Hence, 
perhaps, the Vivant Rex et Regina, at the bottom of our modern play-bills. 



I 



I fancy every reader, when he ends this play, cries out with Desdemona, " O most lame 
and impotent conclusion I" As this play was not, to our knowledge, divided into Acts by the 
Author, I could be content to conclude it with the death of Henry the Fourth : 
'* In that Jerusalem shall Harry die." 

These scenes, which now make the fifth Act of JJenry the Fourth, might then be the fit 't 
of Jienry th£ Fifth ; but the truth is, that they do not unite very commodiously to either plav. 
When these plays were reprcsinted, 1 believe they ended as they are now ended in the books; 
but Shakspeare seems to have dasigned that titc whole series of action, from the beginning of 
R chard the Second, to the end of Jienry the Fifth, should be considered by the reader as 
one work upon one plan, only broken into parts by the necessity of exhibition. 

Mr. Upton thinks these two plays improperly called the First and Second Parts of Jienry 
the Fourth. The first phay ends, he says, wiih the peaceful settU:mcnt of Henry in ihe king- 
dom by the defeat of the rebels. This is hardly true: for the rebels are not yit finally sup- 
pressed. The second, he tells us, shows Henry the Fifth in the various lights of a good natured 
rake, till, on his father's death, he assumes a more manly character. This is true ; but this re- 
pre:>cntaiion gives us no idea of a draniaiic action, 'ihcsc two pUys will appear to every 
reader, who shall peruse them without ambition of critical discoveries, to be so connected, thai 
the second is merely a sequel to the first ; to be two only ly»cauye they are too long to b«* 
one.— Johnson. 



I 



KING HENRY V. 



^et^ou^ rcprcsentct!. 



King Henry the Fifth. 

Dnke of ExETEii, uncle to the King, 
Duke of York, cousin to the King, 
Earls 0/ Salisbury, Westmoreland, and War- 
wick. 
Archbishop r/ Canterbury. 
Bishop ^/Ely. 

Sir Thoma. Grey, j the Ktng. 

Sir Thomas Erpinghak, Cower, FLUEiy 

hEN, MACMORRIS,jAMY,0^"C£r5mA>'Vi'^ 

Henrifs army. 

Bates, Court,- Williams, soldiers in the 
same, 

Nym, Bardolph, Pistol, formerly ser- 
vants to Falstaff, noiv soldiers in tlie 
same. 

Boy, servant to them, A Herald. Chorus. 



Charles the Sixth, Ktng oJ France* 
Lewis, the Dauphin, 
Dukes if Burgundy, Orleans, and Bourbon. 
The Constable of France. 
RAMJiUREscz/irfGRANDPREE, French Lords. 
Governor 0/ Hartleur. Moatjoy, a French 

Herald, 
Ambassadors to the King of England, 

Isabel, Queen of France. 
KM:uARiNK,d^ughterof Charles and Isabel. 
Alice, a lady attending (m the Pririce^s 

Katharine. 
Quickly, Pistol's wife, an hostess. 

Lords, Ladies, Officers, French and Enc lish 
Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants* 

Tlie Scene, at the beginning of the Play, 
lies in England; but afterwards , ivholly 
in France. 



Enter 
O, for a muse of fire, that would ascend 
The brightest heaven of invention] 
A kingdom for a stage, princes to act. 
And monarchs to behold the v«!weHing scene! 
Then should the warlike Harry, like himself, 
Assume the port of Mars; and, at his heels, 
Leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword, 
and fire, [all. 

Crouch for employment. But pardon, gentles 
, The flat unrai?ed spirit, that hath dared, 
On this unworthy scaffold, to brins: forth 
So great an object : Can this coxkpit hold 
The vasty fields of France? or may we cram 
Within this wooden ()*, the very casques f, 
'Jliot did alFright the air at Aginconrt / 
O, pardon! since a crooked figure may 
Attest, in little place; a million; 
And let ua, ciphers to this great aecompt. 



Chorus. 
On your imaginary forces t work: 
Suppose, within the girdle of these walls 
Are now confin^-d two mighty monarchies, 
Whose high upreared and abutting fronts 
The perilous, narrow ocean parts asunder. 
Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts; 
Into a thousaiid parts divide one man. 
And make imaginary pnissatice : 
Think ,\^ hen we talk of horses, that you see them 
Trintiugtheirproud hoofs i'thereceivlngeaKh; 
For 'tis your thoughts that now must deck our 

kir,gs, 
Carry them here and there ; jumping o'er times; 
Turning the accomplishment of many years 
Into an hour glass. For the which supply, 
Admit me chorus to this history; [p*"ay 

Who, prologue-like, your humble patience 
Gently to hear, kindly to judge, our play. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. London. A?i Ante-chamber in 
the King's Palace, 

Enter the Archbishop q/* Canterbury, and 
Bi&bop of Ely. 

Can. My lord, I'll tell you,— that self bill is 

urged, [reign 

Which, in the eleventh year o' the last king's 



Was like, and had indeed against ue pass'd. 
But that the scambling and unquiet time 
Did push it out of further question ^. 

Ely. But how, my lord, shall we resist it 
now ? [aiiain^t us 

Carit, It must be thought on. If ii pass 
We lose the better half of our po«ses?iou : 
For all the temporal lands, which men d-ivont 



• An allusion to the circular form of the theatre. 

J Powers o( fancy. ^ Debate. 



t Helmets. 



*92 



SHAKSPEARE. 



\Art I 



By testament have given to the church, 
Would they strip from us ; being valued thus, — 
As much as would maintain to the king's 

honour, 
Full fifteen earls, and fifteen hundred knights ; 
Six thousand and two hundred good esquii es ; 
And, to relief of lazars, and weak age, 
Of indigent faint souls, past corporal toil, 
A hucdred aims-houses, right well supplied; 
And to the coflfers of the king beside, 
A thousanrt pounds by the year : Thus runs 
the bill. 

Eey. This would drink deeo. 

Cant, 'Twould dnuK tlie cup and all. 

Ely. But what prevention? [?ard. 

Cant. The king is full of grace, arfd fair re 

Ely. And a true lover of the holy church. 

Cant. The courses of his youth promised it 
not. 
The breath no sooner left his father's body. 
But that his wildness, mortified in him, 
SeemM to die too : yea, at that very moment, 
Consideration like an angel came. 
And whipp'd tLe offending Adam out of him; 
Leaving his body as a paradise. 
To envelop and contain celestial spirits. 
Never was such a sudden scholar made : 
Never tame reformation in a flood. 
With duch a heady current, scouring faults; 
Nor never Hydra-headed wilfulness 
So soon did lose his seat, and all at once, 
As in this king. 

Ely. We are blessed in the change. 

Cunt. Hear him but reason in divinity. 
And, all admiring, with an inward wish [late: 
Yon would desire, the king were made a pre- 
Hear him debate ot commonwealth affairs, 
You would say, — it hath been all-in-all his 

study : 
List* liis discourse of war, and you shall hear 
A fearful battle render'd you in music : 
Turn him to any cause of policy. 
The Gordian knot of it he will unloose. 
Familiar as his garter; that, when he speaks, 
Th« air, a charter'd libertine, is still, . 
And the mute wonder lurketh in men's ears, 
To steal his sweei and honeyed sentences; 
So that the art and practic part of life 
Must be the mistress to this theorict; 
Which is a wonder, how his grace should 

glean it. 
Since his addiction was to courses vain : 
His companieg j unletierM, rude, and shallow ; 
His hours fillM up with riots, banquets, sports ; 
And never noted in him any study. 
Any retirement, any sequestration 
From open haunts and popularity. [nettle; 

Ely. The strawberry grows underneath the 
And wholesome berries thrive and ripen best, 
Neighbour'd by fruit of baser quality ; 
And so the prince obscured his contemplation 
Under the veil of wildness ; which, no doubt. 
Grew like the summer grass, fastest by night. 
Unseen, yet crescive^ in his faculty. 

^^unt. It must be so : for miracles are ceased ; 



And therefore we must needs admit the means. 
How things are perfected. 

Ely. But, my good lord 

How now for mitigation of this bill 
Urged by the commons? Doth his majesty 
Incline to it, or no? 

Cant. He seems indiflfereut. 

Or, rather, swaying more upon our p jrt. 
Than cherishing the exhi biters against us : 
For I have made an offer to his majesty, — 
Upon our spiritual convocation ; 
Acid in regard of causes now in hand, 
WHiich I have opcn'd to his grace at large. 
As touching France, — to give a greater sum 
Than ever at one time the clergy yet 
Did to his predecessors part wiihal. [lord ? 

Ely. How did this offer seem received, n\y 

Cant. With good acceptance of his maje«ty ; 
Save, that tliere was not time enough to hear 
(As, 1 perceived, his grace would fain h.ive 
The severals, and unhidden passai^es, [done,^ 
Of his true titles to some certain dukedoms ; 
And, generally, to the crown and seat oi 

France, 
Derived from Edward, his threat grandfather. 

El^. What wag the impediment that broke 
this off"? [instant 

Cant. The French ambassador, upon that 
Craved audience : and the hour, I think, is 

come, 
To give him hearing : Is it four o'clock ? 

Ely. It is 

Cant. Then go we in, to know his embassy 
Which I could, with a read> tuess, «!eclarc. 
Before the Irenchman speak a word of it. 

Ely. I'll wait upon you ;and 1 long to hear it. 
[Eieunt, 

SCENE II. 77ie sajue. A Rwin of State 

in the same. 
Enter King Henry, Gi.ostek, Bedford, 
Exeter, Warwick, Westmoreland, 
and Attendants. 

K. Hen. Where is my gracious lord of Can- 
Exe. Not here in presence. [terbury i. 

K Hen. Send for him, good uncle. 
West. Shall we call In the ambassador, n.y 
liege ? [resolved, 

K. Heth. Not yet, my cousin; we wonid i e 
Before we hear him, of some things of weijrhi. 
That task our thoughts, concerning us and 
France. 
Enter the Archbishop of Canterbury and 

Bishop ofE\y. 
Cant. God, and his angels, guard your sa- 
cred throne, 
And make you long become it I 

K. Hen. Sure, we thank you. 

My learned lord, we pray you to proceed ; 
And justly and religiously unfold. 
Why the law Salique, that they have in France, 
Or should, or should not, bar us in our claim. 
And God forbid, my dear and faithful lord, 
That yon should fashion, wrest, or bow yui-y 
reading. 



LisUD to. 



t Theory. 



X Companions. 



$ Increasing. 



i'cene I!.] 



KINO HENRY V. 



493 



Or nicely charge your understanding soul 
I With opening titles miscreate*, whose tight 
I Salts not in native colours with the truth; 
I For God doth know, how many, now in health, 
' Shall drop their blood in approbation 

Of what your reverence shall incite us to : [son, 

I Therefore take heed how you impawn our per- 

I How you awake the sleeping sword of war ; 

1 We charge you in the name of God, take heed : 

For never tAvo such kingdoms did contend. 

Without much fall of blood 5 whose guiltless 

Are every one a woe, a sore complaint, [drops 

'Gainst him, whose wrongs give edge unto the 

swords 
That make such waste in brief mortality. 
Under this conjuration, speak, my lord: 
And we will hear, note, and believe in heart. 
That what you speak is in your conscience 
As pure as sin with baptism. [washM 

Cant. Then hear me, gracious sovereign, — 
and you peers. 
That owe your lives, your faith, and services. 
To this imperial throne; — There is no bar 
To make against your highness' claim to France, 
Bot this, which they produce from thara- 

mond, — 
In terrain SaHcam mulieres nt succedatit , 
No woman shall succeed in Salique land: 
Which Salique land ihe French unjustly gluzet, 
To be the realm of France, and Pharamond 
The founder of this law and female bar. 
Yet their own authors faithfully affirm. 
That the land Salique lies in Germany, 
Between the floods of Sala and of Elbe : 
Where Charles the great, having subdued the 

Saxons, 
There left behind and settled certain French ; 
Who, holding in disdain the German women, 
For some dishonest manners of their life, 
Establish'd there this law, — to wit, no female 
Should be inheritrix in Salique land ; 
Which Salique, as I said,'twixt Elbe and Sala, 
Is at this day in Germany call'd — Meisen. 
1 hus doth it well appear, the Salique law 
Was not devised for the realm of France : 
Nor did the F*ench possess the Salique land 
Until four hundred one and tw^enty years 
After defunction of king Pharamond, 
Idly supposed the founder of this law; 
Who died witliin the year of our rtdemption 
Four hundred twenty-six ; and Charlesthe great 
Subdued the >^ axons, and did seat the French 
Beyond the river Sala, in the year 
Eight hundred five. Besides, their writers say. 
King Pepin, which deposed Childerick, 
Did, as heir general, being descended [thair. 
Of Blithild, which was daughter to king Clo- 
Make claim and title to the crown of France. 
Hugh Capet also,— that usurped the crown 
Of Charles the duke of Lorain, sole heir male 
Of the true line and stock of Charles the great, — 
To finej his title with some Rhow of truth, 
(Thoiigh, in pure truth, it was corrupt and 

naught), 
Convey'd^ himself as heir to the lady Lingare, 



Daughter to Charlenidin, who was X\\q son 
To J.evvis the e*nperorj and Lewi.s the son 
Of Charles the great. Also king Lewis the tenth 
Who was sole heir to the usurper Capet, 
Could not keep quiet in his conscience. 
Wearing the crown of France, till satisfied 
That fair queen Isabel, his grandmother. 
Was lineal of the lady Ermengare, 
Daughter to Charles the foresaid duke of 
Lorain : [great 

By the which marriage, the line of Charles the 
Was re-united to the crown of France. 
So that, as clear as is the summer's sun, 
King Pepin's title, and Hugh Capet's claim, 
King Lewis his satisfaction, all appear 
To hold in right and title of the female : 
So do the kings of France unto this day ; 
Howbeit they would hold up this Salique law, 
To bar your highness claiming from the female ; 
Aad rather choose to hide them in a net. 
Than amply to imbarejj their crooked titles 
Usurped from you and your progenitors. 
K, Hen. May I, with right and conscienr^e, 
make this claim? [reign ! 

Cant. The sin upon my head, dread sove- 
For in the book of Numbers is it writ, — 
When the son dies, let the inheritance 

Descend unto the daughter. Gracious lord. 
Stand for your own ; unwind your bloody flag ; 

Look back unto your mightv anoes-tors: [tomb. 

Go, my dread lord, to your great grandsire's 

From whom you claim; invoke his warlike 

spirit, [priac'" ; 

And your great uncle's, Edward fhe black 
Who on the French groimd play'd a tragedy. 
Making defeat on the full power of France ; 
Whiles his most mighty father on a hill 
Stood smiling : to bVhokl his lion's whelp 
Forage in blood of French nobility U. 
O nohle English, that could entertain 
With half their forces the full pride of France ; 
And let another half stand laughing by. 
All out of work, and col-d for action ! [dead, 
Ely, Awake remembrance of these valiant 
And with your puissant arm renew their feats : 
Yon are their heir, you sit upon their throne; 
The blood and courage, that renowned them. 
Runs in your veins; and my thrice-puissant 
Is in the very May-morn of his youth, [liege 
Ripe for exploits and mighty enterprises. 
Exe. Your brother kings and monarchs ol 
the earth 
Do all expert that you should rouse yourself. 
As did the former lions of your blood. 

West. They know, your grace hath cause, 
and means, and might; 
So hath your highness; never king of England 

, Had nobles richer, and more loyal subjects ; 

i Wliose hearts have left their bodies herein Eng- 

! And lie pavilion'din the fieldsof France, [land. 
Cant. O, let their bodies follow, my dtar 

I liege, [«ight 

With blood, and sword, and fire, to win youi 
In aid whereof, we of the spiritualty 

j Will raise your highness such a mighty sum. 



• Spurious. f Explain. t Make sbowy or specious. § Derived his title. 

y Lay open. ^ At the battle of Cressv. 

2U 



u^^ 



494 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act f 



As never did the clergy at one time 

Hring in to any of your ancestors. [French ; 

K. Hen. We must not only arm to invade the 
But lay down our proportions to defend 
Against the Scot, who will make road upon ub 
With all advantajies. 

Cant. They of those marches*, gracious so- 
Khall be a wall sutlicient to defend [vereign, 
Our inland from the pilfering borderers. 

K. Hen. We do not mean the coursing 
snntchers only, 
But fear the main intendmentt of the Scot, 
VVho hath been still a giddy neighbour to us ; 
For you shall read, that my great grandfather 
Never went with his forces into France, 
But that the Scot on his unfurnish'd kingdom 
Came pouring, like the tide into a breach, 
With aPmple and brim fulness of his force ; 
Galling the gleaned land with hot essays ; 
Gilding with grievous siege, castles and towns; 
That England, being empty of defence, 
Hath shook, and trembled at the ill neighbour- 
hood. [harmM, my lie2;e : 

Cant. She hath been then more fear'dt than 
For hear her but exampled by herself, — 
When all her chivalry hath been in France, 
And she a mourning widow of her nobles, 
She hath herself not only well defended, 
But taken, and impounded as a stray, [France, 
The king of Scwts; whom she did send to 
To till king Edvvai d's fame vvith prisoner kings; 
And make yonr chronicle as rich with praise, 
As is the ooze and bottom of the sea 
With sunken wreck and snmhss treasuries. 

West. But there's a saying, very old and 
true, — 

J/that you trill France win. 
Then with Scotia id first hi gin: 
For once the eagle England beinsiin prey. 
To her ungnard^-d nest (he weasel Scot 
Comes sneaking, and so sucks her princely eggs; 
Playing the mouse, in absence of the cat, 
'J'o spoil and havoc more than she can eat. 

Exe. It follows then, the cat must stay at 
Yet that is but a cursed necessity ; [home : 

Since we have locks to safeguard necessaries. 
And pretty traps to citch the pelty thieves. 
While that the armed hand doth fight abroad, 
The advised head defends itself at home: 
For govt^rnment, though high, and low, and 

lower. 
Tut into parts, doth k^ep in one concent $; 
rungruiniill in a full and natural close, 
liike music. 

Cant. True : therefore doth heaven divide 
The state of man in divers functions, 
S"tting endeavour in continual motion ; 
To which is fixerf, as an aim or butt, 
Obedience: for so work the honey bees; 
Creatures, that, by a rule in nature, teach 
The act of order to a peopled kingdom. 
Th.-y have a king, and officers of sorts*^: 
Where some, like magistrates, correct at home; 
Others, like merchants, venture trade abroad ; 



Others, like soldiers, armed in their stings. 
Make boot upon the summer's velvet buds; 
Which pillage they with merry march bring 
Ty> the tent-royal of their emperor : [home 

Who busied in his majesty, surveys 
The singing masons building roofs of gold ; 
The civil** citizens kneading up the honey; 
The poor mechanic porters crowding in 
Their heavy burdens at his narrow gate ; 
The sad eyed justice, with his surly hum. 
Delivering o'er to executors tt pale 
The lazy yawning drone. I tliis infer, — 
That many things, having full reference 
To one concent, may work contrariously ; 
As many arrows, loosed several ways. 
Fly to one mark ; 

As many several ways meet in one town ; 
As many fresh streams run in one self sea ; 
As many lines close in the dial's centre ; 
So may a thousand actions once afoot 
End in one purpose, and be all well borne 
Without defeat. Theretore to France, my liege. 
Divide your happy England into four ; 
Whereof take you one quarter into France, 
And you withal shall make all Gallia shake. 
If we, with thrice that power left at home. 
Cannot defend our own door from the dog. 
Let us be worried, and our nation lose 
The name of hardiness, and policy. 

K. Hen. Call in the messengers sent from 
the Dauphin. 

[Exit an Attendant. The King as- 
cends his Throne. 
Now are we well resolved: and, — by God'i 

help ; 
And yours, the noble sinews of our power, — 
France bting ours, we'll bend it to our awe. 
Or break it all to pieces : Or theie we'll sit, 
Ruling, in large and ample empery^. 
O'er Prance, and all her almost kindly duke- 
Or lay these bones in an unworthy urn, [doms; 
Tombless, with no rernem' ranee over them; 
Eitherour history shall, with full month. 
Speak freely of our acts ; or else our grave. 
Like Turkish mute, shall have a tongueless 
Not worshipp'd with a waxen egitaph [mouth, 

Eiittr Ambassadors (t/' France. 
Now are we well prepared to know the plea- 
Of our fair cousin Dauphin; for, we hear, [sure 
Your greeting is from him, not from the king. 

Ami). May it please your majesty, to give 
us leave 
Freely to render what we have in charge ; 
Or shall w^e sparingly show you far oft 
The Dauphin's meaning, and our embassy? 

K. Hen^ We are no tyrant, but a Christiaiv 
king ; 
Unto whose grace our passion is as subject. 
As are our wretches fetter'd in our prisons : 
I herefore with frank and with uncurbed plain 
Tell «s the Dauphin's mind. [ness 

Amh. Thus then, in few. 

Your highness, lately sending into France, 
Did claim some certain dukedoms, in the right 



• Tlic borders of England and Scotland. 
j Harmony. jl Agreping. 

TT Execuiionerp, 



+ General disposition. 
f Difier.ui deg. ei «. 

;X Dv'miiiion. 



t Frightened. 
•* Sober, ijr.ive. 



\cf/ic IJ.] 



KING HEINiRY V. 



405 



Of your great predecessor, kbg Edward the 

third. [ma.ster. 

In answer of which claim, the prince onr 
>Says, — that you savour too much of your youth; 
And bids you be advised, there's nought in 

France, 
That can be with a nim'-^lc galliard * won; 
You canudt revel into dukedoms there : 
He therefore sends yon, meeter for your spirit, 
Ihis tun of treasure; and, in lieu of this, 
Desires you let the dukedoms, that you claim. 
Hear no more of you. This the Dauphin 
K. Hen. What treasure, uncle? [speaks, 
Exe. Tennis-balls, my liege. 

K. Hen. We are glad the Dauphin is so 

pleasant with us ; 
Hi? present, and your pains, we thank you for : 
When we have matched our rackets to these 

balls, 
We will, in Fran.ce,by God's grace, play a set, 
Shall strike his father's crown into the hazardf; 
Tell him he hath made a match with such a 

wrangler, 
That all the courts of France will be distnrb'd 
With chacesT. And we understand him well, 
How he comes o'er us with our wilder days, 
Not measuring what use we made of them. 
\\'e never valued this poor se.it^ of England; 
And therefore, living hence 1|, did give ourself 
To barbarous license; as 'tis ever common, 
Ihat men are merriest when they are from 

home. 
But tell the Dauphin I will keep my state, 
Be like a king, and show my sail of greatnt^ss, 
When I do rouse nie in my throne of France : 
For that 1 have laid by my majesty. 
And plodded like a man for working days ; 
But I will rise there with so full a glory. 



That I will dazzle all the eyes of France, 
Yea, strike the Dauphin blind to look on us. 
And tell the pleasant prince, — this mock of his 
Haihturn'd his balls to gun-stones ; and his soul 
Shall stand sore charged for the wasteful ven- 
geance [widows 
That shall fly with them : for many a thousand 
Shall this his mock mock out of thtir dear 
husbands; [down; 
Mock mothers from their sons, mock castles 
And some are yet ungotten, and unborn. 
That shall have cause to curse the Dauphin's 
But this lies all within the will of God, [scorn. 
To whom I do appeal ; and in whose name. 
Tell you the Dauphin,! am coming on, 
To venge me as I may, and to put forth 
My rightful hand in a well-hallowed cause. 
So, get you hence in peace; and tell the Dau- 
His jest will savour but of shallow wit, [phin. 
When thousands weep more than did laugh 

at it.— 
Convey them with safe conduct. — Fare you 
well. [Exeunt Ambassadors. 

Exe. This was a merry message. 

K. Hen. We hope to make the sender 
b I H sh at i t . [ Disce n dsjroni h is Throne, 
Therefore, my loros, omit no happy hour, 
That may vive furtherance to our expedition : 
For wehave nownothought in us but France; 
Save those to Gofi, that run before our business. 
Iherefore, let our proportions tor these wars 
Be soon collected ; and all things thought upon. 
That may, with reasonable swiftness, add 
More feathers to our wings; for, God before. 
We'll chide this Dauphin at his father's door. 
Therefore, let every man now task his thought. 
That this fair action may on foot be brought. 

{Exeunt, 



ACT II. 



Enter Chorus. | 

Chor. Now all the youth of England are on 
And silken dalli mce in the wardrobe lies ; [fire, '' 
Now thrive the armourers, and honoisr's 

thouiiht 
Reigns solely in the breast of every man : 
They sell the pasture now, to buy the horse; 
Following the mirror of all Christian kings. 
With winged heels, as English Mercuries. 
For now sits expectarion in the air; 
And hides a sword, from hilts unto the point, 
With crowns imperial, crowns, and coronets, 
1 romised to Harry, and his ft)llowero. 
The French, advised by good intelligence, 
Of this most dreadful preparation, 
Shake in their fear; and with pale policy 
Seek to divert the English purposes. 
O England!— model to thy inward greatness, 
Like little body with a mighty heart, — [do. 
Wliat might'st thou do, that h'.)ni»ur would thee 
Were all thy children kind and natural! [out 
Bat see thy fault! France hath in thee found 



A nest of hollow bosoms, which he^ fills 
With numerous crowns: and three corrupted 
men, — [cond. 

One, "Richard earl of Cambridge; and the se- 
Henry lord Scroop ofMasham; and the third, 
SirThomasGrey knight of Nortliumberl md,— 
Have, for the gilt** of France, (O guilt mdetd !) 
Confirm'd conspiracy with fearful France; 
And by their hands this grace of kings must 
(If hell an ! treason hold their promises ) [die. 
Ere he take ship for France, and in South- 
ampton. 
Linger your patience on; and well digest, 
The abuse of distance, while we force a play. 
The sum is paid ; the traitors are agreerl ; 
The king is set from London; and the scene 
Is now u-ausported, sientles, to Southampton: 
There is the pi ivhoiise nov/, there must you sit : 
And thence to France shall we convey >ousafe. 
And bring you hack, ch irming the narrow seas 
Jo give you gentle pass ; for. if we may. 
We'll not offend one stomach with our pl?.y. 



An ancient dance. t A place in the tennis-court into which the ball is sometimes struck. 

5 A term at tennis. § The throne. jl Withdrawing from the court. 

U ?.f., The king of France. *'* G.dden mon«y. 



496 



SHAKaPEAllE. 



{Act IL 



But till the k^ng come forth, and not till then, 
Unto Southampton do we shift our scene. 

SCENE I. The same. Eastcheap. 
Enter Nym and Bardolph. 

Bard. Well met, corporal Nym. 

Nym. Good morrow, lieutenant Bardolph. 

Bard. What, are ancient Pistol and you 
friends yet i 

Nym. For my part, I care not: I say little: 
but when time shall serve, there shall be 
smiles ; — but that shall be as it may. I dare 
not fight; but 1 will wink, and hold out mine 
iron: It is a simple one; but what though? 
it will toast cheese; and it will endure cold as 
another man's sword will: and there's the 
humour of it. 

Bard. I will bestow a breakfast, to make 
you friends; and we'll be all three sworn 
brothers to France ; let it be so, good corporal 
Nym. 

Nym. *Faith, 1 will live so long as I may, 
that's the certain of it ; and when 1 cannot live 
any longer, 1 will do as I may; that is my 
rest*, that is the rendezvous of it. 

Bard. It is certain, corporal, that he is mar- 
ried to Nell Quickly: and, certainly, she did 
you wrong; for you were troth-plight to her. 

Nym. I cannot tell; things must be as they 
may : men may sleep, and they may have 
their throats al out them at that time; and, 
some say, knives have edges. It must be as 
it may : though patience be a tired mare, yet 
she will plod. There must be conclusions. 
Well, 1 cannot tell. 

Enter Pistol and Mrs. Quickly. 

Bard. Here comes ancient Pistol, and his 
wife:— good corporal, be patient here. How 
now, mine host Pistol I 

Pist. Base liket, call'st thou me— host? 
Now, tiy this hand I swear, I scorn the term; 
Nor shall my Nell keep lodgers. 

Qiuck. No, by my troth, not long: for we 
c.innot lodge and board a dozen or fourteen 
o:«>ntle\vonien, that live honestly by the prick 
o\ their needks, but it will be thought we 
keep a bawdy-house straight. [Nym draics his 
svard.] O well-a day. Lady, if he henotdrawn 
now! O Lord! here's corporal Nym's — now 
phall we have wiliul adultery and murder 
committed, (."ood lieutenant Bardolph, — good 
corporal, offer nothing here. 

Ayni. Pish! 

Pi'-t. Pi.-h for thee, Iceland dog! thou 
prick-eared cur of Iceland I 

Quick. Good corporal Nym, shovi the va- 
lour of a man, and put up thy sword. 

Nym. Will you shog otf ? I woidfl have you 
sohf.Si [Sheathing Iiis snord. 

Pist. Soltii, egregious dog I O viper vile! 
The solus in thy most marvellous face ; 
The.vr^/'.vin thy teeth, and in thy throat.[perdy 1 : 
And in tliy hateful lungs, ^ea, in thy maw, 



1 And, which is worse, within thy natty month/ 
j I do retort the solus in thy bowels : 
' For I can take, andyPistol's cock is up. 
And flashing fire will follow. 

Num. 1 am not Barbason $ ; yon cannot 
conjure me. I have an humour to knock you 
inditterently well : If you grow foul with me. 
Pistol, I will scour you with my rapier, as 1 
may, in fair terms : if you would walk off, I 
would prick your guts a little, in good terms, as 
I may ; and that's the humour of it. 

Pist. O braggard vile, and damned furious 
wight ! [near ; 

The grave doth gape, and doting death is 
Therefore exhalelj. [Pist. and N y.m. drcnv. 
Bard. Hear me, hear me what I say : — he 
that strikes the first stroke, I'll run him up to 
the hilt«, as I am a soldier. [Dratvs. 

Pist. An oath of mickle might; and fury 
shall abate. 
Give me thy fist, thy fore-foot to me give^ 
Thy spirits are most tall. 

Nym, I will cut thy throat, one time or 
other in fair terms ; that is the humour of it. 
Pist. Coup le gorge, that's tlte word ! — I 
thee defy again. [to get? 

hound of Crete 1I,think'st thou my spouse 
No ; to the spital ** go. 

And from the powdering tub of infamy 
Fetch forth the lazar kite of Cressid's kind+t, 
Doll Tear-sheet she by name, and her espouse ; 

1 have, and I will hold, the qvoiidam +; Quickly 
For the only she ; and — Ptfwc«, there's enough. 

Enter the Boy. 

Boy. Mine host Pistol, you must come to 
my master, — and you, hostess ; — he is very 
sick, and would to bed. — Good Bardolph, put 
thy nose between his sheets, and do the office 
of a warming-pan: 'faith, he's very ill. 

Bard. Away, you rogue. 

Quick. By my troth, he'll yield the crow a 
pudding one of these days: the king has killed 
his heait. — Good husband, come home pre- 
sently. [Exeunt Mrs. Quickly and Boy. 

Bard. Come, shall 1 make you two friends { 
We must to France together; V\ hy, the devil, 
should we keep knives to cut one another's 
throats? 

Pist. Let floods o'erswell, and fiends for 
food howl on ! 

Nym. You'll pay me the eight shillings I 
won of you at betting? 

Pi'^t. Base is the slave that pays. 

Nym. Ihat now I will have; that's the hu- 
mour of it. 

Pist. As manhood shall compound; Pusii 
home. 

Bard. By this sword, he that makes thr 
first thrust, 1*11 kill him ; by this sm ord 1 wiii 

Pist. Sword is an oath, and oaths muit 
have their courte. 

Bard. Corporal Nym, an thou wilt be 
friends, be friends : an thou wilt not, why then 
be enemies with me too. Pr'ylhee, pni up. 



What I am resolved on. t Clown. t Par Dieu! $ Name of a demon. 

jl Breathe your last. ^i Blood hound. ** Hospital. 

ft Of C^ressida's nature ; »ee the play of Troilus and Crc«6idd. ;i Formerly. 



Scene /.j 



KIIVG HENRY V. 



497 



Nijm, I shall have my eight shillings, 1 won 
of you at bettiii'j; i 

Pist. A. noble* shalt thou have, and present 
And li(|ut)r likewise will I give to tliee, [pay ; 
And friendship shall combine, and brother- 
hood : [me ; — 
I'll live by Nym, and Nym shall live by 
is not ifTis just? — tor I shall sutler be 
I n!o the camp, and profits will accrue. 
Give nie thy hand. 

Nym. I shall have my noble? 

Pist. In cash most justly paid. 

Nym. Well, then, that's the humour of it. 
Re-enter Mrs. Quickly. 

Quick. As ever you came of women, come 
in quickly to sir John : Ah, poor heart! he is 
so shaked of a burning quotidian tertian, that 
it is most lamentable to behold. Sweet men, 
come to him. 

Num. The king hath run bad humours en 
the knight, that's the even of it. 

Pist. Nym, thou hast spoke the light; 
His heart is fracied and corroborate. 

Nyj7i. The king is a good king : but it must 
be as it may ; he passes some humours, and 
cr.reers. 

Pist. Let us condole the knight: for, lamb- 
kins, w^e will live. \^Exeunt' 

SCENE II. Southampton. A Council 
Chambei'. 
E'w^er Exeter, Bedford, t^>?c? Westmore- 
land. 
Bed. 'Fore God, his grace is bold to trust 

these traitors. 
Exe. They shall be apprehended by and by. 
West. How smooth and even they do bear 
themselves! 
is if allegiance in their bosoms sat, 
■browned with faith, and constant loyalty. 
Bed. The king hath note of all that they 
intend, 
6y interception which they dream not of. 
Exe. Nay, but the man that was his bed- 
fellow, [favours, — 
Whom he hath cloy'd and graced with princely 
1 hat he should, for a foreign purse, so sell 
Tlis sovereign's life to death and treachery! 
Trumyet sounds. Enter King Henry, 
ScKOOP, Cambridge, Grey, Lords, «wrf 
Attendants. 

K. Hen. Now sits the wind fair, and we will 

aboard. [Masham, — • 

My lord of Cambridge, — and my kind lord of 

And you, my gentle knight, give me your 

thoughts : [us, 

Think you not, that the powers we bear with 
\\ ill cut their paj^sage through the force of 
Doing the execution, and the act, [France; 
For which we have in head + assembled them? 
Scroop. No doubt, my liege, if each man 

do his best. 
K. Hen. I doubt not that : since we are well 
persuaded, 
We carry not a heart with us from hence, 

A coin, value six shillings and eight-pence. 
Reconipeuae. l| Better information. 



That grows not in a fair consent with ours; 
Nor leave not one behind, that doth not wish 
Success and conquest to attend on us. 

Cam. Never was monarch better fear'd, and 
loved, [subject. 

Than is your majesty ; there's not, I think, a 
That sits in heart-grief and uneasiness 
Under the sweet shade of your government. 
Grey. Even those that were your father's 
enemies, [you 

Havesteep'd their galls inhx)ney ; and do serve 
With hearts create; or duty and of zeal. 
K. Hen. We therefore have great cause of 
thankfulness ; 
And shall forget the office of our hand. 
Sooner than quittance § of desert and merit, 
According to the weight and worthiness. 
Scroop. So service shall with steeled sinews 
toil ; 
And labour s-hall refresh itself with hope. 
To do your grace incessant services. 

K. Hen. We judge no less. — Uncle of Exeter, 
Enlarge the man committed yesterday. 
That rail'd against our person : we consider 
It was excess of wine that set him on ; 
And, on his more advice |1, we pardon him. 

Scroop. That's mercy, but too much security : 

Let him be punish'd, sovereign ; lest example 

Breed, by his sutferance, more of such a kind. 

K. Hen. O. let us yet be merciful. 

Cam. So may your highness, and yet pa 

nish too. 
Grey. Sir, you show great mercy, if you 
give him life. 
After the taste of much correction. [of me 
K. Hen. Alas, your too much love and care 
Are heavy orisons IF 'gainst this poor wretch. 
If little faults, proceeding on distemper. 
Shall not be wink'd at, how shall we stretch 
our eye, [digested, 

When capital crimes, chew'd, swallow'd, and 
Appear befojre us? — We'll >et enlarge that 
man, [their dear cnre. 

Though Cambridge, Scroop, and Grey, — in 
And tender preservation of our person, — 
Would have him punish'd. And now to our 

French causes ; 
Who are the late ** commissioners? 

Cjnn. 1 one, my lord ; 
Your highness bade me ask for it to-day. 
Scroop. So did you me, my liege. 
Grey. And me, my royal sovereign. 
K. Hen. Then,Richard, Earlof Cainbridse 
there is yours; — [sir knight, 

There yours, lord Scroop of Ma?ham ; — and. 
Grey of Northumberland, this same is yours : — 
Read them ; and know 1 know your worthi- 
ness.— [ter, — 
My lord of Westmoreland,— and uncle Exe- 
We will aboard to-night. — Why, how now, 

gentlemen? 
What fee you in those papers, that you lose 
So much conjplexion? — look ye, how they 
change! [you there, 

Their cheeks are paper.— Why, what read 



t Force. 
% Prayers. 



X Compounded 
•• Lately appointed 
2 U 3 



498 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act //. 



That hath so cowardcd and chased your blood 
Om oi Hpi-ieaiance? 

Cams I do confess my fault; 

And do s<ibmit me to yonr highness* mercy. 
drey. Scroop, To which we all appeal. 
It. Hen. The mercy, that was quick ♦ in us 

but late, 
By your own counsel is suppress'd and kill'd: 
Yon must not dare, for shame, to talk of mercy ; 
For your own reasons turn into your bosoms, 
As doas upon their masters, worrying them.— 
See you, ni\ princes, and my noble peers. 
These English monsters! My lord of Cam- 

tiridi^e here, — 
You know how apt our love was, to accord 
I'o furnish him with all appertinents 
Beli'n'iing to his honour; and this man 
Hath, tDrafew light crowns, lightly conspired. 
And sworn unto the practices of France, 
To kill IIS here in Hanjpion: to the which, 
Thi« knight, no less for bounty bound to us 
Than Cambridge is,— hath likewise sworn— 

But O! [cruel, 

What shall I say to thee, lord Scroop : thou 
Ingratetul, savage, and inhuman creature! 
Thou, that didst bear the key of all my counsels, 
That knew'st the very bottont of my soul. 
That almost might'st have coin'd meintogold, 
Woiddst Ihon have practised on me for thy use 1 
May it be possible, that foreign hire 
Could o»it of thee extract one spark of evil, 
That might annoy my finger? 'tis so strange. 
That, though the truth of It stands otf as gross 
As black from white,my eye will scarcely seeit. 
Treas<m, and murder, ever kept together, 
Ast-.vo yoke devils sworn to cither's purpose. 
Working so grossly in a natural cause. 
That admiration did not whoop at them : [in 
But thou, 'gainst all proportion, didst bring 
Wonder, to wait on treason, and on murder T 
And whatsoever cunning fiend i* was. 
That wrought upon thee so preposterously, 
H'ath got the voice in hell for excellence: 
And other devils, that suggest hy treasons, 
Do botch and bungle up damnation [fetch'd 
W^it4i patches, colours, and with forms being 
From ulislering semblances of piety; 
Bat he, that temper'd + thee, bade thee stand 

"P, [treason. 

Gave thee no instance why thou shouldst do 
Unless tu dub thee with the name of traitor. 
If thJ4t some divmon, that hath gull'd thee thus, 
Should with his lion gait; walk the whole 

world, 
He might return to vasty Tartar^ back, 
And tell the legions — I can never win 
A soul so easy as that Knglishman's. 
O, how hast thou with jealousy infected 
The sweetr»esR of aflftau'e! Show men dutiful? 
Why, so didst thou : Seem they grave and 

le.Trne<l? [family? 

Why, so didst thon : Come they of noble 
Why, so dicist thou: Seem ti\ey religious? 
\\ hy , so didst ttiou : Or are they spare in diet ; 
Free from gross passion, or of mirth. Granger; 



Constant in spirit, not swerving with,the blood; 
GarnisL'd and decked in modest complement |l; 
Not working with the eye, without the ear. 
And, but in purged judcnlent,tru^ting neither? 
Such, and so finely boltedlF, didst thou seem : 
And thus thy fall hath left a kind of blot, 
To mark the fulNfraught man, and best indued** 
With some suspicion. I will weep for thee ; 
For this revolt of thine, methinks, is like 
Another fall of man. — Their faults are open. 
Arrest them to the answer of the law ; — 
And God acquit them of their practices! 

Exe. I arrest thee of hiuh treason, by the 
name of Richard earl of Cambridge. 

I arrest thee of high treason, by the name 
of Henry loid Scroop of Masham. 

I arrest thee of high treason, by the name of 
Thiimas (^rey, knight of Northumberland. 

Scroop. Our purposes God justly hath di» 
cover'd ; 
And I repent my fault more than my death ; 
V\ hich 1 beseech your highness to forgive, 
Although my body pay the price of it. 

Cain, For me, — the gold of France did not 
Although I did admit it as a motive, [seduce, 
The sooner to effect what I intended : 
But God be thanked for prevention ; 
Which I in sufferance heartily will rejoice. 
Beseeching God, and you, to pardon me. 

Grey. Never did faithful subject more 
rejoice 
At the discovery of most dangerous treason. 
Than I do at this hour joy o'er myself. 
Prevented from a damned enterprise : 
My fault, but not my body, pardon, sovereign. 

K. Hen. God quit you m his mercy! Hear 
your sentence. 
You have conspired against our royal person, 
Join'd with an enemy proclaim'd, and from his 

c(*ffers 
Received the golden earnest of our death ; 
Whereiii you would have sold your king to 

slaughter. 
His princes and his peers to servitude, 
His subjects to oppression and contempt. 
And his whole kingdom unto desolation. 
Touching our person, seek we no revenge; 
But we our kingdom's safety must so tender, 
Whose rnin you three sought, that to her laws 
We do deliver you. Get you, therefore, hence. 
Poor nnserable wretches, to your death: 
The taste whereof, God, of.his mercy, give you 
Patience to endure, and true repentance 
Of all your dear offences I — Bear them hence. 
[E2'eu)it C()nspirators, guarded. 
Now, lords, for France ; the enterprise whereof 
Shall be to you, as us, like glorious. 
"V^'e doubt not of a fare and lucky war; 
Since (iod so graciously hath brought to light 
This dangerous iri'ason, lirking in our way, 
To hinder our beginnings, we doubt not now, 
But every rub is smoothed on our way. 
Then, forth, dear countrymen ; let us deliver 
Cur puissance into the hand of God, 
Putting it straight in expedition 



• Living. 



+ Rendered thee pliable. 
% Accomplishnunt. IT Sifted. 



+ Face. step. 
** Endowed. 



§ Tartaraik 



KIIVG H7:^RY V. 



4S9 



Chcerly to sea ; the signs of war advance : 
>io king of En2;lancl, if not king of France. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III. London. Mrs. Quickly's 

House in Eastcheap. 

Enter Pistol, Mrs. Quickly, Nym, 

B4RuoLPH,awrf Boy. 

Quick. Pr'ythee, honey-sweet husband, let 
me bring* thee to StJiines. 

Pit. No \ for my manly heart doth yearn f. 

Bardoiph, be blithe; — Nym, rouse thy vaunt- 

iiij; veins; [dead, 

Boy, bristle thy courage np ; for Falstaflf he is 

And we must yearn therefore. 

Bard. 'Would, I were with him, where- 
aome'er he is, either in heaven, or in hell! 

Quick Nay, sure, he's not in hell; he is in 
Arthur's bo.^om, if ever man went to Arthur's 
bosom. 'A made a finer end, and went away, 
an it had been any christom j child ; 'a parted 
even jnst between twelve and one, e'en at turn- 
ing ()' the tide : for after I saw him fumble with 
the sheets, and play with flowers, and smile 
upon his fingers' ends, I knew lliere was but 
one way ; for his nose was as sharp as a pen, and 
*a babbled of green fields. How now, sir John? 
quoth 1 : what, tnan ! be of good cheer. So 'a 
cried <nit— God, God, God ! three or four times : 
now I, to comfort him, bid him, 'a should not 
think of God ; I hoped, there was no need to. 
trouble himself with any such thoughts yet: so* 
'a bade me lay more clothes on his feet: I put 
my hand into the bed, and felt tliem, and they 
were as cold as any stone; tiien I felt to his 
'knees, and so upward, and upward, and all was 
as cold as any stone. 

Nyiii. They say, he cried out of sack. 

Quick. Ay, that 'a did 

Bard. And of women. 

Quick. Nay, that 'a did not. 

J5o.v. Yes, that 'a did ; and said, they were 
devils incarnate. 

Quick. 'A could never abide carnation ; 
'twas a colour he never liked. 

Boy. 'A said once, the devil would have him 
about women. 

Quick. 'A did in some sort, indeed, handle 
women: but then he was rheumatic^; and 
talked of the whore of Babylon. 

Boy. Do you not remember, *a saw a flea 
ilick upon Bardolph's nose ; and 'a said, it was 
a black soul burning in hell-fire? 

Bard. Well, the fuel is gone, that maintained 
Uiat fire : that's all the riches I got in his service. 

Nynu {Shall we shog off? the king will be 
gone from Southampton. 

Pi.st, Come, let's away. — My love, give me 
thy lips. 

Look to my chattels, and my moveables: 
Let senses rule ; the word is, Pitch and Pay ; 
Trust none ; [cakes. 

For oaths are straws, men's faiths are wafer- 
And hold-fast is the only dog, my duck; 



Therefore, caieto, be thy counsellor. 
Go, clear thy crystals jj — Yoke-fellows in arms. 
Let us to France! like horse-leeches, my boy«; 
To suck, to suck, the very blood to suck ! 

Boy. And that is but unwholesome food, 
they say. 

Pist. Touch her soft mouth, and march. 

Bard. Farewell, hostess. [Kissi/ig her, 

Nym. I cannot kiss, that is the humour of it ,' 
but adieu. 

Pist. Let housewifery appear; keep closc^ 
I thee command. 

Quick. Farewell ; adieu. \^Exeunt 

SCENE IV. France. ^ i?oom in ^/*€ French 

King's Palace. 
Enter the French King attended; the Dau- 
phin, the Duke of Burgundy, the Con- 
stable, and Others. 

Fr. King. Thus come the English with full 
power upon us; 

And more than carefully it us concerns. 
To answer royally in our defences. 
Therefore the dukes of Berry, and of Bretagne, 
Of Brabant, and of Orleans, shall make forth, — 
And you, prince Dauphin, — with all swift de- 
spatch, 
To line, and new repair, our towns of war, 
With men of courage, and with means de- 
fendant : 
For England his approaches makes as fierce 
As waters to the sucking of a gulf. 
It fits us, then, to be as provident 
As fear may teach us, out of late examples 
Left by the fatal and neglected English 
Upon our fields. 

Dau. My most redoubted father 

It is most meet we arm us 'gainst the foe : 
For peace itself should not so dullll a kingdom, 
(Though war, nor no known quarrel, were in 

question 
But that defences, musters, preparations, 
Should be maintained, assembled, and col- 
As were a war in expectation. [lected. 

Therefore, I say, 'tis meet we all go 1'orlh, 
To view the sick and feeble parts of France : 
And let us do it with no show of fear; [land 
No, with no more, than if we heard that Eng- 
Were busied with a Whitsun morris-dance: 
For, my good liege, she is so idly king'd. 
Her sceptre so fantastically borne 
By a vain, giddy, shallow, humorous youth. 
That fear attends her not. 

Con. O peace, prince Dauphin ! 
You are too much mistaken in this king: 
Question, your grace, the late ambassadors,-* 
With what great state he heard their embassj 
How well supplied with noble counsellors. 
How modest in exception **, and, withal. 
How terrible in constant resolution, — 
And you shall find, his vanities fore-spent +t 
Were but the outside of the Roman Brutus, 
Covering discretion with a coat of folly ; 
As gardeners do with ordure hide those root' 



• Attend. + Grieve. J A child not more than a month old. 

< Mr*. Quickly means lunatic. |1 Dry thy eyes. *([ Render it callous, iusensiUie. 

•♦ In making objections. -It Wasted, exhausted. 



500 



nHAk4r£ARE. 



lActn 



Tliat chall first spring, and be most aei?icaf>> 

Dau. Well, 'tis uot bo, my lord high cou- 
stable, 
But thontjh we think it so, it is no matter: 
In cases of defence, 'tis best to weigh 
riie enemy more miohty than he seems. 
So the proportions of defence are fili'd ; 
Wliich, of a weak and niggardly projection, 
Doth, like a miser, spoil his coat with scanting 
A little cloth. 

Fr, Kijig, Think we Kin? Harry strong ; 
4jid, princes, look, you strongly arm to meet 

him. 
The kindred of him hath been flesh'd wpon us ; 
And he is bred out of that bloody strain*. 
That haunted us in our familiar paths : 
Witness our too much memorable sliame, 
When Cressy battle fatally was struck. 
And all our princes captived, by the hand 
Of that black name, Edward black prince of 
Wales; [standing, 

Whiles that his mountain sire, — on mountaiu 
Up in the air, crown'd with the golden sun, — 
Saw his heroical seed, and smiled to see him 
Mangle the work of nature, and deface 
The patterns that by God and by French fathers 
Had twenty years been made. This is a stem 
Of that victorious stock ; and let us fear 
The native mightiness and fate of him. 
Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. Ambassadors from Henry King of 
England 
Do crave admittance to your majesty. 

Fr, King, We'll give them present au- 
dience. Go, and bring them. 

[Exeunt Mess, ajid certain Lords. 
Yoa see, this chase is hotly follow'd, friends. 

J)au. Turn head, and stop pursuit: for 
coward dogs [to threaten, 

Most spend their mouths, when what they seem 
Runs far before them. Good my sovereign, 
Take up the English short ; and let them know 
Of what a monarchy you are the head; 
Self love, my liege, is not so vile a sin 
As self-neglecting. 
Be-cnter Lords, with Exetek a)td Train. 

Fr. King. From our brother England ? 

JKze. From him ; and thus he greets your 
majesty. 
He wills you, in the name of God Almighty, 
That you divest yourself, and lay apart 
The borrow'd glories, that, by gift of heaven. 
By law of nature, and of nations, 'long 
To him, and to his heirs ; namely, the crown, 
And all wide-stretched honours that pertain. 
By custom and the ordinance of times, [know. 
Unto the crown of Franco. That you may 
Tis no sinister, nor no awkward claim, 
I'ick'd from the worm-holes of long-vanish'd 
Nor from the dust of old oblivion raked, [days. 
He sends you this most memorable line, 

\Giies a yaier. 
1b every branch truly demonstrative; 

• Ldne&se. 



Willing you, overlook this pedigree : 
And, whc^ you find him evenly derived 
From his most famed of famous ancestors, 
Edward the Third, he bids you then resign 
Your crown and kingdom, indirectly held 
From him the native and true challenger. 

Fr, King. Or else what follows? f crown 

Exe. Bloody constraint ; for if you hide the 
Even in your hearts, there will he rake for it: 
And therefore in fierce tempest is he coming, 
In thunder, and in earthquake, like a Jove ; 
(That, if requiring fail, he will compel;) 
And bids you, in the bowels of the Lord, 
Deliver up the crown; and lo take mercy 
On the poor souls, for whom this hungry wai 
Opens his vasty jaws : and on your head 
Turns he the widows' feaxs, the orphans* cries, 
The dead men's blood, the pining maidens' 

groans. 
For husbands, fathers, and betrothed lovers, 
That shall be swallow'd in this controversy. 
This is his claim, his threat'ning, and my mes- 
Unless the Dauphin be in presence here, [sage; 
To whom expressly I bring greeting too. 

Fr. K. For us, we will consider of this fnr* 
To-morrow shall you bear our full intent [ther: 
Back to our brother England. 

Dau. For the Dauphin, 

1 stand here for him; What to him from Eng- 
land? [contempt. 

Exe. Scorn, and defiance ; slight regard. 
And any thing that may net misbecome 
The niighty sender, doth he prize you at. 
Thus says my king: and, if your father's high- 
Do not, in grant of all den»ands at large, [ness 
Sweeten the bitter mock you sent his majesty. 
He'll call you to so hot an answer for it. 
That caves and wonjby vaultages of France 
Shall chide t your trespass, and return your 
In second accent of his ordnance. [mock 

Dau. Say, it my father render fair reply. 
It is against my will : for I desire 
Nothing but odds with England ; to that end. 
As matching to his youth and vanity, 
I did present him with those Paris balls, [it, 

Exe. He'll make your Paris Louvre shake for 
Were it the mistress court of mighty Europe: 
And, be assured, you'll find a ditt'erencc, 
(As we, his subjects, have in wonder found). 
Between the promise of his gaeener days. 
And these he masters now; now he weighs time. 
Even to the utmost grain ; which you shall read 
In your own losses, if he stay in France. 

Fr* King. To-morrow shall you know our 
mind at full. [king 

Exe. Despatch us with all speed, lest thatoui 
Come here himself to question our delay ; 
For he is foottd in this land already. 

Fr. Kifig. You shall be soon despatch'd, with 
fair conditions : 
A night is but suiall breath, and little pause. 
To answer matters of this cousequtiice. 

[Exeunt 

\ Re«onnd, echo. 



I 
I 



I 
1 



I 



KIXG HKNRY V. 



501 



ACT IIL 



Enter Chorus. 
Cho, Thns, with imagit>cd wing, our gwift 
scene flies. 
In motion of no less celerity [seen 

Than tliat of tlionght. Suppose, that you have 
The weil-appoiute<l king at Hampton pier 
Enibark his royalty ; and his brave fleet [ning. 
A\ ith silken streamers the youiig Phoebus fan- 
IMay with your fancies ; and in them behold, 
Upon the hempen tackle, ship-boys climbiug: 
Hear the shriji whistle, wliich doth order give 
To sounds confused : behold thethreaden sails, 
I'oine with the invisible and creeping wind. 
Draw the huge bottoms through the furrow'd 
Breasting the lofty surge : O, do but think, [sea, 
You stand upon the rivaze*, and behold 
A city on the inconstant billows dancing ; 
Pi>r to appears this fleet majestical, low! 

Holding due course to Harfleur. Follow, fol- 
Grnpple your minds to sternagefof this navy ; 
And leave your England as dead midnight 
still, ~ [men, 

Guarded with grandsires, babies, and old wo- 
Either past, or not arrived to, pith and puis- 
sance : 
For who is he, whose chin is but enrich*d 
With one appearmg hair, that will not follow 
These cnli'd and choice-drawn cavaliers to 
France? [a siege: 

Work, woik, your thoughts, and therein see 
Behold the ordnance on their carriages, 
\V ith fatal mouths gaping on girded Harflear. 
Suppose, the ambassador from the French 

comes back ; 
Tells H nrry— that the king doth oflFer him 
Katharine his daughter; and with her, to dowry, 
Some petty and unprofitable dukedoms. 
The offer likes not ; and the nimble gunner 
With linstock % now the devilish cannon 
touches, [Alarum; and chambers^ go off , 
And down goes all before them. Still be kind. 
And eke out our performance vvith your mind. 

[EiiC. 

SCENE I. The same. Before Harfleur. 
Alarums, Enter Kinir Henrt, Exeter, 

Bkuford, Gloster, and Sohliers, with 

Scaling Ladders. 

K. Hen. Once more unto fhe breach, dear 
friends, once more; 
Or close the wall up with our English dead I 
Id pe tce, there's nothing so becomes a man, 
As modest stillness, and humility: 
But when the blast of war blows in our ears. 
Then imitate the action of the tiger; 
Stiffen the sinews, summon up the blood, 
Disguise fair nature with hard-favour'd rage : 
Then lend the eye a terrible aspect ; 
Let it pry through the portage of the head, [it. 
Like the brass cannon ; let the brow o'er whelm 



As fearfully, as doth a galled rock 
O'trhand and juity j] his confounded IT bate, 
Swill'd with the wild and wasteful ocean. 
Tvow set the teeth, and stretch the nostril wide; 
Hold hard the breath, and bend up every spirit 
To his full height! — On, on, you noblest 

English, 
Whose blood is fet** from fathers of war-proof f 
Fathers, that like so many Alexanders, 
Have, in these parts, tVom morn till even 

fought, [ment-tt; 

And sheaih'd their swords for lack of argu- 
Dishonour not your mothers ; now attest. 
That those, whom you call'd fathers, did beget 
Be copy now io men of grosser blood, [you I 
And teach them how to war! — And you, good 

y eon) en, [here 

W^hose limbs were made in England, show os 
The mettle of your pasture ; let us swear 
That you are worth your breeding : which I 

doubt not ; 
For there is none of you so mean and base, 
That hath not noble lustre in your eyes. 
I see you rtand like greyhounds in the slips, 
Straining upon the start. The game's afoot; 
Follow your spirit : and, upon this charge, 
Cry — God for Harry ! England ! and Saint 

George! [Exeunt. Alarum, and 

Chambers go off. 

SCENE II. The same. 
Forces pass over ; then enter Nym, Bar- 
DOLPH, Pistol, and Boy. 
Bard. On, on, on, on, on ! to the breach, to 
the breach! 

2SJi/m. 'Pray thee, corporal, stay ; the knocks 
are too hot ; and, for mine own part, I have 
not a case of lives : the humour of it is too hot, 
that is the very plain-song of it. 

Pist. The plain song is most just; for hu- 
mours do abound ; [die ; 
Knocks go and come ; God's vassals drop and 
And sword and shield. 
In bloody field, 
Doth win immortal fame. 
Boy. 'Would I were in an alehouse in Lon- 
don ! I would give all my fame for a pot of 
ale, and safety. 
Pist. And I : 

If wishes would prevail with me, 
My purpose should not fail with mc, 
Bat thither would I hie. 
Boy. As duly, but not as truly, as bird doth 
sing on bough. 

E>iter Fluellen. 
Flu. Got's blood!— Up to the preaches, you 
rascalil will you not up to the preaches? 

[Driving them forward. 
Pist. Be merciful, great duke;+, to men of 
mould }^ I 



• Bank or shore. 
tiring cannon, 
tncnl of the ide. 



t Sterns of the ships." 
$ Small pieces of ordnance. 
% Worn, wasted. 
IX Commander. 



X The staff which holds the match nsed ia 
|l A mole to withstand the encToach- 
•• Fetched. tt Matter, eohjcct, 

^\ Eartb. 



602 



SHAKSPE4RE. 



[Aet III 



Abate thy rage, abate thy manly rage ! 
Abate thy rage, great duke ! [chuck I 

Good bawcock, bate thy rage ! use lenity , sweet 

Nym. These be good humours! — your ho- 
nour wins bad humours. 

[Ejceunt Nym, Pistol, and Bar- 
DOLPH, follaued by Fluellen. 

Boy. As young as I am, 1 have observed 
t])ese three swashers. 1 am boy to them all 
three: but all they three, though they would 
serve me, could not be man to me ; for, in- 
deed, three such antics do not amount to a 
man. ForBardolph, — he is white-livered, and 
red-faced ; by the means whereof, 'a faces it 
out, but fights not. For Pistol, — he hath a 
killing toui^ue, and a quiet sword; by the 
means whereof, 'a breaks words, and keeps 
whole weapons. For Nym, — he hath heard, 
that men of few words are the best* men ; and 
therefore he scorns to say his prayer^, lest 'a 
should be thought a coward: but his few bad 
words are match'd with as few good deeds ; 
for 'a never broke any man's head but his own, 
and that was against a post, when he was 
drunk. They will steal any thing, and call it 
— purchase. Bardolph stole a luie-case; bore 
it twelve leagues, and sold it for three half- 
pence. Nym, and Bardolph, are sworn bro- 
thers in filching; and in Calais they stole a 
fire-shovel : I knew, by that piece of service, 
the men would carry coals t. They would 
have me as familiar with men's pockets, as 
their gloves or their handkerchiefs : which 
makes much against my manhood, if I should 
take from another's pocket, to put into mine ; 
for it is plain pocketing up of wrongs. I must 
leave them, and seek some better service : 
their villany goes against my weak stomach, 
and therefore I must cast it up. [E2:it Boy. 

Re-enter Fluellen, Gow er following. 

Gow. Captain Fluellen, you must come pre- 
sently to the mines; the duke of Gioster would 
speak with you. 

Flu. To the mines ! tell you fhe duke, it is 
not so good to come to the mines: For, look 
you, the mines is not according to the disci- 
plines of the war ; the concavities of it is not 
sufhcient: for, look you, th' athversary (you 
may discuss unto the duke, look you,) is dight + 
hinjself four yards under the countermines : 
by Cheshu, I think, 'a will plowj up all, if 
there is not better directions. 

Goiv. The duke of Gioster, to whom the 
order of the siege is given, is altogether di- 
rected by an Irishman; a very valiant gentle- 
man, i'faith. 

Flu, It is captain Macmorris, is it not? 

Gow. I think it be. 

Flu. By Cheshu, he is an ass, as in the 
'orld : I will verify as much in his peard : he 
has no more directions in the true disciplines 
of the wars, look you, of the Roman disciplines, 
than is a puppy-dog. 
^Vi^er Macmorris and Jamy, at a distance. 

Goto. Here 'a comes ; and the Scots captain, 
captain Jamy, with him. 



Flu. CapAain Jamy is a marvellous faloroQS 
gentleman, that is certain; and of great expe- 
dition, and knowledge, in the ancient wars, 
upon my particular knowledge ot his direc- \ 
lions ; by Cheshu, he will maintain his argu- 
ment, as well as any military man in the *orld, 
in the disciplines of the pristine wars of the 
Romins. 

Jamy. I say, gud-day, captain Fluellrn. 

Flu. God-den lo your worship, goot cap. 
tain Jamy. 

Gow. iiow, now, captain Macmorris? have 
you quit the mines? have the pioneers given 
o'er ? #■ 

Mac. By Chrish la,tish ill done : the w^ovk 
ish give over, the trumpet sound the retreat. 
By my hand, 1 swear, and by my father's soul, 
the work ish ill done; it ish give over: 1 
Nvould have bio wed up the town, so Chrish save 
me, la, in an hour. O, tish ill done, tish ill 
done; by my hand, tish ill done! 

Flu. Captain Macmorris, I pcseech you 
now, will you vouchsafe me, look you, a few 
disputations with you, as partly touching or 
concerning the disciplines of the war, the Ro- 
man wars, in the way of argument, look you, 
and friendly communication ; partly, to satisfy 
my opinion, and partly, tor the satisfaction, 
look you, of my mind, as touching the direc 
lion of the military discipline ; that is the 
point. 

Jamy. It sail be very gud, gud feith, gud 
captains bath: and I sail quit|| you with giicl 
leve.asl may pick occasion; that sail I, marry 

Mac. It is no time to discourse, so Chrish 
save me, the day is hot, and the weather, and 
the wars, and the king, and the dukes ; it is no 
time to discourse. The town is beseechnd, 
and the trumpet calls us to the breach ; and we 
talk, and, by Chrish, do nothing ; 'tis shamo 
for us all: so God sa' me, 'tis shame to stand 
still ; it is shame, by my hand : and there is 
throats to be cut, and works to be done; at.d 
there ish nothing done, so Chrish sa' me, la. 
■ Jamy. By the mess, ere theise eyes of mine 
take themselves to slumber, aile do yude st i- 
vioe, or aile ligge i' the grnnd for it; ay, or 
go to death ; and aile pay it as valorously as I . 
may, that sail I surely do, that is the bretfaud 
the long: Marry, I wad full fain heard souie 
question 'tween you 'tway 

FL%i. Captain Macmorris, I think, look you, 
under your correction, there is not many of 
your nation 

Mac. Of my nation ? What ish my nation ? 
ish a villain, and a bastard, and a knave, and a 
rascal? V\ hat ish my nation? Who talks of 
my nation? 

FLu. Look you, if you take the matter 
othcrvtise than is meant, captain Macmorris, 
peradventure, I shall think you do not use me 
with thataifjbility as in discretion you ought 
to use me, look you ; being as goot a man as 
yourself, both in the disciplines of wars, and 
in the derivation of my birth, and in other 
particularities. 



• Bravast. 



t Pocket affronts. 



Digt^ed.' 



$ Blow. 



[1 Requite, answer 



Sce7ie IL] 



KING HENRY V. 



503 



Mac. I do not know you so good a man as 
myself: so Chrish save me,l will cut ofi your 
head. 

Cow. Gentlemen both, you will mistakeeach 
other. 

Jamy. Au ! that's a foul fault. 

{A Farley sounded. 

Gow. The town sounds a parley. 

Flu. Captain Mac morris, when there is 
more better oppoitunity to be required, look 
you, I will be so bold as to tell you 1 know 
the disciplines of war ; and there is an end. 

^ [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. The same. Before the gates 

of Harfleur. 
The Governor a7id some Citizens on the 
Walls ; the Enclish Forces below. Enter 
King Henry and his Train. 
K. Hen. How yet resolves the governor 
of the town? 
This is the latest parle we will admit: 
Therefore, to our be^t mercy give yourselves ; 
Or, like to men proud of destruction, 
Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a soldier, 
(A name that, in my thoughts, becomes me 
If I begin the battery once again, [best,) 

I will not leave the half-acliieved Harfleur, 
Till in her ashes she lie buried. 
The gates of mercy shall be all shut up; 
And the flesh'd soldier,— rough and hard of 
In liberty of bloody hand, shall range [heart, — 
With conscience wide as hell ; mowing like 
grass [lants. 

Yonr fresh-fair virgins, and your flowering in- 
What is it then tome, if impious war, — 
Array'd in flames, like to the prince of fiends, — 
Do, with [lis smirch'd* complexion, all felU 
Enlink'd to waste and desolation? [feats 

What is't to me, when you yourselves are 
If your pure maidens fall into the hand [cause. 
Of hot and forcing violation ? 
What rein can hold licentious wickedness, 
When down the hill he holds his fierce career? 
We may as bootless J spend our vain command 
Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil. 
As send precepts to the leviathan [fleur, 

To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Har- 
Take pity of your town and of your people. 
Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command ; 
Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of 

grace 
O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds 
Of deadly murder, spoil, and vilhiny. 
If not, why, in a moment look to see 
^he blind and bloody soldier with foul hand 
Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking d.aigh- 
Your fathers t-iken by the silver beards, [ters, 
And their most reverend heads dash'd to the 

walls : 
Your naked infants spitted upon pikes; 
Whiles the mad mothers with their howls con- 
fused 
Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry 
At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. 
What say you? will you yield, and this avoid? 



Or, guilt}" in defence, be thus destroyed t 

Gov. Onr expectation hath this day an end: 
The Dauphin, whom of succour we eutre^ited, 
Returns us —that his p<>weis are not yet remly 
io raise so great a siege. Therefore, di ead 

king. 
We yield our tow^n, and lives to thy sott mercy : 
Enter our gates ; dispose of us, and ours ; 
For we no longer are deiensibie. [Ex ter, 

K. Hen. Open your gates. — Come, uncle 
Go you and enter Harfleur; there remain. 
And fortity it strongly 'gainst the French: 
Use meicy to them all. For us dear uncle, — 
The winter coming on, and sickness growing 
Upon our soldiers,— we'll retire to Calais. 
To night in Harfleur will we be your guest;. 
Tomorrow for the march are weaddresi^. 

Flourish. The King, d^Cy enter tne Ton •< . 
SCENE IV. Roiien. A Room in the P alar u 
Enter Katherine and Alice. 

Kath. Alice, tu as esli en Angleterre^ et 
tu paries bien le langiiage. 

Alice Un feu, madame. 

Kath. Je te prie, m'enscigneiiz; il faut 
quej'apprenne a parler. Comment apptl- 
lez vous la main, en Anglois? 

Alice. La main? elle est a<pellee, de hand. 

Kath. De hand. Et les doigts? 

Alice. Les doigfs? may foy, je oublie les 
doigts; mais je me souiAendray. Lesdoits? 
je pense, qu'ils sont appellee de fingres; 
ouy, de fingres. 

Kath. La main, de hand ; les doigts, de 
fingres. Je pense, que jesuis le bon tscoiier. 
J'ay gagne deux mots d'A/iglvis vistement. 
Commtjit. appellez vous les ojigles? 

Alice. Les oiisles? les appelLons,^e.\\9\\^. 

Kutk. De nails. Escoutez; dites moy, si 
je parle bien: de hand, de fingres; de nails. 

Alice. C'est bien dit, madame ; il est fort 
bon jinglois. 

Kath. Dites moy en Anglois, le bras. 

Alice. De arm, madame. 

Kath. Et le coude. 

Alice. De elbow. 

Kath. 13 e elbow. Je m'enfaitz la repe- 
tition de tons les mots, que vous mavez 
appris des a present. 

Alice. II est trop difficile, mad ame.comme 
je pense. 

Kath. Excvsez moy, Alice; e^coutez: Dc 
hand, de fingre, de nails, de arm, de bilbow. 

Alice. De elbow, madame. 

Kath. O Seigneur Dieu! je m'en oublie; 
De elbow. Comment appellez vous le col? 

Alice. De neck, madame. 

Kaili. De neck : Et le menton ? 

Alice. De chin. 

Kath. De sin. Le col, de neck : le menton, 
de sin. 

Alice. Ouy. Sanf vo^tre honneur; en 
verite, vous prononces les mots aussi draict 
que les natifs d' Angle t err e. 

Kath. Je ne doute point d'apprendre par 
la grace de Dieu ; et enpeu de te7nps. 



Soiled. 



t Cruel. 



X Without success. 



Prepared. 



504 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act lit .1 



Alice. N*avez lous pas deja oublie ce que 
•evous ay enseignie? 

Kath. -V()«, je reciferay (l voux prompte- 
tnent. De hand, de fiiigre, de maih,— • 

Alice. De nails, madiuiie. 

Kath. De nails, de arme, de ilbow. 

Alice. tSauJ voHre. /io;me/^r, deelbow. 

Kath. Ainsidisje; de elbow, de neck, et 
de sin : Comment appellez vous le pieds et 
la robel 

Alice. De foot, madame; et de con. 

Kath. De foot, et de con? O Seigneur 
Dieu! ces sont mots de son mauvais, cor- 
ruptible, grosse, et impudique, et non pour 
le.s dames d'lionneur d'user: Je ne voudrois 
prononcer ces mots devant les Seigneurs de 
France, pour tout le monde. 11 faut de 
foot, 4 de con, ncant mains. Je reciterai 
une autre Jois ma legon ensemble: De hand, 
de fingre, de nails, de arm, de elbow, de neck, 
de sin, de foot, de con. 

Alice. Excellent, madame! 

Kath. C'est assez pour vjie fois ; allons 
nous a disner. [Exeunt. 

8GENE V. The same. Another Room in 

the same. 
Enter the French King, the Dauphin, Duke 

o/BouRBoN, the Constable o/" France, and 

Others. 

Fr. King. 'Tis certain, he hath passed the 
river Some. 

Con. A::difhe be not fought withal, my lord. 
Let us not live in France; let us quit all, 
And give our vineyards to a barbarous people. 

Dau. O Uituvlvant! shall a few sprays of 
The emptjing of our fathers* luxury* [us,— 
Our scions, put in wild and savage stock, 
Spirt up so suddenly into the clouds. 
And overlook their grafters? [man bastards! 

/Jour, Normans, but bastard Normans, Nor 
Mart de ma vie! if they march along 
Unfoaghi withal, but I will sell my duktdom. 
To buy a slobbery and a dirty farm 
In that Dook-shottent isle of Albion. 

Con. Dieu de battailes! where have they 
this mettle? 
Is not their climate f^egy, raw, and dull ? 
On whom, as in despite, the sun looks pale, 
Killing their fruit with frowns? Can sodden 
water, [broih, 

A drench for sur reined J jades, their bariey 
Decoct their cold blood to such valiant heat? 
And shall our qiiick blood, spirited with wine, 
Seem frosty? 0,for honour of our land, 
Let U8 not hang like ropirjg icicles [people 
Upon our houses' thitch, whiles a more frosty 
Sweat drops of gallant youth in our rich fields ; 
Poor — we may call them, in their native lords. 

Dau. By faith and honour, 
Our madams mock at us; and plainly say, 
O'jr mettle is bred out ; and they will give 
Their bodies to the lu§t of English youth, 
X new store France with bastard warriors. 



Bour. They bid us — to the English dano* 
ing-schools. 
And teach lavoltas$ high, and swift corantos , 
Saying, our grace is only in our heels. 
And that we are most lofty runaways. 

Fr. King. Where is Montj6y, the herald? 
speed him hence; [ance.— 

Let him greet England with our sharp defi* 
Up, princes; and, with spirit of honour edged, 
More sharper than your swords, hie to the field i 
Charles De-la-bret, high constable of France; 
You dukes of Orleans, Bourbon, and of Berry, 
Alen9on, Brabai>t, Bar, and Burgundy; 
Jaqoes Chatillion, Rambures, Vaudemont, 
Beaumont, Grandpre, Rou8si,and Fauconberg, 
Foix, Lestrale, Boueiqnalt, and Charolois; 
High dukes, great princes, barons, lords, and 
knights, [shames. 

For yout great seats, now quit you of great 
Bar Harry England, that sweeps througli our 
land [fleur : 

With pennons 11 painted in the blood of Har 
Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow 
Upon the valleys J whose low vassal seat 
The Alps doth spit and void his rheum upon; 
Go down upon him, you have power enough. 
And in a captive chariot, into Roiien 
Bring him our prisoner. 

Con. This becomes the great. 

Sorry am I his numbers are so few, 
His soldiers sick, and famish'd in tkeir march j 
For, 1 am sure, when he shall see our army. 
He'll drop his heart into the sink of fear. 
And, for achievement, otter us his ransome. 

Fr. King. Therefore, lord constable, baste 
on Montjoy: 
And let him say to England, that we send 
To know what willing ransome he will give. 
PrinceDanphiii,you shall stay withusiiiRouea 

Vau. Not so, I do beseech your majesty. 

Fr. King. Be patient, for you shall remain 
with ns. 
Now, forth, lord constable, and princes all; 
And quickly bring us word of England's fall. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE VI. The English Camp in Picardy. 
Enter Gower and Fldellen. 

Gow. How now, captain Fiuellen ? come yon 
from the bridge? 

Flu. 1 assure you, there is very excellent 
service committed at the pridge. 

Goiv. Is the duke of Exeter safe? 

Flu. The duke of Exeter is as magnanimous 
as Agamemnon ; and a man that 1 love and 
honour with my soul, and my heart, and my 
duty, and my life, and my livings, and my ut- 
termost powers* : he is not (God be praised, 
and plessed!) any hurt in the 'orld; but keeps 
the pridge must valiantly, with excellent dis- 
ciplme. There is an ensign there at the 
pridge,-' I think, in my very conscience, he is 
as valiant as Mark Antony ; and he is a man 



• Lwt. 



t Projected. % Over-strained. 

|{ Pendants, small flags. 



$ Dances. 



Xceuc rj.] 



KING HENRY V. 



605 



of no estimation in the 'odd : but I did see 
him do gallant service. 

Gow. What do you call him? 

/"Zm. He is called — ancient Pistol. 

Gviv. 1 know him not. 

Enter Pistol. 

Flu, Do you not know himt Here comes 
the man. 

Pist. Captain, I thee beseech to do me fa- 
vours: Thednkeof Exeter doth love thee well. 

Flu. Ay, 1 praise Got; and 1 have merited 
some love at his hrinds. 

Pint. Bardolph, a soldier, firm and sound 
of heart, 
Of buxom valour*, hath, — by cruel fate, 
And giddy fortune's furious fickle wheel. 
That goddess blind, 
That stands upon the rolling restle?s stone. — 

Fhi. By your patience, ancient Pistol. 
Fortune is painted plind, with a muffler t be- 
fore her eyes, to signify to you that fortune is 
plind : And she is painted also with a wheel, 
to signify to you, which is the moral of it, that 
she is turning, and inconstant, and variations, 
and mutabilities : and her foot, look you, is 
fixed upon a spherical stone, which roils, and 
rolls, and rolls :— In good truth, the poet is 
make a most excellent description of fortune : 
fortune, look you, is an excellent moral. 

Pist Fortune is Bardolph's foe, and frowns 
on him; 
For he hath j^tol'n a 'pix, and hanged must *a be. 
A damned death ! 

Let gallows gape for dog, let man go free. 
And let not hemp his wind-pipe sutfocate: 
But Exeter hatii given the doom of death, 
For pixX of little price. [voice ; 

Therefore, go speak, the duke will hear thy 
And let not Bardolph's vital thread be cut 
With edge of penny cord, and vile reproach : 
Speak, captain, for his life, and I will thee 
requite. 

Flu. Ancient Pistol,! do partly understand 
your meaning. 

Pist, Why then rejoice therefore. 

Flu, Certainly, ancient, it is not a thing to 
rejoice at: for if, look you, he were my bro- 
ther, I would desire the duke to use his good 
pleasure, and put him to executions; for dis- 
ciplines ought to be used. 

Pist, Die and be damned ; and figo^ for 

Flu. It is well. [thy friendship ! 

Pist, The fig of Spain! [tixit 1*istol. 

Flu. Very good. 

Gotv, W hy, t!)is is an arrant counterfeit ras- 
cal; I remember him now ; a bawd ; acutpurse. 

Flu, Pll assure you, 'a uttered as prave 
ords at the pridge, as you shall see in a sum- 
mer's day: Bur it is very well; w^at he has 
spoke to me, that is well, 1 warrant you, when 
time is serve. 

Gow, Why, 'tis a gull, a fool, a rogue; that 
now and then goes to the wars, te grace him- 



self, at his return into London, under the form 
of a soldier. And such fellow5 are perfect in 
great commanders* names : and they will learn 
you by rote, where services wore done ; — at 
such and such a sconce 1|, at such a breach, at 
such a convoy; who came ott bravely, who 
wag shot, who disgraced, what terms the 
enemy stood on; and this they con perfectly 
in the phrase of war, ^^ hich they trick up with 
new-tuned oaths: And what a beird of ihe ge- 
neral's cut, and a hoi rid suit of the camp, will 
do among foaming bottles, and ale-wnshed 
wits, is wonderful to be thought on! but you 
must learn to know such slanders of the age, 
cr else you may be marvellous mistook. 

Flu, 1 tell you what, captain Gower ; — I 
do perceive, he is not the man that he would 
gladly make show to the 'orld he is ; if 1 find 
a hole in his coat, I will tell him my mind. 
[Drum heard.'] Hark you, the king is com- 
ing ; and 1 must speak with him from the 
pridge. 
ie//.'^/KingHENRY,GL0STER, «7?d Soldiers. 

Flu. Got pless your juajt-sty ! 

K. Hen. How now, Fluellen? camest thou 
from the bridge? 

Flu. Ay, so please your majesty. The duke 
of Exeter has very gallantly maintained the 
pridge : the French is gone ofi", look you ; 
and there is gallant and most prave passages : 
Marry, th'athversary was have possession of 
the pridge; but he is enforced lo retire, and 
the duke of Exeter is master of the pridge: I 
can tell your majesty, the duke is a prave 
man. 

K. Hen. What men have you lost, Fluellen ? 

Flu, The perdition of th'athversary hath 
been very grcrit, very reasonable gnat : marry, 
for my part, I think the duke hath lost never 
a man, but one that is like to be executed for 
robbing a church, one Bardolph, if your ma- 
jesty know the man: his face is all bubukles, 
and whelks, and knob?, and flame.s of fire; 
and his lips plows at his nose, and it is like a 
coal of fire, sometimes plue, and sometimes 
red ^ but his nose is executed, and his fii c's out. 

K. Hen. We would have all such oifenders 
so cut off: — and we give express charge, that 
in our marches through the country, there be 
nothing compelled from the villriges, nothing 
taken but paid for; none of the French up- 
braided, or abused in disdainful language : For 
when lenity and cruelty play for a kingdom, 
the gentler gamester is the soonest winner. 
Tucket sounds. Enter Mont joy. 

Mont. You know me by my habit 1'. 

K. Hen. Well then, I Vnovv thee; What 
shall I know of thee? 

Mont. My master's mind, 

K. Hen. Unfold it. 

Mont. Thus says my king: Say thou to 
Harry of England, Though we seemed dead, 
we did but sleep : Advantage is a better soldier 



• Valour under good command. t A fold of linen which partially covered the face. 

A §mall box in w hich were kept the consecrated wafers. § An allusion to the custom itt 

Spain and Italy of giving poisoned figs. 1| An entrenchment hastily thrown up. 

IF i. €., By his herald's coat. 

2 X 



50a 



SHAKSPEAUE. 



Art III 



than rashness. Tell him, we could have re- 
buked him at Harfleur; but that we thought 
not good to bruise an injuiy, till it were full 
ripe :~now we speak upon our cue *, and onr 
^oice is imperial: England shall repent his 
folly, see his weakness, and admire our suf- 
ferance. Bid him, therefore, consider of his 
ransome ; which mast proporti(Ui the losses 
we have borne, the subjects we have lost, the 
disgrace we have digested ; m hich, in weight 
to re-answer, his pettiness would bow under. 
For our losses, his exchequer is too poor ; for 
the ettusiun of our blood, the muster of his 
kingdom too faint a number ; and for our dis- 
grace, his own person, kneeling at our feet, 
but a weak and worthless satisfaction. To 
this add — defiance : and tell him, for conclu- 
sion, he hath betrayed his followers, whose 
condemnation is pronounced. So far my king 
and master ; so much my office. 

JC. Hen, \\ hat is thy name? I know thy 
Mont. Montjoy. [quality. 

A, Hen. 1 hou dost thy office fairly. Turn 

thee b.^ck, 
And tell thy king, — I do not seek him now ; 
But could be willing to j)iarch on to Calais 
Without impeach mentt : for, to say the sooth, 
(Though 'tis no wisdom to confess so much 
Unto an enemy of craft and vantage,) 
My people are with sickness much enfeebled; 
My numbers lessen'd ; and those few 1 have, 
Almost no better than so many French ; 
Who when they were in health, I tell thee, 

herald, 
I thought, upon one pair of English legs 
Did march three Frenchmen. — Yet, forgive 

me, God, 
That I do brag thus ! — this your air of France 
Hath blown that vice in me ; 1 must repent. 
Go, therefore, tell thy master, here 1 am ; 
AJy ransome, is this frail and worthless trunk ; 
"My army, but a weak and sickly guard ; 
Yet, Go I before i, tell him we will cv)me on, 
ThoutjU Fiance himself, and such another 

neighbour, [Montjoy. 

Stand in our way. There's for thy labour. 
Go, bid thy master well advise himself: 
If we may pass, we will ; if we be hindered. 
We shall your tawny ground with your red 

blood 
Discolour : and so, Montjoy, fare you well. 
The sum of all our answer is but this : 
We would not seek a battle, as we are ; 
^'or, as we are, we say, we will not shun it ; 
So tell your master. 
Mont. I shall deliver so. Thanks to your 

highness. [Ex/t Montj(»y. 

Glo. 1 hope they will not come upon us now. 
X. Hen. VV'e are in God's hand, brother, not 

in tlieirs. 
March to the bridge; it now draws toward 

Right : — 
Beyond the river we'll encamp ourselves ; 
And on to-morrow bid them march away. 

[Exeunt. 



SCENE VII. The French Camp, near 

Agincourt. 
Enter the Constable of France, the Lord 

Rambukes, tlie Duke o/ Orleans, Dauphin, 

and Others. 

Con. Tut! I have the best armour of the 
world. — 'Would it were day ! 

•Orl. You have an excellent armour; but 
let my horse have his due. 

Con. It is the best horse of Europe. 

Ort. Will it never be morning? 

Dau, My lord of Orleans, and my lord High. 
Constable, you tdlk of horse and armour, — 

Orl. You are as well provided of both, as 
any prince in the world. 

Dau. What a long night is this ! 1 will 

not change my horse with any that treads but 
on four pasterns. Ca, ha! He bounds from 
the earth, as if hjs entrails were hairs $; le 
cheval volant, the Pegasus, qui a le.i nu'rines 
defeii! When I bestride him, I soar, I am a 
hawk : he trots the air ; the earth sings when 
he t«mches it ; the basest harn of his hoof is 
more musical than the pipe of Hermes. 

Orl. He's of the colour of the nutmeg. 

Dau. And of the heat of tiie ginger. It is 
a beast for Perseus : he is pure air and fire ; 
and the dull elements of eat th and water never 
appear in him, but only in patient stillness, 
while his rider mounts him : he is, indeed, a 
horse ; and all other jades you may cnll^ 
beasts. 

Oon. Indeed, my lord, it is a most absolute 
and excellent horse. 

Dcin. It is the prince of palfreys ; his neigh 
is like the bidding ot a monarch, and his coun- 
tenance enforces homage. 

Orl. No more, cousin. 

JJau. Nay, the man hath no wit, that can 
not, from the rising of the lark to the lodging 
of the lamb, vary deserved praise on my pal- 
frey : it is a theme as fluent as the sea ; turn 
the sands into eloquent tongues, and my horse 
is argimient for tliem all: 'tis a subject for a 
sovereign to reason on, and for a sovereign's 
sovereign to ride on ; and for the world (fa- 
miliar to us, and unknown) to lay apart their 
particular functions, and wonder at him. I 
once writ a sonnet in his praise, and began 
thus : f'Vonr/er oj nature, — 

Orl. I have heard a sonnet begin so to one's 
mistres*. 

Dau. Then did they imitate that which I 
composed to my couiser; for my horse is my 
mistress-. 

Orl. Your mistress bears well. 

Da^f. Me well ; which is the prescript praise 
and perfection of a good and particular mis- 
tress. 

Con. Ma f<y! the other day, methought 
your mistress shrewdly shook your back. 

Dau. So, perhaps, did yours. 

Con. Mine was not bridled. 

Dau. 1 then, belike, she was old and 



In onr tnrn. t Hinderance. J Then osed " for God being my guide.** 

^ Alluding to the bounding of tennis balls, which were glutted with hair. 



Sixne VI J.] 



KING HENHY V. 



507 



gentle ; and you rado, like a Kerne * of Ire- 
i;ind, your French hose off, and in your strait 
trossers f . 

Con. You have good judgment in horse- 
manship. 

Dau. Be warned by me then : they that 
rifle so, and ride not warily, fall into foul bogs ; 
I 'had rather have my horse to my mistress. 
Con. I had as lief have my mistress a jade. 
Dau. I tell thee, Constable, my mistress 
wears her own hair. 

Con. I could make as true a boast as that, if 
1 nad a sow to my mistress. 

Dau. Le cliien est retourne a so7i propre 
vo7nissement,et la truie laiee au bourbier : 
thou makest use of any thing. 
Con. Yet do I not use my horse for my 
, mistress ; or any such proverb, so little kin to 
the purpose. 
Ram. My lord Constable, the armour that 
\ I saw in your tent to-night, are those stars, or 
suns, upon if? 
Con. Stars, my lord. 
I Dau, Some of them will fall to-morrow, 1 
i hope. 

Cow, And yet my sky shall not want. 
Dau. That may be, for you bear a many 
I snperlluously ; and 'twere more honour some 
I were away. 

Con. Even as your horse bears your praises ; 
who would trot as well, were some of your 
( brags dismounted. 

il Dau. 'Would I were able to load him with 

his desert i Will it never be day? I will trot 

to-morrow a mile, and my way shall be paved 

with English faces. 

Con. 1 will not say so, for fear I should be 

I faced out of my way : But I would it were 

morning, for I would fain be about the ears of 

, the English. 

1^ Ram. Who will go to hazard with me for 
I twenty English prisoners? 
I Con. You must first go yourself to hazard, 
I: ere you have them. 

|i Dau. 'Tis midnight, I'll go arm myself. 
, !' [Exit. 

Orl. The Daupliin longs for morning. 
Ram. He longs to eat the English. 
Con. I think he will eat all he kiHs. 
Orl. By the white hand of my lady, he's a 
gallant prince. 
Con. Swear by her foot, that she may tread 
Ij OBt the oath. 

Orl. He is, simply, the most active gentle- 
man of France. 

Con. Doing is activity: and he will still be 
doing. 
1 Orl. He never did harm, that I heard of. 
Con. Nor will do none to-morrow ; he will 
keep that good name still. 

Orl. I know him to be valiant. 
Con. 1 was told that, by one that knows 
^im better than yon. 



Orl. What's he? 

Con. Marry, he told me so himself ; and he 
said, he cared not who knew it. 

Orl. He needs not, it is no hidden virtue in 
him. 

Con. By my faith, sir, but it is ; never any 
body saw it, but his lackey : 'tis a hooded 
valour; and, when it appears, it wul bate j. 
Orl. \\\ will never said well. 
Con. I will cap that proverb with — There i» 
flattery in friendship. 

Orl. And I will tekke up that with — Give 
the devil his due. 

Con. Well placed : there stands your friend 
for the devil; have at the very eye of that 
proverb, with — A pox of the devil. 

Orl. Yon are the better at proverbs, by how 
much — A fool's bolt is soon shot. 
Con. You have shot over. 
Orl. 'Tig not the first time you were over- 
shot. 

Enter a Messenger. 
Mess. My lord High Constable, the English 
lie within fifteen hundred paces of your tenu 
Con. Who hath measured the ground? 
Mess. The lord Grandpre. 
Con. A valiant and most expert gentleman . — 
Would it were day! — Alas, poor Harry of 
England !— he longs not for the dawning, as 
we do. 

Orl. What a wretched and peevish § fellow 
is this king of England, to mope with his 
fat-brained followers so far out of his know- 
ledge I 

Con. If the English had any apprehension, 
they would run away. 

Orl. That they lack; for if their heads had 
any intellectual armour, they could never 
wear such heavy head-pieces. 

Ram. That island of England breeds very 
valiant creatures ; their mastiffs are of un- 
matchable courage. 

Orl. Foolish curs ! that run winking into 
the mouth of a Russian bear, and have their 
heads crushed like rotten apples: You may as 
well say, — that's a valiant fiea, that dare ea^ 
his breakfast on the lip of a lion. 

Con. Just, juit; and the men do sympathize 
with the mastiffs, in robustious and rough 
coming on, leaving their wits with their wives: 
and then give them great meals of beef, and 
iron and steel, they will eat like wolves, And 
fight like devils. 

Orl. Ay, but these English are shrewdly 
out of beef. 

Con. Then we shall find to-morrow — they 
have only stomachs to eat, and none to figiu. 
Now is it time to arm: Come, shall we about 
it? 

Orl. It is now two o'clock: but, let me 
«ee, — by ten. 
We shall have each an hundred Englishmen. 

[Kieuuf, 



Soldier. t Trowsers. + An equivoque in terms in falconry : he meaus, 

iiis valour is hid from every body but his lackey, and when it appears it will fall o\u 

j Foolish. 



508 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IT 



ACT IV. 



.Enter Chorvs. 

Cho, Now .entertain conjecture of a tinie, 

When creeping murnuir, and the poring dark, 

Fills the wide vessel of the universe. 

Vrom camp to camp, through the foul womb 

of ni::ht, 
Tlie hum of either army stilly * sounds. 
That the fixM sentinels almost receive 
The secret whispers of each other's watch : 
Fire answer? fire ; and through their paly flames 
Each battle sees the other's umber'd t face : 
Steed threatens steed, in hi^h and boastful 

neighs 
Piercing the night*s dull ear ; and from the tents, 
The armourers, accomplishing the knights. 
With busy hammers closing rivets up. 
Give dre tdful note cf preparation. 
Ihe country cocks do crow, the clocks do toll. 
And the third hour of drowsy morning name. 
Proud of their numbers, and secure in soul. 
The confident and over-lusty j French 
Do the low-rated English play at dice; 
And chide the cripple t«rdy gaited night, 
Who, like a foul and ugiy witch, doth limp 
So tediously away. The poor condemned 

English, 
Like sacrifices, by their watchful fires 
Sit patiently, and inly ruminate 
The n)orninu*s danger; and their gesture sad, 
Investing lank-lean cheeks, and war-worncoats, 
Presenteth them unto the gazing moon 
So many horrid ghosts. O, now, who will 

behold 
The royal captain of this ruined band. 
Walking from watch to watch, from tent to 

tent, 
Let him cry — Praise and glory on his head 1 
For forth he goes, and visits all liis host; 
Bids them good-morrow, with a modest emile; 
And calls them — brothers, friends, and coun- 
trymen. 
Upon his royal face there is no note, 
How drendan army hath enronnded liim; 
Nor doth he dedicate one >ot of colour 
Unto the weary and all-watched night: 
But freshly looks, and over bears attaint 
With cheerful semblance, and sweet ma- 
jesty ; 
That every wretch, pining and pale before. 
Beholding him, plucks comfort from his looks: 
A largess universal, like the sun. 
His liberal eye doth give to every one, 
Thawing cold fear. Then, mean and gentle all. 
Behold, as may unworihiness define, 
A Ritle touch of Harry in the night : 
And so our scene must to the battle fly ; 
Where (O for pity !) we shall much disgrace, 
With four or five most vile and ragged foils 
Right ill, disposed, in brawl ridiculous. 



The name of Agincourt : Yet sit and «ee ; 

Minding 5 true things, by what their mockeriei 

be. [Exit 

SCENE I. The English Cam]) at Agincourt 

Enter King Henry, Bedford, aiid 

Gloster. 

K, Hen* Gloster, 'tis true that we are in 
great danger; 
The greater therefore should our courage be.— 
Good morrow, brother Bedford. — God Al- 
mighty ! 
There is some soul of goodness in things evil. 
Would men observingly distil it out; 
For our bad neighbour make? us early stirrers, 
Which is both healthful, and good husbandry; 
Besides, they are our outward consciences. 
And preachers to us all; admonishing, 
That we should dress us fairly for our end. 
Thus may we gather honey from the weed, 
And make a moral of the devil himself. 

Enter Erpingham. 
Good morrow, old sir Thomas Erpingham: 
A good soft pillow for that i^ood white head 
Were better than a churlish turf of France. 

Ery, Not so, my liege; this lodging like* 
me better. 
Since I mny say — now lie ? like a king. 

K. Hen. 'Tis good for men to love their 
present pains, ' 

Upon example ; so the spirit is eased : 
And, w hen the mind is quicken'd, out of doubt 
The organs, though defunct and dead before. 
Break up theirdrowsy grave, and newly n ove 
With casted slough || and fresh legerity IT. [both. 
Lend me thy cloak, sir Thomas. — Brothers 
Commend me to the princes in our camp ; 
Do my good-morrow to them ; and, anon. 
Desire them all to my pavilion. 

Glo. We shall, my liege. 

[Exeunt Gloster ^n<? Bedford, 

Erp. Shall I attend your grace? 

K. H(n. No, my good knight; 

Go w ith my brothers to my lords of England : 
1 and my bosom must debate a while. 
And then I would no other company. 

El J). The Lord in heaven bless thee, noble 
Harry! [Zs'ai^ Krping ham, 

K. Hen, God-a-mercy, old heart 1 tfco* 
speakest cheerfully. 

Enter Pistol. 

Pist. Qui I a Idf 

K. Hen. A friend. 

Pist. Discuss unto me; Art thou oficer; 
Or art thou base, common, and popul.-i.'? 

K, Hen. T am a gentleman of a company 

Pist. Trailest thou the puissant pikeV 

K. Hen. Even so: Whatar-^jcn? 

Piit. As good a gcnikmau as che empero* 



• Gently, lowly. f Discoloured by the gleam of the fires. J Ore*--^jrucy. 

$ Calling to remembrance. || Slough is the skin which 6er|>entr anorcUiji' ih.ow off. 

\ LightneM, nioiblvue**. 



iSVewe /.] 



KING HENRY V. 



509 



K, Hen. Then you are a better than the 
king. [gold, 

Pist. The king's a bawcock, and a heart of 
A lad of life, an imp * of fame ; 
Of parents good, of fist most valiant: 
1 kiss his dirty shoe, and from my heart-strings 
I love the lovely bully. What's thy name t 

K. Hen. Harry le Roy. 

Pist. Le Roy! a Cornish name: art tbou 
of Cornish crew ? 

K. Hen. No, 1 am a Welshman. 

Pist. Knowest thou Flaellen? 

K. Hen. Yes. 

Pist.^ Tell him, I'll knock his leek about his 
Upon Saint Davy's Day. [pate, 

K. Hen. Do not you wear your dazger in 
your cap that day, lest he knock that about 
yours. 

Pist. Art thou his friend ? 

K. Hen. And his kinsman too. 

Pist. The/igo for thee then ! 

K. Hen. I ihank you: (lod be with you! 

Pist. My name is Pistol called. [Exit. 

K. Hen. It sortst well with your fierceness. 
JE'//?fr Flu ELLEN and Gower, severally. 

Gow. Captain Fluellen I 

Flu. So ! in the name of Cheshu Christ, 
speak lower. It is the greatest admiration in 
the universal 'orld, when the true and auncient 
prerogatifes and laws of the wars is not kept: 
if you would take the pains but to examine the 
wars of Pompey the Great, you shall find, I 
warrant you, that there is no tiddle taddle, or 
pibble pabble, in Pompey's camp; 1 warrant 
you, you shall find the ceremonies of the wars, 
and the cares of it, and the forms of it, and the 
sobriety of it, and the modesty of it, to be 
otherwise. 

Gow. Why, the enemy is loud ; you heard 
him all night. 

Flu. If the enemy is an ass and a fool, and 
a prating coxcomb, is it meet, think you, that 
we should also, look you, be an ass, and a 
fool, and a prating coxcomb; in your own 
conscience now i 

Goiv. I will speak lower. 

Flu. I pray yt)u, and beseech you, that you 
will. [Exeunt Gowkr a7id Fluellen. 

K. Hen. Though it appear a little out of 

fashion, [man. 

There is much care and valour in this Welsh- 

Eiiter Bates, Court, and Williams. 

Court. Brother John Bates, is not that the 
morning which breaks yonder? 

Bates. I think it be : but we have no great 
cause to desire the approach of day. 

Will. We see yonder the beginning of the 
day, but, I think, we shall never see the end 
of it.— Who goes there? 

K. Hen. A friend. 

Vtill. Under what captain serve you? 

K. Hen. Under sir Thomas Erpingham. 

Will. A good old commander, and a most 
kittd gentleman ; I pray you, what thinks he 
of our estate ? 



K. Hen. Even as men wrecked upon a 
sand, that look to be was-lied otf the next tide. 

Bates. He hath not told his thou-hi to the 
king! 

A. Hen. No ; nor it i-s not meet he should. 
For, though I speak it to you, I think the 
king is but a mm, as I am : the violent smells 
to him, as it doth to me; the element sliows 
to him, as it doth to me; all his senses have 
but human conditions;; : his ceremonies laid 
by, in his nakedness he appears but a man; 
and though his alfeclions are higher mounted 
than ours, yet, when they stoop, ihey stoop 
with the like wing ; therefore when he sees 
reason of fears, as we do, his feat s, out of 
doubt, be of the same relish as ours are : Yet, 
in reason, no man should possess him with any 
appearance of fear, lest he, by showing it, 
should dishearten his army. 

Bates. He may show what outward courage 
he will: but, 1 believe, as cold a night as 'tis, 
he could wish himself in the Thames up to the 
neck; and so I would he were, and 1 by him, 
at all adventures, so we were quit here. 

K. Hen. By my troth. I will speak my con- 
science of the king ; I think he would not ^vish 
himself any where but where he is. 

Bates. Then, would he were here alone; 
so should he be sure to be ransomed, and a 
many poor men's lives saved. 

K. Hen. I dare say you love him not so ill, 
to wish him here alone ; howsoeVer, you speak 
this, to feel other men's minds: Methinks, I 
could not die any where so contented, as in the 
king's company ; his cause being just, and his 
quarrel honourable. 

Will. Thai's more than we know. 

Bates. Ay, or more than we should seek 
after; for we know enough, if we know we 
are the king's subjects; if his cause be wrong, 
our obedience to the king wipes the crime of 
it out of us. 

Will. But, if ihe cause be not good, the king 
himself hath a heavy reckoning to make; when 
all those legs, and arms, and heads, chopped off 
in a battle, shall join together at the latter day j, 
and cry all — We died at such a place; some, 
swearinv;; some, crying for a surt^eon ; some, 
upon their wives left poor behind tliem ; s*me, 
upon the debts they owe ; some, u[)t)n their 
children rawly || left. I am afeard there are 
few die well, that die in battle ; for how can 
they charitably dispose of any thing, when 
blood is their argument? ^ow. if these men 
do not die well, it will be a black matter for 
the king that led them to it ; whom to disobey, 
were against all proportion of subjection. 

K. Hen. So, if a son, that is by his father 
sent about merchandise, do sinfully miscarry 
upon the sea, the imputation of his wickedness, 
by your rule, should be imposed upon his father 
that sent him : or if a servant, under his master's 
command, transporting a sum of money, be 
assailed by robbers, and die in many irrecon- 
ciled iniquities, you may call the J)us.'nessof th 



• Son. + Agrees. 

$ The ia>t day, the day of judgment. 



J Qualities. 

II Suddenly. 



510 



SHAKSPPiARE. 



[Act JV 



master the author of the servant's damnation: — 
But this is not so: the king is not bound to an- 
swer the particular endings of his soldiers, the 
fa! her of his son, nor the master of his servant ; 
for tb^y purpose not their death, when they pur- 
pose th^'ir services. Besides, tiieie is no king, be 
iiis cause never so spotless, if it come to the ar- 
biirement of swords, can try it out with all un- 
spotted soldiers. Some, peradventure, have 
on them the guilt of premeditated and con- 
trived murder ; some, of beguiling virgins with 
the broken seals of perjury ; some, making the 
wars their bulwark, that have before gored the 
gentle bosom of peace with pillage and robbery. 
Now, if these men have defeated the law, and 
outrun native punishment*, though they can 
outstrip men, they have no wings to fly from 
God : war is his beadle, war is his vengeance ; 
so that here men are punished for before-breach 
of the king's laws, in now the king's quarrel : 
where they feared the death, they have borne 
life away ; and where they would be safe, they 
perish : 1 hen if they die unprovided, no more 
is the king guilty of their danmation, than he 
was b. fore guilty of those impieties for the 
which they are now visited. Every subject's 
duly is the king's; but every subject's soul is 
liis own. Therefore should every soldier in the 
wars do as every sick man in his bed, wash 
every mole out of his conscience : and dying 
so, death is to him advantage ; or not dying, the 
time was blessedly lost, wherein such prepara- 
tion was gained : and, in him that escapes, it 
were not sin to think, that making God so free 
an orter, he let him outlive that day to see his 
greatness, and to teach others how they should 
prepare. 

Will. 'Tis certain, every man that dies ill, 
the ill is upon his own head, the king is not to 
answer for it. 

ButCs. I do not desire he should answer for 
me ; and yet I determine to fight lustily for him. 

K. Hen, I myself heard the king say, he 
would not be ransomed. 

Will. Ay , he said so, to make us fight cheer- 
fully : but, when our throats are cut, he may be 
ransonied, and we ne'er the wiser. 

K. Hen. If I live to see it, I will never trust 
his word after. 

Will. 'Mass, you'll payt him, then ! That's a 
perilous shot out of an elder gun, that a poor 
and private displeasure can do against a mo- 
narch! you may as well go about to turn the 
t-un to ice, with fanning in his face witl. a pea- 
cock's feather. You'll never trust his word 
after! come, 'tis a foolish saying. 

K. Hi.n. Your reproof is something loo 
round t; I should be angry with you, if the 
time were conv«'nient. 

Will, Let it be a quarrel between us, if you 
live. 

K. TTen. 1 embrace it. 

Will. How shall I know thee again?. 

K, Hen. Give me any gage of thine, and 1 



will wear it in ray bonnet : then, if ever thou 
darest acknowledge it, I will make it my 
quarrel. 

Will, Here's my glove ; give me auotber of e 
thine. 

K. Hen. There. 

Will. This will I also wear in my cap: if 
ever thou come to me and say, after to-morrow. 
This is my glove, by this hand, 1 wUi take tnee 
a box on the ear. 

K. Hen. If ever I live to see it, I will dial, 
lenge it. 

Will. Thou darest as well be hanged. < 

K. Hen. Well, 1 will do it, though I take J 
thee in the king's company. ^ 

Will. Keep thy word : fare thee well. 

Bates. Be friends, you English fools, be \ 
friends ; we have French quarrels enough, if I 
you could tell how to reckon. 

K.Hen. Indeed, the French may lay twenty f 
French crowns to one they will beat us ; for 
thej^ bear them on their shoulders: But it is 
no English treason to cut French crowns ; and, 
to-morrow, the king himself will be a clipper. 
{^Exeunt Soldiers. 
Upon the king! let us our lives, our souls. 
Our debts, our careful wives, our children, and 
Our sins, lay on the king;— we must bear all. 
O hard condition! twin born with greatness. 
Subjected to the breath of every fool. 
Whose sense no more can feel but his own 

wringing! 
What infinite heart's ease must kings neglect. 
That private men enjoy? [too. 

And what have kings, that privates have not 
Save ceremony, save general ceremony? 
And what art tlioii, thou idol ceremony ? 
What kind of god art thou, that sutier'st more 
Of mortal griefs, than do thy worshippers? 
What are thy rents? what are thy comings in? 
O ceremony, show me but thy worth! 
What is the soul of adoration 5? 
Art thou aught else but place, decree, and form, \ 
Creating awe and fear in other men? 
W^herein thou art less happy being fear'd 
Than they in fearing. [sweet, 

\N hat drink'st thou oft, instead of homage 
But poison'd flattery \ O, be sick, great great* 
And bid thy ceremony give thee cure! [ness 
Think'st thou, the fiery ifever will go out 
With titles blown from adulation? 
Will it give place to flexure and low bending? 
Canst thou, when thou command'stthe beggar's 
knee, [dream. 

Command the health of it? No, thou proud 
That play'st so subtly with a king's repose; 
lam a king that find thee; and 1 know, 
•Tis not tlie halm, the sceptre, and the ball, 
Tlie sword, the mace, the crown imperial. 
The intertissued robe of gold and pearl, 
The farced || title running 'fore the king. 
The throne he sits on, nor the tide of pomp 
That beats upon the high shore of this world. 
No, not all these, thrice-gorgeous ceremony. 



11 



• '. e.y Punishment in their native country. + To pay, here si'itiifies, to hrlu'^ to acount 

o piiinh''. I loo nmgh. '> *' Wbat «s tbe real w<>nli nnd intrinsic vhIim o( adoration f* 

ii F.:rcod is stufled. The tumi<l p'lily liti s with whuli a kinj^A u iiue i.- inliod ice<i. 



Scene I.] 



KING HEJDtrRY V. 



511 



Not all these, laid in bed majestical, 

Can sleep so soundly as the wretched slave ; 

ho, with a body tillM, and vacaat mind, 
Gets him to rest, cramm'd with distressful 

bread ; 
Never sees horrid night, the child of hell ; 
But, like a lackey, from the rise to set, 
Sweats in the eye of Phoebus, and all night 
Sleeps in Elysium ; next day, after dawn. 
Doth rise, and help Hyperion* to his horse ; 
And follows so the ever-running year 
With protiiable Ubour to his grave: 
And, but for ceremony, such a wretch, [sleep. 
Winding up days with toil, and nights with 
Had the foie-hand and vantage of a king. 
The slave, a member of the country's peace. 
Enjoys it ; but in iiioss biain little wots, 
What watch the king keeps to maintain the 

peace, 
Whose hours the peasant best advantages. 

Enttr EiiPiNGHAM. 
' Erp. My lord, your nobles, jealous of your 

absence, 
Seek tiiroiigh your camp to find you. 

K. Hen. Good old knight. 

Collect them all together at my tent: 
I'll be before thee. 

E jt. 1 shall do*t, ray lord. \^Exit. 

K, Hen, O God of battles ! sieel my sol- 
diers* hearts ! [now 
Possess them not with fear: take from them 
The sense of reckoning, ir the opposed numbers 
Pluck their hearts from tlieni ! — Not to-day, 

not to-day, think not upon the f'.uit [O Lord, 
My father made in compassing the crown! 

1 Kicliard's body have interred new: 

And on it have bestowM more contrite tears, 
Than from it issued forced drops of blood. 
Five hundred poor I have in yearly pay, 
Who twice a day their wither'd hands hold 
"P [built 

Towaid heaven, to pardon blood ; and I have 
Two chantries, where ihe sad and solemn priests 
Sing still for Richard's soul. More will I do : 
Though all that I can do is nothing worth ; 
Since that my penitence comes alter all. 
Imploring parclon. 

Eiirer Gloster. 

Glo. My liege! 

K. Hen. My brother Gloster's voice? — Ay; 
I know thy errand, I will go with thee : 
The day, my friends, and all things stay for 
me. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. The French Camp, 
Enter Dauphin, Ori-eans, RAMBURES,«yi^ 
Others, 
Orl. The sun doth gild our armour; up, my 
lords. [lacquay! ha ; 

Dau. Montez a cheral ;— My horse ! valet! 
Orl. (> brave spirit! 

Daiu Via t/ — les eaux et la terre 

Orl. Rlenpnis? I'air et le feu 

Dau. del! cousin Orleans. 



Enter Co'xstable. 
Now, my lord Constable ! [vice neigh. 

CoJi, Hark, how our steeds for present ser* 
Dau. Mount them, and make incision in 

their hides; 
That their hot blood may spin in English eyes. 
And doutj them with superfluous courage x 

Ha! [horses' blood? 

Ram. What, will you have them weep our 

How shall we then behold their natural tears? 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. The English are embattled, yo i 

French peers. [to horse ! 

Con. To horse, you gallant princes! straight 
Do but behold yon poor and starved band. 
And your fair show shall suck away their souls. 
Leaving them but the shales and husks of men. 
There is not work enough for all our hands; 
Scarce blood enough in all their sickly veins. 
To give each naked curile-axe a stain. 
That our French gallants shall to-day draw out. 
And sheath for lack of sport : let us but blow 

on them. 
The vapour of our valour will o'ertnrn them. 
'Tis positive 'gainst all excej lions, lords, 
1 hat our superfluous lackeys, and our peasants. 
Who, in unnecessary action, swarm 
About our squares of battle, — were enough 
To purge this field of such a hilding^^ loe ; 
Thoiigl) we, upon this mountain's basis by. 
Took stand for idle speculation : 
But that our honours must not. What's to say? 
A very little little let us do, 
And all is done. Then let the trumpets sound 
The tucket-soi)uance H, and the note io mount: 
For our approach shall so much dare the field. 
That England shall couch down in tear, and 

yield. 

E ter Grandpre. 
Grand. Why do you stay so long, my lords 

of France? 
Yon island carrions, desperate of their bones, 
lll-favoar'dly bt.*come the morning field : 
Their ragged curtains H poorly are let loose. 
And our air shakes then) passing scorntuily. 
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggai'd 

host, 
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps. 
Their horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks, 
With torch-staves in their hand: and their 

poor jades [hips; 

Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and 
The gum down-roping from their pale dead 

eyes; [bit 

And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal »* 
Lies foul with ehew'd grass, still and motion- 
less ; 
And their executors, the knavish crows. 
Fly o'er them all, impatient for their hour. 
Description cannot suit itself in words. 
To demonstrate the life ot such a battle 
In life so lifeless as it chows itself. 
Con. They have said their prayers, and they 

stay for death. 



• The 8UD. t An old encouraging exclamation. J Do them oitt, extinguish them. 

$ Mean, despicable. || The name of an introductory nourish on the trumpet. 

IT Cofouig. ♦• King. 



512 



SUAKSPEABK. 



[Act JV 



Pau. 8hall we go send them dinners, and 
fresh suits, 
Aud give their fasting horses provender, 
And after figlit w.th them l [field : 

{'oh. 1 stay but f.or my guard; On, to the 
I will the banner trom a truniptt take. 
And use it for my haste. Come, come avv'ay ! 
the sun is high, aud we outwear the day.- 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III. The English Camp, 
Enter the English Host ; Glostkr, Bed- 
ford, ExETKR, Salisbury, a/^d West- 

MORELANU. 

Gio, Where is the king? 

Bed. The king himself js rode to view their 
battle. [score thousand. 

West. Of fighting men fhey have full three- 

Exe. There's live to one ; besides, they all 
are fresh. [fnl odds. 

SaL Ood's arm strike with us! 'tis a fear- 
God be wi' you, princes all ; Pll to my charge . 
If we no more nuet, till we meet in heaven, 
Then, joyfully, my noble lord of Bedford, — 
My dear lord Gloster, — and my good lord 

Exeter,— 
And my kind kinsman, — warriors all, adieu ! 

Bed, Farewell, good Salisbury ; and good 
luck go with thee! [to-<lay : 

Exe. Farewell, kind lord; fight valiantly 
And yet I do thee wrong, to mind thee of it. 
For thou art framed of the firm truth of va- 
lour. [Exit Salisbury. 

Bed. He is as full of valour as of kindness ; 
Princely in both. 

West* that we now had here 

Enter King Henry. 

But one ten thousand of those men in Eng- 

That do no wtuk to-day ! [land, 

K. Hen, What's he, that wishes so i 

My cousm Westjnoreland ?— I^o, my fair cou- 
If we are mark'd to die, we are enough [sin : 
To do our country loss ; and if to live, 
The fewer men the greater share of honour. 
God's will ! 1 pray thee, wish not one man 

more. 
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold ; 
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost ; 
It yearns* me not, if men my garments wear; 
Such outward things dwell not in my desires : 
But, if it be a sin to covet honour, 
I am the most otfemling soul alive. 
No 'faiih, my coz, wish not a man from Eng- 
land ; [honoui-, 
God's peace! I would not lose so great an 
As one man more, methinks, would share 
from me, [one more : 
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish 
Rather pr«)clairii it, Westmoreland, throu'j,h 

my host, 
Thai he which hath no stomach to this fight, 
Let him depart I his passport shall be made, 
And crowns for convoy put into his purse : 
We would not die in that man's company, 
That fears his fellowship to <lie with us. 



This day is calfd — the fea?t of Crispian ; 
H e that outlives this day, and comes safe home. 
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is named. 
And rouse him at the name of Crispian. 
He that shall live this day, and see old age. 
Will yearly on the vigil feast his friends. 
And say — to-morrow is Saint C'rispian : 
Then will he strip his sleeve, and show his scars. 
And say, these wounds I had on Crispiii'sday. 
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot, 
But he*ll remember, with adv ntages, 
What feats he did that day : Then shall our 

names, 
Familiar in their mouths as household words,— 
Harry the king. Bedford, and Exeter, 
Wai-wick and Talbot,Salisbury and Gloster, — 
Be in theirflowiiig cups freshly remember'd: 
This story shall the good man leach his son ; 
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by. 
From this day to the ending of the world. 
But we in it shall be remembered : 
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers ; 
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me. 
Shall be my brother; belie ne'er so vile. 
This day shall gentle his condition t: 
And gentlemen in England, now a-bed. 
Shall think themselves accursed they ^^ere 

not here ; [speaks. 

And hold their manhoods cheap, wdiile any 

ihat fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day. 

Enter Salisbury. 

Sal. My sovereign lord, best.-w yourself 

with speed : 
The French are bravely J in their battles set. 
And will with all expedience § charge on us. 
K.Hen. All things are ready, If our mind» 

be so. [ward now! 

West. Perish the man, whose mind is back- 
K. Hen. Thou dost not wish more help from 

England, cousin '? [1 alone, 

We^'t God's will, my liege, 'would you and 
Without more help, ndght fight this battle out I 
K. Hen. Why, now thou hast unwish'd five 

thousand nun; 
Which likes me better, than to wish us one. — 
You know your places : God be with you all 

Tavktt. Enter Montjoy. ' 

Mont. Once more 1 come to know of thee, 

king Harry, 
If for thy ransome thou wilt now compound. 
Before thy most assured overthrow : 
For, certainly, thou art so near the gulf. 
Thou needs must be euglutted. Besides, in 

mercy. 
The Constable desires thee — thou wilt mindjj 
Thy followers of repentance; that their souls 
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire 
From otf these fields, where (wretches) their 
Must lie and fester. [poor bodies 

K. Hen. Who hath sent thee now? 

Mont. The Constable of France. [back; 
K. Hen. I pray thee, bear my former answer 
Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones. 
Good God ! why should they mock poor fel- 
lows thus l 



• Grieves. + i. f^^, Thi.< day pball advance him to the rank of a gentleman. 

t Gallantly. j Expedition. [j Remind. 



Scene IlL] 



KING HENRY V. 



513 



The man, that once did sell the lion's skin 
While the beast lived, was killed with hunting 
A many of our bodies shall no doubt, [him. 
Find native graves; upon the which, I trust, 
Shall witness live in brass* of this day's work : 
And those that leave their valiant bones in 
France, [hills, 

Dying like men, though buried in your dung- 
They shall be famed; for there the sun sharli 

greet Ihem, 
And draw their honours reekine up to heaven ; 
Leaving their earthly pavtsto choke yonrclime. 
The snull whereof shall breed a plague in 

France. 
Mark then a bounding valour in our English ; 
That, being dead, like to the bullet's grazing. 
Break out into a second course of mischief. 
Killing in relapse of mortality. 
Let me speak proudly ; — Tell the Constable, 
We are but warriors for the working day *: 
Our gayness, and oar gilti,are all besn)irch*d § 
With rainy marching in the jiainful field; 
There's not a piece of feather in our host, 
(Good argument, I hope, we shall not fly,) 
A.nd time hath worn ns into slovenry: 
But, by the mass, oar hearts are in the trim: 
And my poor soldiers tell me — yet ere night 
They'll be in fresher robes ; or they will pluck 
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' 
heads, [this. 

And turn them out of service. If they do 
(As, if God please, they shall,) ray ransome 
then [labour ; 

Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy 
Come thou no more for ransome, gentle he- 
rald ; [joints : 
Tney stiail have none, T swear, but these my 
Which if they have as I will leave 'em to them, 
Shall yield them little, tell the Constable. 

Alont. I shall, king liarry. And so fare 
thee well : 
Thou never shalt hear herald any more, \^Exit. 

K. Hen, I fear, thou'lt once more come 
again for ransome. 

Enter the Duke of York. 

York. My lord, most humbly on my knee 
The leading of the vaward [I be^ 

K. Jlen. Take it, brave York. — Now, sol- 
diers, march away : — 
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day ! 

{Exeunt. 
SCENE IV. The Field of Battle. 
Alariiws: Excursion.^. £V/^er French Sol- 
dier, Pistol, and Boy. 

Pist. Yield, cur. 

Fr. Sol. Je pense, que vous estes le gen- 
tilhomme de bonne qualiti. 

Pist. Quality, call you me? — Construe me, 
art thou a gentleman? What is thy name ? 
discuss. 

Fr. Sol. O aei^neur Dieu ! 

Pi^t. 0, siguieur Dew should be a gentle- 



man : — Perpend my words, O si;^nieur Dew, 

and mark ; — 
O signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox IT, 
Except, O signieur, thou do give to me 
Egregious ransome. 

Fr. Sol. O, prennez misericorde ! aye% 
pitU de moy! [moys; 

Pist. Moy ^hall not serve, I will have for*y 
For I will fetch thy x'\m ** out at thy throat, 
In drops of crimson blood. 

Fr. Sol. Est it impossible d*ef'Cha'p'per la 
force de ton bras? 

Pist. Biass, cur! 
Thou damned and luxurious tf mountain goat, 
Offer'st me brass? 

Fr. Sol. O pardonnez moy ? 

Pist. Say'st thou me so? is that a ton of 
nioys jj ? — 
Come hither, boy ; Ask me this slave inFrench, 
What is his name. 

Hoy. Eicoutez ; Comment estes vous ap- 
pelle ? 

Fr. Sol. Monsieur le Fer. 

Boy. He says, his name is — master Fer. 

Pist. Master Fer ! I'll fer him, and firk $$ 
1-im, and ferret him : — discuss the same ia 
French unto him. 

Boy. I do not know the French for fer, 
and ferret, and firk. 

Pist. Bid him prepare, for I will cut his 
throat. 

Fr. Sol. Que dit-il, monsieur? 

Boy. // me commnvde de vous dire que 
vovs faites vous prest ; car ce soldat ici 
est dispose tout a cette heure de couper 
vostre (lorge. 

Pist* Ouy, couper gorge, par ma foy, pesant, 
Unless thou give nie crowns, brave crowns ; 
Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword. 

Fr. Sol. Oyje vous supylie pour L*ai7iour 
de Dieu, me pardonner .' Je suis gentil- 
homme de bonne maison: garaez ma vie, et 
je vous donneruy deux cents esciis. 

Pist. What are his words? 

By)y. He prays you to save his life: he is 
a gentleman of a good house ; and, for his ran- 
some, he will give you two hundred crowns. 

Pist. Tell him, — my fury shall abate, and I 
The crowns will take. 

Fr. St)l. Petit monsieur, que dit-il? 

Boy. Encc-re qu'U est contre son Jure* 
ment , de paraonner aucun prtsonnier ; 
7ieantmo?ns, pour les escus que vous I'avez 
promts, it e.v' contfnt de vous donner La li- 
berfe, lefranchisem<nt. 

Fr.Sol. Sur 7nes genoux, je vous donne 
miLle remerci^'jnens : etje 7n*esti!iie heureux 
que je suis tombe e7itrt Irs m.-iin^ d' un che- 
valier, je pen^e, le plus brave, vaiia7it,et 
tres distingue seigneur d'A7iglet€rr€, 

Pi.'>s. Expound unto me, boy. 

Boy. He gives you, upon his knees, a thon- 
sand thanks : and he esteems himself happy 

• i.e., In brazen plates anciently let into tomb-stones. t We are soldiers but coarsely 

Pressed. T Golden show, superlicial uilding. § Soiled. || Vanguard. 

fl An old cant word for a sword, so called from a Vavrioussword-r-^iicr of the name of Fox, 

♦* The diaphri'.gm. tt Lascivitms. Jt Pifces oi mociey. ^y Ch.asiise. 



514 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[ACt IV 



i\\M he hath fallen into the hands of (as he 
thinks) the most brave, valorous, and thrice- 
worthy signieur of Eno;lHnd. 

Pist. As I suck blood, 1 will some mercy 
show. — 
Follow me, cur. [Exit Pistol. 

Boy. Suiiez vous le grand capitaine. 

[Exit French Soldier. 
I did never know so full a voice issue from so 
empty a heart : but the saying is true, — The 
empty vessel makes the greatest sound. Bar- 
dolph, and Nym, haa ten times more valour 
than this roaring devil i'the old play, that 
every one may pare his nails with a wooden 
dagger; and they are both hanged; and so 
would this be, if he durst steal any thing ad- 
venturously. I must stay with the lackeys, 
with the luggage of our camp : the French 
might have a good prey of us, if he knew of it; 
for there is none to guard it, but boys. [Exit. 

SCENE V. Another Part of the Field 
of nattle. 
Alarums. J5^/z/er Dauphin, Orleans, Bour- 
bon, Constable, Rambures, and Others. 

Con. O diahle! 

Or I. G seigneur l—lejonr est perdu ^ tout 
est perdu t 

Dau. Mart de ma vie! all is confounded, 
Reproach and everlasting shame [all ! 

Sits mocking in our plumes. — O meschante 

fortune ! 
Do not run away. [A short Alarum. 

Con. Why, all our ranks are broke. 

Dau. O perdurable* shame 1 let's stab 

ourselves. [for ! 

Be these the wretches that w«» play'd at dice 

Orl. Js this the king we sent tc for his ran- 
some? [but shame! 

Boar. Shame, and eternal shame, nothing 
Let US die instant: Once more bnck again; 
And he that will not follow Bourbon now, 
Let him go hence, and, with his cap in hand, 
Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door. 
Whilst by a slave, no gentler than my dogt. 
His fairest daugh.ter is contaminate, [nsnow ! 

don. Disorder, that hath spoiled us, friend 
Let n3, in heaps, go offer up our lives 
Unto these Engli.^h, or else die with fame. 

Orl. We are enough, yet living in the field, 
To smother up the English in our throngs. 
If any order might be thought upon. 

Boar. Tlie devil take order now! I'll to 
the throng; 
Let life be short — else shame will be too long. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE VI. Another Part of the Field. 

Alarums. Enter King Henry and Forces ; 

ExETEii, and Others^ 

K. Hen. Well have we done, thrice valiant 

countrymen: field. 

B^r all's not done, yet keep the French the 

Exe. The duke of York commends him to 

your majesty. [within this hour, 

K. Hen. Lives he, good uncle ? thrice, 



I saw him down ; thrice up again, and fighting ; 
From helmet to the spur, all blood he was 
Exe. In which a.' ray, (brave soldier,) doth 

he lie. 
Larding the plain: and by his bloody side, 
(Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,) 
The noble earl of Sutfolk also lies. 
Suffolk first died, and York, all hageled over 
Comes to him, where in gore he l.iy insleep'd. 
And takes him by the beard ; kisses the gashes. 
That bloodily did yawn upon his face ; 
And cries aloud, — Tarry, dear cousin Suffolk! 
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven : 
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly a-breast, 
As^ in this glorious and icell-foughten field , 
We kept together in our chivalry '. 
Upon these words I came, andcheer'd him up: 
Hesrailed meintheface, raught j mehis hand. 
And , with a feeble gripe, says, — Dear my lord. 
Commend my service to my sovereign. 
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck 
He threw his wounded arm, and kissM his lips ; 
And so, espoused to death, with blood he seai'd 
A testament of noble-ending love 
The pretty and sweet manner of it forced 
Those Waters from me, which 1 would have 

stopp'd ; 
But I had not so much of man in me, 
But all my mother came into mine eyes. 
And gave me up to tears. 

K. Hen. I blame you not ; 

For, hearing this, I must perforee compound 
With misifui eyes, or they will issue too. — 

[Alarum, 
But, hark! what new alarum is Ibis same? — 
The French have reinforced their scatter'd men: 
Then every soldier kill his prisoners; 
Give the word through. [Exeunt, 

SCENE VII. Another Part of the Field. 
Alarums. Enter Fluellen and Gower. 

Flu. Kill the poys and the luggage! 'tis ex- 
pressly against the law of arnis : 'lis as arrant 
a piece of knavery, niark j^ou now, as can he 
offered, in the 'orid : In your conscience now 
is it not? 

Gow. 'Tis certain, there's not a boy left alive 
and the cowardly rascals, that ran from the 
battle, have done this slaughter: besides, they 
have burned and canied away all that was in 
tlie king's tent ; wherefore the king, most 
v/orthily, hath caused every solnier to cut his 
prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a gallant king ! 

Flu. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, cap- 
tain Gower : What call you the town's name, 
where Alexander the pig was born? 
Gotv. Alexander the great 

Flu. Why, I pray you, is not pig, great? 
The pig, or the great, or the mighty, or the 
huge, or the magnanimous, are all one reck- 
onings, s !ve the phrase is a little variations. 

Gctv. I think Alexander the great was born 
in Macedon; his father was called — Philip of 
Macedon, as I t ike it. 

Flu. 1 think, it is in Macedon, where Alex 
ander is porn. I tel! you, captain, — If yon 



Lasting. 



■f i. F., Who has no more gentility. 



1 Reached. 



.Scene Vll.] 



KING HENRY V. 



515 



look in the maps of the *orld, 1 warrant you 
sljall tiu'.l, iu the comparisons between Mace- 
(li)U and Monmouth, that the situations, look 
\un, is botli alike. There is a river in Mace- 
ilou; and there is also moreover a river at 
Monmouth : it is called Wye, at Monmouth : 
but it is out of my prains, what is the name of 
ilie ofher river; but 'tis all one, 'tis so like as 
uiy fingers is to my fingers, and there is sal- 
mons m both. If you mark Alexander's life 
Well, Harry of Monmouth's life is come after 
it indifferent well ; for there is tigures in all 
things. Alexander (God knovis, and you 
know) in his rages, and his furies, and his 
wraths, and his cholers,and his moods, and his 
(lispleasnrts, and his indignations, and also 
being a little intoxicates in his prains, did, in 
liis ales and his angers, look you, kill his pest 
frieiid, Clytns. 

Gon-. Our king is not like him in that ; he 
never killed any of his friends. 

Flu. It is not well done, mark you now, to 
tike tales out of my mouth, ere it is make an 
end and finished. 1 speak but in the figures 
and comparisons of it : As Alexander is kill 
his friend Clytns, being in his ales and his cups ; 
so also Harry Monmouth, being in right wits 
and his goot judgments, is turn away the fat 
knight with the great pelly-doublet : he was 
full of jests, and gipes, and knaveries, and 
mocks; I am forget his name. 

GouK Sir John Falstalf. 

Flu. That is he : I can tell you, there is 
goot men born at Monmouth. 

Gvw. Here comes his majesty. 
Alorum. Entej- Ring Henry, with a Part 

of the English Forces ; Warwick, Glos- 

TER, Exeter, and Others. [France 

K. Hen, I was not angry since I came to 
Until this instant. — Take a trumpet, herald; 
Ride thou unto the horsemen on yon hill ; 
Tf they will fight with us, bid them come down, 
Or void the field ; they do offend our sight : 
Tf they'll do neither, we will come to them ; 
kvA make them skirr* away, as swift as stones 
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings : 
Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have ; 
And not a man of them, that we shall take. 
Shall taste our mercy : — Go, and tell them so. 
Enter Momjoy. 

Exe. Here comes the herald of the French, 
my liege. [to be. 

Glo. His eyes are humbler than they used 

K. Hen. How now, what means this, he- 
rald ? know'st thou not, [some? 
That I have fined these bones of mine for ran- 
Comest thou again for ransome? 

Mont, No, great king : 

I come to thee for charitable license, 
That we may wander o'er this bloody field, 
To book our dead, and then to bury them ; 
To sort our nobles from our common men ; 
For many of our princes (woe the while!) 
Lie drown'd and soak'd iu mercenary blood ; 
(So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs 
In blood of princes;) and their wounded steeds 
Fret fe-tlock deep in gore, and, with wild rage, 

• Scour. 



Yerk out their armed heels at their dead mas- 
ters, [king. 
Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great 
To view the field in safety, and dispose [king, 
Of their dead bodies. 

K. Hen, I tell thee truly, herald, 

I know not if the day be ours, or no ; 
For yet a many of your horsemen peer. 
And gallop o'er the field. 

Mont, The day is yours. 

iT.^ew. Praised be God,and not our strength, 
for it!— 
What is this castle call'd, that stands hard by ? 

Mont. They call it — Agincourt. 

K. Hen. 1 hen call we this— the field of 
Agincourt, 
Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus. 

Flu. Your grandfather of famous menmry, 
an't please your majesty, and your great-unc e 
Edward the plack prince of \V ales, as 1 have 
read in the chronicles, fought a most prave 
pattle here in France. 

K. Hen. They did, Fluellen. 

Flu. Your majesty says very true : Tf your 
majesties is remembered of it, the Welshman 
did goot service in a garden where leeks did 
grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps ; 
which, your majesty knows, to this hour, is an 
honourable padge of the service; and 1 do be- 
lieve, your majesty takes no scorn to wear the 
leek upon St. Tavy's day. 

K, Hen, I wear it for a memorable honour : 
For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman. 

Flu. All the water in Wye cannot vvash 
your majesty's \\ elsh plood out of your pody, 
I can tell you that: Got pless it and preserve 
it, as long as it pleases his grace, and his ma- 
jesty loo! 

A. Htn, Thanks, good my countryman. 

Flu. By Cheshu, 1 am your majesty's coun- 
tryman, 1 care not who know it; 1 will con- 
fess it to all the 'orld : I need not to be asham. d 
of your majesty, praised be God, so long as 
your majesty is an honest man. [with liim ; 

K,Hen, God keep me so! — Our heralds go 
Bring me just notice of the numbers dead 
On both our parts. — Call 3 onder fellow hither. 
[Points to Williams. Eiennt 
MoNTJOY a?c(t Others, 

Exe. Soldier, you must come to the king. 

K, Hen. Soldier, why wear'st thou that 
glove iu thy capf 

Will. An't please your majesty, 'tis the gage 
of one that I should fight withal, if he be alive. 

K, Hen. An Englishman? 

TV/ll, An't please your majesty, a rascal, 
that swaggered with me last night : who, if 
'a live, and ever dare to challenge this glove, I 
have sworn to take him a box o'the ear : or, if 
I can see my glove in his cap, (which he 
swore, as ha was a soldier, he would wear, if 
alive,) I will strike it out soundly. 

K, Hen. What think you, captain Fluellen t 
is it fit this soldier keep his oath? 

Flu. He is a craven t and a villain else, an't 
please your m.ajesty, in my conscience. 

K. Hen. It may be, his enemy is a gentle- 

t Coward. 



516 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Aet ir. 



man of great sort*, quite from the answer of 
hii degree. 

Flu, Though he be as goot a gentleman as 
the tevil m, as Lucifer and Belzebub himself, 
ir is nect'ssaiy, IdoU your grace, th^t he keep 
his vtivv and his oath : if iie be perjured, see 
you now, Ids reputation is as an ant a villain, 
and a Ji ck's-sance+, as ever his plack shoe trod 
upon Cr. t's ground and his earth, in my con- 
science, la. 

A. Htri. Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when 
thou nieei'st the fellow. 

ff'iil. So I will, my liege, as I live. 

K. Hen, Who servest thou under? 

Will, Under Captain Gower, my liege. 

Flu. Gower is a uoot captain ; and is good 
knowledge and literature in the wars. 

K. Hen. Call him hither to me, soldier. 

Will. I will, my liege. [Exit. 

K. Hni. H*ire, Flueilen ; wear thou this fa- 
vo(ir for me, and stick it in thy c^p : When 
AU n^on and myself were down loiiether, I 
plucked this glove from his helm : if any man 
challenge this, he is a friend to Alenyon and an 
ent my to our person ; if thou encounter any 
such, apprel^end him, an thou dost love me. 

Flu. Your grace does me as great honours 
as can be desired in the hearts of his subjects : 
I would fain see ihe man, that has but two 
legs, that shall tind himself agiiriefed at this 
glove, tliat is all ; but I w ould fain see it once ; 
an please Got of his grace, that 1 n)ight see it. 

K. Hen. Knowest thou Gower? 

Fin. He is my dear friend, an please >ou. 

K. Hen, Pray thee, go seek him, and bring 
him to my tent. 

Fill. I will fetch him. [Krit. 

K, Hen, My lord of Warwick,— and my 
brother (iloster, 
Follow Fluelien closely at the heels ; 
The glove, which 1 have given him for a favour, 
May, haply, purchase him a box o' the ear ; 
It is the soldier's ; I, by bargain, should [wick : 
Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin War- 
If that the soldier strike him, (as, I judge 
By his blunt bearing, he will keep his word,) 
Some sudden mischief may arise of it ; 
For I do know Fluelien valiant, 
Anri, touchM with choler, hot as gunpowder. 
And quickly will leturn an injury : [them,— 
Fv/llow, anrI see there be no harm between 
Go you with me, uncle of Exeter. [Exeunt. 

SCENE VIII. Before King Heury»s Pa- 
vilhm. 
Enter GowKH and Williams. 
Will, I warrant, it is to knight you, captain. 

Enter Fluelllin. 
Fill. Got's will and his pleasure, captain, I 
peseech you now, come apace to the king: 
there is more goot toward you, peradvenlure, 
than is in your knowledge to dream of. 
Will. Sir, know you this glove? 
Fin, Know the jjlove ? 1 know, the glove is 
a glove. 

Will. I krujw this ; and thus I challenge it. 
[Strikes him. 

• Iligfi rank. 



Flu. 'Sblnd, an arrant traitor, as any's in 
the universal 'orld, or in France, or in England. ' 

Gmo. How now, sir? you villain! 

Will. Do yon think I'll be forsworn? 

Flu. Stand away, captain Gower; I will 
give treason his payment into plows, 1 war- 
rant you. 

Wilt. I am no traitor. 

Flu. That's a lie in thy throat.— I charge yon 
in his majesty's name, apprehend him: he's a 
friend of the dnke Alenyon's. 

Enter Warwick und Gloster. 

War, How now, how now! what's the 
matter % 

Flu, My lord of Warwick, here is (praised 
be Got for it I) a most contagious treason come 
to light, look you, as you shall desire in a sum* 
mer's day. -Here is his majesty. 

Enter King Henry niia Exeter. 

K. Hen. How now! what's the matter? 

Flu. My lieiie, here is a villain, and a traitoi 
that, look your grace, has struck the glove 
which your majesty is take out of the helm< t 
of Aleu^on. 

Wdl, My liege, this was my glove ; here ts 
the fellow of it: and he that 1 gave it to Ju 
change, prondstd to wear it in his cap; I pr w 
mised to strike him, if he did : 1 met this m;ia 
with iny glove in his cap, and I have been i8 
good as my word. 

Flu. Your jiiajesty hear now, (saving yo'ir 
majesty's manhood,) what an arrant, rascallv^, 
beggarly, loury, knave it is : I hope, your m i- 
jesty is pear me testimony, and witness, arid 
avouchments, that this is the glove of Alen^oki, 
that your majesty is give me, in your con- 
science now. 

K. Hen. Give me thy glove, soldier ; Look, 
here is the fellow of it. 'Twas i, indeed, th^^c 
promisedst to strike; and thou harst given me 
most bitter terms. 

Flu. An please your majesty, let his neek 
answer for it, if there is any martial law in 
the *o»ld. 

K. Hen, How canst thou make me saHs 
faction ? 

Will. All offences, my liege, come from (he 
heart : never came any from mine, that might 
offend your majesty. 

K. Hen, It was ourself thou didst abuse. 

Will. Your majesty came not like yourself: 
you appeared to me but as a common man ; 
witness the night, your garments, your lov^li. 
ness ; and what your highness sutlered under 
that shape, I beseech you, take it for your own 
fault, and not mine : for had yoo been as 1 t(tol, 
you for, I made no ortence ; therefore, 1 be 
seech your highness, pardon me 

K. lien. Here, uncle Exeter, fill this gloVf* 
with crowns, 
And give it to this fellow. — Keep it, fellow ; 
And wear it for an honour in thy cap. 
Till I do challenge it. — Give him the cro\\ns:-~ 
And, captain, yon must needs be frieiuls with 
him. 
Fin. By this day and this light, the fellow 
has mettle enough in his pelly :— Hold there ;• 

t Fur saucy Jack. 



Scene FUI.] 



KING HENRY V. 



517 



twelve pence for you, and I pray you to serve 
Got, and keep you out of prawls, and prabbles, 
and quarrels, and dipsensions, and I warrant 
yoD, it is the petter tor you. 

fVill. 1 will none of your money. 

Flu. It is with a goot will; I can tell you, 
it will serve you to mend your shoes ; Come, 
wherefore should you be so pashful? your 
shoes is not so goot : 'lis a goot silling, I war- 
fant you, or I will chanjie it. 
'' Enter an English Herald. 

K". Hen. Now, herald ; are the dead num- 
bered? 



The master of the cross-bows, lord Rambures j 
Great-master of France, the brave sir Guis- 

chard Dauphin ; 
John duke of Alen^on; Antony duke of Brabant^ 
The brother to the duke of Burgundy ; 
And Edward duke of Bar : of lusty earls, 
Grandpre, and Roussi, Fauconberg, and Foix, 
Beaumont, and Marie, Vauderaont, and Les- 

trale. 

Here was a royal fellowship of death! 

Where is the number of our English dead? 

[Herald presents another Paper, 
Edward the duke of York, the earl of Suffolk, 



Her. Here is the number of the slaughtered Sir Richard Ke tley, Davy Gam, esquire : 

French. [Delivers a Paper. None else of name ; and, of all other mer,, 

K. Hen. What prisoners of good sort are But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here, 

taken, uncle? [the king ; And not to us, but to thy arm alone. 

Eve. Charles duke of Orleans, n«phew to Ascribe we all. — When, without stratagem, 

But in plain shock, and even play of battle. 
Was ever known so great and little loss. 
On one part and on the other? — Take it, God, 
For it is only thine ! 

Exe. 'Tis wonderful ! 

K. Hen. Come, go we in procession to the 
village: 
i And belt death proclaimed through our host, 
I To boast of this, or take that praise from God, 



John duke of Bourbon, and lord Bouciqualt 
Of other lords, and barons, knights, and 

'squires. 
Full fifteen hundred, besides common men 
K. Hen. This note doth tell me oi ten 

thousand French, [Rumber, 

That in the fleld lie slain : of princes in this 
And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead 
One hundred twenty-six: added to these. 



Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen, j Which is his only. 
Fight thousand and four hundred ; of the Flu. Is it not lawful, an please yonr ma- 
which, [knights: jtsty, to tell how many is killed? 



Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd 
So that, in these ten thousand they have lost, 
There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries; 
The rest are— princes, barons, lonis, knights, 

*"squires. 
And gentlemen of blood and quality, 
riie names of those their nobles that lie dead, — 



K. Hen. Yes, captain; but with this ac- 
That God fought for us. [knowledgment. 

Flu. Yes, my conscience, he did us great 
K. Hen. Do we all holy rites; [goot. 

Let there be sung Non nobis, and Te Deum, 
The dead with charity enclosed in clay, 
We'll then to Calais ; and to England then; 



Charles De-la bret, hi.h constable of France; , Where ne'er from France arrived more happy 
Jaques of Chatillon, admiral of France ; I men. \^EJLeuut» 



ACT V. 



Enter Chorus. 
Cho. Vouchsafe to those who have not read 
the story. 
That 1 may prompt them : and of such as have, 
1 iiumbly pray them to adriiit the excuse 
Of time, of numbers, aisd due course of things, 
Which cannot in their huge and proper life 
Be here presented. Now we bear the king 
Toward Galas: grant him there; there seen. 
Heave him away upon your winged thoughts, 
Atiiwart ihe sea : Behold, the English beach 
Pales in the flood with men, with wive^, and 
boys, [mouth'd sea, 

Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep- 
Which, like a mighty whiffler*, fore the king, 
Seems to prepare his way : so let him land ; 

, And, soler.inly, see him set on to London. 
So swift a pace hath thought, that even now 

. N on njay imagine him upon Blackheath : 
VV here that his lords desire him, to havet borne 
rlis bruised helmet, and his bended sword. 



Before him, through the city : he forbids it. 
Being free from vainness and self-glorioui 

pride; 
Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent. 
Quite from himself, to Godi- But now behold. 
In thequick forge and working-house of thought. 
How London doth ponr out her citizens ! 
The mayor, anci all his breihren, in best sort,— 
Like to the senators of the antique Rome, 
With the plebeians swarming at their heels, — 
Go forth, and fetch their conquering Cajsar in: 
As, by a lower but by loving likeliiiood^. 
Were now the general of our gracious em- 
press II [comijig 
(As, in good time, he may,) from Ireland 
Bringing rebellion broached^ on his sword. 
How njany would the peaceful city quit. 
To welcome him ? much more, and nmch more 
cause, [him; 
Did they this Plarry. Now in London place 
(As yet the lamentation of the French 



* An officer who walks first in processions. + i- e., To order it to be borne. 

Traiisferring all the honours of conquest from himself to God. § Similitude. 

il The earl of Essex in the reign of Elizabeth. % Spitted, transfixed. 

2 Y 



5IS 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act V, 



luvites the king of England's stay at home : 
The emperor's coming in behalf cf France, 
To order peace between them ;) and omit 
All lljc occui rencejs, wliatever chinced. 
Till Harry's back return again to France; 
Tiieie must we bring him; and myself have 

pia)M 
The interim, by remembering you — 'tis .past. 
Then brook abridgment ; and your eyes ad- 
vance 
After your thoughts, straight back again io 
France. ~ {Ezit, 

SCENE I. France. An English Court of 

Guard. 

Enter Flveli.es and Gower. 

Gotv. Nay, that's right; but why wear you 
your leek to day I Saint Davy's day is past. 

Fin. I here is occasions and causes why ard 
wherefore in all things: I will tell you, as try 
friend, captain (iower. The rascally, scald, 
beirgarly, lousy, pragglng knave, 1 istol, — 
which you and yourself, and all the 'ovW , 
know to be no petter than a fellow, look yot 
now, of no merits,— he is con.e to me, and 
prings me pread and salt yesterday, look you 
and bid n.e eal my leek : it was in a place 
where I could not breed no contentions with 
him; but 1 will be »o pold as to wear it in my 
cap till 1 sec him once a'4ain, and then I wil 
teii him a little pie-ce of my desires. 
Enter Pistol. 

Gow. Why, here he comes, swelling like a 
turkey-cock. 

Flu. 'lis no matter for his swellings, nor 
his lurkty-cocks. — <Tot pless you, ancient Pis- 
tol! you scurvy, lousy knave, Got pless you! 

Pint. Ha! art thou Bedlam? dost thou thirst, 
base rrojan, 
To have me fold up Parca's fatal web *? 
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek. 

Flu. 1 pescech you heartily, scurvy, lousy 
knave, at. my desires, and my requests, and 
my petitions, to e^t, look you, this leek ; 
because, look you, you do not love it, nor 
your afifections, and your appetites, and your 
dii^e^tions, does not agree wiih it, I would de- 
sire you to eal it. 

Fist. ISot for Cadwallader, and all his 
goats. 

FLu. Thereis one gopit for you. [Strikes him. 
Will you be so goot, ?cald knave, as eat it f 

Pist. Base Trx>jan, thou shalt die. 

Flu. You say very true, scald knave, when 
Got's will is : I will desire you to livc- in the 
mean time, and eat your victuals; come, there 
is sauce for it. [Stnkiiii^ him again.] You 
called n)e yesterday, mouniain-squire ; but I 
will make you to-<lay a squire of low degree. 
I pray you, fall to ; if you can mock a leek, 
you can cat a leek. 

Gow. Enough, captain; you have astonish'df 
him. 

Flu. I say, I will make him eat some part 
of wy leek, or I will peat his pate four days : — 



Pite, I pray you ; it is goot for your green 
wound, and your ploody coxcomb. 

Pist. Must I bite^ 

Flu. Yes, ceriaiidy ; and out of doubt, and I 
out of questions too, and ambiguities. 

PLst. By this leek, I will most horribly re- 
venge; I eat, and eke 1 8w«ar — 

±in. Eat, I pray you : Will you have some 
more sauce to your leek? there is not enough 
leek to swear by. 

Pist. Quiet thy cudgel ; thou dost see, I eat. ^ 

Flu. Much goot do yon, scald knave, heartily. 
Nay, 'pray you, throw none away; the skin is 
goot for your proken coxcomb. When you 
lake occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray 
you, mock at them ; that is all. 

Fist. Good. 

Flu. Ay, leeks is goot: — Hold you, there l> 
a groat to heal your pate. 

Pist, Me a groat. 

Flu. Yes, veiily, and in truth, you shall 
tske it ; or I have another leak in my pocket, 
which you shall eat. 

Pist. I take thy groat, in earnest of revenge. 

Flu, If 1 owe you any thing, I will pay yoii 
in cudgels ; you shall be a woodmonger, an«I 
buy nothing of me but cudgels. God be wi* 
yon, and keep you, and heal your pjte, [Exit. 

Pist. All hell shall stir for this. 

Gow. Go, go ; you are a counterfeit cowardly 
knave. ^Vill you mock at an ancient tradi- 
tion, — begun upon an honourable respect, and 
worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased 
valour, — and dare not avouch in your deeds 
any of your words ? 1 have seen you gleeking i 
and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. 
Y^ou thought, because he could not speak 
English in the native garb, he could not there- 
fore handle an English cudgel : you tind it 
otherwise; and, henceforth, let a Welsh cor- 
rection teach you a good English condition §. 
Fare ye wtU. ^ Ej.it. 

Pi&t. Doth fortune play the huswife j| with 
me now ? 
News have I, that ray Nell is dead i'the spitallT 
Of malady ot France ; 
And there my rendezvous is quite cut oflf. 
Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs 
Honour is cudgell'd. Well, bawd will 1 turn. 
And something lean to cutpur^e of quick hand- 
To England will I steal, and there I'll steal: 
And patches will 1 get unto these scats, 
And owear, 1 got them in the Gallia wars. 

[Era. 

SCENE II. Troyes in Champagne. 
An Apartment i?i the French King's Palace 
£ut€r,at one r/oor, King Henrv, Bedford 
Gloster, Exetek, Wafwick, Wlst- 
MORKL.xsv, and other Lords; at another^ 
the French King, Queen Isauel, the Priu- 
cess Katharine, Lords, Ladies, S-c.y the 
Duke (/Burgundy, and his Train. 
K. Hen. Peace to this meeting, wherefore 
we are met I 



• " Dost thou desire to have me put thee to death?" 
Scoffing, sneering, j Temper. 1| For jilt. 



t Stunned. 
% Hi«pital. 



I 



Scene 11. 



KING HENRY V. 



519 



Unto oar brother France,— and to our sister, 
Health and fair time of day:— joy and good 
wishes _ [rine ; 

To our most fair and princely cousin Katha- 
And (as a branch and member of this royalty, 
By whom this great assembly is contrived), 
We do salute you, duke of Burgundy; — [all ! 
And, princes French, and peers, health to you 
Fr, King. Right joyous are we to behold 
your face, 
Most worthy brother England ; fairly met :— 
So are you, princes English, every one. 

Q, Isa. So happy be the issue, brother Eng- 
land, 
Of this good day, and of this gracious meeting, 
As we are now glad to behold your eyes ; 
Your eyes, which hitherto have borne in them 
Against the French, that met them in their bent, 
The fatal balls of murdering basilisks : 
The venom of such looks, we fairly hope. 
Have lost their quality ; and that this day 
Shall change all griefs, and quarrels, into love. 
K. Hen. To cry amen to that, thus we ap- 
pear, [you- 
Q. Isa. You English princes all, I do salute 
Bur. My duty to you both, on equal love, 
Great kings of France and England ! That I 
have labourM [deavours, 
With all my wits, my pains, and strong en- 
To bring your most imperial majesties 
Unto this bar* and royal interview, 
Yourmightiness on both parts best can witness. 
Since then my office hath so far prevail'd. 
That, face to face, and royal eye to eye. 
You have congreeted ; let it not disgrace me, 
If I demand, before this royal view, 
What rub, or what impediment, there is. 
Why that the naked, poor, and mangled peace, 
Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births, 
Should not, in this best garden of the world, 
')ur fertile France, put up her lovely visage? 
Alas ! she hath from France too long been 

chased ; 
And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps, 
Corrupting in its own fertility. 
Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart, 
Unpruned dies : her hedges even-pleached, — 
Like prisoners wildly over-grown with hair. 
Put forth disorder'd twigs : her fallov*^ leas 
The-darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory, 
Doth root Lpon ; while that the coulter t rusts, 
That should deracinate % such savagery : 
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth 
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover. 
Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank. 
Conceives by idleness ; and nothing teems. 
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs, 
Losing both beauty and utility. [hedges, 

And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and 
Defective in their natures, grow to v/ildness ; 
Even so our houses, and ourselves, and children. 
Have lost, or do not learn, for want of time, 
The sciences that should become our country ; 
But grow, like savages, — as soldiers will. 
That nothing do out meditate on blood, — 



To swearing and stern looks, (liffu^e(l § attire. 
And every thing that seejns unnaturaL 
VV hich to reduce into our former favour |!, 
You are assembled : and my speech entreats. 
That I may know the letH, why gentle peace 
Should not expel these inconveuiencies. 
And bless us ^^ith her former qualities. 
K, Hen, If, duke of Burgundy, you would 
the peace 
Whose want gives growth to the imperfections 
Which you have cited, you must buy that peace 
With full accord to all our just denjands ; 
Whose tenours and particular effects 
You have, enscheduled briefly, in your hai.ds. 
Bur. The king hath heard them ; to tiie 
There is no answer made. [which, as yet, 

K. Hen. Well then, the peace, 

Which you before so urged lies iu his answer, 
Fr. King. I have but with a cursorary eye 
O'er-glanced the articles : plea.elh your grace 
To appoint some of your council presently 
To sit with us once more, with better heed 
To re-survey them, we will, suddenly. 
Pass our accept, and peremptory answer. 
K. Hen. Brother, we shall. — Go, uncle 
Exeter,— [Gioster,— 

And brother Clarence, — and you, brother 
Warwick — and Huntingdon, — go with the 
And take with you free power, to ratify, [king: 
Augment, or alter, as yonr wisdoms best 
Shall see advantageable for our dignity. 
Any thing in, or out of, our demands ; [sister. 
And we'll consign thereto. — Will you, fair 
Go with the princes, or stay here w ilh us ? 
Q. Isa. Our gracious brother, I will go with 
them ; 
Haply, a woman's voice may do some good. 
When articles, too nicely urged, be stood on. 
K. Hen, Yet leave our cousin Katharine 
here with us , 
She is our capital demand,.comprised 
Within the fore-rank of our articles. 
Q, Isa. She hath good leave. 

[FieuTit ale but Henry, Katha- 
rine, a7id her Gentletcoman. 
K. Hen. Fair Katharine, and most fair! 
Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms. 
Such as will enter at a lady's ear, 
And plead his love suit to her gentle heart? 

Kath, Your majesty shall mock at me ; I 
cannot speak yonr England. 

K. Hen. O fair Katharine, if you will love 
me soundly with your French heart, I will be 
glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your 
English tongue. Do you like me, Kate? 

Kath. Pardonnez nwyy I cannot tell vat is 
— like me, 

K. Hen. An angel is like you, Kate ; and 
you are like an angel. 

Kath. Que Cit-il? queje suis semblable d 
les anges ? 

Alice. Ouy^ vrayment, (satifvostre grace ) 
ainsi dit'il. 

K. Hen. I said so, dear Katharine ; and I 
must not blush to affirm it. 



Barrier. 



t Plowshare. 



Estravagant. 



I To deracinate is to force up the roots. 
Appearance. II Hiuderance. 



520 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act T 



Kath. O bon Dieu ! les langnes dea hom- 
mes .sont yleines des trom-peries. 

K, lien. What says she, fair one? that the 
tongues of men are fulS of deceits '\ 

Alice. Oiiy ; dat de tongues of de mans is 
be full of deceits : dat is de princtss. 

A'. Hen. The princess is the belter English- 
woman. Pfaith, K.ite, my wooing is fit- for 
thy understanding : I am glad thou canst 
speak no belter English ; for, it thou couidst, 
tiio;' wouldst find me such a plain king, that 
thou woLldgt think I had sold my farm to buy 
my croun. I know no ways to mince it in 
love, but directly to say — I love you : then, if 
you urge me furiherthan to say— Do yo i in 
faith? I wear oat my suit, l^ive me your 
answer; i'faith, do ; and so clap hands and a 
bargain : How gay you, lady? 

Kath. ^auf vostre honneur, me under- 
stand well. 

A'. Hen. Marry, if you would put me to 
verses, or to dance for your sake, Kate, why 
you undid me: for the one, I have neither 
words nor mcasui e ; and for the other, I have 
no strength in measure*, yet a reasonable 
mensure in strength. If I could win a lady at 
leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with 
i):y armour on my back, under the coirection 
of bragging be it spoken, I should quickly leap 
into a uife. Or, if I might buffet for my lovr , 
or bound my horse for her favours, 1 could 
lay on like a butcher, and sit like a jack-a- 
nap€8, never off: but, before God, I cannot 
lo^ok greenly +, nor gasp out my eloquence; 
nor I have no cunning in protestation ; only 
downright oaths, which 1 never use till urged, 
Dor never break for urging. If thou canst love 
a fellow of this temper. Kate, whose face is 
not worth sun-burning, that never looks in his 
glass for love of any thing he sees there, let 
thine eye be thy cook. I speak to tl ee plain 
poldier : If thou canst love me f r this, take 
nie : if not, to say to thee— tliat 1 shall die, is 
true ; but — for thy love, by the Lord, no ; yet 
I love thee too. And while thou livest, dear 
Kate, take a fellow of plain and uncoined; 
constancy ; for he perforce must do thee right, 
because he hath not the gift to woo in other 
places : for these fellows of infinite tongue, 
that can rhyme iheinselvesinto ladies' favours, 
—they do always reason thoni.'elves o it again. 
What ! a speaker is but a prater ; a rhyme is 
but a ballad. A good log will fall ^ ; astraight 
back will stoop ; a black beard will ttirn 
white; a curled pate will grow bald; a f.iir 
face will wither; a full eye will wax hollow : 
but a good heart, Kate, is the sun and moon ; 
or, rather, the sun, and not the moon ; for it 
shines bri-ht, and never changes, but keeps hig 
course truly. If thou would have ^uch a one, 
take me : And take me, take a soldier ; take a 
soldier, take a king: And Mhat iwtyest thou 
then to my love? speak, my fair, and fairly, I 
pray thee. 



Kath. Is it possible dat 1 should love de 
enemy of France? 

A'. Hen* No ; it is not possible, you should 
love tlie enemy of France, Kate : but, in lov- 
ing me, you should love the friend of France ; 
for I love France so well, that 1 will not part 
with a village of it ; I will have it all mine : 
and, Kate, when France is mine, and I am 
yours, then yours is France, and you are mine. 
Kath. 1 caimot tell vat is dat. 
K. Hen. No, Kate? I will tell thee in 
French; which, I am sure, will hang upon 
my tongue like a new-married vvite about 
her husband's neck, hardly to be shook off'. 
Quand j' ay la possession de France, et 
quand vous avez le possession de moi, (let 
me see, what then? Saint Dennis be my 
speed!} — done lo^tre est Frajice, et vous 
estes mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to 
conquer the kingdom, as to speak so much 
more French : I shall never move thee in 
French, unless it be to laugh at me. 

Kath. Sail/ vostre honneur, le Frangois 
que vous parlez, est Qtieilleur que I' Angluis 
lequelje parte. 

K. Hen. No, 'faith, 'tis not, Kate: but thy 
speaking of my tongue, and I thine, most truly 
falsely, must needs be granted to be much at 
one. But, Kate, dost thou understand thus 
much English ? Canst thou love me ? 
Kath. I cannot tell. 

K. Hni. Can any of your neighbours tell, 
Kate? ril ask them. Come, I know, thou 
lovesl me : and at nlglrt when you come into 
your closet, you'll question this gentlewoman 
about me ; and 1 know, Kate, you will, to her, 
dispraise those parts in me, that ytu love with 
your heart : but, good Kate, mock me merci- 
fully ; the ratl*"er, gentle princess, because I 
love thee cruelly. If ever thou be'st mine, 
Kate, (as I have a saving faith within me, tells 
me, — thou shall,) I get thee with scambling, 
and thou must therefore needs prove a good 
soldier-breeder: Shall not thou and 1, between 
Saint Dennis and Sunt George, compound a 
boy, half French, half English, that shall goto 
Constantinople, and take the Turk by the 
I beard? shall we not? what say est thou, my 
' fair flower-de-luce ? 
I Kath. I do not know dat. 

K. Hen. No; *tis hereafter to know, but 
now to promise; do but now promise, Kate, 
you will endeavour for your French part of 
such a boy; and, for my Englisii moiety, take 
the word of a king and a bachelor. How 
I answer you, la plus btUe Katharine du 
; monde, mon tres chere et divine diesse? 
j Kath, Vour majeste 'Ave J'ansse French 
I enough to deceive de most sage demoiselle 
j dat is en France. 

I K. Hen. Now, fie upon my false French I 

' By mine honour, in true English, I love thee, 

Kate : by which honour I dare not swear, 

I thou lovest me ; yet my blood begins to flatter 



• In dancing. f i- c. Like a young lover, awkwardly. 

t H« means, resembling u plain piece of metal, which has no: yet received any impression. 

j Fall away. 



Scene //.j 



KING HENRY V. 



521 



me that thou dost, notwithstandintj the poor 
and antempering effect of my visage*. Aow 
beshrew iny father's ambition! he was think- 
mi^ of civil wars when he got me ; therefore 
was I created with a stubborn outside, with an 
aspect of iron, that, when I come to woo ladies, 
I fright them. l*ut, in faith, Kate, the elder 
1 wax, the better I shall appear: my comfort 
is, ihu old age, that ill layer-up of beauty, can 
do no more sp!>il upon my face : thou hast me 
if thou hast me, at the worst; and tiion shalt 
wear ir.e, if thou wear me, better and better: 
And therefore tell me, most fair Katharine, 
will you have me? Put otf your maiden 
blushes; avouch the thoui^hts of your heart 
with the K»oks of an empress ; take me by the 
baud, and say — Harry of England, I am thine: 
which word thou shait no sooner bless mine 
ear withal, bi\t I will tell thee aloud — En'4land 
is thine, trelatid is thine, France is thine, and 
Henry Plantagenet is thine ; who, though I 
speak it before hi* face, if he be not fellow 
with the best king, thou shait (indthe best king 
of good fellows. Come, your answer in bro- 
ken music ; for thy voice is music, and thy 
English broken : therefore, queen of ali, Ka- 
tharine, break thy mind to me in broken Eng- 
lish, — Wilt thon have me? 

Koth, Dat is as it shall please de roy men 
fere. 

K. Hen, Nay, it will please him well, Kate ; 
i"t shall please him, Kate. 

Knth. Den it shall also content me. 

K. Hen. Upon that I will kiss your hand, 
and I call you — my queen. 

Kath. Laissez, man seigneur ^ lais.<:ez, iais- 
sez : ma foytje ne veux point que in us ab- 
baissez vostre grandeur^ en briisant la 
main d'line vostre infiigne serviteure ; ex- 
ciisez moil, je vous supplie, mnn tres puis- 
sayit seigneur. 

K. Hen. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate. 

Kath. Lcs dames, et damoi^elles, pour 
est re baisstes devant ieur nopces, il n*est 
pas le coutume de Fnnice. [she? 

K. Hen. Madam my interpreter, what says 

Alice. Dat it is not be de tasliion pour les 
ladies of France, — I cannot tell what is, baiser, 
en English. 

K. Hen. To kiss. 

Alice. Your majesty entendre bettre que 
moy. 

K. Hen. It is not the fashion for the maids 
in France to kiss before they are married, 
would she say? 

Alice. Oiiy, vrayfrient. 

K. Hen. O, Kate, nice customs curt'sy to 
great kin^s. Dear Kate, you and I cannot be 
confined within the weak Iist+ of a cousitry's 
fashion : we are the makers of manners, Kate; 
and the liberty that follows our places, stops 
the mouths of all find faults ; as I will do 
yours, for upholding the nice fashion of your 
country, in denying me a kiss: therefore, pa- 
tiently, and yielding. {Kissing her.] You 



have witchcraft in your lips, Kate: there is 
n)ore eloquence in a 8U2:;ir-t()uch of them, than 
in the tongues of the French council ; and 
tliey should sooner persuade Harry of Eng. 
land, than a general petition of monarchs. 
Here cotnes your father. 
Enter the French King and Queen, Bur- 
gundy, Bedford, Gloster, Exeter, 

W sTMOREL.\ND, and other French a7id 

English Lords. 

Bur. God save your majesty! my royal 
cousin, teach you our piincess English? 

A'. Hen. I would have her learn, my fair 
cousin, how perfectly I love her; and that is 
goo'l English. 

«/•. is she not apt? 

K. Hen. Our tongue is rough, coz ; and my 
condition i is not smooth : so that, having nei- 
ther the voice nor the heart of flattery about me, 
I cannot .«o conjure up the spirit of love in 
her, that he will appear in his true likeness. 

-Bur. Pardon the frankness of my mirth, ii 
I answer you for that. If you would conju; e 
in her you must make a circle : if conjure up 
love in her in his true likeness, he must appear 
naked, and blind: Can you blame her then, 
being a maid yet rosed over with the virgiii 
crimscm of modesty, if she deny the appear- 
ance of a naked blind boy in her naked seeing 
self? It were, my lord, a hard condition for a 
maid to consign to. 

K. Hen. Yet they do wink, and yield; as 
love is blind, and enforces. 

Bur. They are then excused, my lord, when 
they see not what they do. 

K. Hen. Then, good my lord, teach your 
cousin to coiisent to winking. 

Bh^. I will wink on her to consent, my 
lord, if you will teach her to know my mean- 
ing : for maids, well summered and warm 
kept, are like flies at Bartholomew-tide, blind, 
though they have their eyes; and then tiiey 
will endure handling, which nefore would not 
abide looking on. 

K. Hen. This moral^ ties me over to time, 
and a hot summer; an.d so I will catch the fly-, 
your cousin, in the latter end, and she must 
be blind too. 

Bur. As love is, my lord, before it loves. 

K. Heti. It is so: and you may, some of 
you, thank love for my blindness; who can- 
not see many a fair French city, for one fair 
French maid that stands in my way. 

Fr. King. Yes, my lord, you see them por- 
spectively, the cities turned into a maid ; for 
they are all girdled with maiden walls, that 
war hath never entered. 

K. Hen. Shall Kate be my wife? 

Fr. King. So please you. 

K. Hen. I am content; so the maiden ci- 
ties you talk of, may wait on her: so the 
maid, that sktood in the way of my wish, shall 
shew me the way to my will. 

Fr. King. We have consjented to all terms 
of reason. 



• i,e.. Though my face has no power to soften you. 
j Application, 



t Slight barrier. J Tamper. 
2 Y 3 



522 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act V 



K. Hen. Is't so, my lords of England ? 
West. The king hath Jiranted every article: 
His daughter, first; and then, in sequel, all. 
According to their firm proposed natures. 

Exe. Only, he hath not yet subscribed 
this ; — Whpri> vonr majesty demands, — That 
the king of France, having any occasion to 
■write for matter of grant, shall nam«^, your 
highness i» this form, and with this addition, 
in French, — Notre tres cher Jilz Henry roy 
d*Afigleterre, heretier de France ; and thus 
in Latin, — Pnrclarissimus Jilius noster Hen- 
ricus, rex AvglicB, et hares Franci(E. 

Fr. A'ing. >»or this I have not, brother, to 
denied. 
But your request shall make me let it pass. 
A. Hen. J pray you then, in love and dear 
alliance, 
Let that oi'e article rank with the rest : 
And, tnereupon, give me your daughter. 

Fr. Ki/ig. Take her, fair son ; and from lier 
blood raise up 
Issue to me: that the contending kingdoms 
Of France and England, whose very shores 

look pale 
With envy of each other's happiness, 
May cease their hatred ; and this dear conjunc- 
tion 
Plant neighbourhood and christian-like accord 
In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance 
His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair 
All. Amen. [France. 

K. Hen. Now welcome, Kate : — and bear 
me witness all. 
That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen. 
[Flourish. 
Q, Jsa. God, the best maker of all mar- 
riages 



Combine >our liearis in one, your realms in 

one ! 
As man and wife, being two, are one in love 
So be there 'twixt your kingdoms Buch a 

sponsal. 
That never may ill office, or fell jealousy, 
Which troubles oft the bed of blessed^ mar 
riage, [dom^j^ 

Thrust in between the paction of these kinu- 
To make divorce of their incorporate leagiit* ; 
That English may as French, French English- 
men, 
Pieceive each other! — God speak this Amen! 
All. Amen! [which day> 

K. Hen. Prepare we for our marriage : — on 
My lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath. 
And all the peers*, for surety of our leagues.- 
Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me; 
And may our oaths well kept and prosp'rou 
be I [Exeu7it 

Enter Chorus. 
Thus far, with rough, and all unable pen, 

Our bending * author hath pursued the stor} ; 
In little rorm confining mighty men, 

Mangling by starts the foil course of their 

glory. [lived 

Small time, but, in that small, most greatly 

This star of England : fortune made his sword; 

By which the.w oi Id's best garden t he achieved. 

And of it left his son imperial lord. 
Henry the sixth, in infant bands crov^'n*d kfng 
Of France and England did this king succeed; 
Whose state so many had the managing. 
That they lost France, and made his England 
bleed : [sake, 

Which oft our stage hath shewn ; and, fortheii 
In your fair minds let this acceptance take. 

[Exit 



:♦! 



• i» e.. Unequal to the weight of the subject. + France. 



This play has many scenes of high dignity, and many of easy merriment. The character of 
the king is well supported, except in his courtship, where he has neither the vivacity of Hal, 
nor the grandeur of Henry. • The humour of Pistol is very happily continued : his character 
has perhaps been the model of all he bullies that have yet appeared on the English stage. 

The lines given to the Chorus have many admirers; but the truth is, that in th.em a lit'le 
may be praised, and much must be forgiven : nor can it be easily discovered why the intelli- 
gence given by the Chorus is more necessary in this play than in many others where it is 
omitted. The great defect of this play is the emptiness and narrowness of the laf^t Act, whici' 
a very little diligence might have easily avoided. — Jounkon 



FIRST PART OF 



KING HENRY VI. 



^cv^ong rcprt<jCutcD. 



King Henry the Sixth. 

Duke of Gjloster, uticle to the King, and 
Protector. 

Duke ot Bedford, uncle to the King, and 
Regent of France. 

Thomas Beaufort, Duke of Exeter, great 
uncle to the King. 

Henry Beau fort, gr€«# uncle to the King, 
Bishop of Winchester, and afterwards 
Cardiniil. 

John ^Eh\]¥OJi-v, Earl of Somerset ; after- 
wards Duke. 

Richard Plantagenet, eldest son of 
Richard, late Earl of Cambridge ; after- 
7( ards Duke of York. 

Earl of Warwick. Earl of Salisbury. 
EarJ of Suffolk. 

Lord Talbot, 0terwards Earl of Shrews- 
bury. 

John Talbot, his son. 

EuMUNO Mortimer, Earl of March. 

Mortimer's Keeper, and a Lawyer. 

Sir John Fastolfe. Sir William Lucy. 

Sir Willi a 31 Glansdale. Sir Thomas 
Gargrave. 

Mayor of London. Woody ille, Lieut, of 
the Toiver. 



Vernon, of the White Rose, or York faction. 
Basset, of the Red Rose, or Lancaster 
faction. 

Charles, Da iifhi n, and afterwards King 

of France. 
Reignier, Duke of Anjou, and titular 

King of Naples. 
Duke of Burgundy. Duke of ALEN90N. 
Governor of Paris. Bastard of Orleans. 
Master-Gunner of Orleans, and his Son. 
General of the French forces in Boordeaax. 
A French Sergeant. A Porter. 
An old i!,hephei-6, father iu Joan la Pucelle, 

Margaret, daughter to Reignier j after 
wards married to King Henry, 

Countess of Auvergne. 

Joan la Pucelle, commonly called Joan oj 
Arc, 

Fiends appearing to La Pucelle, Lords, 
Warders oft he Tower, Heralds, Officers, 
Soldiers, Messengers, and several At- 
tendants both on the English and 
French. 

Scene, partly in England, and partly in 
France. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. Westminster Abbey. 

Dead March. Corpse of King Henry the 
Fijth discovered, lying in state ; attended 
on. by the Dukes of Bedford, Gloster, 
and Exeter; the Earl 0/ Warwick, the 
Bishop 0/' Winchester, Heralds, 4c. 

Bed. Hnng be the heavens with black*, 
yield day to night! 
Comets, imporiing change of times and states. 
Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky ; 
And with ihem scourge the bad revolting stars, 
That have consented unto Henry's death ! 
Henry the fifth, too famous to live long! 
England ne*er lost a king of so much worth. 
Glo. England ne'er had a king, until his 
time. 
Virtue he had, deserving to command : 
His brandish'd sword did blind men with his 

be?Mns; 
His arms spread wide*- than a dragon's wings ; 
His sparkling eyes replete with wrathful fire. 
More dazzled and drove back his enemies. 
Than mid-day sun, fierce bent against their 
faces. 



What should 1 say ? his deeds exceed all speech : 
He ne'er lift up his hand, but conquered. 

JEie. We rnourn in black ; why mourn we 
not in blood ? 
Henry is dead, and never shall revive: 
Upon a wooden cofiin we attend ; 
And death's dishonourable victory. 
We with our stately presence glorify. 
Like captives bound to a triumphant car. 
What ! shall we curse the planets of mishap, 
Ihat plotted thus our glory's overthrow? 
Or sh.di we think the subtle-witied French 
Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him. 
By magic verses + have contrived his end? 

Win. He was a king bless'd of the King of 
kings ! 
Unto the French the dreadful judgment-day 
So dreadful will not be, as was his si^ht. 
The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought : 
The church's prayers made him so prosperoag. 

Glo. The church! where is it? Had not 
churchmen pray'd, 
His thread of life had not so soon decay*d : 
None do you like but an effeminate prince. 
Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe 



• Alluding to onr ancient stage practice when a tragedy was to be acted. 
♦ There was a notion long prevalent, that lite mi^ht be taken away by metrical charm* 



521, 



SIIAKSPEARE 



[Aa I 



Witi. Glosler, whate'er we like, thou art 
protector ; 
And lookesl to command the prince, and realm. 
Thy wife is proud ; she holdeth thee in awe, 
More than God, or religious churchmen may. 

Glo. Name not leligion, for thou lovest tlie 
flesh ; [^oest. 

And ne'er throughout the year to church thoa 
Except it be to pray against thy foes. 

Bed. Cease, cease, these jars, and rest your 
miiids in peace ! 
Let's to the altar : — Heralds, wait on us : — 
Instead of gold, we'll otfer up our arms ; 
Since arms avail not, now that Henry's dead. 
Posterity, await for wi etched years. 
When at their moihers' moist eyes babes 

shdll suck ; 
Onr Isle be awmW a nourish* of salt tears, 
And none but women left to wail the dead. — 
Henry ilie filth! thy ghost I invocate ; 
Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils! 
Combat with adverse planets in the heavens! 
A far more glorious star thy soul will make, 

Than Julius Ca;sar, or bright 

Enter a Mossenger. 

Mess. My honourable lords, health to you 
Sad tidings bring 1 to you out of France, [all! 
Of loss, of shiULLhter, and discomtiture : 
Gui. nne, Champaigne, Rheims, Orle ins, 
Paris, Guysors, Poiciieis, are ail quite lost. 

Bed. What say 'si thou, man, before dead 
Henry's corse I 
Speak softly ; or the loss of those great towns 
Will make him burst his lead, and rise from 
death. 

Glo, Is Paris lost? is Roiien yielded up? 
If Henry were reca I'd to life again. 
These news would cause him once more yield 
the ghost. [was used? 

Exe. How were they lost? what treachery 

Mrss. No treachery; but waiit of inen and 
Among the soldiers this is muttered^ — [money. 
That here you maintain several factions ; 
And, whilst a field should be despatched and 
You are disputing of your generals. [fought. 
One would have ling'ring war^, with little cost ; 
Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings ; 
A third man thinks, without expense at all. 
By guileful fair words pe ice may be obtain'd. 
Awake, awake, Eni;lish ni)bilily ! 
Let not sloth dim your honour*?! new-begot : 
C)op|/d are the flower-de-luces in your arms ; 
Uf l!lngUnd's coat one half is cut away ! 

Exe. Were our tears wanting to this funeral, 

These tidings would call forth her flo ving 

tides t. [France: — 

Bed. Me they jyncern ; regent I am of 
Give memy steelSfcoat, Pll fight for France. 
Away with these disgraceful wailing robes ! 
Wounds I will lend the French, instead of eyes. 
To weep their intermissive miseries j. 
Enter anotUer Messenger. 

2 Mess. Lords, view these letters, full of 
bad mischance ; 
France is revolted from the English quite. 



Except some petty towns of no import : 
The l)auphin, Charles, is crowned king in 

Rheirtis ; 
The bastard of Orleans with him is join'd ; 
Reignier, duke of Anjon, doth take his part ; 
The duke of Alen^on tlielh to his side, [him f 
Exe, The Dauphin crowned king! all fly to 
O, whither shall we fly from this reproach i 
Glo. We will not fly, but to our enemies* 
throats : 
Bedford, if thou be slack, Pll fight it out. 
Bed. Gioster, why doubPst thou of my for- 
wardness? 
An army have 1 muster'd in my thoughts, 
Wherewith alre.idy Fran e is over-run. 
Enter a third Messenger. 
3 Mess. My gracious lords, — to add to yont 
laments, [hearse, — 

Wherewith you now bedew king Henry's 
I must inforn\ you of a dismal fight. 
Betwixt the stout lord Talbot and the French. 
Whu What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't 

so? 
ZMess, O, no; wherein lord Talbot wa» 
overthrown : 
The circumstance I'll tell you more at large. 
The tenth of Angust last, this dreadful lord, 
Retiring from the siege of Orleans, 
Having full scarce six thousand in his troop. 
By three and twenty thousand of the French 
Was round encompassed and set upon : 
No leisure had he t-o enrauk his men; 
He wanted pikes to set before his archers ; 
Instead whereof, sharp stakes, pluck'd out of 

hedges, 
They pitched in the ground confusedly. 
To keep the horsemen ofl^ from breaking in. 
More than three liours the fight continued ; 
W here valiant Talbot, above human thought,. 
Enacted wonders with his«vvord and lance. 
Hundreds he sent to liell, and none durst st.uid 

him ; 
Here, there, and every where, enraged he slew: 
The French exclaim'd. The devil was in aruift ; 
All the whole army stood agazed on him : 
His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit, 
A Talbot ! a Talbot I cried out amain, 
And rush'd into the bowels of the battle. 
Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up. 
If sir John Fastolfe had not played the cow a; (1 ; 
He being in the vaward, (placed behind, 
With purpose to relieve and follow them,) 
Cowardly fled, not having struck one strike. 
Hence grew the general wreck and massacie ; 
Enclosed were they with their enemies : 
A base VValloon, to win the Dauphin's grace. 
Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back. 
Whom all France, with their chief asseuibied 

strength. 
Durst not presume to look once in the face. 

Bed. Is Talbot slain I then 1 will slay myself. 
For living idiy here, in pomp and ease, 
Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid. 
Unto his dastard toe-men is betray'd. 
3 Me-i^s. O no, he lives ; but is took prisonei 



I 



• Nurgt wag anciently so spelt. t Her, i. ^., England's. 

X i. e. Their miseries, which have had only a short intermissiou. 



Scene /. } 



FIRST P IKl OF KING HENRY YI. 



525 



And Jord Scales with him, and lord Hunger- 
ford : [wise. 
Most of the rest slaughtered, or took like- 

Bed. His ransome there is none but 1 ^hall 
pay: 
ril hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne, 
His crown shall be the ransome of my friend ; 
Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours. — 
Farewell, my masters ; to my task will I ; 
Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make, 
To keep our great St. George*s feast withal: 
Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take, 
Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe 
quake. [besieged ; 

3 Mess. So you had need ; for Orleans is 
The English army is grown weak and faint : 
The earl of Salisbury craveth quick supply. 
And hardly keeps his men from mutiny. 
Since they, so tew, watch such a multitude. 

Exe. Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry 
Either to quell the Dauphin utterly, [sworn; 
Or bring him in obedience to your yoke. 

Bed. I do remember it ; and here take leave, 
Togo about my preparation, {Exit. 

Glo. I'll to the Tower, with all the haste I 
To view the artillery and munition; [can. 

And then I will proclaim young Henry king. 

[Exit. 

Exe. ToEltham will I,wheretheyoHngking 
Being ordain*d his special governor; [is, 

And for his safety there I'll best devise. {Exit. 

Win Each hath his place and function to 
attend : 
I am left out; for me nothing remains. 
But long I will not be Jack-out-of office; 
The king from Eltham 1 intend to send. 
And sit at chiefest stern of public weal. 

[Exit. Scene clo'^es. 

SCENE II: France. Before Orleans. 

fiw^er Charles, with his Forces ; Alen- 

9UN, Reignier, and Others. 

Char. Mars his true moving, even as in the 
heavens, 
So in the earth, to this day is not known : 
Late did he shine upon the English side ; 
Now we are victors upon us he smiles. 
W hat towns of any moment, but we have? 
/•t pleasure here we lie, near Orleans ; 
Otherwhiles, the famish'd English, like pale 
Faintly besiege us, one hour in a month, [ghosts, 

Alen. They want their porridge, and their 
fat bull-beeves : 
Either they must be dieted like mnles. 
And have their provender tied to their rnouths, 
Or piteous they wnll look, like drowned mice. 

Reig. Let's raise the siege; Why live we idly 
Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear : [here? 
Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbuij^; 
And he may well in fretting spend his gall. 
Nor men, nor money, hath he to make war. 

Ciiur. Sound, sound alarum ; we will rush 
on them. 
Now for the honour of the forlorn French : — 



Him I forgive my death, that killeth me, 
When he sees me go back one foot, or fly. 

[Exeunt, 
Alarums; Excursions ; afterwards a Be- 

treat. 
Re-enter Charlks, ALEN9(m, Reignier, 
and Others. 
Char. Who ever saw the like? what men 
have I?— [fled. 

Dogs! cowards! dastards! — I would ne'er have 
But tliat they left me 'midst my enetnies. 

Reig. Salisbury is a desperate homicide ; 
He hghteth as one we^iry of his life.. 
'J he other lords, like lions wanting food. 
Do rush upon us asiheir hungry prey *. 

Aten. Froissard, a conntryn.an of ours, re 
England all Olivers and Rowlands bred, [cords 
During the time Ed'v^ard the third did reiga, 
jM<n'e truly now may this be verified; 
For none but -amsons, and Goliasses, 
It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten ! 
Lean raw-boned rascals! who would e^er iop 
They had such courage and audacity? [pose 
Char. Let's leave this town; for they are 
hair-hrain'd slaves, [eager r 

And hunger will enforce them to be nior*^ 
Or old I know them ; rather with their teeth 
The walls they'll tear down, than forsake the 
siege. [device, 

Reig. I think, by some odd gimmals^ os 
Their arms are set, like clocks, still to strike on ; 
Else ne'er could ihey hold out so as they do. 
By my consent, we'll e'en let them alone. 
Aten. Be it f-o. 

Entir the Bastard o/' Orleans. 
Bast. Where's the prince Dauphin, I have 
news foi- him? [to us. 

Char. Bastard % of Orleans, thrice welcome 
Bast. Meihinks, y^^nr looks are sad, youF 
cheery appall'd ; 
Hath the late overthrow wrought this ofifence 
Be not dismay 'd, for succotn- is at hand : 
A holy maid hither with me 1 bring, 
Whioh, by a vision sent to her from heaven. 
Ordained is to raise this tedious siege. 
And drive the English forth the bounds of 
The spirit of deep prophecy she hath, [France. 
Exceeding the \i\u<^ sibyls of old Rome ; [scry. 
What's past, and what's to come, she can de- 
Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words 
For they are certain and unfdlible. 

Char. Go, call her in : [Exit Bastard.] But, 
first, to try her skill, 
R,eignior, stand thou as Dauphin in my place: 
Question her proudly, let thy looks be stern :^ 
By this means shall we sound what skill she 
hath. [Rctlrts. 

Enter La Pucelli^ Ba^m-d qf Orleans, 
and Others. 
Biig. Fair maid, is't thou wilt do these 
wondrous feats? [guile me?— 

Puc. Reignier, i.s't thou that thinkest to be 
Where is the Dauphin?— come, come from 
behind ; 

• i. e,y Tlhe prey for which they are hungry. t A gimmal is a piece <»f jointed work 

where one piece moves within another; here it is takeu at large for an engine. 

;t This was not in former times a term of reproach. j Countenance. 



526 



SKAKSPEARE. 



[Act i 



\ know thee well, though never seen before. 
Be not amazed, there's nothing hifi from me : 
In private will I talk with thee apart: — 
i)tand back, you lords, and give us leave a 

while. [dash. 

Beig. She 'takes upon her bravely at tirst 

Pitc. Dauphin, 1 am by bjrth a shepherd's 
My wit untrain'd in any kind of art. [daughter. 
Heaven, and our Lady gracious, hath it pleased 
Il'o sliine on my contcmpiible estate: 
JjO, whilst 1 waited on my tender lambs, 
And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks, 
God's mother dei'^ned to appear to me ; 
And, in a vision lull of majesty, 
Will'd me to leave tny base vocation, 
And free my coimtry froni calamity : 
Her aid she promised , and assured success: 
In complete glory she reveal'd herself; 
And, whereas I was black and swart before, 
VV^ith those clear rays which she infused on me, 
That beauty am I blcss'd with which you see. 
Ask me what question thou canst possible, 
And 1 will answer unpremeditated : 
M} couaiie try b> combat, if ihou dar*St, 
And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex. 
Resolve on lliis*: Thou shalt be fortunate, 
If thou receive me for thy warlike mate. 

Ckur. Thou hast astonished me with thy high 
terms; 
Only this proof I'll of thy valour make, — 
In single consbat thou shalt buckle with me; 
And, if ihou vanquishest, th}' words are true ; 
Otherwise, 1 renounce all confidence, [sword, 

Fuc. 1 am prepared : here is my keen-edged 
Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side ; 
The which at Tour;iine, in Saint Katharine's 

church-yard, 
Out of a deal of old iron I chose forth, [man. 

Char, Then come o'God's name, I fear no wo- 

Puc. And, while 1 live, I'll ne'er fly from 
a man. [They Jig ht. 

Char, Stay, stay thy hands ; thou art an 
Amazon, 
And lightest with the sword of Deborah. 

Puc, Christ's mother helps me, else I were 
too vreak. [help me : 

Char. VV hoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou thai must 
Impatiently I burn with thy desire; 
My heart and hands thou hast at once subdued. 
Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so, 
let me thy servant, and not sovereign, be; 
'lis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus. 

Puc. I nmst not yield to any rites of love. 
For my profession's sacred trom above : 
V\ hen 1 have chased all thy foes from hence. 
Then will I think upon a recompense. 

Char, Mean lime, lo(;k gracious on ihy pros- 
trate thrall. [talk. 

lleiii. My lord, mcthinks, is very long in 

Aleji. Doubtless he shrives this woman to 
her smock ; 
Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech 

Rtig. Shall we diiturb him, since he keeps 
no menn? [do know : 

Al'7i, He may mean nice than we poor men 



These women are shrewd tenipters with their 
tongues. [you on i 

Heig. My lord, where are you? what devise i 
Shall we give oVer Orleans, or no? 

Puc. Why, no, I say, distrustful recreantsi 
Fight till the last gasp ; I will be your guard. 

Char, What she says I'll coutirm ; we'll 
fight it out. 

Puc. Assign'dam I to be the English scourge. 
This night the siege assuredly I'il raise: 
Expect Saint Martin's summer t, halcyon days, 
Since I have enter'd into these wars. 
Glory is like a circle m the water, 
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself. 
Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought. 
With Henry's death, the English circle endgj 
Dispersed are the glories it included. 
Now am 1 like that proud insulting ship, 
Which Caesar and his fortune bare at once. 

Cliur. Was Mahomet inspired with a dove 
Thou with an eagle art inspired then. 
Helen, the niother of great Constautine, 
Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters!, were like 

thee. 
Bright star of Venus, fali'n down on the earth 
How may I reverently worship thee enough* 

Alen. Leave off delays, and let us raise th>. 
siege. [honours ( 

Reig. W Oman, do what thou canst to save oui 
Drive them from Orleans, and be imniortalized 

Char. Presently we'll try : — Come let*, 
away about it : 
No prophet will 1 trust, if she prove false. 

{Exeunt. 

SCENE III. London. Hill before the 

Toicer. 

Enter, at the Gates, the D.uke of Gloster, 
with his Serving-men, in blue Coat.s. 
Glo. I am come to survey the Tower thij* 
day ; [ance j. — 

Since Henry's death, I fear, there is convey- 
Where be these warders, that they wait not 
Open the gates ; Gloster it is that calls, [here? 
[Servants knock. 
1 War d . [Within .^ Who is there that knock* 
so Imperiously ? 

1 Serr. It U the noble duke of Gloster. 

2 Waid. [W/thin.] Whoe'er he be, you may 

not be let in. [villains? 

1 Serv. Answer you so the lord protector, 
1 Ward. [Within.] The Lord protect him! 
so we answ er him : 
We do no otherwise than we are will'd. 
Glo. Who willed you J or whose will stands, 
but mine? 
There's none protector of the realm but I! 
Break up II the gates, I'll be your warrantize: 
Shall I be flouted tnus by dunghill grooms? 
Servants rtish at the Toicer Gates, En- 
ter, to the GateSf WooDMLLEfthe 
IJeutenant. 
Wood. [Within.] What noise is this? what 
traitors have we here? 



• Pe firm!y persn ided of it. + Expect prcperity after misfortune, 

•our daug;li£t«b of iMiiiiu mentioned, in . »cts xxi. U. 5 Theli. 



+ Meaning the 
y Break open. 



Sre?ic III.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI 



527 



Glo. Lieutenant, is it you, whose voice I 
hear ? [enter. 

Open the gates ; here's Gloster, that would 
Wood. [fJ'ithin.i Have patience, noble 
duke : I n^ay not open ; 
Tlie cardinal of V\ inchester forpids : 
From him I have express conimandtnent. 
That ihou, nor uone of thine, shall be let in. 
Glo. Faint-hearted Woodville, prizest him 
'fore me? 
Arrogant Winchester ! that haughty prelate. 
Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could 

brook} 
Thou art no friend to God, or to the king : 
Open the gates, or I'il shut thee out shortly. 
1 Sen;. Open the gates unto the lord pro- 
tector ; [not quickly. 
Or we'll burst them open, if that you come 
Enter Winchester, attended by a train 
of Servants in taicny coats. 
Win. How now, ambitious Humphry? what 

means this ? 
Glo. Piel'd priest*, dost thou command me 

to be shut out ? 
Win. I do, thou most usurping proditor t, 
And not protector of the king; or realm. 

Glo. ."5tand bark, thou manifest conspirator ; 
Thou, that contriv'dstto murder our dead lord; 
Thou, that giv'st whores indulgences to sin : 
I'll canvass J thee in thy broad cardinal's hat, 
If thou proceed in this thy insolence. 

Win. Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge 
This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain, [a foot; 
To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt. 

Glo. I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee 
back : 
Thy scarlet robes, as a child's bearing-cloth 
I'll use, to carry thee out of this place. 

Win. Do what thou darest ; I beard thee to 
thy face. [face ?— 

Glo. What! am T dared and bearded to my 
Draw, men, for all this privileged place ; 
Blue-coats to tawny-coats. Priest, beware 
your beard ; 
[Gloster and his Men attack the Bishop. 
I mean to tug it, and to cuft you soundly : 
Under niy feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat ; 
In spite of pope or dignities of church, 
Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down. 
H in. Gloster, thou'it answer this before the 
pope. [rope!— 

Glo. VVinchester goosed, I cry — a rope! a 
Now beat them hence I Why do you let them 
stay ? — [array. — 

Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's 
Out, tawny coats !— out, scarlet || hypocrite! 
[Here a great tumult. In the midst of it. 
Enter the Mayor of Loudon, and 
Officers. 
May. Fie, lords! that you, being supreme 
magistrates. 
Thus contumeliously should break the peace! 
Glo. Peace, mayor ; thou kuow'st little of 
my wrongs : 

* Alluding to his shaven crown. t Traitor. t Sift. § A strumpet. 

H An allusion to the Bishop's habit. II J'hai is, for pcice-otficers armed with ciubi 

or staves. ♦• Pride. t+ Favour. +; Spies. 



Here's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king. 
Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use* 

Win. Here's Gloster too, a foe to citizens ; 
One that gtill motions war, and never peace, 
O'ercharging your free purses witli large lines ; 
That seeks to overthrow religion. 
Because he is protector of the realm; 
And would have armour hereout of the Tower, 
To crown himself king, and suppress tlie prince* 
Glo. I will not answer thee with words, but 
blows, [Here Lhey skirniisk again. 
May. !Nouuht rests for me, in this tumultu- 
ous strife. 
But to make open proclamation : — 
Come, officer; as loud as e'er thou canst. 
Ott. All m inner of men, assembled here 
in arms this day, against God's peace and 
the king's, tve charge and command you, 
in his highness*s name, to re}>air to your 
several dtvelling-yluces ; and not to tv^ar, 
hanale, or use, any sward, tveapon, or dag- 
ger, hcnceforivard, upo)i pain of death. 
Glo. Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the law: 
But we shall meet, and break our minds at 
large. [be sure : 

Win. Gloster, we'll meet ; to thy dear cost, 
Thy heart-blood I will have, for thi- day's work. 
May. I'll call for clubs II, if you will not 
away : — 
This cardinal is more haughty than the devil. 
Glo. jMayor, farewell: thou dost but what 

thou may'st. 

Win. Abotninable Gloster! guard thy head; 

For I intend to have it, ere long. [Exeunt. 

May. Seethe coast clear'd, and then we will 

depart. — [bear! 

Good God ! that nobles should such stomachs** 

I myself fight not once in forty year. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. France. Before Orleans. 
Enter, on the Walls, ^Ae Master-Gunner 

and his Son. 
M. Gun. Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans 
is besieged ; 
And how the English have the suburbs won. 

Son. Father, I know ; and oft have shot at 
Howe'er, unfortunate, I miss'd my aim. [them, 
M. Gun. But now thou shalt not. Be thou 
ruled by me : 
Chief master-gnnner am I of this town ; 
Something I must do to procure me grace ft: 
The prince's espials;; have inform'd me, 
How the English, in the suburbs close in- 

trench'd. 
Wont, through a secret gate of iron bars 
In yonder tower, to overpeer the city ; 
And thence discover how wnthmost advantage 
; They may vex us, with shot, or with assault. 
I To intercept this inconvenience, 

A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have placed ; 
i And fully even these three dayshavel watch'd. 
If 1 could see them. No v, boy, do thou watch, 
For I can stay no longer. 
If thou spy'stany, run and bring me word ; 



528 



SiiAKSPEARE. 



[Act I 



And Ihcu shalt find me at th*- governor's. [Escit. 
SoJif Father, I warrant >ou; take^ou no 
I'll never trouble J ou it 1 may spy them, [care ; 
Enter y in an upptrChoTitbtr oj'a Toner , the 
Lords Salisbury and Talbot, fc>ir Wii - 
LiAM GL\^suALE, fair Thomas Gar- 
grave, <//<</ Ot/ur.s. 

Sal. lalboi, m> li!e, my joy, again return'd I 
How wert fboQ handled, being prisoi.tr? 
Or by what means gct'ist lliou to he released? 
Discourse,! pi'yllice, on this turrtt's top. 

J'al. The duke of Bedford had a prisoner. 
Called — t-lie brave lord Ponton de Sanirailles; 
For him 1 was exchanged and ransomed. 
JBut with a baser man of arms, by far, [me : 
Once, in contempt, they wouUl have bartcr'd 
^\ hich I,disdaiidng, scorn'd ; and craved death 
Rather than I would be so piled esteem'd *. 
In tine, redeem'd 1 was as 1 desired. [heart! 
But, O ! the treacherous Fastoife wounds my 
"Whom with my bare tists I would execute. 
If 1 now had him brought Into my power. 
Sal. Yet tell'stthou not, how thou wert en- 
teitain'd. [lious taunts. 

Tal. W ith scoffs, and scorns, and contume- 
In open njarket-place produced they me. 
To be a public spectacle to ail ; 
Here, said they, is the terror of the French, 
The scare-crow that aflrights our childi en so. 
I'hen broke 1 from the othcers that led me; 
And N\ith my nails digg'd stones out of the 
To hull at the beholders of my shame, [ground. 
My grisly countenance made others fly ; 
Kc'iie durst come near for ftar of sudden death. 
In iron w alls they deem'd me not secure ; 
iio great fear of my name 'niongst them was 

spread. 
That they supposed I eould rend bars of steel. 
And spnin in pieces p(-sts of adamant: 
AV'herefore a guard of chosen shot 1 had,, 
Ihat walk'd about me eveiy minute-while; 
And it 1 did but stir out of my bed, 
Heads tlity were to shoot me to the heart. 

SuL I grieve to hear what torments >ou en- 

Eui we will be revtnged suthciently. [durecl ; 

!Now it IS supper-tiuie in Oilcans : [one, 

Here, tluuiigh this grate, 1 can count every 

And View the Frenchmen how they fortity ; 

Let us lt.uk in, the sight will much delight thee. 

►Sir Tiioniiis Gaigia\e, and sir William Glans- 

Let me have yoi:r express opinions, [dale, 

W here is best place to make our battery next. 

Gar. 1 think, at the north gate; for there 

stand lords. [bridge. 

Gliin. And I, here, at the bulwark of the 

lai. For ouLht 1 see, this city must be fa 

Or with light skirmishes enfeebled, [mish'd, 

{Slioi J'rovi the 1 own. .SALisDUKYtf//ri 

Sir J H. . GAHGRAVt^tt//. 

Sal. O LiJid, have mercy on us, wretched 

sinners 1 [man! 

Gar. O Lord, have mercy on me, woiul 

'J'aL. \V hat chance is this, that suddenly hath 

oossM un i — 

Speak, balifbury ; at least, if thou canst speak; 



How farest thou, mirror of ail martial men I 
One of thy eyes, and thy cheek's 'side struck 
Accursed tow er! accursed fatal hand, [otf! — 
That hath contrived this woful tragedy J 
In thirteen battles Sausbuiy o*ercame ; 
Henry the fifth he tirst train'd to ihe w ars ; [up, 
W hiist any trump did sound, or dr'.m struck 
His sw'ord did ne'er leave striking in the held. 
Yet livest th.ou, Salisbury 1 though thy speech 

doth fail. 
One eye thou hast, to lo(;k to heaven foi- grace : 
The sun with one eye view eth all the world. — 
Heaven be thou gracious to none alive. 
If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands! — 
Bear hence his body, I will help to bury it. — 
Sir Thom IS Gargrave, hast thou any life? 
Speak unto Talboi; nay, look up to him. 
Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort; 

Thou shalt not die, whiles 

He beckons with his hand, and smiles on me; 
As who should say, IV uen I am dead ana gone, 
llenum'>er to at enge yne on the French. — 
Plantagenet, I will; and Nero-like, 
Flay ou the lute, beholding the towns burn; 
Wretched shall France be only in my name. 
[Thunder heard ; afterwards an Alarum. 
What stir is this? W^hat tumults in the 

heavens? 
Whence cometh this alarum, and the noise? 
Ewer a Messenger. 
Mess. My lord, my lord, the French have 

gathered head : 

The daufhin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd 

A holy prophetess, new risen up, 

is come with a great power to raise the siege. 

[SALiSiiuRY groans. 

Tal. Hear, hear, how oyiug Salisbury doth 

groan! 
It irks his heart, he cannot be revenged. — 
Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you : — 
Pucelle or puzzle t, dolphin or dogfish, [heels, 
Voi'.r hearts I'd stamp out with my horse's 
And make a quagmire of your mingkd brains. 
Convey me Salisbury into his tent, [meii dare. 
And then we'll try what these dastard Irench- 
[Eitunt, bearing out the Hoaits. 

SCENE V. The same. Before one oj the 

G'.itcs. 
Alarum. Skirjiiishings. Talbot pursueth 
i/^e Dauphin, and driittti him in: thtn 
ent(r JOAJs la Plcklle, driving En-^lish- 
inen before her. Then enter Tai.uot. 
Tal. W here is my strength, my valour, and 
my force? 
Our Eijglioh troops retire, I cannot stay them; 
A woniau, clad in armour, chaheth them. 
Enter La Pucklle. 

Here, here she comes ; Pll have a bout with 

D. \il, or devil's dam, Pil conjure thee : [thee ; 

Bio d will 1 draw on thee;, thou art a witeh, 

And straightway give thy soul to him thou 

serveet. 

Puv. Come, come, 'tis only I that must di» 

grace tlieel [Thiyjight. 



• So stripped of honours. + A dirty wench. t The superstition of lhog« 

llmoc laughl, that he who could draw a witch'g blood was free fr(.m her power. 



J^.l 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRl^ VI. 



529 



Till. He:»vens, can you suffer hell so to pre- 
vai-l? [ra^e, 

My breast I'll burst with straining of my con- 
And from my shoulders crack ray arms asun- 
der, 
But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet. 
Pac. Talbot, farewell ; thy hour is not yet 
I mnst go victual Orleans forthwith, [come: 
O'ertake me it thou canst ; I scorn thy strength. 
Go, go, cheer up tiiy hunger-starved men ; 
?lelp Salisbury to make his testament: 
This day is onrs, as many more sJiall be. 

[PocELLE eyiters th' Toicn ix'itk Soldiers. 
Tal. My thoughts are whirled like a potter's 
wheel ; 
I know not where I am, nor what I do : 
A witch, by fear, not force, like Hannibal, 
Drives back our troops, and conquers as she 
lists ; [stench, 

So bees with smoke, and doves with noisome 
Are from their hives, and houses, driven away. 
Ihey call'd us, for our fierceness, English dogs ; 
Now, like to whelps, we crying run away. 

\A snort Alarum. 
Hark, countrymen ! either renew the fight. 
Or tear the lions out of England's coat; 
Renounce your soil, give sheep in lion's stead : 
.Sheep run not half so timorous from the wolf, 
Or horse, or oxen from the leopard, 
As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves. 

[ALaram. Another Skirmish, 
It will not be : — Retire into your trenches : 
You all consented unto Salisbury's death. 
For none would strike a stroke in his revenge. 
Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans, 
In spite of us, or aught that we could do. 
O, would 1 were to die with Salisbury! 
The shame hereof will make me hide my head. 
[Alarum. Retreat. Exeunt lH a.lbot 
and his Forces j 4c» 



SCENE VI. The same. 

Enter, on the Walls, Pucklle, Charles 

REiGiViiiR, Alen^on, and Soldiers. 

Puc. Advance our waving colours on the 
walls; 
Rescued is Orleans from the English wolves : — 
Thus Joan la Pucelle hath pertorm'd her word. 

C/iar. Divinest creature, bright Astraea's 
daughter, 
How shall I honour thee for this success? 
Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens, [next. 
That one day bloom'd, and fruitful were the 
France, triimiph in thy glorious prophetess! — 
Recover'd is the town of Orleans ; 
More blessed hap did ne*er befal our state. 

Relg. Why ring not out the bells throughout 
the town "? 
Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires. 
And feast and banquet in the open streets. 
To celebrate the joy that God hath given us. 

Aleu. All France will be replete with mirth 

and joy, [men. 

When they shall hear how we have play'd the 

Char. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day 
is w«m ; 
For which, I will divide my cro^vn with her: 
And all the priests and friars in my realm 
Shall, in procession, sing her endless praise. 
A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear, 
Than Rhodope's, or Memphis', ever was: 
In memory of her, when she is dead, 
Ker ashes, in an urn more precious 
Than the rich-jewell'd cotfar of Darius, 
Transported shall be at high festivals 
Before the kings and queens of France. 
No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry. 
But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint. 
Come in ; and let us banquet royally. 
After this golden day of victory. 

[Flourish. Exeunt, 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. The same. 

Enter to the Gates, a French Sergeant, and 

Two Sentinels. 

Serg. Sirs, take your places, and be vigi- 
If any noise, or soldier, you perceive, [lant : 
Near to the wails, by some apparent sign. 
Let us have knowledge at the court of guard *. 

1 Sent. Sergeant, you shall. {E>it Sergeant. 

Thus are poor servitors 

(When others sleep upon their quiet befis) [cold. 

Constrained to watch in darkness, rain, and 

Enter Ialbot, Bedford, Burgundy, and 

Forces, with scaling Ladders; their 

Drams beating a dead March. 

Tal. Lord regent,— and redoubted Bur- 
gundy, 
By whose approach, the regions of Artoi3, 
Walloon, and Picardy, are friends to us, — 
riiis happy night the Frenchmen are secure. 
Having all day caroased and banqueted : 



Embrace we then this opportunity ; 
As htting best to quittance their deceit. 
Contrived by art, and baleful sorcery. 

Bed. Coward of France! — how much he 
wronsjs his fame, 
Despairing; of his own arm's fortitude. 
To join with witches, and the help of hell. 

Bur. Traitors have never other com pany. — 
But what's that Pucelle, whom they terrn %o 

7^«/. A maid, they say. [pure? 

Bed. A maid ! and be so martial 

Bur. Pray God, she prove not masculine 
ere long ; 
If underneath the standard of the French, 
She carry armour, as she hath begun. 

Tal. Well, let them practise and converse 
with spirits : [name, 

God is our fortress ; in whose conquering 
Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks. 

Bed. Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow 
thee. 



• The same as guard-room. 



2 Z 



5.'!0 



SHAKSPKARE. 



[Act II 



Till. Not all together: better far, I guess, 
Th.u \\e flo niHke our entr-mce several wa>8; 
'i'nai, if" it cliaiice tlie one of us do fail, 
The oilier yet may rise atiainst their force. 

Beit, Agreed; I'll to you corner. 

Bur. And I to this. 

Till. And here will Talbot mount, or make 
his L'rave. — 
Now, Salisbury ! for thee, and for the right 
Of F]n2;li>h Henry, shall this night appear 
How much in duty I am bound to both. 

[7'Af Eiielish scalf the Walls, crying St. 
George! a Talbot 1 and all enter by 
tin Tonn. 

Serit. [Wilhin.] Arm, arm I the enemy 
doth make assault I 
\Tlip French leap »ver the Walls m their 

Sh'i ts. Enfer, several tvays. Bastard, 

ALEN90N Reign I GR, half ready, and 

half unready. 

Alen. How now, my lords? what, all un- 
ready • so ? well. 

Ba\t, Unready ? ay, and glad we *scaped so 

Reig. 'Twas lime, I trow, to wake and 
lease our beds, 
Hea-inti al.irums at our chamber doors, [arms, 

Al> II. Or all exploits, since first I foliow'd 
Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprise 
More venturous, or desperate than this. 

Bast. I think thisTalbot be uficnd of hell. 

Beig. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, fa- 
vour him. [he sped. 

Alen. Here cometh Charles ; I marvel how 
Ent( r Charles and La Pucelle. 

Bast. Tut! holy Joan was his defensive 
guard. [dame? 

Char. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful 
Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal, 
Make us partakers of a little gain. 
That now o»ir k)ss mitiht be ten times so much 1 

Puc. Wherefore is Charles impatient with 
hi? friend ? 
At all tin)es will yoo have my power alike? 
Sleeping, or waking, must 1 still prevail. 
Or will you blame and lay the fault on me? — 
Improvident soldiers! had your watch been 

eood, 
This sudden mischief never could have fall'n. 

Char. Duke of Alen^on, this was your de- 
fault ; 
That, being captain of the watch to-night. 
Did look no better to that weighty charge. 

Alrn. Had all your quarters been as safely 
As that whereof I had the government, [kept, 
We had not been thus shamefully Burprib'd. 

Bust. Mine was secure. 

Btic.. And so was mine, my lord, [night, 

Char. And, for myself, most part of ^11 this 
Wilhin her quarter, and mine own precinct, 
1 was employed in passing to and fro. 
About relieving of the sentinels : [break in? 
Vhen huw, or which way, sl-rould they first 

Pur. Question, my lords, no further of the 

case, , [some place 

How, or which way ; 'tis sure, they found 

But weakly guarded,where ihebreach was made. 



And now there rests no other shift but this, — 
To gather our soldiers, scatterM and dispersed, 
And lay new platforms t to endamajije ihem. 
Alar4im. Enter an English Soldier, crying 

a Talbot! a Talbot! They Jiy, leaving 

their Clothes behiiid. 

Sold. I'll be so bold to take what they have 'J 
The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword ; [left. 
For 1 have loaden me with many spoils. 
Using no other weapon but his name. {Exit. < 

SCENE II. Orleans. Within the Town. I| 
Enter Tai^bot, Bedford, Burgundy, a " 
Captain, and Others. 
Bed. The day begins to break, and night is 
fled, 
Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth. 
Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit. 
[Retreat sounded. 
Tal. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury ; 
And here advance it in the market-place. 
The middle centre of this cursed town. — 
Now have I paid my vow unto his soul : 
For every diopof blood wasdravvn from him. 
There hath at least five Frenchmen died to- 
And, that hereafter ages may behold [night. 
W^hat ruin happen'd in revenge of him. 
Within their chiefest temple I'll erect 
A tomb, wherein his corpse shall beinterr'd : 
Upon the which, that every one may read. 
Shall be engraved the sack of Orleans; 
The treacherous manner of his mcui nful death . 
And what a terror he had been v^ France. 
But, lords, in all our bloody massacre, 
I musej, we met not with the Dauphin's grace ; 
His new-come champion,viituous Joan of Arc; 
Nor any of his false confederates. [began, 

Bed. 'Tis thought, lord Talbot, when the fight 
Rou?ed on the sudden from their drowsy beds, 
They did, amongst the troops of armed men. 
Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field. 

Bur. Myself (as far as I could well discern, 
For smoke, and dusky vapours of the night) 
Am snre, I scared the Dauphin, and his trull; 
When arm in arm they both came swiftly 
Like to a p dr of loving turtle-doves, [running. 
That could not live asunder day or night. 
After that things are set in order here. 
We'll follow them with all the power we have. 
Enter a Messenger. 
Mess. Ail hail, my lords! which of this 
princely train 
Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts 
So much applauded through the realm of 
France? [with him? 

Tnl. Here i« the Talbot ; who would speak 
Mess. The virtuous lady, countess of An- 
; With modesty admiring thy renown, [vergne, 
j By me entreats, good lord, thou vvouldst 
I votichsafe 

\ To visit her poor castle where she lies § ; 
Th.itshe may boast she hath beheld the man 
1 Whose glory fills the world with loud report. 
I Bur. Is it even so ? Nay, then, I see our 
\ Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport, [wars 
When ladies crave to be encouj.lcr'd with. — 



• Undressed. t Plans, scheme*. t ^Vonder. ^ i. e.. Where »he dw eils. 



Scctff //.J 



FIRST PART OF KI^G IIEMIY VT. 



jSI 



Yoii m.iy liui, my lord, despise her gentle suit. 
'J'tu. *Nt>*er trust me then ; for, when a world 
of men 
Con Id not prevail with all their ora*ory, 
Yet hatii a woman's kindness over-ruled : — 
And therefore tell her, 1 return great ihanks ; 
And in submission will attend on her. — 
Will not your honours bear me company? 
JBed. ISo, truly; it is more than manners 
will : 
And I have heard it saidj — Unbidden guests 
Ar3 often welcomest when they are ^one. 

TaL Well then, alone, since there's no 
1 mean to prove this lady's courtesy, [remedy, 
Come hither, captain. IfVhispers.] — You per- 
ceive my mind, 
Copt. 1 do, my lord ; and mean accordingly, 
ILxeunt. 

SCENE III. Auvergne. Court of the Castle. 
Enter the Countess and her Porter. 
Count. Porter, remember what I gave in 
charge ; [to me. 

And, when you have done so, bring the keys 
/^orr. iMadam,! wilU [Exit. 

Count. The plot is laid : if all things fall 
I shall as famous be by this exploit, [out right. 
As Scythian Thorny ris by Cyrus' death, 
(ireat is the rumour of this dreadful kniu;ht. 
And his achievements of no less account : 
Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine 

ears, 
To give their censure * of these rare reports. 
Enter Messenger and Talbot. 
Mess. Madam, 
According as your ladyship desired. 
By mess:ige craved, so is lord Talbot come. 
Count. And he is welcome. What ! is this 
jYJess. Madam, it is. [the man ? 

Count. Is this the scourge of France ? 

Ts this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad. 
That wiih his name the mothers still thesr 
I see, report is fabulous and false : [babes I 
1 thought I should have seen some Hercules, 
A second Hector, for his grim aspect, 
And large proportion of his stroni^-knit limbs. 
Alas ! tins is a child, a siliy dwarf: 
It cannot be, this weak and writhled t shrimp 
Should strike such terror to his enemies. 
J at. Madam, 1 have been bold to trouble 
you : 
Put, since yonr ladyship is not at leisure, 
I'll sort some other time to visit you. 
Count. What means he now ? — Go ask bim, 
whither he goes. [craves 

Mfss. Stay, my lord Talbot ; for my lady 
To know the cause of your abrupt departure. 

Tal. Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief, 
I go to certify her, Talbot's here. 

Re-enter Porter, with Keys. 
Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. 
TaL Prisoner! to whom ? 
Count. To me, blood-thirsty lord ; 

And for that cause I irain'd thee to my house. 
Long lime thy shadow hath been thrall to me, 
For in my gallery thy picture hangs : 



For opinion. t Wrinkled. 



Foolish. 



But now the substance shall endure the liko ; 
And I will chain these legs and arms of thine. 
That hast by tyranny, these many years. 
Wasted our country, slain our citizens, 
And sent our sons and husbands captivate. 

Tal. Ha, ha, hal 

Count. Laut^hest thou, wretch % thy mirth 
shall turn to moan. 

Tal. I 1 iU2;h to see your ladyship so fond J, 
To think that you have aught but Talbot's sha« 
Whereon to practise your severity. [dow, 

Count. VV hy, art not thou the man? 

Tal. I am indeed. 

C'.unt. Then have I substanc e loo. 

Tal No, no, 1 am but shadow of myself: 
You are deceived, my substance is not here; 
For what you see, is but the femallest part 
And least proportion of humanity ; 
I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here. 
It is of such a spacious lofty pitch. 
Your roof were not sufficient to contain it. 

Count. This is a riddling merchant for the 
nonce § ; 
He will be here, and yet he is not here : 
How can these contrarieties agree? 

Tal. That will I show you presently. 
He winds a Horn. Drums heard ; then a 

Peal of Ordnance. The Gates being 

forced, enter Soldiers. 
How say you, madam? are you now persuaded. 
That Talbot is but shadow of himself? 
These are his substance, sinews, arms, and 

strength. 
With which he yoketh your rebellious necks, 
Razeth yonr cities, and subverts your towns. 
And in a moment makes them desolate. 

Count. Victorious Talbot ! pardon my abuse: 
I find, thou art no less than fame hath bruited H, 
And more than may be ijather'd by thy shape. 
Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath ; 
For 1 am sorry that with reverence 
I did not entertain thee as thou art. [Construe 
Tal. Be not dismay'd, fair lady ; nor mis- 
The mind of Talbot, as yon did mistake 
The outward composition of his body. 
YV'hat you have done hath not ottended me 
No other satisfaction du I crave, 
But only (with your patience) that we may 
Taste of your wine, and see what cates you 

have ; 
For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well. 
Count. W iih all my heart : and think me 
honoured 
To feast so great a warrior in my house. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. London. The Temp\e Garden. 
E?iter the Earls of Somerset, Suffolk^ 
and Warwick; Richard Planta- 
G£NET, Vernon, and anotner Lawyer. 
Plan, Great lords, and gentlemen, what 
means this silence? 
Dare no man answer in a case of truth? 
Suff. Wiihin the Temple hall we were too 
loud; 
The garden here is more convenient. 

For a purpose. i| Announced loudly* 



632 



SHAKSPEARE. 



lAcf J I, 



Plan. Then say at once. If I maintain d the 
truth ; 
Or. else, was wrangling Somerset in the error? 

Suff, 'Faith, I have been a truant in the law ; 
And never yet could frame my will to it ; 
And, therefore, frame the law unto my will. 

Som. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then 
between us. [higher pitch, 

War. Between two hawks, which flies the 
Between two dogs, which hath the deeper 
month, [temper, 

Between two blades, which bears tlie better 
Between two hi^rsts, which doth bear him 
best *, [eye, 

Between two girls, which hath the merriest 
1 have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judg- 
ment : 
But in these nice sharp quillets of the law. 
Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. 

Plan. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly for- 
bearance : 
The truth appears so naked on my side. 
That any purblind eye may find it out. 

Som. And on my side it is so well apparell'd, 
So clear, so shining, and so evident, 
That it will ghramer through a blind man's eye. 

Plan. Since you are tongue-ty'd, and so 
loath to speak. 
In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts : 
Let him that is a true-born gentleman. 
And stands upon the honour i)f his birth, 
If he suppose that I have pleaded truth. 
From ott this brier pluck a white rose with me.. 

Som. Let him that is no coward nor no 
flatterer, 
But dare maintain the party of thetrutli, 
Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me. 

War. I love no colours t ; and, without ail 
Of base insinuating flatiery, [colour 

I pluck this white rose, with Plantagenet. 

Suff. 1 pluck this red rose, with young 
Somerset ; 
And say withal, I think he held the right. 

yer. S'»»y, lords, and gentlemen ; and pluck 
no more, 
Till you conclude — that he, upon whose side 
The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree, 
Sii dl yield the other in the right opinion. 

Som. Good master Vernon, it is well ob- 
jected J ; 
If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence. 

Plan. And J. [the case, 

Ver. Then, for the truth and plainness of 
I pluck this pale, and maiden blossom here, 
Giving my verdict on the white rose side. 

Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it 
off; 
LfSt, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red, 
A n<l fall on my side so against your will. 

Ver. It I, my lord, fur my opinion bleed, 
OpiiHon shall be surgeon to my hurt, 
Aiid keep n)c on the side where still lam. 

Som. Well, well, come on : Who else f 



JLaiv. Unless niy study and my books be 
false. 
The argument you held was wrong in you ; 

[To SOMERSLT. 

In sign whereof, I pluck a white rose too. 
Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argu* 
ment? [that 

Som. Here, in my scabbard ; meditating 
Shall die your white rose in a bloody red. 
Plan. Mean time, your cheeks do counter- 
feit our roses; 
For pale they look with fear, as witnessing 
The truth on our side. 

Som. No, Plantagenet, 

' ris not for fear, but anger, — that thy cheeks \ 
Blush for pure shame, to count* rfeit our roses ; 
And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. 
Plan. Hath not thy ro?e a canker, Somersef? 
Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Planta- 
genet? [his truth ; 
Plan. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain 
Whiles thy consuming canker eats his false- 
hood, [bleeding ro?es, 
Som, Well, I'll find friends to wear my 
That shall maintain what I have said is true. 
Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. 
Plan, Now, by this maiden blossom in my 
hand, 
I acorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy. 
Suff'. Turn not thy scorns this way, Man- 
tagenet. [him and tiee. 
Plan. Proud Poole, I will ; and scorn both 
Suff. I'll turn my part thereof into thy 
throat. [Poole! 
Som. Away, away, good William De-la- 
We grace the yeoman, by conversing with him. 
ffar. Now, by God's will, thou wtong'st 
him Somerset ; 
His grandfather was Lionel, duke of Clarence, 
Third son to the third Edward king of England; 
Spring crestless yeomen j from so deep a root? 
Plan, lie bears him on the place's pri- 
vilege jj, 
Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus. 
Sovi. By Him that made me I'll maintain 
my words. 
On any plot of ground in Christendom : 
Was not thy father, Richard, earl of Cam- 
bridge, 
For treason exe.-nted in our late king's days ? 
And, hy his treason, stand'st not thou attainted, 
C^orrnpted, and exempt IF from ancient gcniry ? 
His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood ; 
And, till thou hv restored, thou art ^ yeoman. 
Plan. My father was attached, not attainted; 
Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor , 
And that I'll prove en better men than 

Somerset, 
Were growing time once ripen'd to my will. 
For your partaker •♦, Poole, and you yourself, 
I'll note you in n)y book of memory, 
To scourge you for this apprehension +t : 
Look to it well ; and say you are well warn'd. 



i. e,f Reao ate his motion most adroitly. f Tints and deceits : a play on the word, 

I Justly proposed. 5> i. e., Those who have no right to arms. 

U The temple, being a religious hou?e, was a sanctuary- H Excludec . 

•• Confederate. ft Opinion. 



Scene 'V ] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



533 



Som. Ay, thou shall find us ready for Ihee 
still : 
And know us, by these colours, for thy foes; 
For these my friends, in spite of thee, shall 
wear. [rose, 

Plan, And, by my soul, this pale and angry 
As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate. 
Will I tor ever, and my faction, wear ; 
Until it wither with me to my grave, 
Or tionrish to the height of my degree. 
Sitff. Go forward, and be choked with thy 
ambition ! 
And so farewell, until I meet thee next. [Exit. 
Som. Have with thee, Poole. — Farewell, 
ambitious Richard, [Exit. 

Plan. How I am braved, and must perforce 
endure it ! [your house, 

War. This blot, that they object against 
Shall be wiped out in thie next parliament, 
Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloster : 
And, if thou be not then created York, 
I will not live to be accounted Warwick. 
Mean time, in signal of my love to thee, 
Against proud Somerset, and William Poole, 
Will I upoathy party wear this rose: 
And here I prophesy, — This brawl to-day, 
Grown to this faction, in the Temple garden. 
Shall send, between the red rose and the white, 
A thousand souls to death and deadly night. 
Plan, Good master Vernon, I am bound to 
you. 
That you on my behalf would pluck a flower. 
Ver, In your behalf still will I wear the 
Lait\ And so will I. [same. 

Plan. Thanks, gentle sir. 
\ Come, let us four to dinner : I dare say, 
I This quarrel will drink blood another day. 

\^Elieunt, 

SCENE V. The same. A Room in the 

Tower. 
Enter Mortimer, brought in a Chair by 
Two Keepers. 
j Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaying 
( Let dying Mortimer here rest himself. — [age, 
|i Even like a man new haled from the rack, 
ii So fare my limbs with long imprisonment: 
' And these gray locks, the pursuivants of death*, 
Nestor-like aged, in ar agt* of care, 
Ariiue the end of Edmund Mortimer, [spent, — 
These eyes — like lamps whose wasting oil is 
Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent t: 
Weak shoulders, overborne with burd'ning 

giief. 
And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine 
That droops his sapless branches to the ground : 
Vet are these feet — whose strengthless stay is 

numb, 
CJnable to support this lump of clay, — 
I Sw ft-winged with desire to get a grave. 
As witting 1 no other comfort have. — 
Bat tell me, keeper, will my nephtw come? 
1 Keep. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will 
come : 



We sent unto the Temple, to his chamber; 
And answer was return'd that he will come. 
Mor. Enough ; my soul shall then be satis- 
fied.— 
Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine. 
Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, 
(Before whose glory 1 was great in arms,) 
This loathsome sequestration have I had ; 
And even since then hath Richard been ob- 
scured. 
Deprived of honour and inheritance : 
But now, the arbitrator of despairs. 
Just death, kind umpire j of men's miseries. 
With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me 

hence ; 
I would his troubles likewise were expired. 
That so he might recover what was lost. 
£^/e^er Richard Plantagenet. 
1 Keep. My lord, your loving nephew new 
is come. [he come? 

Mor. Richard Plantagenet, ray friend? Is 
Plan. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly used. 
Your nephew, late-despised § Richard, comes. 
Mor. Direct mine arms, I may embrace his 
neck. 
And in his bosom spend my latter gasp : 
O, tell me, when my lips do touch hia cheeks. 
That I may kindly give one fainting kiss. — 
And now declare, sweet stem from York'i 

great stock. 
Why did'st thou say of late thou wert despised ? 
Plan. First, lean thine aged back against 
mine arm; 
And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease ||. 
This day, in argument upon a case, [me: 

Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and 
Among which terms he used his lavish tongue. 
And did upbraid me with my father's death ; 
Which obloquy set bars before my tongue. 
Else with the like I had requited him: 
Therefore, good uncle, — for my father's sake, 
In honour of a true Plantagenet, 
And for alliance' sake, — declare the cause 
My father, earl of Cambridge, lost his head. 
Mor. That cause, fair nephew, that im- 
prison'd me. 
And hath detain'd me, all my flow'ring youth. 
Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine. 
Was cursed instrument of his decease. 

Plafi. Discover more at large what cause 
that was ; 
For I am ignorant, and cannot gnessv 

Mor* I will, if that my fading breath permit. 
And death approach not ere my tale be done. 
Henry the fourth, grandfather to this king, 
Deposed his nephew Richard, Edward's son, 
The first-begotten, and the lawful heir 
Of Edward king, the third of that descent ; 
During whose reign, the Percies of the north. 
Finding his usurpation most unjust, 
Endeavour'd my advancement to the tluone : 
The reason moved these warlike lords to this. 
Was— for that (young king Richard thus re- 
Leaving no heir begotten of his l/ody) [moved. 



• The heralds that, fore-running death, proclaim its approach. f End. 

j i. e., He who terminates or concludes misery. ^ Lately despised. 

y Uneasiness, discontent. 

*i Z 3 



534 



SHAKSPEARE. 



l^ct III. 



1 was the next by birth and pdieuiage ; 
For by my mother I derivcfl am 
From Lionel duke of Clarence, the third son 
To king Edward the third, whereas he, 
From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree, 
Being but fourth of that heroic line. 
Eut mark, as in this haughty* great att-empt, 
They laboured to plant tlie rightful heir, " 
I tost my liberty, and they their lives. 
Long after this, when Henry the fifth, — 
Succeeding his father Bolingbroke, — did reign, 
Thy father, earl of Cambridge,— then derived 
Frdra famous Edmund Langley, duke of 

York,— 
Marryin'4 my sister, that thy mother was, 
Again, in pity of my hard distress, 
Lefied an army; weening + to redeem. 
And have install'd me in the diadem : 
But, as the rest, so fell that aoble earl. 
And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers, 
In whom the title rested, were suppressed. 

Plan. Of which, my lord, your honour is 
the last. [have ; 

Mar. True ; and thou seest, that I no issue 
And that my fainting words do warrant death : 
Thou art my heir ; the rest I wish ihee gather : 
But yet be wary in thy studious care. 

Plan. Thy grave admonishments prevail 
with me : 
But yet, methinks, my father's execution 
Was nothing less than bloody tyranny. 

Afor. With silence, nephew, be thou poli- 
Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster, [tic ; 



Ami, like a mountain, not to be removed. 

Hut now thy uncle is removing hence ; 

Ai princes do their courts, when they are 

cloy'd 
With long continuance in a settled place. 
Plan. O, uncle, 'would some part of my 

young years 
Might but redeem the passage of your age! 
Mor. Thou dost then wrong me; as the 

slaughterer doth, [kill. 

Which giveth many wounds, when one will 
Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good ; 
Only give order for my funeral ; 
And so farewell J; and fair be all thy hopes I 
And prosperous be thy life, in peace, and war ! 

[Dies. 
Plan. And peace, no war, befal thy parting 
In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage, [soull 
And like a hermit overpass'd thy days. — 
Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast ; 
And what I do imagine, let that rest. — 
Keepers, convey him hence: and I myself 
Will see his burial better than his life. — 

[Ejcit Keepers, hear inn; out Mortimer, 
Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, 
Choked with ambition of the meaner sort : — 
And for those wrongs, those bitter injuries, 
Which Somerset hath oflfer'd to my honse, 
I doubt not but with honour to redress : 
And therefore haste I to the parliament; 
Either to be restored to my blood. 
Or make my ill ) the advantage of my good. 

{Exit, 



ACT III. 



SCENE L 



The scMne. The Parliament 
House, 

Flourish. Enter King Henry, Exeter, 
Gloster, Warwick, Somerset, and 
Suffolk; the Bishop oj Winchester, 
BiCHARD Plantagenet, avd Others. 
Glostkr oj^ers to put up a J5i//|l, Win- 
chester snatches it, and tears it. 

Win. Com'st thou with deep premeditated 
lines. 
With written pamphlets studiously devised, 
Humphrey of Gloster? If thou canst accuse, 
Or aught intend'sl to lay unto my charge. 
Do it without invention suddenly ; 
As I with sudden and extemporal speech 
Purpose to answer what thou canst object. 
Glo. Presumptuous prit'st! this place com- 
mands II y pjftience. 
Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonour'd 

me. 
Think not, although in writing I preferred 
The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes, 
rh at therefore I have forged, or am not able 
Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen : 
No, prelate ; such is thy audacious wickedness, 
Thy lewd, pestiferous.and dissentious pranks. 
At very infants prattle of thy pride. 



Thou art a most pernicious usurer ; 
Froward by nature, enemy to peace ; 
Lascivioub, wanton, more than well beseem* 
A man of thy profession, and degree ; 
And for thy treachery, what's more manifest? 
In that thoii laid'st a trap to take my lite, 
As well at London bridge, as at the Tower? 
Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted, 
The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt 
From envious malice of thy swelling heart. 

Win. Gloster, 1 do defy thee. Lords, 

vouchsafe 
To give ine hearing what I shall reply, 
if I were covetous, ambitious, or perverse. 
As he will have me, how am I so poor? 
Or how hi'.ps it, I seek not to advance 
Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling? 
And for distention, who preferreth peace 
More than I do, — except I be provoked ? 
No, my good lords, it is not that ortends ; 
It is not that, that hath incensed the duke : 
It is, because no one should sway hui he ; 
No one, but he, should be about the king ; 
And that engenders thunder in his breast, 
And makes iiim roar these accusations forth. 
But he shall know I am as good 

Glo. As good? 

Thou bastard of my grandfather ! — 



High. 



t Thinking. 



t Lucky, prosperont. 
U i. f ., Articles of accnsatiun. 



$ My ill, is, my ill usage. 



Scetie /.] 



riRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



1^35 



Win. Ay, lordly sir; For what are you, I 
Lut one imperious in another's throne? [pray, 
Glo. Am I not the protector, saucy priest? 
Win. And am I not a prelate of the church? 
Glo. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps, 
And useth it to patronage liis theft. 
Win. Unreverent Gloster ! 
Glo. Thou art reverent 

Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life. 
Win. This Rome shall remedy. 
War. Roam thither then. 

iSom. My lord, it were your duty to forbear. 
War. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne. 
So7n. Methinks, my lord should be religious. 
And know the office that belongs to such. 
War. Methinks, his 'ordship should be 
humbler ; 
It fitteth not a prelate so to plead. [near. 

>Som. Yes, when his holy state is touch'd so 
War. State holy, or tmhaliow'd, what of 
Is not his grace protector to the king? [that? 
Plan. Plantagenet, I see must hold his 
. tongue ; 
Lest it be said, Speaky sirrah^ when you 
should; {lords? 

Must your hold verdict enter talk zvith 
Else would I have a fling at Winchester. 

[Aside. 
K. Hen. Uncles of Gloster, and of Win- 
chester, 
The special watchmen of our English weal ; 
I would prevail, if prayers might prevail. 
To join your hearts in love and atnity. 
O, what a scandal is it to our crown. 
That two such noble peers as ye should jar ! 
Believe uie, lords, my tender years can tel.. 
Civil dissensiow is a viperous worm, 
That gnaws the bowels of the common wealth. — 
[«1 7ioise within; Down with the tawny 
coats!] 
What turn idt's this? 

War. An uproar, I dare warrant. 

Begun through malice or the bishop's tuen. 

(a noi.se again ; Stones! Stones! 
Enter the Mayor of London, attended. 
May. O, my good lords, — and virtuous 
Pity the city of London, pity us ! [Henry, — 
The bishop and the duke of Gloster's men, 
Forbidden late to carry any weapon, 
Have filled their pockets full of pebble-stones ; 
And, banding themselves in contrary parts. 
Do pelt so fast at one another's pates. 
That many have their giddy brains knock'd out: 
Our windows are broke down in every street. 
And we,for fear, compell'd to shut our >hops. 
Enter f skirmishing , the Retainers of Glos- 
I t.R and W INCH ester, with bloody 'pates. 
K. Hen. We charge you, on allegiance to 
ourself, [peace. 

!•> hold your slaughtering hands, and keep the 
^ Pray, uncle Gloster, mitigate this strife. 

1 Serv. Nay, if we be 

Forbidden stouf^, we'll fall to it with our teeth. 

2 Sero. Do wkat ye dare, we are as resolute. 

[Skirmish ag,ain. 



Glo. You of ^^\y household, lea « Uus 
peevish broil. 
And set this unaccustomed * figjht asi<?*, 

.s Serv. My lord, we know your gr^. >f to be 
a man 
Just and upright; and, for your royal »irth. 
Inferior to none, but his majesty : 
And ere that we will suffer such a prince. 
So kind a father of the commonvvef-l. 
To be disgraced by an ink horn mat''-^. 
We, and our wives, and children.ail will fight. 
And have our bodies slaughter'd by ti»y foes. 

1 Serv. Ay, and the very parings of our naili 
Shall pitch a field when we are d«ad. 

[Skirmish again, 

Glo. Siay, stny, I say t 

And, if you love me, as you s»y you do. 
Let me persuade you to forbear a while. 

K. Hen. O, how this discord doth affli < 
my soul ! — 
Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold 
My sighs and tears, and will not once relent? 
W^ho should be pitiful, if vou be not? 
Or who should study lo prefer a peace. 
If holy churchmen take df.li<iht in broils? 

War. My lord prct«ctor, yield ; — yield, 
Winchester ; — 
Except you mean, with obstinate repulse. 
To slay your sovereign, and destroy the realm. 
You see what mischief^ and what murder too. 
Hath been enacted th-^ough your enmity; 
Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood. 

Win. He shall submit, or I will never yield. 

Glo. Compassion on the king command* 
me stoop ; 
Or I would see hi* heart out, eie the priest 
Sliould ever get £'iat privilege of me. 

War. Behold, my lord of Winchester, the 
Hath banish'd nnoody liiscontented fury, [duke 
As by his smoothed brows it doth appear : 
W^hy look you still so stern and trai^ical? 

Glo. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand. 

K. Hen. Fie, uncle Beaufort! 1 have heard 
you preach, 
That malice was a great and grievous sin : 
And will not you maintain the thing you teach, 
But provR a chief offender iuihe same? 

War. Sweet king! — the bishop hath a 
kinflly girdj 
For shame, my lord of Winchester! relent; 
What. «hall a child instruct you what to dot 

Win. Well, doke of Gloster, 1 will yield to 
thee ; 
Love for thy love, and hand for hand I give. 

Glo. Ay ; but, 1 fear me, with a hollow 
heart. — 
See here, my friends, and loving countrymen; 
This token servetli for a llag ot ttu e. 
Betwixt ouiselves, and all irtir followers: 
So help me God. as 1 dissemble not ! 

Win. So help me God, as I intend it not ! 
[Aside, 

K. Hen. O loving uncle, kind duke oi 
Gloster, 
How joyfiil am I made by this contrdct I— 



Unseemly, indecent. t This was a rrm of reproach toward men of learning. 

X Feels an emotion ot kind rcmoiae. 



533 



SHAKSPEAJIE. 



[Aci 111 



Away, my masters! trouble iis no more : 
But join in friendship, as your lords have done. 

1 Serv. Content; I'll to the surgeon'3. 

2 Serv, And so will I. 

3 Serv. And I will see what physic the ta- 

vern affords. 

[Exeunt Servants. Mayor, S^c. 

War, Accept this scroll, most graciods so- 
vereign ; 
Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet, 
We do exhibit to your majesty. 

Go, Well urged, my lord of Warwick ; — 
for, sweet prince. 
An if your grace mark every circumstance. 
You have great reason to do Richard right : 
Especially, for those occasions 
At Eltham-place I told your majesty, [force: 

K. Hen. And thoseoccasions, uncle, were of 
Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is, 
That Richard be restored to his blood. 

War. Let Richard be restored to his blood ; 
Se shall his father's wrongs be recompensed. 

Win. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester. 

K. Hen. If Richard will be true, not that 
But all the whole inheritance I give, [alone. 
That doth belong unto the house of York, 
From whence you spring by lineal descent. 

Plan. Thy humble servant vows obedience. 
And humble service, till the point of death. 

K. Hen, Stoop then, and set your knee 
against my foot ; 
And, in reguerdon ♦ of that duty done, 
I girt thee with the valiant sword of York : 
Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet ; 
And rise created princely duke of York. 

Plan, And so thrive Richard, as thy foes 
may fall ! 
And as my duty springs, so perish they 
That grudge one thought against your majesty ! 

All. Welcome, high prince, the mighty duke 
of York ! 

Som Perish, base prince, ignoble duke of 
York! [Aside, 

Glo. Now will it best avail your majesty, 
To cross the seas, and to be crown'd in France : 
The presence of a king engenders love 
Amongst his subjects, and his loyal friends; 
As it disanimates his enen'iies. [Henry goes ; 

K. Hen. When Glost<er says the word, king 
For friendly counsel cuts oft many foes. 

Glo. Your ships already are in readiness. 

[L'letnit all but Exeter. 

Eve. Ay, we may march in England, or in 
Not seeing what is likely to ensue: [France, 
This late dissension grown betwixt the peers. 
Burns under feigned ashes of forged love, 
And will at last break out into a (lame: 
A.S tester'd ineiubers rot but by deg'-ces, 
1 ill l)<)nes, and flesh, and sinews, f.iil away, 
So will this base and eiivious discord breed. 
And nuw I lear that fatal prophecy, 
Which, in the time of Henry named the fifth. 
Was in the mouth cf every sucking babt-, — 
That Henry, born at Monmouth, should win all; 
And Henry, born at Windsor, shouUl lose all: 



Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish ' 

Hisdays may finish ere that hapless Ume.[Ea:it, 

SCENE II. France. Before Roiien. 
Enter La Pucelle disguised^ and Soldiert 
dressed like Countrymen^ with Sacks 
upon their Backs. 

Puc. Ihese are the city gates, the gates of 
Roiien, 
Through which our policy must make a breach: 
Take heed, be wary how you place your words; 
Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men. 
That come to gathei money for their corn. 
If we have entrance, (as, 1 hope, we shall,) 
And that we find the slothful watch but wxak, 
I'll by a sign give notice to our friends, 
That Charles the Dauphin may encounter 
them. [the city, 

1 Sold. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack 
And we be lords and rulers over Roiien ; 
Therefore w e'U knock. [Knocks. 

Guard. [Within.] Qui est Id? 
Puc. Paisans, paiivres gens de France: 
Poor market-folks, that come to sell their corn. 
Guard. Enter, go in ; the market-bell if 
rung. [Opetis the Gates, 

Puc. Now, Roiien, I'll shake thy bulwark! 
to the ground. 

[Pucelle, ^c-, eyiter the City, 
Enter Charles, Bastard o/' Orleans, Alen 
90 N, and Forces. 
Char. Saint Dennis bless this happy strata 
gem ! 
And once again we'll sleep secure in Roiien. 
Bust. Here enterM Pucelle, and her prac 
tisantst; 
Now she is there, how will she specify 
Where is the besi and safest passage i^i? 
Akn. By thrusting out a torch from yon 
der tower ; [ing is, — • 

Which, once discern'd, shows, that her mean- 
No way to that;, for weakness, which she 

enter'd. 
Enter La Pucelle ow a Battlement: hold- 
i/isr out a Torch burning. 
Puc. Behold, this is the happy wedding 
torch, 
That joineth Roiien unto her countrymen : 
But burning fatal to the Talbotites. [friend. 
Bast. See, noble Charles! the beacon of our 
The burning torch in yonder turret stands. 

Char. N ow shine it like a comet of revenge, 
A prophet to the fall of all our foes ! [ous ends ; 
Alin. Defer no time. Delays have danger- 
Enter, and cry— The JJauphin .'—i>re&em\y, 
And then do execution on the watch. 

[They enter. 
Alarums. Enter Talbot, and certain 

English. 
T(/l. France, thou shalt rue this treason with 
If Talbot but survive thy treachery, [thy tear?, 
Pucelle, that wiich, that damned sorceress, 
Hath w roHght this hellish mischief anawares, 
That hardly we escaped the pride 51 of Trance. 
[Exeunt to the Town, 



Recompense. 



t Confederates in striitagcms. 
j Haughty poAver. 



X i. C-, No way equal to that. 



Scene II.'\ 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



.^5 37 



Al I rum : Excursions . Enter from the Toit/t 

BLBFORDybrought in sickin a Chair, with 

Talbot, Burgundy, and the English 

Forces. Then, enter oh the Walls, La 

PucELLE, Charles, Bastard, ALEN90N, 

and Others. 

Puc. Good morrow, gallants! want ye 
corn for bread % 
I think the duke o! Burgundy will fast, 
Before he*ll buy again at such a rate: 
'Twas full of darnel : do you like the taste?. 

Bur. Scotf on, vile fiend, and shameless 
courtezan ! 
I trust, ere long, to choke thee with thine own. 
And make tliee curse the liarvest of that corn. 

Char. Your grace may starve, perhaps, be- 
fore that time. [this treason ! 

Bed. (), let no words, but deeds, revenge 

Fuc. What will you do, good grey-beard? 
break a lance, 
And run a tilt at death within a chair? 

Tal. Fcul hend of France, and bag of all 
despite, 
Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours! 
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age, 
And twit with cowardice a man half d ad? 
Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again, 
Or else let Talbot perish with this shame. 

Puc. Are you so hot, sir? — Yet, Pucelle, 
hold thy peace ; 
If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. — 

[Talbot, and the rest, cojt^ult together. 

God speed the parliament ! who shall be the 

speaker? [field? 

Tal. Dare ye come forth, and meet us in the 

Puc. Belike, your lordship takes us then 
for fools, 
To try if that our own be ours or no. 

Tal. I speak not to that railing Hecate, 
But unto thee, Alencon, and the rest ; 
Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out? 

Alen. Signior.no. [France! 

Tal. Signior, hang !— base muleteers of 
Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls, 
And dare not take up arms like gentlemen. 

Puc. Captains, away : let's get us from the 

walls ; 

For Talbot means no goodness, by his looks. — 

God be wi' yon, my lord I we came, ?ir, but 

That we are here. [to tell you 

{Exeunt L\ Pucelle, 4c., /rom the Walls, 

Tal. And there will we be too, ere it be long. 
Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame I — 
Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house, 
(Prick'd on by public wrongs, sustained in 

Franre,) 
Either to get the town again, or die: 
And I, — as sure as English Henry lives. 
And as his father here was conqueror; 
As sure as in this late-betraye<i town 
Great Coeur-de-lion*s heart was buried ; 
So sure 1 swear, to get the town, or die. 

Bur. My vows are equal partners with thy 
vows. [prince, 

Tal. But, ere we go, regard this dying 
The valiant duke of Bedford :— Come, my lord, 



' Scofj. 



t Quite dispirited. 



We will bestow you in some better place. 
Fitter for sickness, and for crazy age. 

Bed. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me: 
Here will I sit before the walls of Koucn, 
And will be partner of your weal, or woe. 
Bur. Courageous Bedford, let us now per- 
suade you. [I read, 
Bed. Not to be gone from hence ; for once 
That stout Pendragon, in his litter, sick. 
Came to the field, and vanquished his foes: 
Methinks, I should revive the soldiersMiearts, 
Because I ever found them as myself. 

Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast ! — 
Then be it so: — Heavens keep old Bedford 

safe! — 
And now no more ado, brave Burgundy, 
But gather we our forces out of hand. 
And set upon our boasting; ent-rny. 
{Exeunt Burgundy, Talbot, and Forces 
leaving Bedford, and Others. 
Alarums : Excursions. Enter Sir John 
Fastolfe, and a Captain. 
Cap. Whither away, sir John Fastolfe, in 
snch haste? [flight, 

Fast. Whither away ? to sa\*e myself by 
We are like to have the overthrow again. 
Caj). What ! will you fly ; and leave lord 

Talbot? 
Fast. . Ayj 

All the Talbots in the world to save my life. 

[Exit. 

Cap. Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow 

thee! [Exit. 

Betreat : Excursions. Enter from the Tonm, 

La Pucelle, Alen<5;on, Charles, S^c, 

and Exeunt , flying. 

Bed. Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven 
please ; 
For I have seen our enemies' overthrow. 
What is the trust or strength of foolish man? 
They, that of late were dai ing with their scotfs 
Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves. 
[Dies, and is cui ried oj[j in his Chair. 
Alarum: Enter Talbot, Burgundy, <z/*rf 
Others. 
Tal. Lost, and recover'd in a day again ! 
This isa double honour. Burgundy : 
Yet, heavens have glory for this victoiy! 

Bur. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy 
Enshrines thee in his heart ; and there erects 
Thy noble deeds, as valour's monument. 
Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is 
Pucflle now? 
I think her old familiar is asleep : 
Now Where's the bastard's braves, and Charles 
hisgleeks*? [for grief, 

What, alla-mortt? Rolien hangs her head 
That such a valiant company are rtecl. 
Now will we take some order I in the town, 
Placinv therein some expert officers ; 
And then depart to Paris, to the king; 
For there young Harry, with his nobles, lies. 
Bur. What wills lord Talbot, pleaseth Bur- 

gundy. 
Tal. But yet, before we go, let's not forget 
The noble duke of Bedford, late deceased, 

t Make some necessary dispositions* 



538 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IfL If 



bill see l»is exequies* tiUtill'ti in Houeij ; 
A braver soldier never couched laiue, 
A gentler heart did never s\vay in court : 
But kings and mightiest potentates must die; 
For that's the end of human misery. 

[E2'eunt, 

SCENE III. The same. The Plains near 

the City. 
Enter Charles,?A6 Bastard, Alencon, La 
J*ucELLE, and Forces. 
Puc. Dismay not, princes, at this accident, 
Nor grieve that Roiien is so recovered : 
Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, 
For things that are not to be remedied. 
Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while, 
And like a peacock sweep along his tail ; 
We'll pnll his plumes, and take away his train. 
If Dauphin, and the rest, will be but ruled. 

Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto. 
And of thy cunning had no diffidence ; 
One sudden foil shall never breed distrust. 

Bast. Search out thy wit for secret policies. 
And we will make thee famous through the 
world. [place, 

Alen. We'll set thy statue in some holy 
And have thee reverenced like a blessed saint ; 
Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good. 
Puc. Then thus it must be ; this doth Joan 
devise : 
By fail- persuasions, mix*d with sugar'd words. 
We will entice the duke of Burgundy 
To leave the Talbot, and to follow us. 

Char. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do 
that, 
France were no place for Henry's warriors; 
Nor should that nation boast ii »o with us. 
But be extirped-f from our provinces. 
Aleji. For ever should they be expulsed t 
from France, 
And not have title to an earldom here. 

Puc. Your honours shall perceive how I 
will work. 
To bring this matter to the wished end. 

[Drums heard. 
Hark ! by the sound of drum, yon may perceive 
Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. 
A71 Eiiglish Mai ch. Enter, and pass over 

at a distance y Talbot and his Forces. 
There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread; 
And all the troops of English after him. 
A French March. Enter the Duke of Bur- 
gundy and Forces. 
Now, in the rearward, comes the duke, and 

his ; 
Fortune, in favour, makes him lag behind. 
Summoo a parley, we will talk with nim. 

[A Parley sounded. 
Char. A parley with the duke of Bintiundy. 
Bur. Who craves a parley with the Bur- 
gundy? [countryman. 

Puc. The princely Charles of France, thy 
Bur, What say'st thou, Charles? fori am 

marching hence. 
Char. Speak, Puoelle ; and enchant him 
with thy words. 



Puc. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope ol 
France ! 
Stay, let ihy humble handmaid speak to thee. 
Bur. Speak on ; but be not over-tedious. 
Puc. Look on thy country, look on fertile 
France, 
And see the cities and the towns defaced 
By wasting ruin of the cruel foe ! 
As looks the mother on her lowly babe. 
When death doth close his tender dying eyes. 
See, see, the pining malady of France; 
Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, 
Which thou thyself hast given her wotni 
O, turn thy edged sword another way ; [breast i 
Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that 
help! [bosom, 

One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's 
Should grieve thee more than streams of foreif a 

gore ; 
Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears. 
And wash away thy country's stained spots ! 
Bur. Either she hath bewitch'd m© with 
her words. 
Or natdre makes me suddenly relent. 
Puc. Besides, all French and France ex 
claims on thee, 
Doubting thy birlh and lawful progeny. 
Whojoin'stthou \%ith,but with a lordly nation. 
That will not trust thee, but for profit's sake? 
When Talbot hath set footing once in France, 
And fashion'd thee that instrument or" ill. 
Who then, but Engli^h Henry, will be lord. 
And thou be thrust out, like a fugitive? 
Call we to mind, — and mark but this, for 

proof ; — 
Was not the duke of Orleans thy foe? 
And was he not in England prisoner? 
But, when they heard he was thine enemy. 
They set him tree, without his ransome paid. 
In spite of Burgundy, and all his friends. 
See then ! thou tight'sl against thy countrymen. 
And join'st with them will be thy slaughter- 
men, [lord ; 
Come, come, return ; return, thou wand'rin^ 
Charles, and the rest, will take thee in their 
arms. 
Bur. 1 am vanquished ; these haughty $ 
words of hers 
Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot. 
And made me almost yield upon my knees. — 
Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen! 
And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace: 
My forces and my power of men are yours ; — 
So, farewell, Talbot; I'il no li>nger trust thee. 
Puc. Done like a Frenchman, turn, and turn 

^gain ! 
Char. Welcome, brave duke ! thy friend- 
ship makes ns fresh. 
Bast. And doth beget new courage in our 
breasts. [in this, 

Alen. Pucelle hath bravely played her part 
And doth deserve a coronet of gold. 

Char. Now let us on, my lords, and join 
our powers ; 
And seek how we may prejudice the foe. 

[Exeunt 



Funeral rites. 



t Rooted oat. 



t Expelled. 



S EJeTated. 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



539 



SCENE IV. Paris. A Boom in the Palace. 
Enter King Henry, Glostee, a7id other 
Lords, Vernon, Basket, S^c. To them 
Taluot, and some of his Officers. 
Tat, My gracious prince, — and hoftourable 
Hearing of your arrival in this realm, [peers, — 
I have a while given truce unto my wars. 
To do my duty to my sovereign : 
In sign whereof, this arm— that hath reclaimed 
To your obedience fifty fortresses, [strength, 
Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of 
Besides five hundred prisoners of csteena, — 
Lets fall his sword before your highness' feet ; 
And, with submissive loyalty of heart, 
Ascribes the glory of his conquest got. 



First to my God, and next unto your grace. 
K. Hen. Js this the lord Ta" 
Gloster, 



this the lord Talbot, uncle 



That hath so K>ng been resident in France ? 

Glo. Yes, it it please your majesty, my liege. 

K. Hen. Vt elcome, brave captain, and 
victorious lord ! 
When I was young, (as yet I am not old,) 
I do remember liow my father said, 
A g-louter champion never handled sword. 
Long since we were resolved * of your truth. 
Your faithful service, and your toil in war ; 
Yet never have yon tasted our reward, 
Or been regutrdon'dt with so much as thanks. 
Because till now we never saw your face : 



Tlierefore, stand up ; and, for those good 

deserts, 
We here create yoa earl of Shrewsbury ; 
And in our coronation take your place. 

{Exeunt King Henky, Gloster^ 
Talbot, and Nobles. 
Ver. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot a! 
Disgracing of these colours that I wear [sea, 
In honour of my noble lord of York. — 
Dar'st thou maintain the former woids thou 
spak'st ? 
Bus. Yes, sir; as well as you darep*Jtronage 
The envious barking of your saucy tongue 
Against my lord the duke of Somorset. 
Ver, Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is. 
Bas. Why, what is he ? as good a man as 

York. 
Ver. ITark ye ; not so : in witness, take ye 
that. {Strikes him. 

Bas. Villain, thou know'st, the law of arms 
is such. 
That, whoso draws a sword, 'tis present death ; 
Or else this blow should broach tliy dearest 
But I'll unto his majesty, and crave [blood. 
1 may have liberty to vcnge tiiis wrong ; 
When thou shalt see, I'll meet thee tc thy cost. 
Ver. Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon 
as you ; 
And, after, meet you sooner than yoa would. 

{ExeuitC 



ACT IV. 



:5CENE I. The same. A Boom of Slate, i 

£nter King Henry, Gi.oster, Exeter, 
York, Suffolk, Somerset, Winches- 
ter, Warwick, Talbot, the Governor of 
Paris, and Others. 

Glo. Lord bishop, set the crown npon his 
head. [the sixth ! 

J^Vin. God save king Henry, of that name 
Olo. Isow, governor of Paris, take your 
oath, — {Governor kfieels. 

That you elect no other king but him : 
Fsteem none friends, but such as are his friends ; 
And none your foes, but such as shall pretend; 
Malicious practices against his state : 
This siiall ye do, so help you righteous God ! 

{hxeunt Gov. and his Train. 
Enter Sir John Fstolfe. 
Fast. My gracious sovereign, as I rode from 
To haste unto your coronaiiun, [Calais, 

A letter was deliver'd to my hands. 
Writ to your grace from the duke.of Burgundy. 
Tat. Shame to the duke of Burgundy, and 
thee! [next, 

I vowM, base knight, when I did meet thee 
To tear the garter from the craven's § leg, 

{PI at king it off. 
(Which I have done) because unworthily 
Thou wast installed in that high degree. — 
Fardon me, princely Henry, and the rest: 

• Confirmed in opinion. 
i Mean^ dast.trdly. !| High. 



This dastard, at the battle of Patay, 
When but in all I was six thousand strong, 
And that the French were almost ten to one, — 
Before we met, or that a stroke was given, 
Like to a trusty 'squire, did run away ; 
In which assault we lost twelve hundred mew ; 
Myself, and divers gentlemen beside, 
Were there surprised, and taken prisoners. 
Then judge, grei?t lords, if I have done amiss; 
Or whether that such cowards ought to wear 
This ornament of knighthood, yea, or no. 

Glo. To say the truth, this fact was infamo««. 
And ill beseeming any cominon man ; 
Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader. 

Tal. When first this order was ordain'd, my 
lords, 
Knights of the garter were of noble birth ; 
Valiant, and virtuous, full of hanghtyjj courage, 
Such as were grown to credit by the wars; 
ISot fearing death, nor shrinking for distress. 
But always resolute in most extremes II. 
He then, that is not furnish'd m this sort. 
Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight, 
Profaning this most honourable order; 
And should rif 1 were worthy to be judge,) 
Fe quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain 
That doth presume to boast of gentle blood. 

K. Hen. Sum to thy countrymen! thoa 
hear'st thy doom : 
Be packing therefore, thou that wast a knight ; 

f Rewarded. J Design. 

% i. e., In grtategt exirenutiea. 



540 



SHAKSPE4RE. 



[Ace rr. 



Henceforth we banish thee, on pain of death. — 
[Exit Fastolfe. 
And now, my lord protector, view the letter 
Sent from nur uncle duke of Bnrguncly. 

Glos. What means his grace, that lie hath 
changed his style ^ [Viewifig the s?i- 
jjerscriptio7i' 
No more but, plain and bluntly, — To the king? 
Hath he forgot, he is his sovereign? 
Or doth this churlish superscription 
JPretend* some alteration in good will? 
What's herel— J have, upu/iespeclal cause, — 

[Reads. 
Moved with compassion of my country's 

wreck, 
Together tvith the pitiful complaints 
Of suck as your oppression feeds upon, — 
Forsaken your pernicious faction. 
And joined ivith Charles, the rightful king 
of France. 

monstrous treachery! Can this be so; 
fhat in alliance, amity, and oaths. 

There should be found such false dissembling 
guile? [revolt? 

K. Hen. What! doth my uncle Burgundy 
Glos. He doth, my lord ; and is become your 
foe. [contain ? 

K. Hen. Is that the worst this letter doll. 
Glos, It is the worst, and all, my loid, he 
writes. [talk with him, 

K. Hen. Why then, lord Talbot there shall 
knd give him chastisement for this abuse: — 
■ My lord, how say you i are you not content? 
Tal. Content, my liege? Yes; but that I am 
prevented t, 

1 should have beggM I might have been em- 

ployVi. [untohin; straight : 

K. Hen. Then gather strength, and march 
Let him perceive, how ill we brook his treason ; 
And what otfence it is, lo flout his friends. 

Tal. I go, my lord ; in heart desiring still, 

You may behold confusion of your foes. [Exit. 

Enter Vernon and Basslt. 

Ver. Grant me the combat, gracious sove- 

reii^n ! [too ! 

JBns. And me, my lord, grant me the combat 

York. This is my servant; Hear him, noble 

prince! [him! 

Som. And this is mine ; Sweet Henry , favour 

K, Hen. Be patient, lords; and give them 

leave to speak. — 

-^ay, gentlemen, What makes you thus exclaim? 

And wherefore crave you combat { or with 

whom? [me wrong. 

Ver. With him, my lord ; for he hath done 

Bas, And I with him ; for he hath done me 

wrong. [both complain? 

K. Hen. What is that wrong whereof you 

Pirst let me know, and then I'll answer you. 

Bas. Crossing the sea from England into 

France, 

This fellow here, with envious carping tongue, 
Upbraided me about the rose I wear; 
Saying — the Sdnguine colour of the leaves 
Did represent my master's blushing cheeks. 
When stubbornly he did repugn; the truth, 



Abom a certain question in the law. 
Argued betwixt the duke of York and him; 
With other vile and ignominious terms: 
In confutation of which rude reproach. 
And in defence of my lord's worthiness, 
I crave the benelit of law of arms. 

Ver. And that is my petition, noble lord : 
For though he seem, with forged, quaint con- , 
To set a gloss upon his bold intent, [ceit. 

Yet know, my lord, I was provoked by hira; 
And he first took exceptions at this badge. 
Pronouncing — that the paleness of this flower 
Bewra>'d§ the faintness of my master's heart, | 
York. Will not this malice, Somerset, be 

left? ■ [will out, I 

Som. Your private grudge, my lord of York, j 
Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it. 
K. Hen. Good lord! what madness rules Id 
brain-sif^i men ; 
When, for so slight and frivolous a cause, 
Such factious emulations shall arise I — 
Good cousins both,. of York and Somerset, 
Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace, [fight, 
York. Let this dissension first be tried by 
And then your highness shall command a peace. 
Som. 1 he quarrel toucheth none but us alone; 
Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then. [set. 
York. There is my pledge ; accept it, Somer- 
Virr. Nay, let it rest where it began at first. 
Bas. Confirm it so, nnne honourable lord. 
Glo- Confirm it so? Confounded be your strife? 
And perish ye, with yor.r audacious prate! 
Presumptuous vassals! are you not ashamed. 
With this immodest clamorous outritie 
To trouble and disturb the king and us ? 
And you, my lords, — methinks you do not well. 
To bear with their perverse objections; 
Much less, to take occasion from their moutha 
To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves ; 
Let nie persuade you take a better course, 
Fxe. It grieves his highness; — Good, my 
lords; befriends. [combatants: 

K. Hen. Come hither, you that would be 
Henceforth, I charge you, as you love our 

favour. 
Quite to forget this quarrel, and the cause. — 
And you, my lords, — remember where we are; 
U\ France,- amongst a fickle wavering nation: 
If they perceive dissension in our looks. 
And that within ourselves we disagree. 
How will their grudging stomachs be provoked 
To wilful disobedience, and rebel? 
Reside, what infamy will there arise. 
When foreign princes shall be certified. 
That, for a toy, a thing of no regard. 
King Henry's peers, and chief nobility, [Francet 
IJesiroy'd themselves, and lost the realm of 
O, think upon the conquest ot my father. 
My tender years; and let us not forego 
That tor a trifle, that w as bought with blood 
Lt t me be umpire in this doubtful strife. 
I see no reason, if I wear this rose, 

[Putt ng on a red No^e 
That any one should therefore be suspicimis 
I more incline to Somerset, ll.an York : 
Both are my kinsnun, and I love Ihem bt.th 



' Design. 



i Anticipated. 



t Resist. 



Betrayed. 



Scene /.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



5i\ 



A* well they may upbraid me with my crown. 
Because, forsooth, the king of Scots is crown'd. 
But your discretions better can persuade, 
Tl'.an 1 am able to instruct or teach: 
And therefore, as we hither came in peace, 
So let us still continue peace and love. — 
Cousin of York, we institute your grace 
To be our regent in these parts of France: — 
And good my lord of Somerset, unite 
Your troops of horsemen with his bands of 
foot ; — [nitors, 

And, like true subjects, sons of your proge- 
Go cheerfully together, and digest 
Yin\Y angry choler on your enemies. 
Ourself, my lord protector, and the rest, 
After some respite, wili return to Calais; 
From thence to England ; where I hope ere 
To iie presented, by your victorie», [long 

With Charles, Alen^on, and that traitorous 
rout. 
{Flourish. Exeunt King Henry, Glo., 

SoM., Win., Suf., and Basset. 
War. My lord of York, I promise you the 
king 
Prettily, methonght, did play the orator. 

York. Aiid so he did ; but yet I like it not, 
In that he wears the badge of Somerset. 
War. Tush ! that was but his fancy, blame 
him not ; [harm. 

I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no 
York. And, if i wist, he did, — But let it rest j 
Other aflfairs must now be managed. 
[Kieant York, Warwick, and Vernon. 
£i'e. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress 
thy voice: 
For, had the pissions of thy heart burst out, 
I fear we should have seen deciphered there 
More rancorous spite, more furious raging 

broils. 
Than yet can be imagined or supposed. 
But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees 
This jarring discord of nobility. 
This shouldering of each other in the court. 
This factious bandying of their favourites. 
But that it doth presage some ill event. 
'Tis much *, when sceptres are in children's 
hands ; [sion ; 

But more when envy t breeds unkind j divi- 
There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. 

[Exit. 
SCENE II. France. Before Bourdeaux. 
Enter Talbot, luitk his Forces. 
Tal. Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trum- 
Snmmon their general unto the wall, [peter, 
Trmiiyet ^oimn.s a Parley. Enter, on the 
Walls, the General of the French Forces, 
(I lid Otuers. 
English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth, 
Serv.mt in arms to Hnrry, king or England ; 
And thus he would, —Open your city gates, 
Be hujMhk' tons ; call my sovereign yours, 
Atifi do him homage as obedient subjects. 
And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power: 
But, if yuu frown upon this proffer'd peace, J 



Y'ou tempt the fury of my thiee attend ui^s. 
Lean famine, quartering steel, and cliiiibing 

fire; 
Who, in a moment, even with the earth 
Shall la^ your stately and air-braving towers 
If you forsake the otter of their love. 

Gen, Thou ominous and fearful owl of death. 
Our nation's terror, and their bloody scourge 
The period of thy tyranny approacheth. 
On us thou canst not enter, but bv death : 
For, I protest, we are well fortiSed", 
And strong enough to issue out and fight: 
If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed, 
Stands with the snares of war to t mgle thee : 
On either hand thee there are squadrons 

pitch'd. 
To wall thee from the liberty of flight ; 
And no way canst thou turn thee for redress. 
But death doth ftont thee vvi^b apparent spoil, 
And pale destruction meets thee in the face. 
Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament. 
To rive their dangerous artillery 
Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot. 
Lo! there thou staud'st, a breathing valiant 
Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit : [man. 
This is the latest glory of thy praise. 
That I, thy enemy, due§ thee withal; 
For ere the glass, that now begins to ran. 
Finish the process of his sandy hour, 
These eyes, that see thee now well coloured. 
Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale, and dead. 
( Drum ajar off. 
Hark! hark I the Dauphin's drum, a warning 

bell, 
Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul ; 
And mine shall ring thy dire departure out. 
[Exeunt General, 6fC.,from the Walls 
Tal. He fables not, I hear the enemy ; 
Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their 

wings. — 
O, negligent and heedless discipline! 
How are we park'd, and bounded in a pale; 
A little herd of England's timorous deer, 
Mazed with a yelping kennel of French curs! 
If we be English deer, be then in blood || : 
Not rascal-like H, to fall down with a pinch ; 
But rather moody-mad, and desperate stags. 
Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel. 
And make the cowards stand aloof at bay : 
Sell every man his life as dear as mine, 
And they shall find dear deer of us, my 

friends. — [land's ritjht ! 

God, and Saint George! Talbot, and Eng« 
Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight ! 
[Exeuni. 

SCENE III. Plains in Gascony. 
Enter York, with Forces ; to him a 

Messenger. 

York. Are not the speedy scouts returiyd 

again. 

That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin? 

Mess. They are return'd, my lord ; and giv«e 

it out, [power. 

That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with hiti 



• *Tis strange, or wonderful. 

ij In higli spirits. II A \ 



Enmity, i T^nnatur?*!. § Endue, honour. 

•eal deer .s the tenn of ch<»je lor ii>.u. poor deer. 



542 



SHAKSPEABE. 



[Act IT. 



To fight with Talbot : As he marchM along, 
"Ry your espials * were difcovered 
Two mightier troops than thai tht- Danphin led; 
Which join'd with him, ana made their inarch 

tor Bourdeaux. 
York. A plague upon that villain Somerset; 
That thus delays my promised supply • 
Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege! 
Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid ; 
And I am louted t by a traitor villain. 
And cannot help the noble chevalier : 
God comfort him in this necessity! 
If he misc irry, farewell wars in France. 
Enter Sir William Lucy. 
Lucy, Thou princely leader of our English 

strength, 
Never so needful on the earth of France, 
Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot-; 
Who now is girdled with a waist of iron. 
And hemm'd about with griip destruction : 
To Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to Bourdeaux, 

York ! [honour. 

Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's 

York. O God ! that Somerset— who in proud 

heart 
Doth stop my cornets— were in Talbot's place ! 
So should we save a valiant gentleman. 
By forfeiting a traitor and a coward. 
Mad ire, and wrathful fury, makes me weep, 
That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep. 
JLucy. O, send some succour to the dis- 

tress'd lord! [like word; 

York. He dies, we lose; I break my war- 

We mourn, France smiles ; we lose, they daily 

All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset. [get; 

Jjucy. Then, God take mercy on brave 

Talbot's soul ! [hours since. 

And on his son, young John ; whom, two 
I met in travel toward his warlike father! 
This seven years did not Talbot see his son ; 
And now they meet where both their lives are 

donej. [have, 

York. Alas! what joy shall noble Talbot 
To bid his young son welcome to his grave? 
Away! vexntiou almost stops my breath. 
That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death. 
Lucy, farewell : no more my fortune can, 
Uui curse the cause I cannot aid the man. — 
Aiaine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won 

away, 
'Long all of Somerset, and his delay. [Exit. 
Lncij. Thus, while the vulture § of sedition 
Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, 
Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss 
The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror, 
'Ihat I ver-living man of memory, 
Henry the fifih ; — Whiles they each other cross. 
Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss. 

[Ej.it. 

SCENE IV. Other Plains of G-Aicony. 
Enter Somerset, with hfx Forces; an 
Otficer ^/Talbot's tvith him. 
Som. It istoo late ; I cannot send them now : 



This expedition was by York, and Talbot, 
Too rashly plotted ; all our general force 
Might with a*sally of the very town 
Be buckleii with : the over-daring Talbot 
Hath sullied ail his glos^ of former honour. 
By this unheedful, desperate wild adventure. 
York set him on to fight, and die in shame, 
That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the 
name. 
Off. Hereissir William Lucy,who with mt 
Set from our o'er match'd forces for aid. 
Enter Sir William Lucy, 
So7n. How now, sir William? whither were 
you sent? [sold lord Talbot jj; 

Lucy. Whither, my lord? fiom bought an'l 
Who, ring'd about IF with bold adversity. 
Cries out for noble York and Somerset, 
To beat assailing death from his weak legions. 
And whiles the honourable captain there 
Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied 

limbs, 
And, in advantage ling'ring, looks for rescue, 
You, his false hopes, the trust of England's 

honour. 
Keep off aloof with worthless emulation. 
Let not your private discord keep away 
The levied succours that should lend him aid. 
While he, renowned noble ge-ntleman. 
Yields up his life unto a world of odds : 
Orleans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy, 
Alen9on, Reignier, compass him about. 
And Talbot peiisheth by your default. 

Som. York set him on, York should have 
gent him aid. [exclaims; 

Lucy. And York as fast upon your graco 
Swearing that you withhold his levied host. 
Collected for this expedition. 
So7n. York lies; he might have sent and 
had the horse : 
I owe him little duty, and less love; [ing. 
And take foul scorn, to fawn on him by sen(i 
Lucy. The fraud of England, not the force 
of France, 
Hath nowentrapp'd the noble minded Talbot: 
Never to England shall he bear his life ; 
But dies, betrayed to fortune by your strife. 
Som. Come, go ; I will despatch the horse- 
men straight: 
Within six hours they will be at his aid. 
Lucy. Too late comes rescue; he is ta'en 
or slain : 
For fly he could not, if he would have fled ; 
And fly would Talbot never, though he might. 
Som. If he be dead, brave Talbot then adieu! 
Luey. His fame lives in the world, his shame 
in you. [Exeunt. 

SCENE V. The English Camp, near Bour- 
deaux. 
Enter Tai-bot «??rf John his Soo. 
Tal. O young John Talbot ! I did send for 
To tutor thee in stratagems of war; [thee. 

That Talbot's name might be in thee revived. 
When sapless age, and weak unable limbs. 



I 



Spies. + Vanqnished, baffled. J Expended, consumed. $ Allulini: to the tale 

IVijjnctl^us. 11 /. e. From one uttrrlv mine I bv tlu- treacherous pr.iclioca of oihezs. 

f >:nc:-rc:ccJ 



Scene V.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI 



543 



Should briug thy father to his drooping chair. 
But, — O malignant an(i ill-boding stars ! — 
Now thon art come unto a feast of death*, 
A terrible and unavoided t danger : [horse ; 
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest 
And I'll dir*>ct thee how thou shalt escape 
By sudden flight : come, dally not,begone. [son? 

John. Is my name Talbot? and am I your 
And shall I fly ? O, if you love my mother. 
Dishonour not her honourable name. 
To make a bastard, and a slave of me : 
The world will say— He is not Talbot's blood, 
Tha^basely fled, when noble Talbot stood. 

Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain. 

John, He, that flies so, will ne'er return 
again. 

Till. If we both stay, we both are sure to die. 

Jokn. Then let me stay ; and, father, do 
you fly : 
Your loss is great, so your regard % should be ; 
My worth unknown, no loss is known in me. 
Upon my death the French can little boast ; 
In yours, they will, in you all hopes are lost. 
Flight cannot stain the honour you have won ; 
But mine it will, that no exploit have done: 
You fled for vant.ige every one will swear ; 
But, if I bow% they'll say — it was for fear. 
There is no hope that ever I will stay. 
If, the first houi-, I shrink, and run away. 
Here, on my knee, I h^^ mortality. 
Rather than life preserved with infamy. 

Tal, Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one 
tomb! [mother's womb. 

John. Ay, rather than I'll shame my 

Tal. Upon my blessing I cv)miiiand thee go. 

John, to fight I will, "but not to fly the foe. 

Till. Part of thy father may be saved in thee. 

John. No part of him, but will be shame in 
me. Lnot lose it. 

Tal. Thou never hadst renown, nor cansi 

John. Yes, your renowned name ; Shall 
flight abuse it ? [from that stain. 

Tdl. lliy father's charge shall clear thee 

John. You cannot witness for me, being 
If death be so apparent, then both fly. [slain. 

Tal. And leave my followers here, to fight, 
and die? 
My age was never tainted with such shame. 

Joiin. And shall my youth be guilty of such 
blame? 
No more can I be severed from your side. 
Than can yourself yourself in twain divide : 
Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I ; 
For live I will not, if my father die. 

Tal. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair 
Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon, [sou. 
Come, side by side together live and die; 
And soul with soul from France to heaven fly-, 

yExeunt. 
SCENE VI. A Field of Battle. 
Alarum: Excursions, wherei7iTM.BOT's Son 

is hemmed about, and Talbot rescues him. 

Tal. Saint George and victory! fight, sol-^ 
diers, fight : ~ 



The regent hath with Talbot broke his word. 
And left us to the rage of France his sword. 
Where is John Talbot? pause, and take thy 

breath ; 
I gave thee life, and rescued thee from death. 
John. O twice my father ! twice am I thy 

son : [done ; 

The life, thou gavest me first, was lost and 

Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate, 

To my determined § tijne thou gav'st new date. 

Tal. When from the Dauphin's crest thy 

sword struck fire. 
It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire 
Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age, 
Quicken'd with youthful spleen, and warlike 

''age, 
Beat down Alen9on, Orleans, Burgundy, 
And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee^ 
The ireful bastard Orleans — that drew blood 
From thee, my boy- ; and had the maidenhood 
Of thy first fight — I soon encotintered ; 
And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed 
Some of his bastard blood ; and, in disgrace. 
Bespoke him thus : Contaminuled, base. 
Ana misbegotten blood I .sjjUI of thine. 
Mean and right foor ; for that pare blood 

of mine [Otave boy : — 

Which thou didst force from Tal >ot, my 
Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy, 
Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's 

care ; [fare? 

Art not thou w^eary, John ? How dost thou 
W ilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly. 
Now thou art seal'd the son of chivahy ? 
Fly, to revenge niy death, when I am dead ; 
The help of one stands me in little stead. 
O, too much folly is it, well I wot, 
To hazard all our lives in one small boat. 
If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage: 
J o-morrow I shall die with micUle age : 
By me they noti.ing gain, an if I stay, 
*ii6 but the shoit'ning or my life one day : 
In thee thy mother dies, our household's name. 
My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's 

fame: 
All these, and r ore, we hazard by thy stay ; 
All these are saved, if thou wilt fly away. 
John. 1 he sword of Orleans hath not made 

me smart, [heart : 

These words of yours draw life-blood from iny 
On that a<lvantage, bought with such a shame, 
(To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame,) 
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly. 
The coward horse, that bears me, fall and die : 
And like'ii me to the peasant boys of France ; 
To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance! 
Sureiy, by all the glory you have won, 
Ar. if I fly, I am not Talbot's son : 
Then talk no more of night, it is no boot ; 
If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot. 

Tal. Then follow thou thy desperate sire of 
Thou Icarus ; thy life to me is sweet : [Crete, 
If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side ; 
And, commendable proved, let's die in pride. 

[Exeunt, 



* To a field where death will be feasted with sslaughtev. + For unavoidable. 

Your care of your own safety. j Ended. 1| Like me, reduce me to a level with. 



514 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act JV j 



SCENE VII. Another Part of the same. 
Alarum : Ejccursions. Enter Taluot 
/ Junded, su}}ortefl by n Servant. 
Tul. Where is my other life? — mine own is 
gune; — Jolin .^ — 

O, Where's >oung Talbot? where is valiant 
Triumphant death, sme.irM with captivity * ! 
"1 oiintj Taluot's valour makes me smile at ihee : 
When he pes cicived me shrink, an(i on my knee, 
His bloody sword he brandish'd over nje, 
And, like a hungry lion, did commence 
Hough deeds of rage, and stern impatience; 
Jiut when my ani;ry guardant stood alone, 
Tend'ring my ruint, and assail'd of none, 
Dizzy -eyed fury, and great rage of heart, 
Suddenly made him from my side to start 
Into the clust'ring battle of the French : 
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench 
His overmouniing spirit; and there died 
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride. 
Enter Soldiers bearing the Body of John 

TaLBOT; 

Serv, O my dear lord ! Ic, where your son is 
borne ! [here to scorn, 

Tal. Thou antic death, which laugh'st us 
Anon, from thy insulting tyranny. 
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity. 
Two Talbots, winged through the litherj sky. 
In thy despite shall *scape mortality. — [dcr'.th, 
O thou whose wounds become hard-favoured 
Speak to thy father, ere thou yield thy bre ith : 
Brave death by speaking, whether he wil., or 
Imagine him a Frenchman, and tny foe.— [no ; 
Poor boy ! he smiles, methinks ; as who should 
say— [to-day. 

Had death been French, then death had oierl 
<'onie, come, and lay him in his father's arms; 
My spirit can no longer bear these harms. 
Soldiers, adieu ! I have what I would have. 
Now my old arms are young John Talbnt's 
grave. [Dies. 

Alarutns. Exeunt Soldiers and Servant* 

leatif/g the tno Bodies. Enter Chaki.es, 

A-i.ENvON, BuKGUNDY, Bastard, La Pu- 

CELLE, and Forces, 

Char, Had York and Somerset brought res- 
cue in, 
^'e should have ffund a bloody day of this. 

Bast. How the young whelp of Talbot's, 
raging-wood §, 
Oid flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood! 

Puc. Once 1 encounter'd him, and thus I 
said, [mad: 

Tliou maiden yonth, be vanquished by a 
But — with a proud, majestical high scorn, — 
He answered thus; Yoiiiig Tutho' iva.i not 
To he tin 1 illage of a gi^iof |i nu ?ich : [born 
So, ru>hing in the bowels of the Fiench, 
He left n)e proudly, as unworthy fight. 

Bur. Doubtless, he would have made a 
noble knight: 
See. where he lies inhersed in the arms 
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms. 



Bast. Hew them to pieces, hack their bonei 
asunder ; 
Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's won- s 
der. [ha\e fled 

Char, O, no; forbear: for that which we ' 
During the life, let us not wrong it d( ad. 
Enier Sir William Lucy, attendtd ; a 
French Herald pnvedifig. 

Litcy. Heiald, 
Conduct me to the Dauphin's tent ; to know , 
Who hath obtain'd the glory of the day. 

Char. On what subniissive message art ^ou 
sent I [French word ; 

Lucy. Submission, Dauphin? 'tis a meie 
W e English warriors wot not what it means. 
I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en. 
And to survey the bodies of the dead. 

Char. For prisoners ask'st thou ? hell our 
But tell me whom thou seek'st. [prison is," 

Lucy. Where is the great Alcidesof the field. 
Valiant lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury? 
Created, for his rare success in arms, [lence; 
Great earl of Washford, Waterfurd, aud Va- 
Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield, 
Lord Strange of Blackmere, lord Verdun of 
Alton, [Sheffield, 

Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, lord Furnival of 
The thrice victorious lord of Falconbridge ; 
Kidght of the noble order of Saint George, 
Worthy Saint Michael, and the golden fleece; 
Great mareslial to Henry the sixth, 
Of all his wars within the realm ol France 

Puc. Here is a silly stately style indeed ! 
The Turk, that two and fifty kimidoms hath. 
Writes not so tedious a >tyle as this. — 
Him, that thou magnifiest with all these titles 
Stinking, and fly-blow n, lies here at our feet. 

Lucy. Is laltot slain: the Fienchmm's 
only scourge. 
Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis? 
O, were mine eye-bails into bullets tuin'c!. 
That I, in rage, might slioot them at your face* \ 
O, that I could but call these dead to life! 
Jt were enough to fright tie realm of France 
Were but his picture leit among you here, 
It woidd amazelT the proudest of >i»u all. 
Give me their bodies; that I may bear them 

hence, 
And give them burial as beseems their wortU 

Puc. I think, this upstart is old Talbot's 

ghost, [spirit. 

Tie speaks with such a proud comniandin^ 

For God's sake, lei him have 'em ; to keep 

them here, 
They would but stink, and putrefy the air. 

Ctiar. Go, take their bodies hence. 

J/ucy. . I'll bear them hence :J 

But from their ashes shall be rear'd 
A phoenix that shall make all Fran<e afeard. 

Char. So we be rid of ti.em, do with 'eni| 
what th(>u wilt. 
And now to Paris in this conquering vein ; 
All will be ours, nov»' biooi y Talbot's «lain. 

[Exeunt 



• D«aih stalneil and dishonoured with faptivity. +* 

my fall." ; Flexibh , yieiduig. 5 Having mad. 



Watching mc with tenderness in 
|i VVaiiton. ^ Confound 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY \ I. 



545 



ACT y. 



SCENE 1. London. A Room in the Palace. 
iFwfer King Henry, GLOST«R,flr 77 r7 Exeter. 

K. Hen, Have you perused the letters from 
the pope { 
The emperor, and the earl of Armagnac? 

Glo. 1 have, my lord ; and their intent is this, 
They humbly sue unto your excellence. 
To have a godly peace conchuied of, 
IJetween the realms of t ngland and of France. 

K. Hen. iiow doth your grace affect their 
motion? [means 

Glo. Well, my good lord; and as the only 
To stop etfnsion of our Christian blood, 
And *srablish quietness on every side. 

K. Hen. Ay, marry, uncle; for I always 
It wa-s both impious and unnatural, [thought, 
That such immanity * and bloody strife 
Should reign among professors of one faith. 

Glo, Beside, my lord, — the sooner to effect, 
And surer bind, this knot of amity, — 
The earl of Armagnac — near knit to Charles, 
A man of great authority in France, — 
Proffers his only daughter to your grace 
In marriage, with a large and sumptuous 
(lown*^. [areyoimg; 

K. Hrii. Marriage, uncle f alas! my years 
And titter is my study and my books, 
1 han wantofl dalliance with a paramour. 
Yet, c;dl th(: ambassadors; and, as >ou please. 
So let them have their answers every one : 
I sh:tll be v*ell content with any choice, 
Tends to God's glory, and my country's w-eal. 
Enter a Legate, (ind Two Ambassadors, tvith 
WiNCHtsTKR, in a Curdirial's Habit, 

Exe. What! is my lord of Winchester in- 
And cali'd unto a cardinal's degree! [stallM? 
Then, I perceive, that will be verified, 
Henry the fifth did sometime prophesy, — 
J/o/ice he come to be a cardinal, 
He'll make hi^ cap co-equal with the cro^cn. 

K. Hen. My lords ambassadors, your several 
Have been considered and debated on. [suits 
Your purpose is both good and reasonable: 
And. therefore, are we certainly resolved 
To draw conditions of a frieiidly peace; 
Which, by my lord of Winchester, we mean 
Shall be transported presently to France. 

Glo. And for the protfer of my lord your 
master, — 
I have inform'd his highness so at large 
As — liking of the lady's virfious gifts. 
Her beauty, and the value of her dower, — 
He doth intend she shall be England's queen. 

K. Hen. In argument and proof of which 

contract, [my affection. 

Pear her this jewel, [To the Amb.] pledge of 

And so. my lord protector, see them guarded, \ 

And safely brought to Dover; where, in- j 

Commit them to the fortune of the sea. [shipp'd, 

[Etennt King Henry and Train ; Glos- 

TER, Exeter, awrf Ambassadors. | 



in7i. Stay, my lord legate; yon shall first 
The sum of money, which I promised [receive 
Should be delivered to his holiness 
For clothing me in tiiese grave ornaments. 

Eeg. I will attend upon your lordship's lei- 
sure, trow. 

Win. Now, Winchester will not submit, I 
Or be inferior to the proudest peer. 
Humphrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceive, 
That, neither in birth, or for authority, 
1 he bishop will be overborne by thee : 
I'll either make thee stoop, and bend thy knee. 
Or sack this country with a ni'Uiny. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE II. France. Plains in Anjon. 
Enrer Charles, Burgundy, Alencon, La 
PucELLE, and Forces, marching. 
Char. These news, my lords, may cheer 
our drooping spirits : 
*Tis said, the stout Parisians do revolt. 
And turn again unto the warlike French. 
Alen. Then march to Paris, royal Charles 
of France, 
And keep not back your powers in dalliance. 
Puc. Peace be amongst them, if they turn- 
Else, ruin combat with their palaces! [to us ; 
- Enter a Messenger. 
Mess. Success unto our valiant general, 
And happiness to h s accomplioes ! 

Char. What tidings send our scouts? I 

pr'ytliee speak. 
Mess. The English army, that divided was 
Into two parts, is now conjoin'd in one; 
And means to give you battle presentJy. 
Char. Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warn- 
ing is; 
But we will presently provide for them. 

Bur. 1 trust, the ghost of Talbot is not there ; 

Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear. 

Puc. Of all base passions, fear is most ac- 

cnrsed : — [thi^ne ; 

Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be 

Let Henry fret, and all the world repine. 

Ciiar. J hen on, my lords; and France be 

fortunate! [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. The same. i?e/bre Anglers. 
Alarums: Excursiojis. Enter L\ Pucelle. 
Piw. The regent conquers, and the French- 
men fly. — 
Now help, ye charming spells, and periapts t; 
And ye choice spirits that admonish me. 
And i;ive me signs of future ac<:idents! 

[Thunder, 
You speedy helpers, that are substitutes 
Under the lordly monarch of the north J, 
Appear, and aid me in this enterprise! 

Enter Fiends. 
This speedy quick appearance argues proof 
Of your accu«;toni'd diligence to me. 
Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd 



■ Barbarity, savageness. 



t Charms sewed up. j The north was supposed to be th 

pirticular habitation of bad «pii iij;. 

3 A 3 



64.5 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r 



Out of ihe powerful regions under earth. 
Help me this once, that France may get the 
field. 

[They walk about, and speak not. 
O.hold me not with silence over-long! 
Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, 
IMI lop a member off, and give it you. 
In earnest of a further benefit ; 
So you do condescend to help me now, 

[They hf/tig their heads. 
No hope to have redress ? — My body shall 
Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit. 

[They shake their heads. 
Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice. 
Entreat you to your wonted furtherance? 
Ihen take my soul ; my body, soul, and all, 
Before that England give the French the foil. 
[They depart, 
!See 1 they forsake me. Now the lime is come. 
That France must vail * hei lofty-plumed crest, 
And let her head fall into England's lap. 
My ancient incantations are ti)o weak, 
And hell too strong for me to buckle with : 
Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. 

[Exit. 

Alarums : Enter French and English, ^ijA?- 

ing. La Pucelt-e and YoKViJight hand 

to hand. La Pucelle is taken. The 

VvenchJIy. 

York. Damsel of France, I think I have 
you fast : 
Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms. 
And try if they can gain your liberty. — 
A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace ! 
See. how the ugly witch doth bend her brows. 
As if, with Circe, she would change my shape. 
Puc. Changed to a worser shape thou canst 
not be. [man ; 

York. O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper 
No shape but his can please your dainty eye. 
I'uc. A plajiuing mischief light on Charles, 
and thee ! 
And may ye both be suddenly surprised 
By bloudv hands, in sleeping on your beds! 
York. Fell, banning t hag! enchantress, hold 
thy tongue. [while. 

Piic. I pr'ythee, give me leave to curse a 
York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest 
to the stake. [^Jxeunt. 

Alarums, ^'//fer Suffolk, leading in 

Lady Margaret. 
Suf. Be what thou wUt, thou art my pri- 
soner. [Gazes on her, 

fairest beauty, do not fear, nor fly ; 

For I will touch tliee hut vith reverent hands. 
And lay tht-m gently on tliy tender side. 

1 kiss these fingers [Kis.stx her ha?td.] for 

eternal }>eace : 
Who art thou ? say, that I may honour thee. 
Mar. Margaret my name; and daughter 
to a kinir, 
The king of Naples, whosoe'er thou art. 

>S'i/f. An eatl i am, and SulVolk am 1 Call'd. 
Be not ottVnded, nature's miracle, 
Thon art allotted to be ta'en by me: 



So doth the s^van her downy cygnets save. 
Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings. 
Yet, if this servile usage t»nce oftend, 
Go, and be free again as Suffolk's friend. 

[iS/ie tf/rr/s away as going. 
O, stay !— I have no power to let her pass; 
My hand would free her, but niy heart says — 
As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, [no. 
TvNinkling another counterfeited beam, 
So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. 
Fain would I woo her, yet i dare not speak : 
Pll call for pen and ink, and write my mind : 
Fie, de la Poole! disable not thyself I; 
Hast not a tongue? is she not here thy 

prisoner ? 
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight ? 
Ay ; beauty's princely majesty is such, 
Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses 
rouiih. ' f&o, — 

Mar. Say, earl of Suffolk, — if thy naine be 
What ransonie must 1 pay before 1 pass? 
For, I perceive, I am thy prisoner. [?nit, 

Sa/. How canst thon tell, she will deny thy 
Before thou make a trial of her love? [Asine. 
Mar. W hy speak'st thou not i what ran?on-e 
must I pay ? [woo'd : 

Suf. She's beautiful ; and therefore to be 
She is a woman ; therefore to be won. [Aside. 
Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransome, yea, or 
no? [a \\ife ; 

Suf. Fond man! remember, that thou hast 
Then how can Margaret be thy paramour? 

[Aside. 

Mar. 1 were best leave him, for he will not 

hear. [card. 

Siff. There all is marrM ; there lies a cooling 

Alar. He talks at random ; sure, the man is 

mad. 
Suf. And yet a dispensation may be had. 
Mar. And yet I would that you would 

answer me. 
Suf. I'll win this lady Margaret. For whom ? 
Why, for n;y king: Tush! that's a wooden 
thing §. [penter. 

Afar. He talks of wood: It is some car- 
Suf. Yet so my fancy j] may be satisfied, 
And peace established between these realms. 
But there remains a scruple in that too : 
For though her father be the king of Naples, 
Duke of Anjou and Maine, yel is he poor, 
And our nobility will scorn the match. 

[Aside. 
Mar. Hear ye, captain? Are you not at 
leisure ? [much : 

Suf. It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so 
Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield. — 
Madam, I have a secret to reveal, [a kniiiht. 
Alar. What though I be inthrall'd ? he seems 
And will net any way dishonour me. [Ayide. 
Suf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what 1 say. 
Alar. Perhaps, I shall be rescued by the 
French ; 
And then I need not crave his courtesy. [Aside. 
Suf Sweet madam, ^wa me hearing in a 
cause — 



• Lower. + To ban igto curse. X "Do not represent thyself so weak ** 

5> An aukward businrss, an undertaking not likely to succeed. |] l^ove. 



A.et^^ ur.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



547 



Mar. Tosh t women have been captivate ere 
iH»w. [Aside. 

Suf. Lady, wherefore talk you so ? 
Mar. I cry you mercy, 'lis but quid for quo. 
Suf. Say, gentle princess, would you not 
suppose 
Your bonrtnge happy, to be made a queen ? 

Mar. To be a queen in bondage, is more vile. 
Than is a slave in base servility ; 
For piinces should be free. 

Suf. And so shall you. 

If happy England's royal king be free, [me ? 
Mar. Why, what concerns his freedom unto 
S'f. I'll undertake to make thee Henry's 
To pnt a golden sceptre in thy hand, [queen ; 
And set a precious crown upon thy head, 
If thou wilt condescend to be my — 

Mar. What \ 

Snf. His love. 

iMur. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife. 
Suf. No, gentle madam ; I unworthy am 
To woo so fair a dame to be his wife. 
And have no portion in the choice myself. 
How say you, madam ; are you so content? 
Mftr. An if my father please, I am content. 
Suf Then call our captains, and our colours, 
forth : 
And, madam, at your father's castle walls 
l| We'll crave a parley, to confer with him. 

[Troops comefortcard. 

A Parley sounded. Enter Reignier, on 

the Walls. 

Suf See, Eeignier, see, thy daughter 

Re'ig. To whom ? [prisoner. 

j Suf To me. 

Relg. Suffolk, what remedy ? 

! I am a soldier ; and unapt to weep, 
j Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness. 
M Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord : 
V Consent, (and, for thy honour, give consent,) 
Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king; 
Whom I with pain have woo'd and won 
And this her easy-held imprisonment [thereto; 
Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty.. 
Beig. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks ? 
Suf. Fair Margaret knows, 

That Suffolk doth not flatter, face*, or feign. 

Beig. Upon thy princely warrant, I descend. 
To give thee answer of thy just demand. 

[Exit, from the i^Valls. 
Suf. And here I will expect thy coming. 
Trnm.'pets sounded. Enter Reignier, 
helotv. 

Beig. Welcome, brave earl, into our terri- 
tories ; 
Command in Anjou what your honour pleases. 
Suf Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet 
a child. 
Fit to be made companion with a king : 
Wliat answer makes your grace unto my suit? 
Beig, Since thou dost deign to woo her little 
worth, 
To be the princely bride of such a lord ; 
Upon condition I may quietly [Anjou, 

Enjoy mine own, the county Maine, and 



Free from oppression, or the stroke of war. 
My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please. 
Suf. That is her ransome, I deliver her; 
And those two counties, I will undertake. 
Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy. 

Beig. And I again, — in Henry's royal name. 
As deputy unto that gracious kini{. 
Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith. 
Suf Reignier of France, I give thee kingly 
Because this is in trafhc of a king : [thanks, 
And yet, methinks, I could be well content 
To be mine own attorney in this case. [Aside. 
I'll over then to England with this news. 
And make this marriage to be solemnized ; 
So, farewell, Reignier ! Set this diamond safe 
In golden palaces, as it becomes. 

Beig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace 

The Christian prince, king Henry, were he 

here. [praise, and prayers. 

Mar. Farewell, my lord ! Good vvishes. 

Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [Going. 

Suf Farewell, sweet madam ! But hark you, 

Margaret ; 

No princely commendations to my king? 

Mar. Such commendations as become a 
A virgin, and his servant, say to him. [maid, 
Suf. Words sweetly placed, and modestly- 
directed. 
But, madam, I must trouble you again, — 
No loving token to his majesty 1 [heart, 

Mar. Yes, my good lord ; a pure unspotted 
Never yet taint with love, I send the king. 
Suf And this withal. [Kis.^es^her. 

Mar. That for thyself ; — I will not so pre- 
To send such peevish t tokens to a king, [sunie^ 
[Exeunt Reignier and Margaret. 
Suf. O, wert thou for myself!— But, Suf- 
folk, stay; 
Thou raay'st Lot wander in that labyrinth ; 
There Minotaurs, and ugly treasons, lurk. 
Solicit Pienry with her wondrous praise : 
Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount ; 
Mad i, natural graces that extinguish art ; 
Repeat their semblance often on the seas. 
That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's 
feet, [wondtr. 

Thou may'st bereave him of his wits with 

[Exit. 

SCENE IV. Camp of the Duke of York, 
in Anjou. 
EnterYoRYiy Warwick, and Others. 
York. Bring forth that sorceress, condemn'd 
to burn. 
Enter La Pucelle, guarded, and a Shep- 
herd. 
Shep, Ah, .Joan ! this kills thy father's heart 
outright ! 
Have I sought every country far and near. 
And, now it is my chance to find thee out. 
Must I behold thy timeless § cruel death? 
Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with 
thee ? 
Puc. Decrepit miser jl ! base ignoble wretch 
I am descended of a gentler blood ; 



• Play the hypocrite. + Childish. 

11 Miser here simply means a mise 



i Wild, 
•ible creature. 



§ Untimely. 



54S 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r 



riiou art no father, nor no friend, of mine. 

She'}-. Out, out ! — My lords, an please yon, 
'tis not so ; 
[ did beget her, all the parish knows : 
litT aiotluj livfth yet, can ii^^tify, 
She was thi first Iruitot my baclielorship. 

War. Graceless! wilt liu>u deny thy paren- 
tage? [been; 

York. This argues what her kind of life hath 
Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes. 

Shep. Fie, Joan ! that thou wilt be so ob- 
stacle* ! 
God knows, thou art a collop of my flesh ; 
And for tliy sake have 1 she i many a tear : 
Deny me not, I pr'ythee, gentle Joan. 

Puc. Peasant, avaunt ! — \ ou have suborn'd 
this n)Mn, 
Of purpose to obscure my noble birth. 

Sliey. 'Tis true, 1 i^ave a noble tt» the priest, 
The morn that I was wedded to her-moiher. — 
Kneel do An and take my blessing, good my 

girl. 
Wilt thou not stoop? Now curbed be the time 
Of thy nativity ! I would, the milk [breast, 
I'hy mother gave thee, '.vhen thou snck'dst her 
Had been a little ratsbane for th} s;ike! 
Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field 
I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee I 
Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab? 
O, burn her, burn her; hanging is too good. 

[Exit. 

York, Take her away ; for she hath lived 
too long, 
To fill the world with vicious qualities. 

Puc. Fiist, let me tell you whom you have 
condemn'd ; 
Not me begotten <»f a shepherd swain, 
But issued from the progeny of kings ; 
Virtuous, and holy ; chosen from above, 
By inspiration of celestial grace. 
To work exceeding miracles on earth. 
I never had to do with wicked spirits : 
But yon, — that are polluted with your lusts, 
Staiii'd with the guiltless blood of innocents. 
Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices, — 
Because you want the <:race that others have. 
You judge it straight a thing impossible 
To compass wonders, but by help of d<;vils. 
No, misconceived f! Joan of Arc hath been 
A virgin from her tender infancy. 
Chaste and imma-ulaie in very thought ; 
Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effused. 
Will cry for vengeance at the spates of heaven. 

York. Ay, ay ; — away with her to execution. 

iVar. And hark ye, sirs ; because she \b a 
maid, 
Sparc for no fagots, let there be enough : 
PI ice birrels of pitch upon tlie fnt d stake. 
That so her ^ortnre may be shortened. 

Puc. Will nothing turn your umelenting 
hearts ?— 
Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity ; 
That warrant* th by law to be thy privilege. — 
I a-ii with child, ye bloody honiiciues : 
Murder not then the fruit within my womb. 



Although ye hale me (o a violent death. 

York. i\ow heaven forefendJ the holy maid ' 
with child ? [wrought : 

War. The greatest miracle that e*er ye 
Is all your strict preciseness come to this* 

York^ She and the Dauphin have beeu 
juggling : 
1 did imagine what would be her refuge. 

War. Well, go to ; we will have no bastards 
Especially, since Charles must father it. [live ; 

Puc. You are deceived; my child is none 
of his; 
It was Alen^on, that enjoy'd my love. 

York. Alen9on ! that notorious Machiavell 
It dies, an if it had a thousand lives. 

Puc. O, give me leave, I have deluded you ; 
*Twas neither Charles, nor yet the duke I 

named. 
But Ilcignier, king of Naples, that prevail'd. 

War. A married man! that's most intoler- 
able, [knows not well 

York. Why, here's a girl! I think, she 
rhere were so many, whom she ma\ accuse. 

War. it's sign, she hath been liberal and 
free. [pure.— 

York. And, yet, forsooth, she is a virgit 
Strumpet, thy words c<inde:rm thy brat, anc 
Use no enti eity, for it is in vain. [thee 

Puc. Then lead me hence ; with whom 1 
leave my curse : 
May nt ver glorious s in reflex his beams 
Upon the country wlsere you make abode ! 
But darkness and the gloomy shade of death 
Environ you ; till irnschief, and despair. 
Drive you to break your necks, or hang your- 
selves! [Exit, guarded. 

York. Break thou in pieces, and consumt 
to ashes. 
Thou foul accursed minister of hell! 

Enter Cardinal Beaufort, attended. 

Car. Lord regent, I d<> greet your excellence 
W'ith letters of commission from the king. 
For know, my lords, the states of Christenilom, 
iMoved with remorse J of these outrageouc 

broils. 
Have earnestly implored a general peacfe 
Betwixt oui nation and the aspiring French ; , 
And here at hand the Dauphin, and his train, 
Approacheth, to confer about some matter. 

York. Is ail our travail turi»'d to this effect? 
After the slaughter of so many peers, 
So many captains, gentlemen, and S(ddiers, 
I hat in this quarrel have been overthrown, 
And sold their bodies for their country'a 

benefit. 
Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace ? 
Have we not lost most pan of all the towns. 
By treason falsehood, and by treachery. 
Our great progenit-'is had concpiirtd? — 
O, Warwick, Warwick? I foresee wi»h grief 
The utter loss of all the realm of France 

War. Be patient, York : if we conclude a 
peace, [nants. 

It shall be wi'h such strict and severe cove- 
As little shall the Frenchicen gain thereby. 



A corruption of obntinate. 
qa liiiie?." 



t " No, ye misconceivers, ye who mistake me and my 

I Con)p.idi*i< n. 



Scene IF.] 



FIRST PAilT OF KING HENRY VI. 



549 



Enter Charlfs, atf.endtd; Alen^on, 
Bastard, Reign ier, and Otaers. 
Char. Since, lords of Englaud, it is thus 
agreeG. 
That peacetul truce shall be proclaim'd in 

France, 
We come to be informed by yourselves 
What the conditions ot thai league must be. 
York. Speak, Winchester ; for boiling 
choler chokes 
The hollow passage of my poison'd voice. 
By sight of these our baleful ♦ enemies. 

li in. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus: 
That — in regard king Henry gives consent, 
Of mere coinpission, and of lenity, 
To ease your country of distressful war. 
And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace, — 
You shall become true liegemen to his crown : 
And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear 
To pay him tribute, and submit thyself, 
Thou shalt be placed as viceroy under him, 
And siill enjoy thy regal dignity. 

ALen. Must he be then a shadow of himself ? 
Adorn his temples with a coronet t ; 
And yet, in substance and authority. 
Retain but privilege of a private man? 
This proffer is absurd and reasonless. [sess'd 

Char. 'Tis known, already that I am pos- 
With more than half the Gallian territories, 
"And tiierein reverenced for their lawful king : 
Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd. 
Detract so mnch from that prerog.itive, 
As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole 1 
■No, lord ambassador; Pil rather keep 
That which IJiave, than, coveting for more, 
Be c ist from possibility of all. [means 

York. Insulting Charles ! hast thou by secret 
Used intercession to obtain a league ; 
And,nowthe matter grows to c(nnpromise, 
Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison? 
Either accept the title thou usurpM, 
Of benefit j proceeding from our king, 
And not of any challenge of desert, 
Or we will plague thee with incessant wars. 

Reig. My lord, you do not well in obstinacy 
To cavil in the course of this contract : 
If once it be neglecte't, ten to one. 
We shall not tind like opportunity. 

Alen. To say the truth, it is your policy, 
To save your subjects from such massacre, 
And ruthless slaughters, as are daily seen 
By our piocet-ding in hostility : 
And therefore take this compact of a truce. 
Although you break it when your pleasure 
serves. {Aside, to Charles. 

War. How say'st thou, Charles ? shall our 

Char. It shall: [condition stand? 

Only reserved, you claim no interest 
In any of our towns of garrison. 

York. Then swear allegiance to his majesty ; 
As thou art knight, never to disobey. 
Nor be rebellious to the crovv n of England, 
Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England. 
[Charles andthe rest give tokens of fealtii. 
So, now dismiss your army when ye please; 



Hangup your ensigns, let your drums be stilly 
For here we entertain a solemn peace. 

lExeunt, 

SCENE V. London. A Room in the Palace. 

Enter King Henry, in conference with 

Suffolk; Gloster und Exeter /oi- 

loiving. 

K. Hen. Your wondrous rare description^ 
noble earl, 
Of beauteous Margaret hath astonished me: 
Her virtues, graced with external gifts, 
Do breed love's settled passions in my heart: 
And like as rigour in tempestuous gusts 
Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide; 
So am I driven, by breath of her renown. 
Either to suffer shipwreck, or arrive 
Where I may have fruition of her love. 

Sti). Tush ! my good lord ! this sapcrficial 
Is but a preface of her worthy praise : [tale 
The chief perfections of that lovely dame, 
(Had I sufficient skill to utter them,) 
Would make a volume of enticing lines, 
Able to raiish any dull conceit. 
And, which is more, she is not so divine. 
So full replete with choice of all delights. 
But, with as humble lowliness of mind, 
Sht is content to be at your command : 
Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents. 
To love and honour Henry as her lord, [sume, 
K. Hen. And otherwise will Henry ne'er prc- 
Therefore, my lord protector, give consent. 
That Margaret may be England's r(»yal que^n. 
Gio. So should I give consent to flatter sin. 
You know, my lord, your highness is betroth'd 
Unto another lady of esteem ; 
How shall we then dispense with that contract. 
And not deface your honour with reproach ? 
Suf. As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths; 
Or one, that, at a triumph §, having vow'd 
To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists 
By reason of his adversary's odds: 
A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds, 
And therefore may be broke without offence. 
Glo. Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more 
than that ? 
Her father is no better than an earl. 
Although in glorious titles he excel. 

Suf. Yes, my good lord, her father is a king. 
The king of Naples, and Jerusalem ; 
And of such great authority in France, 
As his alliance will confirm our peace. 
And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance. 

Glo. And so the earl of Armagnac may do. 
Because he is near kinsman unto Charles. 
JExe. Beside, his wealth doth warrant libe- 
ral dower; 
While Reignier sooner will receive, than give. 
Suf. A dower, my lords! disgrace not so 
your king. 
That he should be so abject, base, and poor, 
T« choose for wealth, and not for perfect love. 
Henry is able to enrich his queen, 
And not to seek a queen to make him rich : 
So worthless peasants bargain for their wives 



iianeful. + Coronet is here used tor crown. J ** Be content to live as the beneficiary 

of our king." j A triumph then aigniiied a public exhibition ; such as a mask, or revel. 



6hO 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Art r 



As niarket-men foroxeu, slieep, or liors€. 
Marriage is a matter of more worth. 
Than to be dealt in by attorneyship* ; 
]Sot whom we will, but whom his jjrace aflfects, 
Mnst be companion of his nnptial bed : 
And therefore, lords, since he affects her most, 
If most of all these reasons bindelh us,- 
In our opinions she should be preferred. 
For what is wedlock forced, but a hell. 
An age of discord and continual strife? 
Wliereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss. 
And is a pattern of celestial peace. [a king. 
Whom should we match with Henry, bei^ig 
B'U Margaret, that is daughter to a king? 
Her peerless feature, joined with her birth. 
Approves her fit for none, but for a king : 
Her valiant courage, and undaunted spirit 
(More than in women commonly is seen,) 
Will answer our hope in issue of a king; 
For Henry, son unto a conqueror, 
Is likely to beget more conquerors. 
If with a lady of so high resolve. 
As is fair Margaret, he be liuk'd in love. 
Then yield, my lords, and here conclude with 

me, [she. 

That Margaret shall be qneen, and none but 

AT. Hen. Whether it be through force of 

your report. 
My no^de lord of Suffolk ; or for that 
My tender youth was never yet attaint 



With any passion of inflaming love, 

I cannot tell; but this I am assured, 

I feel such sharp dissension in my breast. 

Such fierce alarums both of hope and f( ar, 

As I am sick with working of my thoughts. 

Take, therefore, shipping; post, my lord, to 

France ; 
Agree to any covenants : and procure 
That lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come 
To cross the seas to England, and be crown*d \ 
King Henry's faithful and anointed queen : 
For your expenses and sufficient charge. 
Among the people gather op a tenth. 
Ke gone, I say ; for, till you do return, 
I rest perplexed with a thousand cares. — 
And you, good uncle, bari>h all otfence : 
If you do censure f me by whnt you were. 
Not what you are, I know it will excuse 
This sudden execution of my will. 
And so conduct me, where from company, 
I may revolve and ruminate my grief. [Kjit. 
Glo. Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and 

last. [Exeujit GLosTER«wrf Exeter. 
Suf, Ihus Suflfolk hath prevailed: and that 

he goes. 
As did the youthful Paris once to Greece ; 
With hope to find the like event in love. 
But prosper better than the Trojan did. 
Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the king; 
But I will rule both her, the king, and realm. 

[Exit 



• By the discretional agency of another. 



t Judge. 



Of this play there is no copy earlier than that of the folio in 1C23, though the two succeeding 
parts are extant in two editions in quarto. That the second and third parts were published 
•without the first, may be admitted as no weak proof that the copies were surreptitiously 
obtained, and that the printers of that time gave the public those plays, not such as the author 
designed, but such as they could get them. That this play was written before the two other* 
{g indubitably collected from the series of events; that it was written and played before Hrnry 
the Fifth is apparent, because in the epilogue there is mention made of this play, and not 
of the other parts : 

" Honi-y the Sixth in swaddling bands crown*d king, 

** Whose state so many had the managing, 

** That they lost France, and made his England bleed : 

" Which oft our stage hath shown." 
RANGE IS LOST in this play. The two following contain, as the old title imports, the con- 
tention of the houses of York and Lancaster. 

The second and third parts of Henrv VI. were printed in 1600. When Henry V. wa» 
written we know not ; but it was printed likewise in 1600, and therefore before the publi- 
cation of the first and second parts. The first part of Henry VI. had been often shown on 
the stage, and would certainly have appeared in its place had the author been the pub* 
llMher.— JouNSOM. 



8BCOND PART OP 

KING HENRY VI. 



•** "The Contention of the two famous Houses of Yorke and Lancaster," in tv/o parts was 
published in quarto, in 1600; and the tirst part was entered on the Stationers' books, (aB Mr. 
>>teeveus has observed,) March 12, 1593-1. On these two plays, which I belie'^e to have been 
written by some preceding author, before the year 1590, Shakspeare fornied, as I conceive, 
this and the following drama ; alterins^, relrenchinir, or ampiitying, as he thought proper. 
The reasons on which this hypothesis is founded, I shall subjoin at large at the end of the 
third part of Kmg Henry VI*. At present, it is only necessary to apprize the reader of the 
method observed in the printing of these plays. All the lines printed in the usual manner, 
are found in the original quarto plays (or at least with such minute variations as are not worth 
noticing) : and those, I conceive, Shakspeare adopted as he found them. Tlie lines to which 
inverted commas are prefixed, were, if my hypothesis be well founded, retouched, and 
greatly improved by him ; and those with asterisks were his own original productH)n ; the 
embroidery with which he ornamented the coarse stuU that had been awkwardly made up for 
the stage by some of his contemporaries. The speeches which he new-modelled, he improved, 
sometimes by amplification, and sometimes by retrenchment. — MALO^E. 



^crgon^ reptcsentcti. 



King Henry the Sixth. 

Humphrey, Duke of Gloster^ his uncle. 

Cardinal Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, 

great uncle to the King. 
Richard Plantagenet, duke of York, 
Edward and Richard, his sons, 
Duke 0/" Somerset, -» 

Duke of Suffolk, I ^r+ur, iri^^^.. 

Duke 0^- Buckingham. Y'^^:^' 
Lord Clifford, /^w/*-*^. 

Young Clifford, his son, J 
Earl o/" Salisbury, > „f^L^v^^i.r..r.+x„^ 
Earl .^Warwick, \ ''/^^^ York faction. 
Lord Scales, Governor of the Toiver, 

Lord Say. 
Sir Humphrey Stafford, and his Brother, 

Sir John Stanley. 
A Sea-captain, Master, and Master's Mate, 

and Walter Whitmore. 
Two GenWamen, 'prisoners with Suffolk. 
A Herald. Vaux. 
Hume ana Southwell, two Priests, 



BoLiNGBROKE, c cowjwrer. A Spirit raised 

by him, 
Thomas Horner, an armourer, Peter, 

his man. 
ClerK ()/■ Chatham. Mayor o/'St. Alban's. 
S I MP cox, ««imj90.$^or. Two Murderers. 
Jack Cade, a rebel. 
George, John, Dick, Smith, the weaier, 

Michael, 4c, hisfoUotvers. 
Alexander Iden, a Kentish gentleman, 

Margaret, Queen to King Henry. 

Eleanor, Duchess of Gloster. 

Margery Jourdain, a witch. Wife to 

SiMPCOX, 

Lords, Ladies, and Attendants ; Petition' 
ers. Aldermen, a Beadle, Sheriff, and 
Officers; Citizens, Prentices, ralcon- 
ers. Guards, Soldiers, Messengos, ^c. 

Scene, dispersedly in various parts of Eng 
laud. 



ACT I. 



^CENE I. 



London. A Room of State in 
the Palace, 

Flourish of Trumpets: then Hautboys. 
Enter, on one side, King Henry, Duke of 
Gloster, Salisbury, Warw^ick, mid 
Cardinal Beaufort; on the other. Queen 
Margaret, led in by Suffolk; York, 
Somerset, Buckingham, and Others, 
following. 

Suf. As by your high imperial majesty 
I had ii\ charge at my depart for Fi ance. 
As procurator to youi excellence, 



To marry ptincess Margaret for your grace ; 
So, in the famous ancient city. Tours, — 
In presence of the kings of France and Sicil, 
The dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretaigne, and 
Alen^on, [bishops, — 

Seven earls, twelve barons, twenty reverend 
I have perform'd n)y task, and was espoused: 
And humbly now upon my bended knee, 
In sight of England and her lordly peers. 
Deliver up my title in the queen 
To yoar most gracious hands, that are thesnb- 
Of that great shadow I did represent ; [.-^lance 
The happiest gift that ever marqt'.ess gave. 



Octavo editions. 



552 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act I, 



Tlie fairest queen that ever king received. 
A. Hen. Suffolk, arise. — Welcome, queen 
Margaret : 
1 can express no kinder sign of love, [life. 
Than tliis kind kiss. — O Lord, that lends me 
Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness! 
For thou hast given me, in this beauteous face, 
' A world of earthly blessings to my «oul, 

* If sympathy of love uniie our thoughts. 

* Q.Mar. Great king of England, and my 

gracious lord ; 
The imitual conference that my mind hath 
had*. — [dreams; 

" By day, by night ; waking, and in my 
' lu couitly company, or at my beads, — 
'^^^ith you, mine alder-liefestf sovereign, 
' Makes me the bolder to salute my king 
' With ruder terms ; such as my wit affords, 
' And over-joy of heart doth minister. 

< X. Hen. Her sight did ravish: but her 
grace in speech, 

* Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty, 

* Makes me from wondering fall to weeping 

joys; 
' Such is the fulness of my heart's content. — 
' Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my 
love. [happiness! 

All. Long live queen Margaret, England's 
Q. Mar. SV e thank you all. [Flourish. 
St'J. My lord protector, so it please your 
grace, 
Here are the articles of contracted peace. 
Between our sovereign and the French king 
Charles, 

* For eighteen months concluded by consent. 

Glo. [Reads.] Imprimis, It is agreed be- 
twetu the French king, Charles, and Wil- 
liam de la Poole, ?narqiiess of Suffolk, am- 
(uissudor for Henry king of Englmd,— 
that the said Henry shall espouse the lady 
Margaret, daughter unto Reignier king of 
Nayles, Sicilia, and Jerusalem ; andcroten 
her queen of England, ere the thirtieth of 

May next ensuing. Item — That the 

'Juchy of Anjou and the county of Maine, 
fhall he released and delicered to the king 
^er father 

K. Htu. Uncle, how now? 

CH't, Pardon me, gracious lord; 

Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the 

he ft, [further. 

And dimm'd mine eyes that I can read no 

K. Hen. Uncle of Winchester, 1 pray, 
re.^d on. 

Win. Item, — It is further agreed betneen 
them, — that the Duchies uj Anjou and 
Maine .shall f>e n leased and delii ertd over 
to the kin^ her father ; and she sent over 
of the k'un of Fngla7i<i's own proper coit 
and charges, without having dowry. 

A. He/I. Tliey ple.ise us well.— Lord mar- 
quess, kneel down ; 
We here create thee the first duke of Suffolk, 
And girt thee with the sword. — 



Cousin of York, we here discharge your grac« ''' 
Ir rom being regent in the parts of France, \ 
Till term of eighteen months be full expired. — j 
Thanks, uncle Winchester, Gloster, York, and ' 

Buckingham, 
Somerset, Salisbury, and Warwick; 
We thank you all for this great favour done. 
In entertainment to my princely queen. 
Come, let us in ; and with all speed provide 
To see her coronation be perform'd. | 

[Exeu7it. King, Queen, fiw^fl' Suffolk. 
Glo. Brave peers of England, pillars of the 

state, [giief, " 

* To you duke Humphrey must unload his 

* Your grief, the common grief of all the land, 

* What ! did my brother Henry spend his ^ 

youth, 

* His valour, coin, and people, in the wars? 

* Did he so often lodge in open tield, 

* In winter's cold, and summtr's parching heat 

* To conquer France, his true inheritance ? 
' And did my brother Bedford toil his wits, 

* To keep by policy what Henry got? ._ 
' Have you yourselves, Somerset, B uckingham 

* Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious War 

wick, 

* Received deep scars in France and Norman 

* Or hath my uncle Beaufort, and myself, [(iy? 

* With all the learned council of the realm, 

* Studied so long, sat in the council-house, 

* Early and late, debating to and fro [awe? 

* How France and Frenchmen might be kept in 

* And hath his highness in his infancy 

* Been crown'd in Paris, in despite of foes? 

' And shall these labour u, and these honours, 

die ? 
' Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance, 

* Your deeds of war, and all our counsel, die? 
' O peers of England, shameful is this lea^iue ! 

* Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame : 

' Ijlottiug your names from books of memory : 

* Razing the charactei s of your renown ; 

* Defacing monuments of conquer'd France *, 

* Undoing all, as all had never been ! 

* Car. Nephew, what means this passion- , 

ate discourse? 

* This peroration with such circumstance J? 

* For France, 'tis ours, and we will keep il still. 

* Glo. Ay, uncle, we will keep it if we can; 

* But now It is impossible we should : 
Snffolkjtlie new-made duke that rules the roast, 
■* Hath given the duchies of Anjou and Alaiire 

* Unto the poor king Reignier, whos^ large 

style 

* Agrees not with the leanness of his purse. 

* Sal. Now, by the death of Him that died 

for all, 

* These cou niies were the keys ofNormandy : — 
But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant 

son? [\ery: 

* TVar. For giief, that they are past reco- 

* For, were there hope to conquer themag;*i- 

* My fcword shoullshed hor blood, mjrie 
nu teal 8. 



I am the bolder to address yon, having already familiarized you to my ImagiDA^ ■- 
1 Beloved above all ihingis. 
I This speech crowded with so many circunjblanccs of aggravation. 



Scene /.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



553 



* Anjon and Maine! myself did win them both; 

* Those pi oviiices these arms of mine did 

conquer: 
' And are the cities, that I got with wounds, 

* Deliver'd up again with peaceful words? 

* Mort Dieu ! [focate, 

* York. For Suffolk's duke — mayhebesuf- 

* That liiins the honour of this warlike isle ! 

* i'Vaiice should have torn and rent my very 

iteart, 

* Before I would have yielded to this league. 
' 1 never ie?.d but England's kings have had 

* Large sunjs ot gold, and dowries, with iheir 

wives : 

* And our king Henry gives away his own, 

* To match with her that brings no vantat'es. 

* Glo. A proper jest, and never heard before, 

* That Suttolk should demand a whole fif- 

teenth, 

* For costs and charges in transporting her ! 

* She should have staid in France, an.l starved 

* Before [in France, 

* Car, My lord of Gloster, now you grow 

too hot ; 

* It was the pleasure of my lord the king. 

* GLo. My lord of Winchester, I know 

your mind ; 
' 'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike, 

* But 'tis my preseme that doth trouble you. 

* Rancour will out: Proud prelate, in thy face, 

* I see thy fury : if I longer stay, 

' We shall begin our ancierit bickerings*. — 
Loniings, farewell ; and ?«y, when I am gone, 
I prophesied— France vvill be lost ere long. 

[Exit. 
Car. So, there goes our protector in a rage. 
'Tis known to you, he is mine enemy : 

* Nay, more, an enemy unio you all ; 

* And no great friend, I ftar nie, to the king. 

* Consider, lords, he is the next of blood, 

* And heir apparent to the English crown ; 

* Had Henry got an empire by his marriage, 

* And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west, 

* There's reasoi) he should be displeased at it. 

* Look to it, lords ; let not his smoothing words 

* Bewitch your hearts ; be wise, and circum- 

spect. 

* What though the common people favour him, 

* CaHing him — Humphrey , the good duke of 

Gtoster ; [voice — 

* Clapping their hands, and crying with loud 

* Jt'sn waintain your royal excellence! 

* With — God preserve the good duke Huni' 

yhrcy ! 

* I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss. 
He will be found a dangerous protector. 

* Buck. Why should he then protect our 

sovereign, 

* He being of age to govern of himself? — 

* Cousin of Somerset, join you with me, 

* And all together — vitli the duke of Suffolk, — 

* We'll quickly hoise duke Humphrey from 

his se it. [delay ; 

* Car. This wei^^hty business will not brook 

* Vh \*> Ihe duke of Suffolk presently. 

[Exit 

• Skirmishings. 



* Som. Cousin of Buckingham, though Hum- 

phrey's pride, 

* And greatness of his place be grief to as, 

* Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal; 

* His insolence is more intolerable 

* Than all the princes in the land beside ; 

* If Gloster be displaced, he'll be protector. 

Buck. Or thou, or I, Somerset, will be 
protector, 

* Despight duke Humphrey^ or the cardinal, 

{Exeu7it Buckingham a7id Somerset. 

Sal. I'ride went before, ambition follows 

him. [ment, 

* While these do labour for their own prefer- 

* Behoves it us to labour for the realm. 

* I never saw but Humphrey duke of Gloster 
' Did bear him like a noble gentleman. 

* Oft have I seen the haut^hiy cardinal — 

' More like a soldi, r, th n a mau o'the church, 

* As stout, and proud, as he were lord of all, — 

* Swear like a ruffian, and demean himself 

* Unlike the ruler of a common-weal. — 

' Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age! 

* Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy house- 

keeping, [rnons, 

* Hath won the greatest favour of the com- 

* Excepting none but good duke Humphrey. — 

* And, broiiier York, thy acts in Ireland, 

* In bringing them to civil discipline: 

* Thy late exploits done in the he.irt of France, 

* When thou wert regent for our sovereign, 

' Have made thee fear'd, and honour'd, of the 
people : — 

* Join we together for the public good ; 
*■ In what we can to bridle and suppress 

* The pride of Suilolk, and the cardinal, 

* With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambi- 

tion; [deeds, 

* And, as we may, cherish duke Humplirey's 
' While they do tend the profit of the land. 

* War. So God help Warwick, as he loves 

the land, 

* And common profit of his country! 

* York. And so says York, tor he hath 

greatest cause, [unto the main. 

Sal. Ihen let's make haste away, and lo..k 

War. Unto the main! O, father, Maine is 

lost; [did w in, 

That Maine, which by main force Warwick 

* And would have kept, so long as breath din 

last: [Maine; 

Main chance, father, you meant; but I nuaut 
Which I will win from France, or else be siain. 

[fi'xeww.? Warwick and Salisbury. 
York. Anjou and Maine are given to the 

French ; 

* Pari* is lost ; the s^ate of Normandy 

* Stands on a tu kle f point, now they are gone : 

* Suffolk couciud'*''- on *.Vh articles; 

♦The peers agreed; and Henry was well 
pleased," [daughter. 

* To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair 

* 1 cannot blame them all ; What is't to them ? 

* 'i is thine ti.ey give away, and not their own. 

* Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of 

their pillage, 

^ 3 B 
f For ticklis-h. 



554 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act I 



• And purcliase friends, and give to courtezans, 

• Stiil revelling, like lords, till all be gone: 

• While as the silly owner of the goods 

• Wetps over ihein, and wiiugs his hapless 

hands, [aloof, 

• And shakes his head, and trembling stands 

• While all is shared, and all is borne away ; 

• Keaiiy to starve, and dare nut touch his own. 

• So York must sit, and fret, and bite his 

tongue, [sold. 

• While his own lands are bargain'd for, and 

• Mcthinks, the realms of England, France, 

and Ireland, 

• Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood, 

• As did the fatal brand Althea burn'd, 

• Unto the prince's heart of Calydon *. 
Anjou and Maine, both given unto the French! 
Cold news for me : for I had hope of France 
Even as 1 have of fertile Englan(i's soil. 

A day will come, -vrhen York shall claim his 

own ; 
And therefore I will take the Nevils* parts, 
And make a show of love to proud duke Hum- 
phrey, 
And, Mlun I spy advantage, claim the crown, 
For that's the 'golden mark 1 seek to hit: 
>ior shall prou'l Lancaster usurp my right. 
Nor hold his sceptre in his childish fist. 
Nor wear the diadem upon his head, 
Whose church-like humours fit not for a crown. 
Then, York, be siill awhile, till time do serve: 
Watch thou, and wake, when others be asleep, 
To pry into the secrets of the state; 
Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love, 
W^Jthhis new bride, and England's dear-bought 
queen, [j^is : 

And Hmnphrey with the peers be fall'n at 
Then will I raise aloft the miik-whife rose, 
With whose *weel smell the air shall be per- 

funied ; 
And in tny standard bear the arms of York, 
To grapple with the house of Lancaster ; 
And, force perforce, I'll make him yield the 

crown. 
Whose bookish rule hath puU'd fair Ensland 
down. {Exit, 

SCENE II. T?ie same, A Room in the 
Duke (^Gloster's House. 
Enter Gloster and the Duchess. 
Duch. W^hy droops my lord, like ovcr- 
ripen'd corn. 
Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load? 

• Wliy doth the great duke Humphrey knit 

his brows, 

• As frowninii at the favours of the world ? 

• VV h> are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth, 

• Ga/ing on that which seejiis to dim thy sight Y 

• W hat seest thou there? king Henry's diadem, 

• Enchased with all the honours of the world ? 

• If so, gaze on, and gri>vel on thy face, 

• Until lh> head be circled with the same. 
Put forth thy hand, readi at the glorious 

gold: — 



* What, is't too short? I'll lengthen it with mine: 

* And, having both together heaved it up, 

* We'll both together lift our heads to heaven 

* And never more abase our sight so low, 

* As to vouchsafe one glance unio the ground, 

' Glo. O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love | 
th,y lord, 
' Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts : <. 

* And may that thought, when 1 imagine ill , 

* Against my king and nephevv,virtuous Henry, ] 

* Be my last breathing in this mortal world ! 1 

* My troublous dream this night doth make nic 

sad. [I'll requite it. 

* Duck. What dream'd my lord ? tell me, and 

* With sweet rehearsal of my luorning's dream. | 

* Glo. Methonght this staff, mine oflice- | 

badge iu conrt, 

* Was broke in twain, by w hom, I have forg Jt, 

* But, as 1 think, it was by the cardinal; 

* And on the pieces of the broken wand 

' Were placed the heads of Edmond duke of i 
Somerset, i 

' And W illiam de la Poole, first duke of Suf- \ 
folk. [knows. ' 

* This was my dream ; what it doth bode, God 

* Duch, Tut, this was nothing but an argu- 

ment, 
That he that breaks a stick of Gloster's grove, 
' fehall lose his head for his presumption. 

* But list to nie, my Humphrey, my sweet 
xMethonght, 1 sat in seat of majesty, "^duke: 
in the cathedral churcb of W t str.nnvter. 
And in that chair where kings and queens are 

crowned ; (i^ife* 

Where Henry, and dame Margaret, kneeled to 
' And on my head did set the diddem. [right: 

* Glo. Nay, Elfcanor,then must I chide out- 

* Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtured t Eleanor! 
Art thou not second wonjan in the realm; 
And the protector's wire; beloved of him? 

* Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command, 

* Above the reach or compass of thy though*;? 
And wilt thou still be hammering treachery, 

* To tumble down thy husband, and thy?elf, 

* From top of honour to disgr.ice's feel? 
Away from me, and let me hear no more. 

* Duch. What, what, my lord I are you so 

choleric 

* With Eleanor, for telling but her dream ? 

* Next time, I'll keep my dreams unto myself, 
' And not be checked. [«gain. 

* Glo. Nay, be not angry, I am ple.ibtd 

Enter a Messenger. 

* Mef^s. My lord protector, 'tis his highness* 

pleasure, 

* You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans, 

* Whereas X the king and queen do mean to 

hawk. [lis ? 

Glo. I go.— Come, Nell, thou wilt ride uiih 

* Duch. Yef, good my lord, I'll follow 

presently. 

[Exeunt Gloster and Messenger 

* Follow 1 must, I cannot go before, [mind. 

* While Gloster bears this base ana humh:^ 



• Meleager; whose life was to continue only so lt>r\g as a certnin firebrand should last. His 

mother Althea having thrown it into the fire, he expired in torment. 

t lll<educ»ted j For where. 



Scene 11,^ 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VJ. 



555 



* Were I a mun, a duke, and next of blood, 

* I would remove these tedious stambling 

blocks, [necks : 

* And saiooth my way upon their headless 

* And, being a woman, I will not be slack 

* To play my part in fortune's pageant. 

* Where are you there 1 Sir John ♦ I nay, fear 

not, man, 
We are alone; here's none but thee, and T. 

Enter Hume. 
Hume, Jtsu preserve your royal majesty ! 

* Diich. What s.ty'st thou, majesty ! I am 

but grace. [advice, 

Hume, But, by tlie grace of God, and liuiae's 

* Your gr ice's title shall be multiplied. 
Duck. What sayest thou, man I hast thou as 

yet conferr'd 
With Margery Jourdain,the cunning witch ; 
And Roger Bolingbioke, the conjurer ? 
And will they undertake to do me good ? 

* Hume. This they have promised,— to show 

your highness 
A spirit raised from depth of under ground, 
' rtiat shall rnnke answer to such qneslicns, 
' As hy your gi ace shall be propounded him. 

* Duck. It is enough; 1*11 think upon the 

questions : 

* When from St. Albans we do make return, 
' We'll see these things effected to the full. 

* Here, Hume, take this reward; makemerry, 

man, 

* With thy confederates in this weighty cause. 

\Exit Duchess. 

* Hum,?. Hume mnst make merry with the 

duchess' gold ; [Hume I 

* Marry, and shall. But how now, Sir John 

* Seal up your lips, and give no words but — 

* The business asketh silent secrecy. [mum! 

* Dame Eleanor gives gold, to bring the witch: 

* Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil. 

* Yet have 1 gold, Hies from another coast : 
' I dare not say, from the rich cardinal, 

* And from the great and new-made duke of 

Sulfolk; 

* Yet 1 do find it so: for, Id be plain, [mour, 

* i'hey, knowing dame Eleanor's aspiring hu- 

* Have hired me to undermine the duchess, 

* And buz these conjurations in her brain. 

* Jhey say, A crafty knave does need no 

broker ; 

* Yet am I Suffolk and the cardinal's broker. 

* Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go 

near 

* To call them both — a pair of crafty knaves. 

* Well, so it stands : A.nd thus, I fear, at last, 

* Hume's knavery will be the duchess's wreck; 

* And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall : 

* Sort how it will t, I shall have gold for all. 

[EjLie. 

SCENE III. The same. A Room in the 

Palace. 
Enter Peter, and Others, with Petitions. 

* 1 Ptt. My masters, let's stand close; ray 
lord protector will come this way by and by. 



* and then we may deliver our supplications 
' in the quill j. 

* 2 Pet. Marry, the Lord protect him, for 

* he's a good man I Jesu bless him ! 

Enter Suffolk, ^n*/ Queen Mahgaret. 

* I Fet. Here 'a comes, methinks, and the 

* queen with him: I'll be the first, sure. 

' 2 Pet. Come back, fool ; this is the duke 
' of Suffolk, and not my lord protector. 
' Sicf. liow now, fellow i wouldst any 

* thing with me? 

* 1 Pft. I pray, my lord, pardon me! 1 
' took ye for my lord protector. 

' Q. Afar, [heading the superscription ] To 
' my lord jnotecfor ! are your supplications 

* to his lordship ? Let me see them: What 
' is thine? 

* 1 Pet. Mine is, an't please your grace, 

* against John Goodman, my lord cardinal's 

* man, for keeping my house, and lands, and 

* wife and all, from me. 

&uf. Ihy wife too? that is some wrong, in- 
deed. — What's your's ? — What's here! [Reads. 
Against the duke of Suffolk, for enclosing 
I he conimons of Meljord. — How now, sir 
knave? 

2 Pet. Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner 
of our whole township. 

Peter. {Presenting his 'petition.'] Against 
my master, Ttiomas Horner, for saying, That 
the duke of York was rightful heir to the crown. 

* Q. Mar. What say'st thou? Did the duke 
' of Y^ork say, he was rightful heir to the 
' crown? 

* Peter. That my master was? No, for- 

* sooth: my master sud, That he was; and 

* that the king was an usurper. 

Saf. Who is there? [Enter Servants.] 
Take this fellow in, and send for his master 
with a pursuivant presently : — we'll hear more 
of your matter before the king. 

[Exeunt '^Gvyz.nl?,, with Peter* 

* Q. Mar. And as for you, that love to be 

protected 

* Under the wings of our protector's grace, 

* Begin your suits anew, and sue to him. 

[Tears the petition. 

* Away, base cullions§! — Suffolk, let them go. 

* All. Come, let's be gone. 

[Eieunt Petitioners. 

* Q. Alar. My lord of Suffolk, say, is this 

the guise, 

* Is this the fashion in the court of England 1 

* Is this the government of Britain's isle, 

* And this the royalty of Albion's king ? 

* What, shall king Henry be a pupil still, 

* Under the surly Gloster's governance? 

* Am I a queen in title and in style, 

* And must be made a subject to a duke? 

* I tell thee, Poole, when in the city Tours 
, Tlion rai/st a tilt in honour of my love, 

* And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France; 

* I thought king Henry had resembled thee, 

* In courage, courtship, and proportion: 

* But all his mind is bent to holiness. 



• A title frequently bestowed on the clergy. t Let the iswie be what it will. 

i: With great exactness and obtiervajice t>f form. § Scoundrels. 



556 



SHAKSPEARE 



Ac/ I. 



• To numheT A ve-Maries on his beads : 

• His champions are — the prophets and apos- 

tles ; 

• His weapons, holy saws • of sacred writ ; 

• His study in his tilt-yard, and his loves 

• Are brazen iinaees of canonized saints. 

• I would, the college of cardinals [Rl>me, 

• Would choose him pope, and carry him to 

• And set the triple crown upon his head ; 

• That were a state fit for his holiness. 

* Sii/. Madam, be patient : as 1 was cause 

• Your highness came to England, so will 1 

• In England work your grace's full content. 

* Q.Mar. Besidethe haughtprotector, have 

we Beaufort, [iuigham, 

• The imperious churchman ; Somerset, Buck- 

• And grumbling York : and not the least of 

these, 

• But can do more in England than the king. 

* iSuJ\ And he of these, that can do most of 

all, [vils: 

Cannot do more in England than the Ne- 
Salisbury,dnd Warwick, are no simple peers. 
' Q, Mar. Not all these lords do vex me 

half so much, 

• As that proud dame, the lord protector's wife. 

• She sweep? it through the court with troops 

of ladies, [wife; 

• More like an empress than duke Humphrey's 
Strangers in court do take herforthe queen : 

• She heirs a duke's revenues on her back, 

• And in her heart she scorns her poverty: 

• Shrill I not live to be venged on her? 

• Contemptuous base-born callattas she is, 

• She vaunted '^mrngst her minions t'other day, 
The very train of Vn'r worst wearing-gown 
Was better worth than all my fat!;er's lands, 

• Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his 

daaghtw. [for her; 

' Suf. Madam, myself have limed a bush 

• And placed a quire of .•such enticing birds, 

• That she will light lo listen to the lays, 

• And never mount to trouble you again. 

• So, let her rest: And, madam, list to me; 

• For I am bold to counsel you in this. 

• Although we fancy not the cardinal, 

• Yet mast we join with him, and with the 

lords, [di.-grace. 

. • Till we have brou^iht duke Humphrey in 

• As for the duke of York, — this late com 

• Will make but little for his benefit: [plaiiU j 

• So, one by one, we'll weed ihem all at last, 

• And you yourself shall steer the ha{)py helm. 
Enter Yi\x\» Hiinry, YoRK,flrwd Somerset, 

conversing u it h him; Duke «wd Duchess 
of Gloster, Cardinal Beaufort, Buck- 
ingham, Salisbury, and Warwick. 
K. Hen, For my part, noble lords, I care 
not which ; 

Or Somerset, or York, all's one to me. 

York, If York have ill demean'd himself in 
France, 

Then let him be dena>*d§ the reeentship. 
Sam. If Somerset be unworthy of the place, 

Let York be regent, 1 will yield to him. 



War. Whether your grace be worthy, yoa. 

Dispute not that : York is the worthier, [or no. 

Car. Ambitious Warwick, let thy bctien 

speak. [field. 

War. The cardinal's not my better in ihe 
Buck. All in this presence are thy l>etters, 

Warwick. [all. 

War. Warwick may live to be the best of 

* Sal. Peace, son;— and show some reason, 

Buckingham, 

* Why Somerset should be preferr'd in this. 

* Q. Mar. Because the king, forsooth, wii» 

have it so. 

* Glo. Madam, the king is old enough himself 

* To give his censure |j: these are no womt'n's 

matters. [your grace 

Q. Mar. If he be old enough, what needs 

* To be protector of his excellence? 

* Glo. Madam, I am protector of the realm; 
' And, at his pleasure, will resign my place. 

Siif. Reiign it then and leave thine inso- 
lence, [thou i) 

* Since thou wert king, (as who is king, but 
' The commonwealth hath daily run to wreck : 

* The Dauphin hath prevail'd beyomi the seas ; 

* And all the peers and nobles of the realm 

* Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty. 

* Car. The commons has^ thou rack'd ; the 

clerg}*s bags 

* Are lank and lean with thy extortions. 

* So/n. Thy sumptuous buildings, and thy 

wife 8 attire, 

* Have cost a mas.s of public treasury. 

* Buck. 1 hy cruelty in execution, 

* Upon ollendeis, hath exceeded law, 

* And left thee to the mercy of the law. 

* Q. Miir. Thy sale of oftices, and towns is 

Frince, — 

* If they were known, as the suspect is great, — 

* Would make thee quickly hop without thy 

head. [Exit Gloster. Tlie Queen 
drops her Fun. 

* Give me my fan: What, minion i can you not? 

\Give.s the Duchess u hox o the ear. 
' I cry you mercy, njadam ; Was it you ? 

* Diich. Was't I? yea, 1 it was, proud 

Frenchwoman: 

* Could I come near your beauty with my na»ls» 
I'd set my ten commandments in your face*". 

A'. Hen. Sweet aunt, be quiet ; 'twas again.-t 
her will. [to't in time; 

* Duch. Against her will! Good king, look 

* She'll hamper thee, and dandle thee like a 

baby : [breeche.*-, 

* Though in this place most master wear no 
She shall not strike dame Eleanor nurevenged. 

[E.Ht Duchess. 

* Buck- Lord cardinal, I will follow Eleanor, 

* And listen after Humphrey, how he proreed^: 

* She's tickled now; her fume can need n'> , 

spurs, 

* She'll gallop fast enough to her destruction. 

[Exit Buckingham. 

Re-enter Glo.ster. [biown^ 

• Glo. Now, lords, ray choler being over- 



• Sayings. t Drab, trull. J i.e.. The complaint of Pettr the armourer's man agains' 

his master. $ Demy i? frequently used instead of deny among the old writers. I Ci 

sure here means simply judgment or opinion. IT The ni.irki of her fiOiferH and thambe. 



( er ■' 



Scene III.] 



SECOND PART OT KING HEMIY VI. 



357 



• With walking once about the quadrangle, 

• I come to talk of commonwealth affairs. 

• As for your spiteful false objections, 

• Prove them, and i lie open to the law: 

• But God in mercy so deal with my soul, 

• As I in duty love my king and country \ 

• But, to the matter that we have in hand : — 

• I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man 

• To be your regent in the realm of France. 

* Suf. Before we make election, give me 

• To show some reason, of no little force, [leave 
' That York is most unmeet of any man. 

* York. I'll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am un- 

• First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride : [meet, 

• Next, if I be appointed for the place, 

• My lord of Somerset will keep m.- here, 

• Without discharge, money, or furniture, 

• Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands. 

• Last time, 1 danced attendance on his wdl, 

• Till Paris was besieged, tamish'd, and lost. 

* If^ar. That I can witness ; and a fouler fact 

• Did never traitor in the land commit. 
S//f. Peace, head-strong Warwick ! [peace? 
War. Image of pride, why should I hold my 

winter Servants of Suffolk, bringing in 
Horner and Pkter. 
Suf. Because here is a man accused of treason: 
Pray God, the duke of York excuse himself! 

* York. Doth any one accuse York tor a 

traitor? [me : What are these? 

» K. Hen. What mean'st thou, Suffolk ? tell 

* Suf. Please it your majesty, this is the man 
' That doth accuse his master of high treason : 

• His words were these; — that Richard, duke 

of York, 

• Was rightful heir unto the English crown ; 

• And that your majes y was an usurper. 

* K. Hen. Say, man, were these thy words? 
Hor. An't shall please your majesty, 1 never 

said nor thoui^ht any such matter: God is my 
witness, I am falsely accused by the villain. 

* Pet. By these ten bones, my lords, [Hold- 

• ing up his hands,] he did speak them to me 

• in the garret one night, as we were scouring 

• my k)id of York's armour. [cal, 

* York. Base dunghill villain, and mechani. 

• 1*11 have thy head for this thy traitor's 

speech : — 
' I do beseech your royal majesty, 

• Let him have all the rigour of the law. 

Hor. Alas, my lord, hang me, if ever I 
spake the words. My accuser is my prentice; 
and when I did correct him for his fault the 
other day, he did vow upon his knees he would 
be even with me : I have good witness of 
this ; therefore, I beseech your majesty, do 
not cast away an honest man for a villain's 
accusation. [law? 

K. Hen. Uncle, what shall we say to this in 

* Glo. This doom, my lord, if I may judge. 
r' • Let Somerset be regent o'er the French, 

Because in York this breeds suspicion ; 

• And let these have a day appointed them 
I * For single combat in convenient place : 

* * For he hath witness of his servant's malice : 



* This is the law, and this duke Humphrey's 

doom. [set, 

K. Hen. Then be it so. My lord of Somvr- 
We make your grace lord regent o'er the 
French. 
Som. I humbly thank your royal majesty. 
Hor. And I accept the combat willingly. 
Pet. Alas, my lord, I cannot fight ; for 

* God's sake, pity my ease! the spite of man 

* prevaileih against me. O Lord, have mercy 
♦upon me! I shall never be able to fi^^ht a 

* blow : O Lord, my heart! 

GLo. Sirrah, or you must fight, or else be 
hang'd. [the day 

* K. Hen. Away with thera to prison : and 
' Of combat shall be the last of the next month. 

* Come, Somerset, we'll see thee sent away. 

{^Exeunt- 

SCENE IV. Tlie same. The Bake of 

Gloster's Garden. 

Enter Margery Jouruain, Hume,South- 

weIjL, and Bolingbroke. 

* Hume. Come, my masters : the duchess, 

* I tell you, expects performance of your 

* promises. 

* Boli?ig. Master Hume, we are therefore 
« provided : will her ladyship behold and 

* hear our exorcisms* ? 

I * Hume. Ay; what else? fear you not her 

! * courage. 

I * BoLing. I have heard her reported to be 

* a woman of an invincible spirit : Hut it shall 
i * be convenient, n-iaster Hume, that you be 

* by her aloft, while we be busy below; and so, I 
I * pray vou, go in God's name, and leave us. 

\^b:xLt Hume.] Mother Jourdain, be you 
' prostrate, and grovel on the earth : — * John 

: * ."bouthwell, read you; and let us to our work. 

i Enter Duchess, ahove. 

I * Diich. Well said, my masters ; and wel- 

* come all. To this geert ; the sooner tlse 
; * better. [know thei;- times : 
! * Boling. Patience, good lady ; wi/ards 

Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, 
' * The time of ni^jht when Troy was set on tiro ; 

* The time when screech-owls cry, and barn 

dogsjhowl, [graves, 

* And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their 

* That lime best fits the work we have in hand. 

* Madam, sit you and fear not ; whom we raise. 
We will make fast within a hallow'd verge. 
[Here they perform the Ceremonies apper- 
taining, and make the Circle; Boling- 
broke or Soui HWELLrert<f.y, Conjuro te, 
&c. It thunders and lightens terribly , 
then the Spirit riseth. 

* Spir. Adsum. 

* M. Jour./. Asmath, 

* By the eternal God, whose name and power 

* Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask ; 

* For, till thou speak, thou shalt not pass from 

hence. 

* iSpir. Ask what thou wilt : — That I had said 

and done ! 



* By exorcise Shakjpeare invariably, means to raise spirits, and not to lay them, 
t Matter or business. j Village dogs. 

8 13 3 



55S 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act JI, 



Baling. First of the king. What shall 
of him become? 

[Reading ont of a Paper. 
Spir. The duke yet lives, that Henry shall 
depose; 
Ent hiiti outlive, and die a violent death. 
[As the Spirit speaks, Southwell writes 

the attsirer, 
Boling. H hat fate awaits the duke of 
Suffolk 1 [end. 

Spir. liy water shall he die, and take his 
Boling. i^ hat shall befall the duke ofSo- 
SjJir. Let him shun castles ; [mersef? 

S:«ter shall he be upon the sandy plains 
'J iian where castles mounted stand. 

* Have done, for more 1 hardly can endure, 

holing. Descend to darkness, and the burn- 

* False fiend, avoid ! [ing lake : 
[Thaiider and Lightning. Spirit descends. 

Enter York and Buckingham hastily, 
tvith their Guards, and Others. 

* York. Lay hands upon these traitors, and 

their trash. 
' Beldam!', I think, we watch'd you at an inch. 

* What madam, are you there? the king and 

commonweal 

* Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains ; 

* My lord protector will, 1 doubt it not, 

* See you well guerdon'd * for the?e eood de- 

serts, [land's king, 

* Due I. Not half so bad as thine to J ng- 

* Injurious duke; that threal'st where is no 

cause. [call you this ? 

* Buck. True, madam, none at all What 

[Slirwing her the papers. 

' Away with them; let them be clapp'd up 

close, [us : 

* And kept apundcr : — You, madam, shall with 



' Stafford, take her to thee. — 

[Exit Duchess from, above, 

* We'll see your trinkets here all forth-conung ; 
'All,— Away! 

[Exeunt Guards, iiith South., Bol., Ac. 

* York. Lord Buckingham, methinks you 

watch'd bei well : 

* A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon ! 
Now, pray, my lord, let's seethe devil's writ. 
What have we here ? [Beads. 
The duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose j 
But him outlive, and die a violent death. 

* Why, this is just. 

* Aio te jEacida, Romanos vincere posse. 
Well, to the rest : [folk? 
Tell me, ivhut fute awaits the duke of Suf- 
By tvater shall he die, and take his end. — 
What Shalt betide the duke of Somerset? 
Let him shun castles ; 

Safer shall he he up07i the sandy plains, 
Than where castles mounted stand. 

* Come, come, my lords ; 

* These oracles are hardily attain'd 

* And hardly understood. [Alban's, 

* The king is now in progress toward Sainl 
' With him, the husband of this lovely lady: 

* Thither go tijese news, as fast as horse can 

Carry them ; 

* A sorry breakfast for my lord protector. 

* Buck. Your grace shall give nie leave, my 

lord of York, 

* To be the post, in hope of his reward, 

* York. Atyoiir pleasure, my good lord,- 
' Who's within there, ho ! 

Ent( r a Servant. 

* Invite my lords of Salisbury, and Warwick. 
' To sup with me to-n;orrow night. — Away! 

[Exeunt 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. Saint A\h2in' ?,. 



Enfer King Henry, Queen Margauf.t, 
<.iL')STER, Cardinal, and Su fi'OLK, ft^^/A 
Falconers /wllain^,. 

* Q. Mar. Believe me, lords, for flying at 

the brook t, 
T saw not better sport these seven years' day : 
Yet, by vonr leave, the wind was very high ; 
And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out. 

* K. Hen I ut what a point, my lord, your 

falcon made, 

* \nd what a pitch she flew above the rest! — 
' I o see I ow God in all his creatures works ! 

* Yea, man and birds, are fain; of climbing 

hiuh. 
Siif. No marvel, an it like your majesty. 
My lord protector's hawks do tower so well ; 
T<>ey know their master loves to be aloft, 

* And bears his thoughts above his falcon's 

pilch. 
' Glo. My lord, 'ti? but a base ignoble mind 
1'liat mounts no hi'4hei than a bird can soar. 



* Car. I thought as much ; he'd be above the 

clouds. [you by that T 

* Glo. Ay, my lord cardinal; How thinK 
Were it not good, your grace could fly to 

heaven { * 

* K. Hen. The treasury of everlasting joy f 

* Car. Thy heaven is on earth ; thine eyes 

and thoughts ' 

* Beat on a crown j. the treasure of thy heart 
Pernicious protector, dangerous peer, i 
That smooth'st it so with king and common- 
weal ! [grown peremptory I 

* Glo. What, cardinal, is your priesthood 

* Tuntanr unimis coelestihu.s iree? 

* Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such 

malice ; 

* With such hoIines!« can yon do it? 

* Suf. No malice, sir ; no more than well 

becomes 
' So good a quarrel, and so bad a peer. 

Glo. As who, my lord? 

Sif. Why, a% you, my lord ; 

An'l like your lordly lord-protectorship. 



• Rewardi d. f Tlie falconf^r's term for hawking at water-fowl. 

J /'. < ., ilj> utiiiil is Morlviii^; iMi a cioivu. 



t Fond. 



Scene /.J 



SECOND PART OF K1\G HENRY VI. 



559 



Gio. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine 

insolence. 
Q. Mar. And thy ambition, Glosler. 
K. Heii. I pr'ythce, peace, 

Good queen ; and whet not on these furious 

peers. 
For blessed nre the peacemakers on earth. 
Cur. Let me be blessed for the peace 1 
make, 
Afjainst this proud protector, with my sword ! 
Gio. 'Faith, holy uncle, 'would *twere come 
to that! [Aside to the Cardiuil. 

* Cur. Marry, when thou darest. {Aside, 
Gio. Make up no factious numbers for the 

matter, 
la thine own person answer thy abuse. 

[Afiide. 
Car. Ay, wliere thou darest not peep : an 
if thou darest, 
This evening on the east side of the grove. 

{Aside. 

* K. Hen, How now, my lords ? 

* Car, Believe me, cousin Gloster, 

* Had rrot your man put up tl>e fowl so sud- 

denly, 
We had had more sport. — Come with thy 
two-hand sword. {Aside to <^\.Qi. 

Gio. True, niicle. [grove? 

Car. Aro \<m advised 1 — the east side of the 
Gio. Cardii.al, I am with you. {Aside. 

K. Hen. W hy, how now, uncle Gh)ster ? 

* Gio. Talking of hawking; nothing else, 

my lord. — [crown for this. 

Now, by God's mother, priest, I'll shave your 

* Or all my fence* shall fail. {Aside. 

* Car. Mediae teiysum ; "J 

' Protector, see to't well, protect >{Aside. 
yourself. 3 
K. Hen. The winds grow high ; so do your 
stomachs, lords. 

* How irksome is this music to ray heart! 

* When such strings jar, what hope of har- 

mony ? [striie. 

* I pray, my lords, let me compound this 
Enter an Inhabitant of Saint Albans, crying, 

A Miracle ! 
Gio. What means this noise? 
Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim? 
Jnhab. A miracle 1 a miracle ! 
Si(f. Come to the king, and tell him what 
miracle. [ban's shrine, 

Inhab. Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Al- 
"W.ithin this half hour, hath received his sight; 
A man, that ne'er saw in his life before. 

K. Hen. Now, God be praised I that to 
believing souls 

* Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair! 
Enter the Mayor of Saint Alban*s, and his 

Brethren ; and Simpcox, borne between 
tico persons in a Chair ; his Wife, and a 
great Multitude following. 

* liar. Here come the townsmen on pro- 

cession, 

* To present your highness with the nian. 

* A'. Hen. Great is his comfort in this 

earthly vale. 



* Although by his sight his sin be multiplied. 

* Gio. Stand by, xny masters, bring him 

near the king, 

* His highness' pleasure is to talk with him. 

* K. Hen. Good fellow, tell us her-e the cir 

cumstance, 

* That we for thee may glorify the Lord. 
What, hast thou been long blind, and now re- 
stored ? 

Simp. Born blind, an't pleas** your grace. 

Wije. Ay, indeed, was he. 

Suf. vV hat woman is this ? 

ll^ifc. His wife, an't like your worship. 

Gio. Had st thou been his mother, thou 

could St have better told. 
K. Here. Where wert ihou born ? 
Simp. At Berwick in the north, an*t like 

your grace. [been great to thee : 

* K. Hen. Poor soul! God's goodness hath 

* Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass, 

* But still remember what the Lord hath dune. 

* Q. Mar. Tell me, good fellow, /ramest 

thou here by chance, 

* Or of devotion, to this h<dy shrine ? [call'd 

* Simp. God knows, of pure ilevotion ; bein^ 

* A hundred limes, and oftener, in my sleep 

* By good Saint Alban ; who said, — Sinipco.i\ 

come; [thee 

' ComCf ojffer at my shrine, and livillhtlp 

* Wfe. Most true, forsooth ; and many time 

and oft 

* Myself have heard a voice to call him so. 
Car. What, art thou lame? 

Simp. Ay, God Almighty help me ! 

Suf. How camest thou so i 
Simp. A fall off of a tree. 

Wife, A plnm-tree, master. 
Gio. How long h.tst thou been blind 1 

Simp, O, born so, master. 
Gio. Vv hat, and wouldst climb a tree ? 

Simp. But that in all my life, when 1 was a 
youth. [very dear. 

* Wife. Too true ; and bought his climbing 

* Gio. 'Mass, thou lov'dst piutns well, that 

wouldst venture so. [souiv damsojis, 

* Simp. Alas, good master, my wife desired 

* And made me climb, with dangt i of i\\\, life. 

* Gio. A subtle knave ! but y«_t it sh ill not 

serve. — [open them : — 

' Let me see thine eyes : — wink now ; — now 

* In my opinion yet thnu see'st not well. 

* Simp. Yes, master, clear as day ; 1 thank 

God, and Saint Alban. [cloak of? 

Gio. Say'st thou me so i What colour is this 
Simp. Red, master ; red as blood. 
Gio. Why, that's well said : What colour is 

my gown of? 
Simp. Black, tors )0th ; coal-black, as jet. 
K, Hen. Why, then, thou know'st what 

colour jet is of? 
Suf. And yet, 1 think, jet did he never see. 
Gio. l-,ut cloaks, and gowns, before this day, 

a many. [life. 

* W'./e. Never, before this day, in all hi% 
G/o. Veil me, sirrah, what's my name? 
Simp. Alas, master, 1 know not. 



• Fciu-jp is the art of dc-fence. 



5r>o 



fc>ilAKSrEAE.E. 



Act Ih 



Glo. What's his namet 

Simp. I kno\r not. 

Glo. Nor his I 

Simy, No, indeed, master. 

Glo. What's thine own namet 

Simp, Saunder Simpcox, an if it pl«aseyc\i, 
master. 

Glo. Then, Sannder, sit thou there, the ly- 

ingest knave [blind, 

In Christendom. If thou hadst been born 

Thou niighi'st as well have known our names, 

as thus 
To name tht- several colours we do wear. 
Sit;hi may disimgnish of colours ; but suddenly 
To nominate tliem all, 'g impossible. 

y lords, Saint Alban here hath done a mira- 
cle ; [great, 

nd would ye not think that cunning to be 
nat could restore this cripple to his legs? 

Simp. O, niHster, that you could ! 

Glo. My masters of Saint Alban's, have yon 
not beadles in your town, and things called 
whips? 

Maih Yes, my lor'!, if it please your grace. 

Glo. Then send for one piesently. 

Al'.y. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither 
straight. [Krit an Attendant. 

Glo. Now fetch me a stool hither by and 
by. [A Stool brought out.'\ Now, sirrah, if 
you mean to save yourself from whipping, leap 
me over this stool, and run away. 

Styjiy. Alas, master, I am not j.ble to stand 
Toil go about to torture me in vain. [alone : 
He-enJtr Attendant, with the Be;idle. 

Glo. Well, sir, we niu?t hive you find your 
legs. Sirrah beadle, whip him till he leap 
over that same stool. 

Bend. I will, my lord. — Come on, sirrah ; 
off ^^ith your doublet quickly. 

Simp. Alas, master, what shall I do? I am 
not able to stand. 

[f\ft< r the Beadle hath hit him once, he 
leaps over the Stool, and runs aw ay ; 
and the People follow, and cry, A 
Miracle ! 

• K. }hii. O God, see'st thou this, and 

bear'st so long ? [villain rim. 

• (^. Mar. It made me laugh, to see the 

• Glo. Follow the knave; and take this 

drab away. 

• rf'T/V . Alts, sir, we did it for pure need. 
Glo. Lft them be whipped through every 

m-irket town, till they come to Berwick, 
whence they came. 

[h'xeunt Mayor, Beadle, Wife, ^c. 

* Car. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle 

to-day. 

* Saf. Trne ; made the lame to leap, and fly 

away. [than 1 ; 

* Glo. Bnt you have done more miracles 
• You made, in a day, my lord, whole towns 

K» ;iy. 

Enter Buckingham. 

* A'. //'>'. What tidings with our cousin 

Fnckingham? [unfold. 

Back. Such as my heart doth tremble to 



* A sort * of naughty persons, lew<lly+ bent, — 

* Under the countenance and confederacy 

* (Xf lady Eleanor, the protector's wife, 

* The ringleader and head of all this rout, — 

* Have practised dangerously against your 

stat^, 

* Dealing with witches ; and with conjurers : 

* \\ horn we have apprehended in the fact ; 

* Kaising up wicked spirits from under grohnd, 

* Demanding of king Henry's lite and death, 

* And other of your highness' pi ivy council, 

* As more at large your grace s-liall nnderstJ'nd 

* Car. And so, my lord protector, by thi* 

means 

* Your lady is forthcoming i yet at London. j, 
' This news, I think, hath turn'd your weapon's M 

edge ; [hour. W 

* 'Tis like, my lord, you will n(»t keep yowr 

[A.<iide to Gi o-srii R. 

' Glo. Ambitious churchman, leave to affiict 

my heart! [powers.* 

* Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my 

* And, vanqnish'd as 1 am, ] yield to thee, 

* Or to the meanest groom. 

♦ K. He??. O God, what mischiefs work the 

wicked ones ; [by ! 

* Heaping confusion on their own heads fhere- 

• Q. Alar. Gloster, see here the tainture of 

thy nest ; 

* And, look, thyself be faultlcfs, thou wert 

best. [appeal, 

' Glo. Madam, for myself, to heaven 1 do 

* How I have lovi d my king, and common- 

weal: 

* And, for my wife, I know not how it stands ; 

* Sorry I am to hear what I have heard : 

* Noble she is ; but if she have forgot 

' Honour, and virtue, and convtr.'ied with such 

* As, like to pilch, defile nobility, 

* 1 banish htr, njy bed, and coinp/.ny ; 

* And give lier, as a piey, to law, ar.d shame. 

* That hath dis^honour'd Glostcr's hon» st name. 

* K. Hen. Well, for this night, we will re* 

pose us here : 

* Tomorrow, toward London, back again, 

* To look into this business thorou^hlj , 

* And call the se foul offenders to their answers; 

* And poise ^ the cause in justice' equal scales, 

* Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful causn 

prevails. [Flourish, txenut 

SCENE II. London. T//e Duke o/ Yoik's 

Garden. 
jETn/er York, Salisbury, and Warwick. 

* y^oik. Now, my good lords of Salisbury 

and Warwick, 

* Our simple supper ended, give me leave, 

* In this ciose walk, to satisfy ii yself, 

* In craving vour opinion of my title, 

' Which is intallible to England's crown. 

• Sal. My lord, I lont: to hear it at full. 

H or. Sweet York, begin : and if Uiy claim 
be ^ood. 
The Nevils are thy subjects to command. 

> ork. '1 hen thus : 
f Edward the Third, my lords, had seven soii^'C 



• A company. 



t Wickedly. 



I i. ('., Your lady is in custody. $ Weivh. 



Sc€ne IL] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



561 



The first, Edsvaid, the Black Priuce, prince , 

of Wales ; [third, 

Tlie secontl, William of Hatfield ; and the 

Lioiie.^ duke of Clarence ; next to whom, | 

Was John of Gannt, the dnke of Lancaster : i 

The fifth, was Edmund Langley, duke of! 

York ; [of Gloster ; ! 

The sixth, was Thomas of Woodstock, duke 

William of Windsor was the seventh, and 

last. [father ; 

' Edward, the Black Prince, died before his 

* And left behind him Richard, his only son. 

* Who, after Edward the Third's death, 

reign'd as king ; 
'■ Till Henry Bolingbroke, duke of Lancaster, 

* The eldesi son and heir of John of Gaunt. 

* Crown'd by the name of Henry the Fourth, 
' Seized on the realm ; deposed the rightful 

king ; [she cam«, 

* Sent his poor queen to France, from whence 

* And him to Pomfret ; where, as all you 

know, [ly. 

* Harmless Richard was murder'd traitorons- 

* War. Father, the duke hath told the truth ; 

* Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown. 

* York. Which now they hold by force, and 

n<n by right; 

* For Richard, the first son's heir being dead, 

* The issue of the next son should have reign'd. 

* Sal. But William of Hatfield died with- 

out an heir. [(from whose line 

* York. The third son, dnke of Clarence, 

* I claim the crown,) had issue — Philippe, a 

daughter, [March, 

* Who married Edmund Mortimer, earl of 

* Edmund had issue — Roger, earl of March: 

* Roger had issue — Edmund, Anne, and Elea- 

nor, [broke, 

* Sal. This Edmund in the reign, of Boling- 

* As I have read, laid claim unto the crown; 

* And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king, 

* Who kept him in captivity, till he died. 

* But, to the rest. 

* Yo7'k. His eldesi sister, Anne, 

* My mother being heir unto the crown, [son 

* Married Richard, earl of Cambridge ; who was 

* To Edmund Langley, Edward the third's fifth 

son. 

* By her I claim the kingdom : she was heir 

* To Roger, earl of March ; who was the son 

* Of Edmund Mortimer; who married Philippe, 
Sole daughter unto Lionel, duke of Clarence : 
So, if the issue of the elder son 

Succeed before the younger, 1 am king. 

* War. What plain proceedings are more 

plain than this? [Gannt, 

Henry doth claim the crown from John of 
The fourth son ; York claims it from the -third, 
lill Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign: 
It fails not yet; but flourishes in thee. 
And in thy sous, fair slips of such a stock. — 
Then, father Salisbury, kneel we both to- 
gether; 
And, in this private plot*, be we the first. 
That shall salute our rightful sovereign 
With honour of his birthright to the crown. 



Both. Long live our sovereign Richaid, 
England's king!' [your king 

* York. We thank you, lords. But I am not 

* Till I be crown'd ; and that my sword be stain*d 

* With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster. 

* And that's not suddenly to be perform'd; 

* But with advice, and silent secrecy. 

* Do you, as I do, in these dangerous days, 

* Wink at the duke of Sufi^^olk's insolence, 

* At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition, 

* At Buckingham, and all the crew of them, 

* Till they have snared the shepherd of the 

flock, [phrey: 

* That virtuous prince, the good duke Hum- 

* 'Tis that they seek; and they, in seeking that, 

* Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy. 

* Sal. My lord, break we off; we know 

your mind at full. [Warwick 

* Wari My heart assures me, that the earl of 

* Shall one day make the duke of York a king. 

* York. And, Nevil, this I do assure myself^ 
' Richard shall live to make the earl of War* 

wick 

' The greatest man in England but the king. 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE III. The same. A Hall of Justice. 

Trumpets sounded. Enter King Henry, 
Queen Margaret, Glostek, York, Suf 
FOLK, and Salisbury; the Duchess oj 
Gloster, Margery Jourdain, South 
WELL, Hume, and Bolingbroke, under 
guard. 

* K. Hen. Stand forth, dame Eleanor Cob- 

ham, Gloster's wife: 

* In sight of God, and us, your guilt is great; 

* Receive the sentence of the law, for sins 

* Such as by God's book are adjudged to death. 

* You four, from hence to prison back again; 

[To Jourd. Ac, 

* From thence, unto the place of execution : 

* The witch in Smithfield shall be burn'd tc 

ashes, [lows. — 

* And you three shall be strangled on the gaU 

* You, madam, for you are more nobly born, 

* Despoiled of your honour in your life, 

* Shall, after three days' open penance done, 

* Live in your country here, in banishment, 
' With Sir John Stanley, in the isle of Man. 

' Duch. Welcome is banishment, welcome 
were my death. [judged thee; 

* Glo. Eleanor, the law, thou seest, hath 

* I cannot justify whom the law condemns. — 

[Exeunt the Duchess, and the other 
prisoners, guarded. 

* Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief. 

* Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age 

* Will bring thy head with sorrow ta the 

ground I — 
*I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go 
'Sorrow would solace, and mine age would 

easef. [ere thou go, 

* K. Hen. Stay, Humphrey duke of Gloster : 
' Give up thy staff; Henry will to himself 

' Protector be : and God shall be my hope, 

* My &tay, my guide, and lantern to my feetj 



Sequestered spot. 



t i' €., Sorrow requires solace, and age requires ease. 



562 



SIlAKSPKAllE 



[Act //. 



And <;o in peace, Humphrey ; no less beloved, 

* 1 iian wiiei) thoii wert protector to thy king. 

* Q. Mar. 1 see no reason why a king of 

• Should be to be protected like a child. — [years 
God and king Henry govern England's helm : 
Give up your statt, sir, and the king his realm. 

' Gio. My statf ? — here, noble Henry, is my 
As willingly do I the same resign, [staff: 

As e'er thy father Henry made it mine; 
<^nd even as willingly at thy feet 1 leave it, 
Iks others would ambitiously receive it. [gone. 
Farewell, good king: When I am dead and 
May honourable peace attend thy throne! 

[Exit. 

* Q. Mar. Why, now is Henry king, hnd 

Margaret queen ; [self, 

• And Humphrey, diike of Gloster, scarce him- 

* That bears so shrewd a maim ; two pulls at 

* Hi? lady banish'd.and a limb k)pp'd otf; [once, 

* This slatt of honour raught* : — * There let it 

stand, 

* Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand. 

* A///. Thus droops this lofty pine, and 

hangs his sprays ; [days. 

* Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest 

* York. Lords, let him go. — Please it your 

majesty, 

* This is the day appointed for the combat; 

* And ready are the appellant and defendant, 
'The armourer and his man, to enter the lists, 

• So please your highness to behold the fight. 

* Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord ; for purposely 

therefore 

♦ Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried. 

* K. Hen. O* God's name see the lists and all 

things fit; [right! 

• Here let them end it, and God defend the 

* York. I never saw a fellow worse bested t, 
■* Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant, 

• The servant of this armourer, my lords. 

Enter on one sine, Horner, ana his neigh- 
bours, drinking to him so much that he is 
drunk ; and he enters bearirig his staff 
with a sand-bag fastened te it ; a drnm 
before him; at the other side, Peter, with 
a drum and a similar staff ; accompanied 
by Prentices drinking to him. 

1 Aeigh. Here, neighbour Horner, I drink 
\o you in a cup of sack.; And fear not, neigh- 
Dour, you shall do well enough. 

2 I\eiij,h. And here, neighbour, here's a cup 
of charnecoi. 

3 A'eiiih. And here's a pot of good double 
beer, neighbour : drink, and fear not your man. 

Hut . Let it come, i'faith, and Pll pledge you 
all ; And a fig tor Peter! 

1 Pre//. Here, Peter, I drink to thee ; and 
be not afraid. 

2 Pren. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy 
master; fight for credit of the prentices. 

Peter. 1 thank you all: * drink, and pray 

• for me, I pray yon ; for, I think, I have taken 

• my last draughtin this world* — Here,Hobin, 
an if 1 die, 1 give thee my apron; and, \v ill, 



thou shalt have my hammer : — and here, Tom, 
take all the moaey that I have. — O Lord, biess 
me, I pray God! for I am never able to deal 
with my master, he hath learnt so much fence 
already. 

Sal, Come, leave yonr drinking, and fall to 
blows. — Sirrah, what's thy name! 

Peter. Peter, forsooth. 

Sal. Peter! what morel 

Peter, Xhump. 

Sel. Thump ! then see thou thump thy master* 
well. 

Hor. Masters, I am come hither, as it were 
upon my man's instigation, to prove 1 iiu a 
knave, and myself an honest man: * and touch 

* ing the duke of York, — will take my death, 
never meant him any ill, nor the king nor the 
queen :* And, therefore, Peter, have at thee 
with a downright blow, as Bevis of Sonthanip- 
ton fell upon Ascapart. [gins to double. 

* York. Despatch : — this knave's tongue be- 

* Sound trumpets, alarum to (he combatants. 

[Alarum. They fight, and 'P^.ilk strikes 
down his master. 
Jlor. Hold, Peter, hold ! I confess, I confesn 
treason. [Dies. 

* York. Take away his weapon : — Fellow, 

* Thank God, and the good wine in thy mas- 

ter's way. 

* Peter. O God ! have I overcome mine ene- 

* mies in this presence? O Peter, thou hast pre- 

* vailed in right! 

K. Hen. Go, take hence that traitor from 
our sight ; 
For, by his death, we do perceive his guiU;§: 
And God, in justice, hath reveal'd to us 
The truth and innocence of this poor fellow. 
Which he had thought to have murder'd wrong- 
fully.— 
Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. The same. A Street, 

Enter Gloster and Servants, in mourn-^ 

ing Cloaks, 

* Glo. Thus, sometimes, hath the brightest 

day a cloud ; 

* And, after summer, evermore succeeds [cold: 

* Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping 

* So cares and jo\ s abound, as seasons fleet [j. 
Sirs, what's o'clock? 

Serv. Ten, my lord. 

* Ten is the hour that was appointed me, 

* To watch the coming of my pnnish'd duchess: 
' Uneath^ may she endure the flinty streets, 

' To tiead them with her tender-feeling feet. 
Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind al rook 
The abject people, gazing on thy face, [shame- 
With envious** looks, elill laughing at thy 
That erst did follow thy pr. ud chariot wheels 
\\ hen thou didst ride in triumph through the 
streets. [prepare 

* But, soft! I think she comes; and I'll 

* My tearst.iin'd eyes to see her miseries. 



♦I 



* Reached. t In a worse plight. % ^ sot t of sweet wine. 

$ The death cf the vanquished utr.^on was always regarded i:s ceiiain evidtncc of his guilt. 

II Change. ^ Not ca^-ily. ** Malicious. 



/r.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENIIY YI. 



^53 



Enter the Duchess of Gloster, in a uhite 
.sheet, with papers piiined upon her back, 
her feet hare, and a taper burning in her 
hand; Sir John Stanley, a Sheiiflf, and 
Officers. 

^erv. So please your grace, we'll take her 
from the sheriff. [pass by. 

• Glo. ^o, stir not for your lives; let her 
Duch. Come you, my lord, to see my open 

shame'? [gaze! 

Now thou dost penance too. Look how they 

See, how the giddy multitude do point. 

And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on 

thee ! [looks ; 

' Ah, Gloster, hide thee from their hateful 

* And in thy closet pent up, rtie my shame, 
And ban* thine enemies, both niine;ind thine. 

Glo. Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this 
grief. [self : 

Ducn. Ah, Gloster, teach me to forget my- 
For, whilst I think I am thy married wife. 
And, thou a prince, protector of this land, 
' Methinks, I should not thus be led along, 
Mail'd up in shamef, with papers on my back; 

* And followed with a rabble, that rejoice 

* To see my tears, and hear my deep fet; 

groans. 
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet; 
And, when I start, the envious people laugh. 
And bid me be advised how I tread. 
' Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke? 

* Trow'st thou, that e'er I'll look upon the 

world ; 

* Or count them happy, that enjoy the sun ? 

* >sO; dark shall be niy light, and night my 

day ; 

* To think upon my pomp, shall be my hell. 
Sometime I'll say, I am duke Humphrey's 
And he a prince, and ruler of the land : [wife; 
Yet so he ruled, and such a prince he was. 
As he stood by, whilst I, his forlorn duchess, 

* Was made a wonder, and a pointing-stock. 
To every idle rascal follower. 

But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame ; 
Nor stir at nothing, till the axe of death 
Hang over thee, as, sure, it shortly will. 
Fur Suffolk, — he that can do all in all 

With her, that hateth thee, and hales us all,— 
And York, and impious Beaufort, that false 

priest, 
Have all limbed bushes to betray thy wings, 
And, fly thou how thou canst, they'll t.ingle 
thee : 

* But fear not thou, until thy foot be snared, 

* Nor never seek prevention of ttiy foes. 

* Glo. Ah, Nell, forbear ; thou ainiest all 

* I must offend, before I be attainted : [awry ; 

* And had 1 twenty times so many foes, 

* And each of them had twenty times their 

power, 

* All tliese could not procure rae any scathe $, 

* So long as 1 am loyal, true, and crimeless. 

* Wouldst have me rescue thee from this re- 

proach % 



* Why, yet thy scaiul.d \vere not wipeitaway 

* But 1 in dau'^er for tiie breacli of law. 

* Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell : 

* I pray thee, sort thy heart to patience ; 

' These few days' wonder will be quickly worn. 

Enter a Herald. 

Her. I summon your grace to his majesty's 

parliament, holden at Bury the first of this 

next month. [fore I 

Glo, And my consent ne'er ask'd herein be- 

This is close dealing. — Well, I will be there. 

[Exit Heral<4. 
My Nell, I take my leave : — and master she- 
riff, [jnission. 
Let not her penance exceed the king's com- 
' Sher. An't please your grace, here my 
commission stays : 

* And Sir John Stanley is appointed now 

* To take her with him to the isle of Man. 

* Glo. Must you. Sir John, protect my lady 

here? [your grace. 

' Stan. So am I given in charge, may 't please 

Glo. Entreat her not the worse, in that 1 pray 

You use her well ; the world may laugh again |j; 

And I may live to do you kindness, if 

You do it her. And so, sir John, farewell. 

Duch. What gone, my lord ; and bid me 

not farewell? [speak. 

* Glo, Witness my tears, I cannot stay to 

[Exeunt Gloster and Servants. 

* Duch, Art thou gone too? * All comfort 

go with thee ! 

* For none abides with me : my joy is — death ; 

* Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard, 

* Because I wish'd this world's eternity. — 

* Stanley, I pr'ythee, go, and take me hence ; 
' I care not whither, for 1 beg no favour, 

' Only convey me where thou art commanded. 

* Stan. Why, madam, that is to the isle of 

Man ; 

* There to be used according to your state. 

* Duch. That's bad enough, for I am but 

reproach : 

* And shall I then be used reproachfully 1 

* Stan. Like to a duchess and duke Hum- 

phrey's lady, 

* According to that state yOu shall be used. 

* Duch. Sheriff, fartweil, and better than 

1 fare ; [shame ! 

'Although thou hast been conducts of my 
' Sher. It is my office ; and, madam, par- 
don me. 

* Duch. Ay, ay, farewell; thy office isdis 

charged. — 
' Come, Stanley, shall we go? 

* Stan. Madam, your penance done, throw 

off this sheet, 

* And go we to attire yon for our journey. 

* Duch. My shame will not be shifted with 

my sheet : 

* No, it will hang upon my richest robes, 

* And shew itself, aitire me how I can. 

* Go, lead the way ; 1 long to see my prison, 

[Exeunt, 



* Curse. t Wrapped up in disgrace ; alluding to the nheet of penance, 

t Beep-fptched $ Harm, miscliici". j] i. e., The world m.iy look again favourably 

on me. IT For conductor. 



564 



SHAKSPEARE. 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. The Abbey at Bury. 
Enter to the Parliament y King Henry, 
Queen Margaret, Cardinal Beaufort, 
Suffolk, York, Buckingham, and 
Others. 

' K. Hen. I muse *, my lord of Gloster ii 
not come : 
' 'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, 

* Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now. 

' Q. Mar. Can you not see? or will you not 
observe 
' The strangeness of his alter'd countenance? 

* With what a majesty he bears himself; 

* How insolent of late he is become, 

* How proud, peremptory, and unlike himself? 

* We know the time, since he was mild and 

aifable ; 

* And, if we did but glance a far-oflf look, 

* Immediately he was upon his knee, 
*.Tnat all the court admired him for submission: 

* But Ineet him now, and, be it in the morn, 

* When every one will give the time of day, 

* He kuits his brow, and shews an angry eye, 
' And passeth by with silflf unbowed knee, 

* Disdaining duty that to us belongs. 

* Small curs are not regarded, when they^rin: 

* But great men tremble when the lion roars ; 

* And Humphrey is no little man in England. 

* First, note, that he is near you in descent ; 

' And should you fall, he is the next will mount. 

* Me seemelh, then, it is no policy, — 

* Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears, 

* And his advantage following your decease, — 

* That he should come about your royal person, 

* Or be admitted to your highness' council. 

* By flattery hath he won the commons* hearts; 

* And when he please to make commotion, 

* 'lis to b€ fear'd, they all will follow him. 

* Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow- 

rooted ; [garden, 

* Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the 

* And choke the herbs for war of husbandry. 

* The reverent care, I bear unto my lord, 

* Made me collect! these dangers in the duke. 

* If it be fond I, call it a woman's fear ; 

' Which fear if belter reasons can supplant, 

* 1 will subscribe and say — I wrong'd the duke. 

* My lord of Suffolk,— Buckingham,— and 
' Reprove my allegation, if you can ; [York, — 

* Or elsr conclude my words effectual. 

* Su/. Well hath your highness seen into 
this dake ; 

* And, had I fust been put to speak my mind, 
I think, I should have told your grace's tale. 

* I'he duchess, by his subornation, 

* Upon my life, began her devilish practices : 

* Or if he were not privy to those faults, 

* Vet, by reputing of his high descent §, 

* (As next the king, he was successive heir,) 

* And such hi'^h vaunts of his nobility, 

* Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick duchess, 

* Wonder. 



* By wicked means to frame our sovereign's 

fall. [deep ; 

Smooth runs the water, where the brook is 

* And in his simple show he harbours treason. 
The fox barks not, when he would steal the 
No, no, my sovereign ; Gloster is a man [lamb. 
Unsou;ided yet, and full of daep deceit. 

Car, Did he not, contrary to form of law, 

* Devise strange deaths for small offt nces done? 
York. And did he not, in his protectorship, 

« Levy great sums of money through the realm, 

* For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it? 

* By means whereof, the towns each day re- 

volted, [unknown. 

Buck. Tut! these are petty faults to faults 

* Which time will bring to light in smooth 

duke Humphrey. [have of us, 

K. Hen. My lords, at once : The care you 

* To mow down thorns that would annoy our 

foot, [science I 

* Is worthy praise : But shall I speak my con* 

* Our kinsman Gloster is as innocent 

* From meaning treason to our royal person, 

* As is the sucking lamb, or harmless dove : 

* The duke is virtuous, mild ; and too well 

given, 

* To dream on evil, or to work my downfall. 

• Q. Mar. Ah, what's more dangerous than 

this fond affiance! [row'd, 

* Seems he a dove? his feathers are but bor 

* For he's disposed as the hateful raven. 

* Is he a lamb? his skin is surely lent him, 

* For he's inclined as are the ravenous wolves. 

* Who cannot steal a shape, that means deceit T 

* Take heed, my lord ; the welfare of us all 

* Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man. 

Enter Somerset. 

• Som. All health unto my gracious sove- 

reign! [new^s from France? 

K. Hen. Welcome, lord Somerset. What 

' Sojn. That all your interest in those tt rri- 

' Is utterly bereft you ; all is lost. [tories 

K. Hen. Cold news, lord Somerset: but 

God's will be done ! [France 

York. Cold news for me ; for I ha-d hope of 

As firmly as 1 hope for fertile England. 

* Thus are my bh^ssoms blasted in the bad, 

* And catei pillirs eat my leaves away : 

* But I will remedy this geai H ere long, 

* Or sell my title for a i^lorious grave. [Aside, 

Enter Guostkr. 

• Glo. All happiness unto my lord the king \ 
Pardon, my liege, that I hive staid so long. 

Suf. Nay, (iloster, know, that ihou ai"*. 
come too soon, 

* Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art: 
I do arrest thee of high treason here. 

Gio. Well, Suffolk, yet thou shalt not see 
me blush. 
Nor change my countenance for this arrest ^ 

* A heart unspotted is not easily dauntid. 

* The purest spring is not so free from mud. 



hiuibcif on his high descent. 



+ i. e.. Assembly by observation 



j Foolish. 



Gear was a general word for things or matters. 



. e., Valuing 



1 



Scene J.] 



SECOXD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



5G5 



* As I am clfcar from treasou to my sovereign : 
iA^lio can accuse me? wherein am I guilty? 

York. *Tis thought, ray lord, that you took 

bribes of France, 

And, bein^ protector, stayed the soldiers* pay ; 

By means whereof, his highness hath lost 

France. [that think it { 

Glo. Is ir btJt thought so? Wliat are they 

* 1 never robb'd the soldiers of tlitir pay, 

* ]Sor ever had one penny bribe from France. 

* So help me God, as I have vvatth'd the 

night, — [England! 

' Ay, nisiht by night, — in studying good for 

* 1 hu doit thnt e'er I wrested from the king, 

* Or any groat I hoarded to my use, 

* Be brought against me at my trial day ! 

* >Jo ! many a pound of mine own proper store, 

* Because 1 w^ould not tax the needy commons, 

* Have I disbursed to the garrisons, 

* And never ask'd for restitution. [so much. 

* Car. It serves you well, my lord, to say 

* Glo. 1 say no more than truth, so help me 

God! 
York. In your protectorship, you did devise 
Stransie tortures for olfenders, never heard of, 
That England was defamed by tyranny. 

Glo. Why, 'tis well known, that whiles I 
was protector, 
Pity was all the fault that was in me ; 

* For I r^hoald melt at an offender's tears. 

* And iovvly words were iansome for their 

* Unless it were a bloody murderer, [fault. 

* Or foul felonious thief that fleeced poor pas- 

sengers, 

* I never gave them c6ndign punishment: 

* Murder, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortured 

* Above the felon, or what trespass else. 

Suf. My lord, these faults are easy *, quickly 
ansvver*il : 

* But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge, 

* Whei eof yon cannot easily purge yourself. 

* 1 do arrest you in his highness' name ; 

* And here commit you to my lord cardinal 

* To keep, until your further time of trial. 

* K. Hen. My lord of Gloster, 'tis my spe 

cial hope, 

* That you will clear youreelf from all suspects ; 
My conscience tells me, you are innocent. 

Gl->. Ah, gracious lord, these days are dan- 

* Virtue is choked with foul ambition, [gerous: 

* And charity chased hence by rancour's band ; 

* Foul subornation is predominant, 

* And eqnit\ exiled your highness' land. 

* I know, their complot is to have my life ; 

* And, if my death miiiht make this island hap- 

* And prove the period of their tyrann>, [py 

* I would expend it with all willingness : 

* But mine is made the prologue to their play ; 

* For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril, 

* Will not conclude their plotted tragedy. 

* Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's 

malice, 

* And Suttblk's cloudy brow his stormy hate ; 

* Sharp Buckini^harn unburdens with his tongue 

* The envious load that lies upon his heart ; 

' Aild dogged York, that reaches at the moo», 



' Whose overweening arm 1 have pluck'd back* 

* By false accuse t doth level at my lite : — 

* And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest, 

* Causeless have laid disgraces on my head , 

* And, with your bestendeavour,havestirr'd op 

* My litest X liege to Ic mine enemy : — 

* Ay, ail of you have laid your he<uls together, 

* Myself hail notice ol your conventicles, 

' I shall not want false witness to condemn me, 

* Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt ; 

' Ihe ancient proverb will be well atiected, — 
A staff is quickly found to beat a dog. 

* Car, My liege, his railing is intolerable: 

* If those that care to keep your royal person 

* From treason's secret knife, and traitors' rage, 

* Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at, 

* Ami the offender granted scope of speech, 

* Twill make them cool iji zeal unto your grace 
Siif. Hath he not twit our sovereign lady 

here, [couch'd, 

* With ignominious words, though clerkly 

* As if she had suborned some to swear 

* False allegations to o'erthrow his state? 

* Q. Mar. But 1 can give the loser leave to 

chide. [indeed; — 

Glo, Far truer spoke, than meant: 1 lose 

* Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me 

false! [speak. 

' And v^ell such losers may have leave to 
Buck. He'll wrest the sense, and Loid us 
here all day: — 

* Lord cardinal, he is your prisoner. 

* Cur, !Sirs, take away the duke, and guard 

him sure. [crutch, 

Glo. Ah, thus king Henry throws away his 
Before his legs be firm to bear his body: 

* Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side, 

* And wolves are guarling who shall gnaw thee 

first. 

* Ah, that my fear were false ! ah, that it were I 

* For, good king Henry, thy decay 1 fear. 

[Kreutit Attendants, ivU/i Gloster. 
K. He?i. My lords, what to your wisdom» 

seemeth best. 
Do, or undo, as if ourself were here. 

Q. Mar. What, w ill your highness leave ths 

parliament? [with grief, 

K. Hen. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd 

* Whose flood be&ins to flow within mine eyes ; 

* My body round engirt with misery; 

* For what's more miserable than discontent? 

* Ahi uncle Huniphrey ! in thy face 1 see 

* The map of honour, truth, and loyalty ; 

* And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to 

come, [faith, 

* That e'er 1 proved thee false, or fear'd thy 

* What low'ring star now envies thy estate. 

* That these great lords, and Margaret our 

queen, 

* Do seek subversion of thy harmless life? 

* Thou never didst them wrong, nor no (una 

wrong ; 

* And as the butcher takes away the calf, 

I • And binds the wretch, and beata it wiiep t 
i strays, 

* Bearing it to the bloody slaagbt^r-boote ; 



• For easily. 



t For accusiitioii. 



i Dearest. 



? C 



565, 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Act I IT 



• Even ?o, remorseless, kavc they borne him 

i\*ince. 

• And as the dam runs lowing up and down, 

• Looking tlie way her harmless young one 

went, I loss ; 

• And can do nought but wail her darling's 

• Even so myself bewails good Gloster's case, 

• With SHd unhelpful tears ; and with dimm'd 

eyes 

• Look after him, and cannot do him good ; 

• So jni<;lity are his vowed enemies, [groan, 

• His fortunes I will weep; and, 'tvvixt each 
' Say — Who's a traitor, Gloster he is none, 

[Exit, 

• Q. Mnr. Free lords, cold snow melts with 

the sun's hot beams. 

• Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, 

• Too full of foolish pity ; and Gloster's show 

• Beicniles him, as the mournful crocodile 

• With sorrow snares relenting passengess; 

• Or as the snake, roU'd in a flowering bank*, 

• With shining checke/d slough t, dotli sting a 

• That, for the beauty, thinks it excellent, [child, 

• Believe me, lords, were ncne more wise 

than I, [good,) 

• (And yet, herein, I judge mine own wit 

• jhis Gloster should be quickly rid the world, 

• To rid us from the fear we have of him. 

• Car, That he should die, is worthy policy ; 

• But yet we want a colour for his death : 

• 'Tis meet, he be condemn'd by course of law. 

• .V/{/. But, in my mind, that were no policy : 

• The king will labour still to save his life ; 

• The commons haply J rise to save his life; 

• And yet we have but trivial argument, 

• More than mistrust, that shows liim worthy 

death. [him die. 

• York. So that, by this, you would not have 

• Suf. Ah, York, no man alive so fain as L 

• York, 'i is York that hath more reason for 

his death.— [Suffolk,— 

• But, my lord cardinal, and you, my lord of 

• Say as you think, and speak it from your souls, 

• Wer't not all one, an empty eagle were set 

• T« guard the chicken from a hungry kite, 

• As place duke Humphrey for the king's pro- 

tector? [of death. 

Q. Mar, So the poor chicken should be sure 

• Suf, Madam, 'tis true: And wer't not mad- 

ness then 

• To make the fox surveyor of the fold ? 
' Who being accused a crafty murderer, 

' His guilt should be but idly posted over, 
' Because his purpose is not executed. 

• No; lei him die, in that he is a fox. 

By nature proved an enemy to the flock, 
Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson 
blood ; 

• As Humphrey, proved by reasons,to my liege. 

• And do not stand on quillets, how to slay him: 
Be it by gins, by snares, by snbtilty, 

• Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how, 

• So he be dend ; for that is good deceit 
Which mates) him first, "that first intends 

deceit. 



* Q. Mar. Thrice noble Suffolk, 'tis reso- 

lutely spoke. [done ; 

* Suf. Not resolute, except so much were 

* For things are often spoke, and seldom 

meant: [tongue,— 

* But, that my heart accordeth with my 

* Seeing the deed is meritorious, 

* And to preserve my sovereign from his foe, — 

* Say but the word, and I will be his priest. 

* Car. But 1 would have him dead, my lord 

of Suffolk, 

* Ere you can take due orders for a priest: 

* Say, you consent, and censure well the deed 

* And I'll provide his executioner, 

* I tender so the safety of my liege. [doing. 

* Snf, Here is my hand, the deed is worthy 

* Q. Mar. And so say I. [spoke it, 

* York. And I : and now we three have 

* It skills not greatly 1| who impugns our doom. 

Enter a Messenger. [amain. 

* Mess. Great lords, from Ireland am 1 come 

* To signify — that rebels there are up, 

' And put the Englishmen unto the sword: 

* Send succours, lords, and stop the rage 

betime, 

* Before the wound do grow incurable ; 

* For, being gretn, there is great hope of help. 

* Car, A breach, that craves a quick expe- 

dient^ stop! 

* What counsel give you in this weighty cause ? 

* York. That Somerset be sent as regent 

thither : 

* 'Tis meet, that lucky ruler be emplovM ; 

* Witness the fortune he hath had in France. 

* iS07ii. If York,with all his far-fet ** policy, 

* Had been the regent there instead ©f me, 

* He never would have staid in France so long. 

' York, No, not to lose it all, as thou hast 
done : 
' I rather would have lost my life betimes, 

* Than bi ing a burden of disiiononr home, 

* By staying there so long, till all were lost. 

* Show me one scar charactered on thy skin : 

* Men's Hesh preserved so whole, do seldom 

win. [a raging fire, 

* Q. Mar. Nay then, this spark will prove 

* If wind and fuel be brought to iVed it 

with:— [still: — 

* No more, good York ; — sweet Somerset, be 

* Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent 

there, [his. 

* Might happily have proved fir woise than 
York. What, worse than naught ? nay, then 

a shame take all ! [est shame I 

* Som. And, in the number, thee, that wi.sh- 

* Car. My lord of York, try what your for- 

tune i?. 

* The uncivil Kernes of Ireland are in arras, 

* And ten)per clay with blood of Englishmen t 

* To Ireland will you lead a band of men, 

* Collected choicely, from each county some, ^ 

* And try your hap against the Irishmen ? 

* York, I will, my lord, 50 please his majes- 

* Siff. Why, our anth.rity is his consent; [ty 

* And, what we doestablis'h, he coniirms : 



* i. e» fn the floweis growing on n bank, 
jl It is o' no importance. 



♦ SUin. 
T Bxpe'liiioua. 



* Perhaps. ^ Conf j"nd», 

•♦ Far-firtch<Ll. 



Scene I.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VT. 



567 



Then, nobleYork, take thou this tasl: in hand. 

* York. I am content : Provide me soldiers, 

lords, 
Whiles I take order for mine own affairs. 

* St//. A charge, lord \ otU, that 1 will see 

pertorm'd. [phiey. 

But now return we to the false duke Hum- 

* Car. No more of him ; for 1 will deal 

with him ; 
That, henceforth, he shall trouble us no more. 
And so break off; the day is almost spent : 
Lord Suffolk, you and 1 must talk of that 

event. [^'ays, 

* York. My lord of Suffolk, within fourteen 
At Bristol 1 expect my soldiers J 

* For there I'll ship them all for Ireland. 
SuJ'. I'll see it truly done, my lord of York. 

[h'xeu?tt all hut York. 

* York, Now, York, or never, steelthy fear- 

ful thoughts, 

* And change misdoubt to resolution : 

* Be that thou hopest to be ; or what thou art 

* Resign to death, it is not worth theenjoying : 

* Let pale-faced fear keep with the mean-born 

* And find no harbour in a royal heart, [man, 

* Faster than sprin-g-time showers, conies 

thou^^ht on thought : 
« And not a thought, but thinks on dignity, [der, 

* My brain, more busy than the labouring spi- 

* V/eaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies 

* Well, nobles, well, tis politicly done, 

* To send me packing with an host of men : 

* 1 fear me, you but warm the starved snake, 

* Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting 

your hearts. [me : 

*Twas men 1 lack'd, and you will give them 
' I take it kindly ; yet, be well assured 

* You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands, 

* Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band, 

' 1 will stir up in England some black storm, 

* Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven, or 

hell : 

* And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage 

* Until the golden circuit on my head, 

* Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams, 

* Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw*. 

* And, for a minister of my intent, 

* I have seduced a head strong Kentjshman, 

* John Cade of Ashford, 

* To make commotion, as full well be can, 
' Under the title of John Mortimer. 

* In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade 

* Oppose himself against a troop of Kernes + ; 

* And fought so long, till that his thighs with 

darts 

* Were almost like a sharp 'tied porcupine : 

* And, ill the end being re^caed, I have seen 

* Caper upright like a wild Moriscoj, [him 

* Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells. 

* Full often, like a shaii-h lired crafty Kerne, 

* Hath he conversed with the enemy ; 

* And undiscovered come to me again, 

* And givet. wi notice of their villanies. 

* This devil he»:<? ^1**11 be my substitute ; 

* For that John Mortimer, which now is dead, 



* In fare,in salt, in speech, he doth resemble : 

* By this I shall perceive the commons' mind, 

* How they aflie tthe hoi'sear.d cl dm of ^ ork. 

* Say, he be taken, rack'd, and toi tnred : 

' I know, no pain, they can inflict upon him, 

* Will make him say — i mo\ed him to those 

arms. 

* Say, that he thrive, (as 'tis great like he will,) 

* Why, then from Ireland come I with my 

strength, [sowM : 

* And reap the harvest which that raScai 

* For, Humphrey teingdead,as he shall be, 

* And Henry put apart, the next for me. [Edit, 

SCENE II. Bury. A Boom in the Palace, 
Enter certain Murderers, lia.stily. 

1 Mi'T, Run to my lord of Suffolk ; let him 

know, [manded. 

* We have despatched the duke, as he com- 

2 Mur. O, that it were to do ! — W hat have 

we done ? 

* Didst ever hear a man so penitent? 

Enter Suffolk. 

* 1 Mur, Here comes my lord. 

* Suf. Now, sirs, have you 

* Despatch'd this thing? 

* 1 Mur. Ay, my good lord, he's dead. 

* Suf. Why, that's well said. Go, get you 

to my house ; 

* I will reward yon for tnis venturous deed. 

* The king an(i all tlie peers are here at hand : — 
' Have > on laid fair the bed? are all things well, 

* According as I gave directions? 

* 1 Mur, 'lis, my good loid. 

* Suff. Aw.'.y, be gone! {Exevvf Murderers. 
E ter King Henry, Queen Ma-rgaret, 

Cardinal Beaufort, Somerset, Lords, 
and Others. 

* K. Hen. Go, call our uncle to our presence 

straight : 

* Say, we intend to try his grace to-day, 

* If he be guilry, as 'tis published. 

* Suff . I'll call him presently, my noble 

lord. lEiii. 

* K. Hen, Lords, take your places ; — And, 

1 pray yon all, 

* Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloster, 
' Than from true evidence, of good esteem, 

* He be approved in practice culpable. 

* Q. Mar. God forbid any malice should 

prevail, 

* That faultless may condemn a nobleman ! 

* Pray God, he may acquit him of suspicion ! 

* K.Hen, I thank thee, Margaret; these 

words content me much. — 
Re-enter Si ff( lk. 
' How now? why look'st thou pale? why 
trem blest thon ? [Suffolk ? 

* Where is our uncle? what is tlie ma'ier, 
Suf. De d in his bed, my lord; Gloster is 

* Q.Mar. Marry, God forefend ! [dead 

* Car. God's secret judgment : — I did 

dream to-night, [a word. 

* The duke was dumb, and could not speak 

{The King stvoo/is. 



• fi violent gust of wind. + Irish foot soldiers, light-armed. 

I A Moor in a morris dance. 



5GS 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act III. 



* Q. Mar. How fares my lord ? — Help, 

lords ! the king is dead. [nose. 

* Sotn. Rear up his body ; wring him by the 

* Q. Mar. Run, go, help, help!— O, Henry, 

ope tliine eyes ! [patient. 

Si'J. He doth revive again ; — Madam, be 

* K. Hen. O heavenly God .' 

* Q. Mar. How fares my gracious lord ? 
StiJ'. Comfort, my sovereign ! gracious 

Henry . comfort ! [comfort me 1 

K, Hen. What, doth my loru of Suflfolk 
Cam€ he ritjht now* to sing a raven's note, 

* \V hose dismal tune bereft my vital powers ; 
And thinks he, that the chirping of a wren, 

* By crying comfort from a hollow breast, 

* Can chase away the first-conceived sound ? 

* Hide not thy poison with such sngar'd words, 

* Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, 1 say ; 

* Their touch affrights me, as a serpent's sting. 
Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight I 

* Upon ihy eye-balls murderous tyranny 

* Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world. 

* Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wound- 

ing :— 
' Yet do not go away; — Come, basilisk, 

* And kill the innocent j^azer with thy sight: 

* For in the shade of death I shall find joy ; 

* In life, but double death, now Gloster'sdead. 
Q. Mar. Why do you rate my lord of Suf- 
folk thus? 

* Although the duke was enemy to him, 

* Yet he, most christian-like,lanients his death : 
■• And for myself, — foe as he was to me, 

* Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans, 

* Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life, 

* I would be blind with weeping, sick with 

groans, [sighs, 

* Look pale as primrose, with blood-drinking 

* And all to have the noble duke alive, [me? 

* What know I how the world may deem of 

* For it is known, we were but hollow friends; 

* It may be judged, I made the duke away : 

* So shall my name with slander's tongue be 

wounded, [proach. 

* And princes* courts be fill'd with my re- 

* Tiiis get I by his death : Ah me, unhappy! 

* To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy 1 

* K. He)i. Ah, woe is me for Gloster, 

wretched man ! 
^. Mar. Be woe for me t, more wretched 
than he is. 
What dost thou turn away, and hide thy face ? 
1 am no loathsome leper, look on me. 

* What, art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf? 
** Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn queen. 

* Is all thy comfort shut in Gloster's tomb? 

* Why, then dame Margaret was iie'erthy joy : 

* Enct his statue then, and worship it, 

* And ni;ike my image but an alehouse sign. 
Was 1, for this, nigh wrecked upon the sea; 

' And twice by awkward wind from Kng- 
lanfl's bank 

* Drove back again unto my native clime? 
What boded this, but well-forewarning wind 
l>itl seem to say,— Seek not a scorpion's nest, 

* Nof set no footing on this unkind shore ? 



* What did 1 then, but cursed the gentle gusts, 

* And he that loosed them from their brazen 

caves ; [blessed shore, 

* And bid ihem blow towards England's 

* Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock? 

* Yet T^olus would not be a murderer, 

* Rut Ipft that hateful office unto thee : 

* The pretty vaulting sea refused lodrown me; 

* Knowing, thatthou wouldst have me drown'd 

on shore, [ness : 

* With tears as salt as sea through thy unkind- 

* The splitting rocks cow'rd in the sinking 

sands, [sides; 

* And would not dash me with their ragged 

* Because thy flinty heart, more hard than 

* Might in thy palace perish Margaret, [they, 

* As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs, 

* When from the shore the tempest beat us 

back, 

* I stood upon the hatches in the storm : 

* And when the dusky sky began to rob 

* My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view, 

* 1 took a cosily jewel from my neck, — 

* A heart it was, bound in with diamonds, — 

* And threw it towards thy land ; — the sea 

received it ; 

* And so, I wished, thy body might my heart : 

* And even with this, I lost fair England's 

view, [heart; 

* And bid mine eyes be packing with my 

* And called them blind and dusky spectacles, 

* For losing ken of Albion's wished coast. 

* How often have Itempted Suffolk's tongue 

* ( Ihe agent of thy foul inconstancy,) 

* To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did, 

* When he to madding Dido, would unfold 

* His father's acts, commenced in burning 

Troy ? [like him ? 

* Am not I witched like her? or thou not false 

* Ah nie, 1 can no more ! Die, Margaret ! 

* For Henry weeps, that thou dost live so long. 
Noise wit kin. Enter Warwick and Sa- 
lisbury. The Commons jniss to the door. 

* War. It is reported, mighty sovereign, 

* That good duke Hiimphrey traitorously is 

nnirdered 

* By Suffolk and the cardinal Beaufort's means. 

* The commons, like an angry hive of bees, 

* That want their leader, scatter up and down, 

* And care not who they sting in his revenge. 

* Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny, 

* Until they hear the order of his death. 

K. Hen. That he is dead, good Warwick, 
'tis too true ; 
But how he died, God knows, not Henry : 

* Enter his chamber, view his breathless 

corpse, 

* And comment then upon his sudden death. 

War. That I shall do, my liege :— Stay 
Salisbury, 
With the rude njultitnde, till I return. 

[VVah vvicK go< s hit an inner Room 
and SAi.isnuRY retires. 

* K.Hen. OThou that judgesi all things, stay 

my thoughts : 

* My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul 



• Just now. 



t I. e., Let not woe be to thee for Gloster, but for me. 



Scene II,] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



569 



Sotnt' viol en I hands were laid on Hum- 
phrey's life ! 

* If my suspect be false, forgive me, God ; 

* lor judgment only doth belong to thee ! 

* Fain would I ^o to chafe his paly lips 

* With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain 

* Upon his face an ocean of salt tears ; 

* To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk, 

* And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling: 

* But ail in vain are these mean obsequies ; 

* And, to survey his dead and earthy image, 

* What were it but to make my sorrow greater 1 
The folding Doors of an inyier Chamber are 

thrown open, and Gloster is discovered 
dead in his Bed; Warwick and Others 
standing by it. 

* War. Come hither, gracious sovereign, 

view this body. [is made : 

* K. Hen. 1 hat is to see how deep my grave 

* For, with his soul, lied all my worldly solace; 

* For seeing him, I see my life in death *. 

' JVar. As surely as my soul intends to live 

* With that dread King that took our state 

upon him 

* To free us from his Father's wrathful curse, 

* I do believe that violent bands were laid 

* Upon the life of this thrice.famed duke, 

Suf. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn 

tongue J [vow? 

' What instance gives lord Warwick for his 

* War. See how the blood is settled in his 
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost t, [fac^ 

* Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and blood- 

less, 

* Being all descended to the labouring heart ; 

* Who, in the conflict that it holds w iih death, 

* Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst tlie 

enemy ; [returneth 

* Which with the heart there cools and ne'er 

* To blush and beautify the cheek again. 

* But, see, his face is biack, and full of blood ; 

* His eye-balls further out than when he lived, 

* Staring full ghastly like a strangled man : 

* His hair uprear'd, his nostiils stretch'd with 

struggling; [grasp'd 

* His hands abroad display'd, as one that 

* And tugg'd for life, and was by strength sub- 

dued, [ing; 

* Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, isstick- 

* His well-proportioned beard made rough and 

ru;jged, 

* Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged. 

* It cannot be, but he was niurder'd here ; 

* Ihe least of all these signs we^e prohnble. 

* Suf Why, Warwick, who should do the 

duke to death ? 

* Myself, and Beautort,hadhim in protection; 

* And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers. 

* Wur. But bc>ii> of you were vow'd duke 

Humphrey's foes ; [keep: 

* And you, forsooth, had the good duke to 

* 'Tis like, you would not feast him like a 

* And 'lis wellseen he found an enemy, [fnend ; 

* Q. Mar. Then you, belike, suspect these 

noblemen 



* As guilty of duke Humphrey's timeless death. 

yf ar. VVho finds the heifer dead, and bleed- 
ing fresh, 
And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, 
But will suspect, 'twas he thai mi-.de the 

slaughter"? 
W^ho finds the partridge in the putlock'b nest 
But may iinauine how the bird was dead, 
/Although the kite soar with util)loodied beak? 
Even so suspicious is this tragedy. 
'Q.iMar. Are you the butcher, Suffolk; 
Where's your knife ? Ions ? 

Is Beaufort term'd a kite? where are his ta- 
Suf. 1 wear no knife, to slaughter sleeping 
men ; 
But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease. 
That shall be scoured in his rancorous heai t. 
That slanders me with murder's crimsorj badge. 
Say, if thou darest,proud lord of Warwickftliire, 
That I am faulty in duke Humpiirey'? death. 
[Exeunt Cardinal, Sum. and I) hers. 
War What dares not Warwick, if fahse 
Sutfolk dare him ? [spirit, 

Q.M'(r. He dares not calm his contumelious 
Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, 
Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand 
times, jl say ; 

War. Madam, be still ; with reverence may 
For every word you speak in his behalf. 
Is slander to your royal disunity. 

* Suf. Elunt-witted lord, ignoble in demean- 
►If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much, [oar I 
Thy mother took into her blameful bed 
Some stern untntor'd churl, and noble stock 
Was graft with crab tree slip ; whose fruit thou 
And never of the Nevils' noble race. [art, 

Wur. But that the guilt of murder bucklers 
thee, 
And 1 should rob the deathsman of his fee. 
Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, 
Aiid that my sovereign's presence makes me 

mild, 
1 would, false murderous coward, on thy knee 
Make thee beg p trdon tor thy pissed sp< ech. 
And say it was thy motlierthat thou meani'st. 
That thou th>self wast burn in bastardy : 
And, after all this fearful homage done, 
Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to hell, 
Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men ! 
Suf. Thou shalt be waking, while J shed 
thy blood, 
If from this presence thou darest go with me. 
War. Away even now, or I will drag thee 
hence : [lh.ee, 

* Unworthy though thon arf, I'll cope with 

* And do some service to duke Humphrey's 

ghoAt. 
[Eieunt Suffolk and Warwick. 

♦ K. Hen. What stronger brea&t-platc than 

a heart untduted? 

* Thrice is he arni'd.ihat hath his quarrel just; 

* And he but naked, though loek'd up in steel, 

* Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted, 

[A noiiC xultnin. 
Q. Alar. What noise is this I 



* ». e.y I see my life destroyed or endangered by his death. + A body become 

inanimate in the common course of nature, to which violence has not brmight a timeless end, 

3C3 



570 



SilAKSi'i AilK. 



iArt in 



Re-enter Si'fpolk. and Warwick, with 
their i'Vea'pons drautu 

* K, Hen, Why, how now, lords! your 

wrathful weapons drawn 
Here in onr presence? dare you be so bold? 
Why, what tuitudiuoiis clamour have we here? 
ShJ. 1 he trailorojis Warwick, with the men 
Set all upon me, miijhty sovereign, [of Bury, 
Noise oj a Crotvd ivitliin. Ee-enter Salis- 
bury. 

• Sal, Sirs, stand apart; the king shall know 

your uiind. — 

[Speaking to those nithin. 
Dread lord ,the com mons send you word by me, 
Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death. 
Or banish'd f lir England's territories, 

• They will by violence tear him from yonr 

pjilace, [death. 

• And torture him with grievous ling'ring 
They say by him the good duke Humphrey 

died ; [death ; 

• They say in him they fear your highness' 

• And mere instinct of love, and loyalty, — 

• Free from a stubborn opposite intent, 
' As being thought to coniradict your liking, — 

• Makes them thus forward in his banishment. 

• They say, in care of your most royal person, 

• That if \(>!ir highness should intend to sleep, 

• And charge that no man should flisturbyouf 

• In pain of y ur dislike, or pain of death ; [rest, 

• Yet notNNithslandiuir such a strait edict, 
•Were there a serpent seen, with forked 

• Thatslilyglided towar<lyour majesty, [tongue, 

• It were but necessnry you were waked ; 

• Lest, being sutfer'd in that harmful slumber, 

• The mortal worm * might make the sleep 

eteintl : 

• And therefore do they cry, though you forbid, 

• 1 hat they will yuard you, -whe'r you will, or 

• From such fell serpents is false Sullolk is; [no, 

• With whose envenomed and faial sting, 

• Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth, 

• 1 hey itay, is shamefully bereft of life. 
Commons. [JF /A//?.] An answer from the 

kiu'j, my lord of Salisbury. [hinds, 

Suf. * I is like, the commons, rude unpoiishM 
Onuld send such message to their 8o\ ereign : 
Kut you, my lord, were glad to he employ'd. 
To show how qu.iint+ an orator you are : 
But all the honour Salisbury hath won. 
Is — that he was tlie lo d ambassador. 
Sent from a sort* of tinkt-rs to the king. 
Commons, [ly.'tliin.] An answer trom the 
king, or we'll nil break in. [*"rom me, 
* K. Hen. Go, Salisbury, and tell them ail 
' I thank them for th<,'ir tender loving care : 
* And hid I not been 'cited so by them, 
' "^ et did 1 purpose hs tluy do entreat ; 
' For SI. re, my thoughts do hourly pi ophesy 

Mischince unto my state by Sulfolk's means. 
' And therrfoie, — by His majesty I swear, 
Whose f tr unworihy depuiy 1 .\n\, — 
Hesh.ill not breathe infection In this air$ 
IJat three days longer, on the p lin of death. 
[Exit Salisbury. 



* Q. Mar. O Henry, let me plead for gentle 

Suffolk! [gentle Suffolk, 

' K. Hen. Ungentle qneen, to call him 

* No more, I say ; if thou dost plead for him, 
' i'liou wilt but add Increase unto my wrath. 

* Had I but said. I would have kept my \Aord; 

* But, when I swear, it is irrevocable : — 

* If, alter three days' space, th«»u here be'st 

* On any ground that I am ruler of, [found 

* I he world shall not be ransome for thy life. 

* Come Warwick, come good Warwick, go 

with me ; 

* I have ureat matters to impart to thee. 

[Exeunt King Henry, Wai'.wick, 
Lords, SiC 

* Q. Mfir. Mischance, and sorrow, go aloixg 

v^'ith you ! 
' Heart's discontent, and sour affliction, 

* Be playfellows to keep you company ! 

* There's two of you ; the devil make a third I 

* And threefold vengeance tend upon your 

steps ! 

* Suf. Cease, gentle queen, these execrations, 

* And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave. 

* Q. Mar. Fie, coward woman, and soft- 

hearted wietch ! 

* Hast thon not spirit to curse thine enemies? 

Suf. A plague upon them ! wherefore sh</uld 

I curse them? [gioan, 

Would curses kill, as doih the mandrake's 

* I would invent as bitter-searching terms, 
(^ As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, 

Deliver'<l strongly throuiih my fixeil teeth, 
' With full as many signs of deadly hate. 
As lean faced envy in her loathsome cave : 
My tongue should stumble in' mine earnest 

words : 
Mine eye- should sparkle like the beaten flint ; 
My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract : 
Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban: 
And even now n)y burden'd heart would brt- ak. 
Should I noi curse them. Foison be i\\At 

drink! [taste I 

Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they 
Their sweetest shade, a urove of cypress tretsl 
Their chiefest prospect, murdering basilisks! 
Their softest touch as smart as lizards' stings! 
Their music, friglitful as the serpent's hiss ; 
And boding screech-owls make the concert 
All the fonl terrors in dark-seateil hell — [rnll. 
Q. Mar. Enough, sweet Suffolk ; thou tor- 

meni'st thyself; [gl««ss^ 

* And these drcdd curses — like th.e sun 'gainsr 

* Or like an overcharged gun, — recoil, 

* And turn the force of them upon thyself. 
Siif. You btde me ban |j, and will you birf 

me leave? 
Now, by the ground that lam banish'd from 
Well con id I curse away a winter's night, 
Thouiih stniditig naked «n a mountiin top, 
Whrre biting cold would never let grass grow 
And think it but a minute spent in sport. 
* Q. Mar. O, let me entreat thee, cease 

(Jive me thy hand, 

* That I may dew it with my mournful tears 



* Deadly serpent. + Dexterous. I A company. 

% i. e., He shall not contaminate this air with his infected breath. U Curse. 



Stent; //• 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY YI. 



571 



* Nor let the rain of heaven wet ihis place, 

* To WH«;h away my woful njonument*. 
O, couhl this kiss be printed in thy hand ; 

[Kisses his hand. 

* That thou mightst think upon these by the 

seal, [for thee! 

Throniih whom a thousand sighs are breathed 
So, get thee gone, that I may know n)y grief; 

* 'lis but surmised whilst thou art standing by, 

* As one that surfeits thinking on a want. 

* I will repeal thee, or, be well assured, 

* Adventure to be banished myself; 

* And banished I am, if but from thee. 

* Go, speak not to me ; even now be gone. — 

* O, go not yet ! — Even thus two friends con- 

demn'd [leaves, 

* Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand 

* Leather a hundred times to part than die. 

* Yet now farewell ; and farewell life with thee! 
Suj. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banish'd. 

Once by the king, and three times ihrice by thee. 
•'Tis not t fie land I care for, wert thou hence ; 

* A wilderness is populous enough, 

* So Sutfolk had thy heavenly company : 

* For where thou art, there is the world itself, 

* With every several pleasure in the world ; 

* And where ihou art not, desolation. 

* I can no more : — Live thou to joy thy life ; 

* Myself no joy in nought, but that ihouliv'st. 

Enter y wj-s.. 

* Q, Mar. Whither goes Vaux so fast? what 

news, I pr'ythee? 

* Vuux. To signify unto his majesty. 
That cardinal Beaufort is at point of death : 

I * Forsuddenlya grievous sickness took him,[air, 

* That makes him gasp and stare, and catch the 

* Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth. 

I* Sometime he talks as it xiuke Humphrey's 
ghost [king. 

* Were by his side; sometime he calls the 
And whispers to his pillow, as to him, 
i * The secrets of his overcharged soul : 

* And I am sent to tell his majesty, 
1 * That even now he crits aloud for him. 
\ ' Q' Mar. Go, tell this heavy message to the 

j king. [ExiiV k\j:s.. 

\ \ Ah me ! what is this world I what news are 
j these ? 

1 * But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss, 
1 * Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure? 

i' Why only, Sutiolk, mourn I not for thee, 
* And with the southern clouds contend in tears; 
i/ * Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my 
l) • sorrows ? [is coming ; 

I' * Now, get thee hence: The king, tboaknow'st, 

* If thou befoutid by me, tliou art but dead. 

* Suf. If I depart fiom thee, 1 cannot live : 

* And in thy slight to die, what were it else, 
Bot like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? 
Here could 1 breathe my soul into the air, 

I * As mild uid gentle as the cradle-babe, 
' Dying with mother's du^; between its lips: 
I Where*, from thy sight I should be raging mad, 
And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, 
' o have thee v. ith thy lips to stop my mouth ; 
■j shoQldst thou either turn my flying soul, 

* For whereas. 



' Or I should breathe it so into thy body, 
And then it lived in sweet Elysium. 
To die by thee, were but to die in jest ; 
From thee to die, were torture more than deathc 
O, let me stay, befal what may befal. 

* Q. Mar. Away, though parting be a fretful 

* It is applied to a deathful wooful. [corrosive, 

* To France, sweet Suffolk : Let me hear from 

thee; 

* For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe, 
I'll have an Irisf that shall find thee out. 

Suf. I go. 

Q. Mar. And take my heart with thee. 

^uf. A jeweljlock'd into the woful'st cask 
That ever did contain a thing of worth. 
Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we; 
This way fall 1 to death. 

Q, Mar, This way for me. 

[ Exeunt se vera lly. 

SCENE III. London. Cardinal Beaufort'» 
Bed-chamber. 

Enter King Henry, Salisbury, War- 
wick, and Others. The Cardinal in bed ; 
Attendants ivith him. 

* K. Hen. How fares ray lord ? speak, 

Beaufort, to thy sovereign. 
' Car. If thou be'st death, I'll give thee 
England's treasure, 

* Enough to purchase such another island, 

* So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain. 

* K. Hen. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life 

* When death's approach is seen so terrible ! 

* War. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks 

to thee. ~ [will. 

* Car. Bring me unto my trial when you 

* Died he not in his bed ? where should he die t 
Can Imake men live, whe'r they will or no » — 

* O ! torture me no more, I will confess. — 

* Alive again ? then show me where he is ; 

' I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him. 

* He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them. 
' Comb down his hair ; look ! look I it stands 

upright, 

* Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul ! 

* Give me some drink ; and bid the apothecary 

* Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. 

* K. Hen. O thou eternal Movet of the hea- 

* Look with a gentle eye upon thiswretch!;_vens, 

* O, beat away the busy meddling fiend, 

* That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul, 

* And from his bosom purge this black despair! 

* /f fl7*. See., how the pangs of death do make 

him grin. [ably. 

* Sal. Disturb him not, let him pass peace- 

* K. Hen. Peace to his soul, if God's good 

pleasure be ! [bliss, 

* Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven'* 
' Hold up thy hand, make signa' of thy hope. — 

* He die.«, and makes no sign ; O God, forsiive 

him ! [life. 

* War. So bad a death argwn a monstrous 

* K. Hen. Forbear to judge, for we are sin- 

ners all. — 
' Close up his eyes, and draw t> /urtain clope ; 

* And let us all to mtrditation. \_Exeuni. 

t i he jncs^enger of Juuo. 



572 



SHAKSPEARE. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. Kent. The Sea-shore near l>oyer. 

Fir in: heard at Sea. Then enter from a 
Boat, a Captain, « Master, a Master's AJ ale, 
Walter Whitmore, o/y/ Others; uith 
them Suffolk, and other Gentlemen, 
prisoners, 

* Cap. The gandy, blabbing, and remorse- 

♦ Is crept into the bosom of tlie sea ; [fnl * day 

♦ And now loud-howling wolves arouse the 

jades 

• That drat; the tragic melancholy night ; 

• Who with their drowsy, slow, ana flagging 

winiis [j.iv\s 

♦ Clip dead men's graves, and from their misiy 

♦ Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. 

• Iherefor.e, bring forth the soldiers of onr 

prize; [Downs, 

* For, whil.-t our pinnace anchors in the 

* Here shall they make their ransonie on the 

sand, [shore. — 

• Or with their blood stain this discoiour'd 

* Master, this prisoner freely give I thee; — 

* And thou that art his mate, make boot of this ; 
The other, [Po-nting to Sufiolk,] Walter 

Whitmore, is th> share. 

* 1 Gent. What is my ransome, master! let 

me know. [your head. 

* Musi. A thousand crowns, or else lay down 

* Mate. And so much shall you ulve, or ott 

goes yours. [thousand t rowns, 

* Cap. What, think you much to pay two 

• And bear the name and port of gentlenien i — 

• Cut both the villains* throats ; — for die \ ou 

shall ; [fi:.ht, 

• The lives of those which we have lost in 

• Cannot be counterpoised with such a petty 

sum. [my life. 

* 1 Gent. I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare 

* 2 Gent. And so will I, and write home I'or 

it straight. [aboard, 

* Whit I lost mine eye in laying the prize 

* And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die ;. 

[7bSuF. 

* And so should these, if I might have my will. 

* Cup. Be not so rash ; take ransome, let 

him live. [man ; 

* S)tJ. Look on my George, I am a gentle- 
' Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid. 

* Whit. And so am I; my name is — Walter 

Whitmore. [death affright ? 

'How now? why start'st thou? what, doth 

* Siif. Thy name atlrights ine,in whose sound 

is death. 

• A cunning man did calculate my birth, 

* And told me — that by Water T should die: 

* Yet let not this make thee be bloody minded ; 
•Thy name is— Gualtier, being rightly 

sounded. [care not ; 

* Whit. Gnaltier, or Walter, which it is, I 
' Ne'er yet did base dishonour blur our name, 

* But with our sword we wiped away the blot ; 



' Therefore, when raerchant-like I sell revengc- 

' Broke be mysv\ord,iny arms toiu and de 

faced, [world i 

* And I proclaim'd a coward through the 

[Lays hold on Suffolk. 

* Suf. Stay, Whitmore ; for thy prisoner i» 

a prince. 
The duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole. 

* WhiU The duke of SuHqlk, muffled np ia 

ra^s ! [duke; 

S7fJ\ Ay, but these raus are no part of the 

Jove sometime went disguised, And why not I? 

Cuj). But Jove was never slain, as ti ou shalt 

be. [Henry's blood, 

* Suf. Obscure and lowly swain, king 
The honourable blood of Lancaster, 

' Must not be shed by such a jaded groom +. 
Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand, and held my 
stirrup? 

* Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule, 
' And thought thee happy when I shook my 

head? 

* How often hast thoti waited at my cup, 

* Fed f' om my trencher, kneei'd down at the 

bt)ard, 

* When I have feasted with queen Margaret? 

* Remember it, and let it mak? thee crest- 

fa I Fn ; 

* Ay, and allay this thy abortive pridet > 

* How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood, 

* And duly waite<l for n:y coming forth? 

* This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf, 

* And therefore shall it charm thy riotour 

tongue. [lorn swain t 

* WInt. Speak, captain, shall 1 stab the for 

* Cap. First let my words stab him, as h« 

hath me. so art thou. 

* Suj. Base slave ! thy words are blunt, and 

* C< p. Convey him hence, and on our long 

* Strike oft his head. [boat's sid* 

Suf. Thou darest not for thy own 

Cap. Yes, Poole. 

Snf. Poole ? 

Cap. Poole? Sir Poole? lord! 

* Ay, kennel, puddle, sink ; whose filth and 

dirt [(!rinks. 

' Troubles the silver spring where England 

* Now will I dam up this thy yawning niouth, 
' For swallowing the treasure of the i eahn : 

* Ihy lips, that kiss'd the queen, shall sweep 

the ground ; 

* And thou, that smil'dst at good duke Hum- 

phrey's death, 

* Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vai% 

* W ho, in contempt, shall hiss at ihee again: 

* And wedded be ihou to the hags of hell, 

* For daring to afty § a miuhty lord 

* Unto the daugl ter of a worthless king, 

* Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem. 

* By devilish policy art thou grown great, 

* And, like ambitious Sylla, oversioriie;! 

* With gobbets of thy mother's ble* ding heai ft. 



• Pitifol. 



t A low fellow. t Pride that has had birth too sooa. 

^ ] o betroth m man iagc. 



Scene /.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



573 



* By thee, Anjou and Maine were sold to 

Frauce : 

* The false revolting Normans/thorou8;h thee, 

* Disdain to call us lord ; and Picardy 

* Haili siain their governors,surprised our forts, 

* And s^'ut ihe ragged soldiers wounded home. 
*-The princely W arwick,and the NeviU all. — 

* VViiose dreadful swords were never drawn in 

* As haling thee, are rising up in arms: [vain, — 

* And now ihe house of Y ork— thrust from the 

crowij, 

* By shainerul murder of a guiltless king, 

* And lofty proud encroaching tyranny, — 

* liurns with revenging fire; whose hopeful 

colours 

* Advance our half-faced sun, striving tosbine» 

* Inder the which is wnX—Invitis nubibus, 

* 'ihe Commons here in Kent are up in arms : 

* And, to conclude, reproach, and beggary, 

* is crept into the palace of our king, 

* And all by thee : — Away! convey him hence. 

* Si'j. O that I were a god, to shoot forth 

ihunder 

* Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges I 

* Small things make bace men proud : * this 

vdlain here, 
' Bein^ captain of a pinnace *, threatens more 
' Than Bariiulus the strong Illyrian pirate. 
' Diones sij^k not eagles' blood, but rob bee- 
' It is impossible, that I shouKl die [hives. 

' Hy sucli a lowly vassal as thyself. [me : 

' Thy words move rage, and not remorse, in 
' 1 go of message from, the queen to France ; 
' 1 charge thee, waft me safely cross the 

* Cay^ Walter, [channel. 

* l^t hit.. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to 

thy death. [thee 1 fear. 

* Snf. Geltdus timor occupat artiis: — 'tis 

* H hit. Thou shalt have cause to fear, be- 

fore I leave thee, [stoop? 

What, are ye daunted now? now will ye 

* 1 Gent. My gracious lord, entreat hira, 

speak him fair. [rough, 

* Suf. Sitffolk's imperial tongue is stern and 

* Usett to command, untaught to plead for fa- 

vour. 

* Far be it, we should honour such as these 
' With humble suit : no, rather let my head 

* Stoop to the block, than these knees bow to 

f^wyi 

* Save to the God of heaven, and to my king ; 
And sooner dance upon a bloody pole, 

* Than stand uncover'd to the vulg;tr groom. 

* True nobility is exempt from fear: — 

* More can 1 bear, than you dare execute. 

' (Jap. Hale him away, and let him talk no 
more. [can, 

* Sh/'. Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye 
That this my death may never be forgot 1 — 

'Great men oft die by vile bezoniansf: 
' A Rom HI sworder and banditto slave, 
' Mnrder'd sweet Tully ; Brutus' bastard hand 

* Stabb'd Julius Caesar; savarje islanders, 
' Pompey the Great : and Suffolk dies by pi- 
rates. 

l±Jxit Suf. with Whit. and Others. 



Cap. And as for these whose ransome we 
have set, 
It is our pleasure, one of them depart : — 
Therefore come you with us, and let him go. 
[Eteuiit iUl but Itie first. Gentleman. 
Re-enter Whitmork, uith Suffolk's 
B d:f. 

* Whit, There let his head and lifeless body 
lie, 

' Until the queen his mistress bury it. [Exit, 

* 1 Gent.O barbarous and bloody spectacle! 

* His body will I bear unto the kiu'd; : 

* If he reven-i,e it not, yet will his friends; 

* So will the queen, that liviui; held him 
dear. [Exit with the Body. 

SCENE II. Blackheath, 
Enter George Bevis and John Holland. 

* Geo. Come, and get thee a sword, though 

* made of a lath ; they have been up these 
'two days. 

' Johri. They have the more need to sleep 

* now then. 

* Geo. I tell thee, Jack Cade, the clothier, 

* means to dress the commonwealth, and turn 

* it, and set a new nap upon it. 
John. So he had need, for 'tis threadbare. 

Well, I say, it was never merry world in 
Eniiland, since gentlemen came up. 

* Geo. O miserable age ! Virtue is not re* 

* garded in handicrafts-men. 
' John. The nobility think scorn to go in 

' leather aprons. 

* Geo. Nay more, the king's council are no 
good workmen. 

* John. True ; And yet it is said— Labour 

* in thy vocation : which is as much to say, 

* a:?,— let the magistrates be labouring men; 

* and therefore should we be magistrates. 

* Geo. Thou hast hit it : for there's no better 

* siin of a brave mind, than a hard hand. 

* John. 1 see them ! I see them ! There'* 

* Best's son, the tanner of Wingham; 

* Geo. He shall have the skins of our ene» 

* mies, to make dog's leather of. 
John. And Dick, the butcher, 

* Geo. Then is sin struck dowm like an o^ 

* and iniquity's throat cut like a calf. 

* John. And Smith, the weaver : 

* Geo. Argo, their thread of life is spun. 

* John. Come, come, let's fall in with them. 
Drum. Enter Cade, Dick, the Butcher, 

Smith, the Weaver, and Others in great 
number. 

* Cade. We John Cade, so termed of our 
' supposed father, 

Uick. Or rather, of stealing a cade of her 
rings j. [Aside 

* Code. — for our enemies shall fall before 

* us, inspired with the spirit of putting dowB 
' kings and princes, — Command silence. 

Dick. Silence! 

Caiie. My father was a Mortimer, — 
Dick. He was an honest man, and a goo^ 
bricklayer. [Aaide 

* Cade. My mother a Plantagenet, — 

► A pinnace then signified a ship of email burthen. * Low men. J A barrel of herrmga 



574 



SUAKSPEAllK. 



Act Jr. 



* Dick. I knew ner well, she was a raid- 1 

* wife. [Aside. 

* Cade. My wife descended of the Lacies. — i 
Dick. She was, iiuiLcd, a pedlar's daui^hter, | 

and sold many lucts. [Aside. 

* Smith, lint, now of lale, not able to travel ; 

* with her furred pack, she washes bucks here 

* at lionie. [A:>ide. 

* Cade. Therefore am I of au honourable 

* house. 

Vck. Ay, by my faith, the field is honour- 
able; and there was he born, under a lied;^e; 
for his father had never a house, but the cage. 

[Aside. 

* Cade, Valiant I am. 

* Smith. A must needs ; for beggary is va- 

* liant. [Aside. 
C de. I am able to endure much. 

Dick. No question of that; for 1 have seen him 
"whipped three markct-d^ys together. [Aside. 

Code. I tear neither sword nor tire. 

Smith. He need not tear the sword, for his 
coat is of proof. [Aside. 

Dick, hut, methinks, he should stand in fear 
of fire, being burnt i' the hand lor stealin^^ of 
eheep. [Aside. 

Code. Be brave then; for your captain is 
brave, and vows reformation. There shall be, 
in England, seven half penny loaves sold for 
a penny: the thrte-hooped pot shall have ten 
hoops; and 1 will make it felony to d-ink 
small beer : all the realm shall he in common, 
and in Cheap>ide shall my palfry go to grass. 
And, when I am kint;, (as king 1 will be) 

AIL God save your majesty ! 

* Cade. I thank ^ou, good people:— there 

* shall be no money ; all shall eat and drink 

* on my score; and 1 will apparel them all in 

* oive livery, that they may agree like brothers, 

* and worship me their lord. 

* Diik. Ihe first thing we do, let's kill all 

* the lawyers. 

Cade. .Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this 
a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an inno- 
cent lamb siionld be made pjirchment? that 
parclnnent, being scribbled o'er, should undo 
a man ? Some say, the bi-e stints : but I say, 
'tis the bet b' wax; for I did but seal once to a 
tiling, and I was never mine own man since. 
How now; who's there Y 

Enter s07ne, bringing in the Clerk of 
Chatham. 

Smith. The clerk of Chatham : he can write 
and read, and cast accoinpt. 

Cade. O monstrous ! 

Smith. We took him setting of boys' copies. 

Cai'e. Here's a vilhin 7 

Smith. H'as a book in his pocket, with red 
letters iu't. 

Cafe. Nay, then he is a conjurer. 

JJii/<. Nay, he can make obligations, and 
write court-hand. 

* Cade. I am sorry for'l : the man is a proper 
man, on mine honour; uidess I find him 
guihy, he pImII not die, — Come hither, si» rah, 
i niust ejtjiiijiie iiie« : V\ hat is thy name i 



Clerk. Emmanuel. 

Dick. They use to write it on the top of 
letters ; — 'TwiUgo hard with you. 

* Oode. Let me alone : — Dost thou use to 

* write thy name ? or hast thou a mark to ihy- 

* self, like an honest plain-dealing man I 

Clerk. Sir, I thank God, I have been so 
well brought up, that 1 can write my name. 

* AU. He hath confessed: away with liiin ; 

* he's a \illain, and a traitor. 

* Cade. Away with him, I say: hang hire 

* with his pen and inkhorn about his neck. 

[Exeunt some with ciie Clerk 
Enter Michael. 

* Mich. Where's our general i 

* Cade. Here I am, thou particular fellow. 

* Mich. Fly, fly, fly ! sir Humphrey Statford 

* and his brother are hard by, with the king*^ 

* forces. 

* Cade. Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell thee. 

* down : He shall be encountered with a mat/ 

* as good as himself : He is but a knight, is 'a ( 

* Mich. No. 

* Cade. To equal him, I will make myself;* 

* knight presently ; Rise up, sir John Morti- 

* mer. Now have at him. 

Enter Sir Humphrey Stafford and 
William his Brother , ivith Drum and 
Forces. ^ 

* Staf. Rebellious hinds, the filtn and scum 

of Kent, [down. 

* Mark'd for the gallows, lay your weapon* 

* Home to jour cottages, forsake this groom j 

* The King is merciful, if you revt)lt. 

* JV. St of. But angry, wraihiul, and in- 

clined to blood, 

* If you go forward : therefore, yield or die. 
Cade. As for these silken coated slaves, 1 

pass not * ; 
It is to you, good people, that I speak, 

* O'er whom, in time to ciHiie, I ho[)e to reign ; 

* For 1 am rightful heir unto the crown. 

* Stdf. Villain, thy father was a plasterer; 

* And thou thyself, a shearman, art thou not i 

Cade. And Adam was a gardener. 

* W. Staf. And whatof tliat? 

Cade. Marry, this: — Edmund Mortimer, 

earl of March, [he not T 

Married the duke of Clarence' daughter ; Did 

* Staf. Ay, sir. [birth. 
Cade. By her, he had two children at one 
W. StiiJ. That's false. ['tis true : 
' Cade. Ay, there's the question ; but, 1 say, 

* The elder of them, being put to nurse, 

* Was by a beggar-wonjan stol'u away ; 

* And, ignorant of his birth and parentage, 

* Became a bricklayer, when he came to .ige : 

* His son am I ; deny it, if you can. 

Dick. Nay, 'tis too true ; therefore he shall 
be king. 

Smith. Sir, he made a chimney in my fa- 
ther's house, and the bricks are alive at this 
day to testify it ; therefore, deny it not. 

* Staf. And will you credit this base 

(irndge'b woi'ls, 

* 'Ihat 8i»eak9 ii«- kuow$ on what : 



I pay thun no regaid. 



Scene J J.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



676 



*AU, Ay, marry, will we ; therefore get ye l * Dhk. I desire ao more, 
gone. ! * Cade. And, to speak truth, thou deserve&t 

W, Staf. Jack Cade, the duke of York hath * no less. This monument of the victory will 



lUght you this. 

* r«./e. Ke lies, for I invented it myself. 
[Aside.] — Go to, sirrah, Tell the king from me, 
that — fwr his father's sake, Henry the fifth, iu 
whose time 1 oys went to sprtn-counter for 
French crowns, — I am content he shall reign ; 
but I'll be protector over him. 

* Dick. And, furthermore, we'll have the 

* lord Say's head, for selling the dukedom of 
' Maine. 

* i'ade. And good reason; for thereby is 

* England maimed, and tain to go with a stafif, 
' but that my puissance holds it up. Fellow 

* kings, 1 tell you, that that lord Say hath 

* gelded the commonwealth, and made it an 
eunuch : and more than that, he can speak 
French, and therefore he is a traitor. 

* Staf. O gross and miserable ii^norance ! 

* Cade. Nay, answer, if you can: The 
Frenchmen are our enemies : go to then, 1 ask 

* but this ; Can he that speaks with Jie tongue 

* of an enemy, be a good" counsellor, or no ? 

* Ail. No, no ; and therefore we'll have his 
b^ad.^ [not prevail, 

* IV, Stuf. Well, seeing gentle words will 

* Assail them with the army of the king. 

* SlaJ. Herald away : and, throughout every 

town, 

* Procl iin them traitors that are up with Cade; 
' Ttidt those which tiy before the battle ends, 

' May, oven in their wives' and children's 
sight, 

* Be hang'd up for example at their doors : — 

I* And you, that be the king's friends, follow 
me. 
[ExeiDit the tu'o Staffords, and Forces. 
* Ciide. And you, that love the commons, 
follow me. — 
\ • Now show yourselves men, *tis for liberty. 
' • VSe will not leave one lord, one gentleman : 

* Spare none, init sucii as iio in clouted shoou*, 
J For they are thrifty honest men, and such 

. fAs would (but that they dare not) take our 
1 ! parts. [toward us. 

* Dick. They are all in order, and march 

* Cade. But then are we in order, when we 

* are most out of order. Come, march forward. 

{Exeunt. 
SCENE III. Another Part of Blackheath. 
Alarums. The two Parties enter and fight t 
ami both the Staffords are slain. 

* Cade. Where's Dick, the butcher of Ash- 

ford / 

* D rk. Here, sir. 

' Ctae. The> tell before thee like sheep and 
oxen, Mv\ thou beliavedst thyself as if thou 
hadst been in thine own slaughter-house : 
therefore thus will 1 reward thee,— The Lent 
shall be as long airain as it is; and thou shalt 
have a license to kill for a hundred lacking 
one. 



* I bear ; and the bodies shall be dragged at rny 

* horse' heels, till I do come to London, where 

* we will have the mayor's sword borne before 

* us. 

* Dick. If we mean to thrive and do good, 

* break open the gaols, and let out the pri- 

* soners. 

* Cade. Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, 

* let's march towards London. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Palace. 

Enter King Henry, reading a Supplica- 
tion ; the Duke of Buckingham, and 
Lord Say ivithhim: at a distance, Queen 
Margaret, mourningoier Surtblk's head, 

* Q. Mj,r. Oft have I heard— that grief 

softens the mind, 

* And makes it fearful and degenerate ; 

* Think therefore on revenge, and cease to 

weep. [this? 

* But who can cease to weep, and look on 

* Here may his head lie on my throbbing 

bre.ist : 

* But Where's the body that I s-hould embrace? 

* Buck. VVhat answer makes your grace to 

* the rebels' supplication 1 

* K. Hen. I'll send some holy bishop to en- 

treat : 

* For God forbid, so many simple souls 

* Should perish by the sword ! And 1 myself, 

* Rather than blooily war shall cut them short, 

* Vvill parley with Jack Cade their general. — 

* But stay, I'll read it over once at;ain. 

* Q. Maj\ Ah, barbarous villains ! hath this 

lovelv lace 

* Ruled, like a wandering planet +, over me ; 

* And could it no-t enforce them to relent, 

* That were unworthy to beliold the same? 

' K- Hen. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn 
to have thy head. [have his. 

* Say. Ay, but I hope, your highness shall 
K. Hen. How now, Madam? Still 

Lamenting, and mourning for Suffolk's death ; 

I fear, my love, if that i had been dead. 

Thou wouldst not have mourn'd so much for 

me. [but die for thee- 

Q. Mar. No, my love, I should not mourn, 

Enter a Messenger. 

* K. Hen. How now! what news? why 

comest thou in such haste? 

* Mess. The rebels are in Southwark ; Fly, 

my lord ! 

* Jack Cade proclaims himfelf lord Mortimer, 

* Descended from the duke ot Clarence' houi^e: 
' And calk your grace usurper, openly, 

' And vows to crown himself in VVtstmin.^ter. 

* His army is a ragged irndtiiude 

* Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless; 

* Sir Humi^hrey Stafford and his brother's 

d:ath [ceeti ; 

* Hath given them heart and courage to pro 
' All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen. 



Shoes* 



t Predominated irresistibly over my passions; as the planets over tljosc I ora 
under their indnence. 



576 



SHAKSPEARG. 



[Act jr 



They call— false calerpilUio, ami iiut- ud their 
dtaiti. [what they do. 

• K. lien. O graceless men ! the> know not 

* Buck. My gracious iord, retire to Kenel- 

worth, 
Until a power be raised to pnt them down. 

♦ Q. Mar. Ah ! were the duke of Sntlblk 

now alive, [peaked. 

* These Kentish rebels would be soon ap- 

* A. Heii. Lord Sty, the traitors hate thee, 

* Therefore away with us to Kenel worth. 

^ly. So might your grace's person be in 
dano:er ; 

* The sight of me is odious in their eyes : 

* And tlieref(jre in this city will I stay, 

* And live alone as secret as 1 may. 

Enter atiother Messenger. 

• 2 Mess. Jack Cade hath gotten London- 

biidge ; the citizens 

* Hy and forsake iheir houses : 

* The rascal people, thirsting after prey, 

* Join \\ ith the traitor ; and they jointly swear, 

* To spoil the city, and your royal court. 

• Buck. Then linger not, my lord ; away, 

take horse. [will succour us. 

* K. Hill. Come, Margaret ; God, our hope, 

• Q. Mar, My hope is gone, now Suffolk is 

deceased. 

* K. Hen. Farewell, my lord; [To Lord 

Say] trust not the Kentish rebels. 

• Buck. 'J rust nobody, for fear you be 

betray 'd. 

* Say. The trust I have is in mine innocence, 

* And therefore am 1 bold and resolute. 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE V. The same. The Tower. 
Enter Lord Scales, and Others, on the 
VfMlU. Then enter certain Citizens, below. 

Scutes. How now? is Jack Cade slain ? 

1 Clt. No, my lord, nor likely to be ^lain ; 
for they have won the bridge, killing all those 
that withstand them : The lord mayor craves 
aid of your honour from the Tower, to defend 
the city irom the rebels. 

Scaies. Such aid as I can spare, you shall 
command; 
But I am troubled here with them myself, 
T he rebels hive assty'd to win the Tower. 
But got you to Smithfield, and gather head, 
And ihiiher I will send you Matthew Gough : 
Fight for your king, your country, and your 

lives; 
And 9o farewell, fori must hence again. [Lx. 

SCENE VJ. The same. Cannon Street 

Enter Jack Cadf, and his Folloirer<r. lie 

strikes his Srafi on Londoistone* 

Cade. Now is Mortimer lord of this city. 
And here, eitting upon London-i-tone, 1 charge 
and r.»mMiaiid, that of (he city's cost, the 
pi>sing com mt run nothing l»ut claret wine 
tiiis fiist year of our reign. And now, hence- 
forward, it shall be tre.ison for any that calls 
me other than— lord Mortimer. 



Enter a ioldier, running, 
Sol. Jack Cade I Jack Cade! 
Cade, Knock him down there. 

[They kill him. 

* Smith, If this fellow be wise, heMl never 

* call you Jack Cade more ; 1 think, he hath a 

* very tair warning. 

Dick. My lord, there's an army gathered 
together in Smithfield. 

Caae. Come then, let's go fight with them. 
But, first, go and set London-bridge on fire : S 
and, if you can, burn down the Tower too. 
Come, let's away. [Exeunt. 

SCENE VII. The same. Smithfield. 

Alarum, Enter , on one side. Cade and hit 
Company ; on the of her. Citizens, and t/te 
King's Forces, headed by Matthlw 
GouGii. They fght : the Citizens are 
routed, and Matthew Go ugh ts slain. 
Cade. So, sirs: — Now go some and pnll 

down the Savoy ; others to the inns of court ; 

down with them all. 

Dick, I have a suit unto your lordship. 
Cade, Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it 

for that word. 

* Dick. Only, that the laws of England may j 

* come out of your mouth. 

* John. Ma.ss, 'twill be sore law then ; for 

* he was thrust in the mouth with a spear, and 

* *tis not whole yet. [Aside. 

* Smith. Nay, John, it will be stinking law ; 

* for his breath stinks with eating toasted 

* cheese. [Aside, i 

* Cade. I have thought upon it,it shall be so. , 

* Away, burn all the records of the realm ; my , 

* moMih shall be the parliament of P^ngland. 

* John. Then we are like to have biting sta 

* tutts, unless his teeth be pulled out. [Aside, , 

* Cade. And henceforward all things shall 

* be in common. 

Enter a Messenger. 

* Mess. My lord, a prize, a prize! here's 
' the lord Sa>, which sold the towns in France; 

* he that made us pay one and twenty fifteens*, 

* and one shilling to the pound, the last ."ob.^idy. 
Enter GiiOKCE Hr.\ is,uith the Lord S\y. 

* Cade. Well, he shall be beheaded forit ten 
' times. — Ah, thou sa> i, thon se- ge, nay, thou 

* buckram lord ! now art thou within point- 

* blaiik ot our jurisdiction regal. What canst 

* thou ans\^er to my majesty, for giving up of 

* Normandy uuto monsieur Basunccu, the 

* dauphin of France? He it known unio tlue 

* by thcEc pre>ence, even the presenre ot lord 

* Mortimer, that 1 am the be?oMi that must 
' swerp the court cle.m of such filth as thou art. 

* Thon hast most traitorously corrupted the 

* youth of the realm, in crt ctini; a gran mar- 
' school : and where is, before, our fme-f.if I ers 
' had no oiher l>ooks but the score and the 
' tally, thou hast caused pi ii ling to be nsed ; 

* and, contrary to the king, his crown, and 

* dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill. It will 
' be pioved to thy face, that thon hast men 



' A fifteen was the fifteenth p 



It of all the moveiibles, or personal property, of each subject 
1 ; a> was a kind id serge. 



Seine VII.] SECOND PART OF KIJVG HENRY VI. 



^77 



* about thee, that usually talk of a noun, and 

* a verb ; and such abominable words, as no 

* Christian ear can endure to hear. Thou hast 

* appointed justices of peace, to c;dl poor men 

* before them about matters they were not 

* able to answer. Moreover, thou hast put 

* them in prison ; and because they could not 

* read, thou hast hanged them *; when, indeed, 

* only for that cause they have been most 

* worthy to live. Thou dost ride on a foot- 

* cloth t, dost thou not? 

Say. What of that? 

Cude. Marry, thou oughtest not to let thy 
horse wear a cloak, when honester men than 
thou go in their hose and doublets. 

* Dick. And work in their shirt too ; as 

* myself, for example, that am a butcher. 
Say. You men of Kent, — 

Dick. What say you of Kent? 

* Say. Nothing but this : 'Tis bona terra, 
mala gens. 

■* Cade. Away with him, away with him! 

* he speaks Latin. [where you will. 

* Say. Hear me but speak, and bear me 
' Kent, in the commentaries Caesar writ, 

* Is term'd the civil'st place of all this isle : 

* Sweet is the country, because full of riches ; 

* The people libetal, valiant, active, wealthy ; 

* Which makes me hope you are not void of 

pity. 

* I sold not Maine, 1 lost not Normandy ; 

* Yet. to recover them, would lose my life. 

* Justice with favour have I always done ; 

* Prayers and tears have moved me, gifts 

could never. 

* W^hen have I aught exacted at your hands, 

* Kent to m;dntaip, the king, thtrealm,and y on? 

* Large gifts ha^ 1 bestow'd on learned clerks, 

* Because my oook preferred me to the king : 

* And— seeing ignorance is the curse of God, 

* Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to 

heaven, — 

* Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits, 

* You cannot but forbear to nnirder me. 

* This tongue hath parleyed unto foreign kings 

* For your behoof,— 

* Cade. Tut ! when struck*st thou one blow 

* in the field ! [have I struck 

* Say. Great men have reacMng hands : oft 

* Those that 1 never saw, and struck them dead. 

* Geo. O monstrous coward ! what, to come 

behini folks? [for your good. 

* Say. These cheeks are pale for j watching 

* Cade. Give him a box o'the ear, and that 

* will make 'em red again. [causes 

* Say. Long sitting to determine poor men's 
Hath made me full of sickness and diseases. 

* Cude. Ye shall have a hempen caudle 

* then, and the pap of a hatchet. 

* Dick. Why dost thou quiver, man ? [me. 

* Say. The palsy, and not fear, provoketh 

* Cade. Nay, he nods at us ; as who should 

* fay, I'll be even with you. I'll see if his head 



* will stand steadier on a pole, or no : Take 
' him away, and behead hitn. [most? 

* Say. Tell me, wherein I have offended 

* Have I aftected wealth, or honour ; spenk ? 

* Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold? 

* Is my apparel sumptuous to beiiold / 

* W^hom have 1 injured, that ye seek my death t 

* These hands are free from guiltless blood- 

shedding §, [thoHuhts. 

* This breast from harbouring foul deceitful 

* O, let me live! 

* Cade. I feel remorse in myself with hif 

* words : but I'll bridle it; he shall die, an it 

* be but for pleading so well for his life. Away 

* with him ! he has a familiarjl under his tongue ; 

* he speaks not o'Goil's name. * Go, take liini 

* away, 1 say, and strike ott his head presently ; 

* and then break into his son-in-law's house, sir 

* James Cromer, and strike off his head, and 

* bring them both upon two poles hither. 

* All. It shall be done. [your prayers, 

* S(/y. Ah, countrymen! if when \ou make 

* God should be so obdurate as yourselves, 

* How would it fare with your departed souls? 

* And therefore yet relent, and save my life. 

* Cade. Away with him, and do as I com- 
mand ye. {Exeunt some, nitli Lord Say. 

* The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear 

* a head on his shoulders, unless he pay me tri- 

* bute ; theie shall not a maid be married, but 

* she shall pay to me her maidenhead ere they 
' have it: Men shall hold of me in cwpite ; and 

* we charge and command, that their wives be 

* as free as heart can wish, or tongue can lell. 

* Dick. My lord, when shall we go to Chenp- 

* side, and take up commodities upon our bills ? 

* Cade. Marry, presently. 
'AIL O brave! 

Re-enter Rebels, with the Heads of Lord 
Say and his S ni-in lair. 
' Cad0t, But is not this braver? — Let them 

* kiss one another, for they loved well, when 

* they were alive. Now part them again, lest 

* they consult about the giving up of some 
' more towns in France. Soldiers, deter the 
' spoil of the city until night: for with these 
< borne bi fore us, instead of maces, will we 

* ride through the streets ; and at every corner 

* have them kiss. — Away! [tueunt, 

SCENE YIU. Southwark. 

Alarum. Enter C\t)E, and all his Rah- 

hlement . 

* Cade. Up Fish-street! down Saint .Mag- 

* nus' corner! kill and knock down! throw 

* them into Thames!— [A ParUy sounded, 

* then a Relreut.'] What noise is this I hear? 

* Dare any be so bold to sound retreat or 

* parley, when 1 command them kill? 

I jETw^fr Buckingham, </wrf Old Clifford, 
i tcith Forces. 

I liuck. Ay, here they be that dare and will 
I disturb thee : 



• i. e., They were hanged because they could not claim the benefit of clergy. t A foot- 

cloth was a kind *)f housing, which ctj'^ered the body of the horse. I In consequence oL 

§ i. e.. These hand? are free from shed ^ing guiltless or innocent blood. )| A demon who 

was supposed to attend at call. 

,3 I) 



67S 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act JV, 



Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the 
king 
' Unto the commons whom thou hast misled ; 

* And here pronounce free panlon to them all, 
' That will forsake thee, and go home in peace. 

* Clif. What say ye, countrymen? will ye 

relent, 

* And yield to mercy, whilst 'tis offered you ; 

* Or let a rabble lead you to your deaths? 

* Who loves the king, and will embrace his 

pardon, [jesty! 

* Fling up his cap, and say — God save his ma- 

* Who hateth him, and honours not his father, 
' Henry the fifth, that made all France to quake, 

* Shake, he his weapon at us, and pass by. 

* All. God save the king ! God save the king: ! 

* Cade. What, Buckingham, and Clifford, 

* are ye so brave? — And you, base peasants, do 
' ye believe him? will yon needs be hanged 

* withyour pardons about your necks? Hath my 
' sword therefore broke through London Gates, 

* that you should leave me at the White Hart 
'in Southwark? I thought ye would never 
' have given out these arms, till you had re 
' covered your ancient freedom : but yon are 
' all recreants, and dastards; and delight to 

* live in slavery to the nobility. Let them 

* break your backs with burdens, take your 

* houses over your heads, ravish your wives 
' and daughters before your faces : For me, I 

* will make shift for one; and so — God's curse 
' 'light upon yon all ! 

* All. We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade. 
' Cl'f. Is Cade the son of Henry the fifth, 

* That thus you doexclaim— you'll go with him? 

* Will he conduct you through the heart of 

France, [dukes? 

* And make the meanest of you earls and 

* Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to : 

* Nor knows he how to live, but by the spoil, 

* Unless by robbing of your friends, jrnd us. 

* Wer't not a shame, that whilst you live at jar, 
' The fearful French, whom you late van 

quished, [you? 

* Should make a start o'er seas, and vanquish 

* Methinks, already, in this civil broil, 

* I see them lording it in London streets, 
Crying — Villa geois! unto all they meet. 
Better ten thousand base-born Cades mis- 
can y, [mercy. 

Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's 
To France, to France, and get what you have 
lost ; 

* Spare England, for it is your native coast: 

* Henry hath money, \ ou are strong and manly; 

* tiod on our side, doubt not of victory. 

* All. A Clifford! a Clifford! we'll follow 

* the king and Clifford. 

* Cade. Was ever featVer so Iii:htly blown 

* to and fro, as this multitude? the name of 

* Henry the fifth hales them to an hundred mis- 

* chiefs, and makes them leave me desolate. 
I see them lay their heads togi-tlier, to sur- 
prise me: my sword make way for nic, for 
here is no staying. — In despight of the devils 
and hell, have through the very midst of you! 



I * and heavens and honour be witness, that 

* no want of resolution in me, but only my 

* followers' base and ignominious treasons, 

* makes me betake me to my heels. [Exit. 

' Buck. What, is he fled? go some, and 
follow hitn ; 
' And he, that brings his head unto the king, 

* Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward. 

[Exeunt some of them. 

* Follow me, soldiers ; we'il devise a mean 

* To reconcile you all unto the king. 

[Exeunt* 

SCENE IX. Kenelworth Cattle. 

Enter King Henry, Queen Mxrgkrv.t, and 

Somerset, 07i the Terrace of the Castle. 

* K. Hen, Was ever king that 'joy'd an 

earthly throne, 

* And could command no more content than I ? 

* No sooner was I crept out of my cradle, 

* But I was made a king, at nine months old: 

* Was never subject long'd to be a king, 

* As I do long and wish to be a subject. 

Enter Buckingham and Clifford. 

* Buck. Health, and glad tidings, to yoor 

majesty ! 

* K. Hen. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor. 

Cade, surprised? 

* Qr is he but retired to make him strong? 
Enter, belotv, a great 7iumher of Cade's 

Followers, with Halters about their 
Necks. [do yield ; 

* Clff. He's fled, my lord, and all his powers 

* And humbly thus, with halters on their necks, 
' Expect your highness' doom of life, or death. 

* K. Hen. Then, heaven, set ope thy ever- 

* lasting gales, 
' Toentertainmy vows of thanks and praise! — 

* Soldiers, this day have you redeem'd your 

lives, [and country: 

' And sliow'd how well you love your priucf 
' (Continue still in this so good a mind, 

* Aid Henry, though he he uulortunate, 

* Assure yourselves, will never be unkind : 

' And so, with thanks, and pardon 1o \ ou all, 

* I do dismiss you to your several countries. 

AIL God save the king! God save the king 
Enter a Messenger. 

* Mess. Please it your grace to be advertised, 

* The duke of York is newly come from Ire 

land : 

* And with a puissant and a mighty power, 

* Of Gallowglasses, and stout Kernes*, 

* is marching hitherward in proud array; 

* And still proclaiineth, as he comes along, 

* His arms are only to remove from thee 

* The duke of Somerset, whom he terms a 

traitor. [and York <listiess'd ; 

* K. Hen. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade 

* Like to a ship, that, having 'scaped a tempest, 
■* Is straightway calm'd and boarded with a 

pirate: [persea ; ' 

* But now + is Cade driven back, his men dis- 

* And now is York in arms to second him. — 

* I pray thee, Buckingham, go forth and meet 

him ; 



• T\>o order* of foot soldiers anions the Irish. 



t Only just now. 



Vceyie IX. 



SECOND TART OF KING HENRY VI. 



579 



And ask liim, what's the reason of these arms. 
Tell him, 1*11 send duke Edmund to the 
Tower;— I 

And, Somerset, we will commit thee thither. 
Until hi? army be dismiss'd from him. 

* Som. My lord, 

I'll yield myself to prison willingly. 
Or tuito death, to do my country good. 

* K. Hen. In any case, be not too rough in 

terms; [guage. 

For he is fierce, and cannot brook hard lan- 

* Buck, I will, my lord ; and doubt not so 

to deal, 
As all things shall redound unto y^^mr good. 

* K. Hal. Come, wife, let's in, and learn to 

govern better ; 
For yet may England curse my wretched 
reign. {k^xeunt. 

SCENE X. Kent. Iden's Garden. 
E'lter CAvn. 

* Cade. Fie on ambition ! fie on myself; 
that have a sword, and yet am ready to 
famish! These five days have T hid me in 
these woods ; and durst not peep out, for all 
the country is lay*d for me; but now am I 
so hungry, that if 1 might have a lease of my 
life for a thousand years, I could stay no 
longer. Wherefore, on a brick-wall have I 
climbed into this garden ; to see if I can eat 
grass, or pick a sailet another while, which 

'■ is not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot 
' weather. And, I think, this word sailet was 

■ born to do ms good : for, many a time, but 
' for a sailet *, my brain-pan had been cleft 
' with a brown bill; and, many a time, when 
' I have been dry, and bravely marching, it 
' hath served me instead of a quart-pot to drink 

■ in ; and now the word sailet must serve me 
* to feed on. 

Enter Ides ^ u'ith Servants. 
' Men. Lord, who would live turraoiled in 

the court, 
And may enjoy such quiet walks as these ? . 
Ihis small inheritance, my father left me, 
Contenteth me, and is worth a monarchy. 
I seek not to wax great by others' waning ; 
Or gather wealth, I care not with what envy ; 
Sufficeth. that I have maintains my state, 
And sends the poor well pleased from my 

gate. 
' Cade. Here's the lord of the soil come to 
seize me for a stray, for entering his fee- 
simple without leave. Ah, villain, thou wilt 
betray me, and get a thousand crowns of the 
king for carrying my head to him; but I'll 
make thee eat iron like an ostrich, and swal- 
low my sword like a great pin, ere thou and 
1 part. 

* Iden. Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er 

thou be, [thee? 

I know thee not ; Why then should I betray 
' Is't not enough, to break into my garden, 
And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds. 



* Climbing my walls in spite of me the ownei', 

* But thou wilt brave me with these saucy 

terms 1 
Cade. Brave thee? ay, by the bpst blood 
that ever was broached, and beaid thee too. 
Look on me well: I have eat no meat these 
five days ; yet, come thou and thy five min, 
and if I do not leave you all as dead as a door 
nail, I pray God, I may never eat grass more. 

* Iden. Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while 

England stands. 
That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, 
Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man. 

* Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mi'ie, 

' See if thou canst outface me with thy looks. 
' Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser; 

* Thy hand is but a finger to my fist ; [eon ; 

* Thy leg a stick, compared with this trmuh- 

* My foot shall fight with all the strength thou 

hast; 

* And if mine arm be heaved in the air, 
' Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth. 

* As for more words, whose greatness answers 

words, [bears. 

* Let this my sword report what speech for- 

* Cade. By my valour, the most complete 

* champion that ever I heard. — ' Steel, if thou 
' turn the edge, or cut not out the burly- boned 
' clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy 

* sheath, I beseech God on my knees, thou 
' mayst be turned to hobnails. [T/iey ^fig'it. 

* CK-DRfalls.^ O, lam slain! fatnine, and no 

* other,'hath slain me: let ten thousand devils 

* come against me, and give me but the len 
' meals 1 have lost, and I'd defy them all. 

* Wither, garden ; and be henceforth a bnry- 
Mng-place to all that do dwell in this house, 

* because the unconquered soul of Cade is 
*fled. 

' Iden. Is't Cade that I have slain, that mon- 
strous traitor? 

* Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed, 

* And hang thee o'er my tomb, when I am dead: 

* Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy 

point ; 

* But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat, 

* To emblaze the honour that thy master got. 

* Cade. Iden, farewell; and be proud or thy 

* victory : Jell Kent for me, she hath lost her 
^ best man, and exhort all the world to be 
' cowards ; for I, that never feared any, am 

* vanquished by famine, not by valour. [Dies-. 

* Jdcn. How much thou wroni^'st me+, 

heaven be my judge. 

* Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that 

bare thee ! 

* And as I ♦hrust thy body in with my sword, 

* So wish I, I mighf thrust thy soul to hell. 

' Flence will I drag thee headlong by the heels 
' Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave, 

* And there cut off thy most ungracious head ; 

* Which I will bear in triumph to the king, 

* Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon. 

[Exit, dragging out the Body 



• A kind of helmet. 



t i.e., In supposing that I am proud of my victory. 



5S0 



SHAKSPKARE. 



ACT V. 



SCE\E I. The same Fielffs between 
Dartti.rd axd Blackhealh. 

T/ie King's Pawff on one side ()?i the other, 
entt-y YouK iitie ded, tciih Drum and 
CoLours: Iti.s Forces at some distance. 

' York. Prom Ireland thus come.^ York, to 
claim his ri.iht, [head : 

* And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's 

* Rini;, bells, aloud ; burn, bonfires, clear and 

blight, 
' To entertain great England's lavvfnl king. 
Ah, sancta niaJestasJ who would not buy 

thee dear? 

* Let them obey, that know not how lo rule; 

* 1 his haii'l wa? made to handle nonglit but 

* I cannot tivedue action to my words, [gold : 

* Except a sword, or sceptre, balance it*. 

* A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul ; 

* On which I'll toss the rtower-d*'-luce of 

France. 

Enter B uck i ng h \ m, 

* Whom have we here ? Buckingham, to dis- 

turb me? fsemble. 

* The king hath sent him, sure : I must (lis 

* Bill k. York, if ihon meanest well, 1 lireet 

thee wrll. [thy greeting. 

* York. K'dmphrey of Buckingham, I accept 

* Art thou a messenger, or come ot pleasnie? 

* B/fck. A messenger from Henry, our dread 

liege. 
To know the reason of these arms in peace; 
' Or why, then — beine a subject as I am, — 

* Against thy oath and true allegi-mce sworn, 

* Shouldst raise so great a power without his 

leave, 

* Or flare to bring thy force so near the court. 

* York. Scarce can 1 spenk, my \ 

choler is so great, [with Hint, 
' O, I conid hew up rocks, and liiiht 

* 1 am so ansfiy at these abject terms ; 
And now, like Ajax Telamonins, 

' On sheep or oxen could 1 spend my i 

tuiy! ) Aside. 

* 1 am far better bom than isthe king ; 

* More like a king, more kingly in my 

thoughts : [while, 

' But I must make fair weather yet a 

* Till Henry be more weak, and I 

moresirong. — / 

* O Buckingham, I pr'ythee, pardon me, 

* That 1 have given no answer all this while ; 

* My nund was trouliled with deep melancholy. 

* The cause why 1 have brought this army 

hither, 

* Is— to remove proud Somerset from the king, 

* Seditious to his grace, and t() the state. 

* Buck. '] liat is too much presumption on 

thy part ; 
' But it tliy arms be to no other end, 

* The king hath yielded unto thy demand ; 
Ihe duke of Somerset is in the tower. 

York. Upon thine honour, is he prisoner? 



Biirk. Upon mine hononr, he is prisp>Her. 

* York. Then, Buckingham, I do 'fismijs 

tny powers. — [selv .s; 

'Soldiers, I thank you all: disperse \our- 

* Meet me to-morrow in Saint Gei>rgt*s field, 

* You shall have pay, and every thing you 

wish. 

* And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry, 

* Command my eldest son, — n ly, all my sons, 

* As pledges of my fealty and love, 

* I'll send them all as willing as I live; 

* Lnnds, goods, horse, armour, any thing I 

* Is his to use, so Somerset may die. [have 
'Buck. Y'oik, 1 commend this kind sub- 
mission : 

* We twain will go into his highness* tent. 

E'ifer Kim; Hknrv, atrcded. 

* K. Hen. Buckingham, doth York inteud 

no harm to us, 

* That thus he marcheth with tliee arm in arm t 

* York. In all submission and humility, 

* York doth present himself unto your high- 

ness, [thou dost bring \ 

* K. Hen. Then what intend lluse forces 

* York, To heave the traitor Somerset from 

hence ; 

* And light against that monstrous rebel, Cade, 

* Who since 1 heard to be discomfited. 

Enrtr Id v,wi^h Cadi's Head. 
' Iden. If one so rude, and of so mean con- 

* May pass into the presence of a king, [dition, 

* I o, I present noui grace a traitor's head, 

* The head ol Cade, whom I in combat slew. 

* K. Hen. The head of Cade?— Gi eat God, 

how just art thou ! — 
' O, let m ■ view his visage being dead, 

* That livin>: wrought me such exceeding 

trouble. [slew him 1 

* Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that 

* Iden. I WAS, an't like your majesty. 

* K. Hen. How art tht)U caii'd i and wha* 

is thy degree? 

* Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name ; 

* A poor esquire ot Kent, that loves his king. 

* Buck. So please it you, my lord, 'twere 

not amiss 

* He were created knight for his good service. 

* K. Hen. Iden, kneel down; [/:/e A;«ee/.y.] 

Rise up a knight- 

* We give thee for reward a thousand marks ; 

* And will, that thou henceforth atten<l on us. 

* Iden. May Iden live to nieritsuch a boun- 

* And never live but true unto hir liege! [ty, 

* K. Hen. See, Buckingham! Somerset 

comes with the queen ; 

* Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke. 
Enter (^wcew M\rgari t and Sovikrsit. 

* Q. Mar, For thousand Yorks he sl.all no 

hide his head, 

* But boldly stand, and front him to his face. 

* York. How now! Is >^omerset at liberty 

* Then, York, unloose thy iong-iuiprison'd 

thoughts. 



• i. €., Balance mv hand. 



^vene I.] 



SECOND PART OF KIXC HENRY VI. 



581 



And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart. 
Shall I enrlnre the sight of Somerset? — [me, 
False kinwl why hast thou broken faith with 

* Knowing? how hardly I can brook abuse? 

* King did 1 call thee? no, thou art not king ; 

* Not tit to govern and rule aiultilJides, [tor. 

* Which dat est not, ijo,norcanstnotrniea trai- 

* That head of thine doth not become a crown, 

* Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff, 

* And not to grace an awful princely sceptre. 

* That gold must round engirt these brows of 

mine, 

* Whose smile and frown,liketo Achilles* spear, 
' Is able with the chau'^e to kill and cure. 

* Here is a hand to hold a sceptru up, 

* And with the same to act controlling laws. 

* Give place ; by heaven, thou shalt rule no 

more 

* O'er him whom heaven created for thy ruler! 

* Som. monstrous traitor ! — I arrest thee, 

York, 
Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown : 
^ Obey, audacious traitor ; kneel for grace. 

* York. WouMst have me kneel? first let 

me ask of these, 

* If they can brook I bow a knee to man. — 

* Sirrah, call in my sons to be rny bail ; 

[Exit an Attendant. 

* I know, ere they will have me go to ward*, 

* They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchise- 

ment, [come amain, 

' Q. M.rr. Call hither Clifford ; bid him 

* To siy, if that the bastard boys of York 

* Shrill be the surety for their traitor father. 

* York, O blood-bespotted Neapolitan, 

* Oiucrist of Naples, England's bloody scourge ! 
' J he SODS of York, thy betters in their birth, 

* Shall be their f.ither's bail ; and bane to those 

* 7 hat for my surety will refuse the boys. 
Enter Edward and Richard Pi.anta- 

GEy ET,2vith Forces, at one side; at the 

other, with Forces also, old Clifford 

and his Son. 

I • See, where they come; ITI warrant they'll 

I make it good. [their bail. 

' • Q, Mar. And here comes Clifford, to deny 

* Cl/f. Health and all happiness to my lord 

the king! [Kneels, 

' York. 1 thank thee, Clifford : Say, what 
news with thee? 

* Nay, do not fright us with an angry look : 

* We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again ; 

* For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee, [take ; 

' Cl'f, This is my king, York, I do not mis- 

* But th(,u mistak'st mcmuch, to think I do ; — 

* To Bedlam with him! is the man grown mad? 

* K. f/eu. Ay, Clifford ; a bedlam and am- 

bitious humour 

* Makes him oppose himself against his king. 
; * Clif. He is a traitor ; let him to the 

Tower, 
^ ' And chop away that factious pate of his. 
J <?. Mar. He is arrested, but will not obey ; 
His sons, he says, shall give their words for 

* York. Will you not, sons ? [him. 



CMtitody, confinement. 



Edw. Ay, noble father, if our words will 
serve. [weapons shall. 

* Rich. And if words will not, then our 

* Clif. Why, what a brood of traitors have 
we here ! [so; 

* York. Look in a glass, and call thy image 

* I am thy king, and thou a false heart traitor. 

* Call hither to the stake my two brave bearst, 

* That, with the very shaking of tht-ir chains, 

* They may astonish these feil-luikiug curs; 

* Bid Salisbury, and Warwick, come to me. 
Drums. jGw^er Warwick and SalissBury, 

irith Forces. 
' Clif, Are these thy bears? we'll bait thy 
bears to death, 

* And manacle the bear-ward tin their chains. 
If thoudarest bring them to the bailing-place. 

* Rich. Ofthav| Iseen ahi>t u'erweeningcur 

* Run back and bite, because he was withheld ; 

* Who, being suffer'd with the beir's fell paw^ 

* Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs, and 
cry'd : 

* And such a piece of service will you do, 

* If you oppose yourselves to match lore! War- 
wick, [gested lump, 

* Clif, Hence, heap of wrath, fou! indi- 

* As crooked in thy manners as thy shape! 

* York. Nay, we shall heat you thortughly 
anon. [burn yo'ii?elves. 

* Clif, Take heed, lest by your heat you 

* K, Hen. W'hy, Warwick, hath thy knee 
forijot to bow ? — 

* Old Salisbury,— shame to thy silver hair. 

* Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son !— 

* Whrtt, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the 
ruffian, 

* Anrl seek for sorrow with thy spectacles? 

* O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty ? 

* If it be banish'd from the frosty h-ad, 

* Where shall it find a harbour in the enrth ? — 

* Will thou go dig a grave to find < ut war, 

* \nd shame thine honourable age with bioodt 

* Why art thou old, and want'sl experience ? 

* Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it? 

* For shame! in duty bend thy knee to me, 

* That bows unto the grave with mickle age. 

* Sal. My lord, I have consider'd with my- 

* The title of this most renowned duke ; [self 

* And in my conscience do repute his ijrace 

* The rightt\il heir to England's royal seat. 

* K. Hen. Hast thou not sworn allegi- 

* Sal. I have. [ance unto me? 

* K. Hen. Canst thou dispense with heavea 
for such an oath? 

* Sal. It is great sin, to swear unto a sin ; 

* But greater sin, to keep a sinful oath. 

* Who can be bound by any soleiriu vow 

* To do a murderous deed, to rob a man, 

* To force a spotless virgin's chastity, 

* To reave the orphan of his pntriniony, 

* To wTing the widow from her customed right; 

* And have no other reason tor this wrong, 

* But that he was bound by a solemn oath ? 

* Q, Mar. A subtle traitor needs no sophis- 
ter. 

+ The Nevils, earls of Warwick - ad a bear and ragged staff 
for their crest. I Bear-keeper. 

3 D 3 



582 



&HAKSPEARE. 



r 1r/ f 



* K. Hen. Call Buckingham, and bid him 

arm himself. [thou hast, 

* York. Call Buckingham, and all the friends 
I am resolved for <ieath, or dignity. 

* Cl'tf. The first I wanaut thee, if ('reams 

prove true. [dream again, 

* War. \ on ^vere best to go to bed, and 
To keep thee from the tempest of the field. . 

Cl'tf. I am resolved to bear a greater storm 
Than any thou canst conjure up to-day; 
And that I'll write upon thy burgonet *, 
Might I but know thee by thy household badge. 

fVar. Now, by my father's badge, old I\e- 
vil's cre.«t. 
The ram} ant bear chain'd to the ragged staff, 
This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet, 
(As on a mountain-top the cedar shows, 
That keepr his leaves in spite of any storm,) 
Even to attVi^ht thee with t\i^ view thereof. 

Clij. And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy 
bear, 
And tread it under foot with all contempt, 

* Despight the bear-ward that protects the bear. 

* y. rVi/". And so to arms, victorious father, 

* To quell the rebels, and their *complices. 

Bich. Fie! charity, for shame! speak not 
in spite, 
For you shall snp with Jesu Christ to-night. 

* Y. Clif. Foul siigmaticf, that's more 

than thon canst tell. 

* Rich. If not in heaven, you'll sorely sup in 

hell. [Ext^mt severally. 

SCENE II. Saint Albans. 

Alarvms : Excursions. Enter Warwick. 

War. Clifford of Cumberland, *tis Warwick 

calls] 

And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, 

Now, — when the angry trumpet sounds alarm, 

And dead men's cries do fill the empty air, — 

Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me ! 

Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, 

Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms. 

Enter York. 

* How now, my noble lord ? what, all afoot ? 

' York. The deadly-handed Clifford slew 
my steed ; 

* But match to match I have cncounter'd him, 

* And made a prey for carrion kites and crows 
' Ft\en of the bonny beast he loved so well. 

Enter Ci.ikforu. 
War. Of one or both of r.s the time is come. 
York. Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some 
other chaje. 
For I myself must himt this deer to death. 
War. Then, nobly, York ; 'tis for a crown 
thou fight'st. — 
As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day, 
t grieves my soul to leave thee nnassail'd. 

[Exit Warwick 

. * Clif. What seest thou in me, York ? why 

) dost thou pause ? [in love, 

' York. With thy brave bearing should I be 

But that thou art io fast mine enemy. 



Clif. Nor should thy prowess want praise 



and esteem, 
' But that 'tis show^n ignobl}*, and in treason. 

* York. So let it help roe now ai^aiust thy 

sword, 

* As I in justice and true right express it ! 

* Clif. My soul and body on the action both I 

* York. A dreadful lay j!— address thee in- 

stantly. 

[They fight y and Clifford fails. 

* Clif. La fin couronnc ies ouvres. [Dies. 

* York. Thus war hath given the« peace, for 

thou art still. 

* Peace with his soni, heaven, if it be thy will I 

[Exit. 
Enter Young Clifford. 

* Y. Clif. Shame and confusion ! all is on 

the ront ; 

* Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds 

* Where it should guard. O war, thou son of 

hell, 

* Whom angry heavens do make their minister, 

* Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part 

* Hot coals of vengeance I — Let no soldier fly: 

* He that is truly dedicate to war, 

* Hath no self-love ; nor he that loves himself 

* Halh not essentially, but by circunustance, 

* The name of valour. — O, let the vile world 

end, [Seeing his Father dead. 

* And the premised § flames of the last day 

* Knit earth and heaven together ! 

* Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, 

* Particularities and petfy sounds 

* To cease ij ! — Wast thou ordain'd,dear father, 

* To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieved 

* The silver livery of advised ** age ; [thus 

* And in thy reverence, and thy chair-days, 

* To die in ruffian battle ?-— Even at this sight, 

* My heart is turn'd to stune : and, vvhile 'lis 

mine, 

* It shall be stony. York not onr old men 

spares ; 

* No more will I their babes : tears virginal 

* Shall be to me even as the dew to fire ; 

* And beauty, that the tyrint oft reclaims, 

* Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax. 

* Henceforth, I will not have to do with pity : 

* Meet I an infant of the house of York, 

* Into as many gobbets will I cut it, 

* As wild Medea young Absyrtus did : 

* In cruelty will I seek out njy fame. 

' Come, thou new ruin of old Clitibrd's house; 
[Taking up the Body, 
' As did ^neas old Anchises bear, 

* So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders; 

* But then i^neas bare a living load, 

* Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. 

[L::nt 

£'n/fr RiCHARDPLANTAGENETflTlrf SOMER- 

SET fght/Jigf and Somerset is killed. 
Bich. So, lie thou there ; 

* For, underneath an alehouse* paltry sign, 
llie castle in Saint Albans, Somerset 

Hath m.ide the wizard famous in his death.— 



• Helmet. + One on whom nature has set a mark of deformity, a stigma. 

1 A dreadful wager ; a trenriendons stake. i Sent before their time. || Stop. 

U Obtain. ** Considerate. 



Scene III.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENR^ YI. 



5S3 



•Sword, hold thy temper ; heart, be wrathful 
siiil : 

• Priests, pray for enemies, but princes, kill. 

{Exit. 

Alarums: Excursions; jEw^er King Henry, 

QiieenM A.RG A RET, and Ot tiers, retreating, 

* Q. Alar. Away, ray lord! you are slow; 

for shame, away ! 

* K. Ht n. Caa we outrun the heavens 1 good 

Mari^aret, stay. [not fight, nor fly : 

* Q. Mar. \\h.^x are you made of? you'll 

♦ Is'ow is it manhood, wisdom, and defence, 

♦ To give the enemy way : and to secure us 

* By what we can, which can no more but fly. 

[A Car urn afar ojf. 

* Ff you be ta*en,we then should see the bottom 

• Of all our fortunes : but if we haply 'scape, 

• (As well we may, if not through our neglect,) 

* We shall to London get, where you are 

loved ; [made, 

* And where this breach, now in our fortunes 

* May readily be stopp'd. 

Enter young C lifford. 

* Y. f^lif' But that ray heart's on future mis- 

chief set, 

♦ I veoiild speak blasphemy ere bid yon fly ; 

• Hut fly you must ; uucurable discomfit 

* Reii^ns in the hearts of all our present parts*. 

* Away, for your relief! and we will live 

* To see their day, and thera our fortune give : 

• Away, ray lord, away ! {Exeunt. 

SCENE III. Fields near Saint Albans. 

Alirum: Retreat. Flourish; then enter 
York, Richard Pi.antagenet, War- 
wick, and Soldiers with Drum and 
Colours, . [him ; 

* York. Of Salisbury, who can report of 



* That winter lion, who, in rage forgets 

* Aged contusions and all brush of timet ; 

* And like a gallant in the brow of youth J, 

* Repairs him with occasion ? This happy day 

* Is not itself, nor have we won one loot, 

* If Salisbury be lost. 
I * Rich. My noble father, 
j * Three times to-day I holp him to his horse, 

* Three times bestrid him, thrice 1 led him off, 
' Persuaded him from any further act : [him ; 

* But still, where danger was, still there 1 met 

* And like rich hangings in a homely house, 

* So was his will in his old feeble body. 

* But, noble as he is, look where he comes. 
Enter Salisbury. 

* Sal. Now, by ray sword, well hast thou 
fought to-day ; [Richard : 

* By the mass, so did we all. — I think you, 

* God knows how long it is 1 have to live ; day 

* And it hath pleased him, that three times to- 
' You have defended me from imminent death. 

* Well, lords, we have not got that which we 
have 5 : 

* *Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, 

* Being opposites of such repairing nature jj. 

* York. 1 know our safety is to follow them; 
' For, as I hear, the king is fled to London, 
' To call a present court of parliament. 

* Let us pursue him, ere the writs go forth : — 

* What says lord Warwick? shall we after 
them ? [can. 

TVar. After thera! nay, before them, if we 
Now, by my faith, lords, 'twas a glorious day : 
Saint Albans* battle, won by famous York, 
Shall be eternized in all age to come. — 
Sound, drums and trumpets : and to London 
And more such days as these to us befal ! [all: 
, {Exeunt. 

• For parties. + i. e., The gradual detrition of time. i i. e.. The height of youth : 

the brow of a hill is its summit. § i. e.. We have not secured that which we have acquired. 

1. e., Being enemies that are likely so soon to rally and recover themselves from this defeat. 



THIRD PART OP 



KING HENRY VI. 



^cr^ong reptc^entet)* 



King Henry the Sixth. 

Edward, Prince of IVales, his son, 

Louis XI., Ki/ig of France, 

Duke of S OM E R s £T, -\ 

Duke of Exki er, I 

Earl of Oxford, [lords on King 

Eail of NoKTHUMBERLAND, ( Henry* s side. 

Earl of Westmoreland, J 

Lord Clifford, -^ 

Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York. 

Ed Ward, t'arl of March, after- 

nards King, Edward IV. j 

Edmund, Earl of Rutland. f his 

George, aftertvards Duke of^ sons, 

CLiirejicey I 

Richard, afterwards Duke of J 

Gloucester. 
Duke of Norfolk, ^ 
Marquis of Montague,] 
j:arl of Warwick, [of the Duke of 
Earl of Pembroke, [ York^s party. 
Lord Hastings, J 

l-ord Stafford, 



Sir John Mortimer, > uncles to theDuJU 
Sir Hugh Mortimer, > of York. 
Henry, Earl of Richmond ^ a youth. 
Lord Rivers, brother to Lady Grey. Sir 
William Stanley, Sir John Mont 
GOMERY. Sir John SoMERViLLE. Tu- 
tor to Kutland. Mayor of York. Liei- 
tenani of the Tower. A Nobleman. Twt# 
Keepers. A Huntsman. A Son that has 
killed his father. A Father that has killed 
his son. 

Queen Margaret. 

Lady Gre\ , afterwards Queen toEdward IV 

Bona, sister to the French Queen, 

Soldiers, and other Attendants on King 
Henry and King Edward^ Messengers, 
Watchmen, 4c« 

Scene, during part of the third act, in 
France ; during alt the rest of the play 
in England, 



ACT I. 



SCENE I, London. The Parliament- 
House. 
Drums. Some Soldiers of York's party 
briak in. Then Enter the Duke </ York, 
Edward, Richard, Nori-olk, Monta- 
gue, Warwjck, and others, with white 
Roses in thrir Huts. 

War. I wonder how the kin^ escaped our 
hands. [nortli, 

York. While we pursued the horsemen of the 
He slily stole away, and left his men: 
Whereat the iireat lord of Northumberland, 
Whose warlike ears could never brook re- 
treat, [self, 

* Cheered up the drooping army ; and him- 

* Lord Clifford, and lord Siaftbrd, all a-breast, 

* Charii<'d our main battle's front, and break- 

ing in, [islain. 

* Were by the swords of common soldiers 
Edw. Lord Stafford's father, duke of Buck- 
ingham, 

* Is either slain, or wounded dangerous : 
I cleft his be.tver with a downright blow ; 

* J hat this is true, father, behold his blood. 

[Shoiving his bloody Sword. 
Mont. And, brother, here's the earl of 
Wiltshire's blood, 

[To Y''oRK, showi 77 g his. 
Whom I encounter*d as the battles join'd. 
lilcU Speak thou for me, and tell them 
wL:4l I Jid. 



\Throtving down the Duke of Somers^i*% 

Head. 

• York. Richird hath. best deserved of all 

my sons. — [set? 

What, is your grace dead, my lord of Somer 

Norf. Such hope have all the line of John 

of Gaunt I 
Rich. Thus do I hope to shake king Henry's 
head. [York, 

War. And so do L — Victoriou* prince oi 
Before I see thee seated in that throne 
Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, 
1 vow by heaven, these eyes shall never close. 
This is the palace of the fearful king, 

* And this the regal seat : possess it, York 
For this is thine, and not king Henry's heirs. 

York. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, 
and I will; 

* For hither we have broken in by force. 

Norf. We'll all assist you ; he, that flies, 

shall die. [my lords ; — 

York. Thanks, gentle Norfolk. — Stay by me, 

* And, soldiers, stay, and lodge by me thi 

night. [no violence 

War. And, when the king comes, offer him 

* Unless he seek to thrust you out by fcrct. 

[They retire. 

* York. The queen, this day, here holds her 

parlianien*, 

* But little thinks we shall he of her coun".!!: 

* By words, or blows, here let us win oiii 

iiftht. 



Scene 7.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



585 



Rich, Armed as we are, let's stay within 
this house. [called. 

War. The bloody parliament shall this be 
Unless Plantaiienet, duke of York, be king; 
And bashful llemy deposed, whose cowardice 
Hath made u* by-words to our enemies. 

* York. Then leave me not, my lords ; be 

resolute ; 
I mean to take possession of my right, [best, 
l\^(ir. Neither the king, nor he that loves him 

* The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, 
Dares stir awing, if Warwick, shake his bells*. 

* I'll pliut Pl.tiitagenet, root him up who 

dares: — [crown. 

Resolve thee, Richard ; claim the English 
[Warwick, leads Youk to the Throne^ iviio 

seats Idmself, 
Flourish, ^-/^e/' iving Henry, Clifford, 
Northumberland, Westmorelanu, 
ExhTER, and Others , tuith red Roses ifi 
their Hats. 

K. Hen. My lords, look where the sturdy 
rebel sif'^. 
Even in the chair of state! Belike he means, 
(Backed by the power of Warwick, that false 

peer,) 
To aspire unto the crown, and reign as king. — 
Earl of N'orihiimberland, heslew thy father ; — 
And thine, lord Clirtord ; and you both have 

voued revenue 
On him, his sons, his favourite-s, and hisfriends. 

* ]\'orih. if 1 be not, heavens, be revenged 

on me! [in steel. 

Clif. The hope thereof makes Clitford mourn 

Wei>t. What, shall we suffer this, let's pluck 

him down : 

' My iieart for anger burns, I cannot brook it. 

K. Hen. \^e patient, gentle earl of West- 

ni reltnd. [he ; 

Clif. Patience is for poltroons, and such as 

He durst not sit there had >our father Jived. 

My gracious lord, here in the parliament 

Let us a.ssail the family of York. [it so. 

North. Well hast thou spoken, cousin ; be 

K. Hen. Ah, know you not, the city favours 

them, [beck ( 

And they have troops of soldiers at their 

Exe. Jiut when the duke is slain, they'll 

quickly Hy. 
K. Hen. Fdv be the thought of this from 
Henry's heart, 
To make a shambles of the parliament-house! 
Cousin of Exeter frowns, words, ani threats, 
Shall be the war that Henry means to use. — 
'\l^hey advance to the Ouke. 
Thou factious duke of York,descend m> throne. 
And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet; 
I am thy sovere gn. 

York. 1 hou art deceived, I am thine. 

Exe. For shame, come down ; be made thee 
duke of Y(M'k. [was 

York- 'Twds my inheritance, as the earldom 
Exf. Thy tather was a traitor to th^- crown. 
War. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown. 
In following this usurping Henry. 



Clif. Whom .should he follow, but his natu- 
ral king? [duke of York. 
War, True, Clifford; and thal*?^ Kichard, 

* K. Hen, And shall I stand, and thou sit 

in my throne? [thyself. 

* Yom. It must and shall be so. Coi tent 
War, Be duke of Lancaster, let him be king. 
IJ'est. He is both king and duke of Lancas- 
ter : [tain. 

And that the lord of Westmoreland shall main- 
ly ar. And Warwick shall disprove it. You 
forget, infield. 

That we are those, which chased you from tlie 
And slew your fathers, and with colours spread 
March'd through the city to the palace gates. 

* North. Yes, Warwick, 1 remember it to 

my grief; [rue it. 

And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall 

* West. Plantagenet, of thee, and these thy 

sons, [lives, 

Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I'll have more 
Than drops of blood were in my father's vein.s. 

* Clif. Urge it no more ; lest that, instead 

of words, 
I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger. 
As shall revenge his death, before I stir. 

* War. Poor Clitford! how I scorn his 

worthless threils! [crown? 

York. Will you we show our title to the 

* If not, our swords shall plead it in the fielvl. 

K. H^n. What title hast thou, traitor, to 
the crown? 
Thy father was, as thou art, duke of York ; 
Thy grandfather, Roger Moriinier, earl of 
I am the son of Henry the fifih, [March : 

Who made the Dauphin and the French to 

Stt)Op, 

And seized upon their towns and provinces. 
H ar. Talk not of France, siih t thou hast 
lost it all. [not 1; 

K. Hen. The lord protector lost it, and 
When 1 was crown'd, 1 was but nine months 
old. [methink?, you lo?e: — 

Rich. You are old enouj:h now, and yet. 
Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head. 
Udw. Sweet father, do so; set it on your 
head, [lov'st and honour'st a' ins, 

Mont. Good brother, [7't» Yora] as thon 
Let's fight it out, and not stand caviliiu- thus. 
Rich. Sound drums and trumpets, and the 
York. Sons, peace! [king will fly. 

K. Hen. Peace thou! and give king Henry 
leave to speak [him, lords; 

War, Plantagenet shall speak first :— hear 
And be you silent and attentive too, 
For he, thtt interrupts him, shall not live. 
' K. Hen. Think'st thou, that 1 will leave 
my kingly ihrone. 
Wherein my grandsire, and my father, sat? 
ISo: fii St shall war unpeople ihis my realm ; 

* Ay, and their Ci)lours— often bt)rne in Franca: 
Ami novv in England, to our heart's great sor- 
row, — 

Shall be my winding sheet. — Why faint yci 
lords? 



• Hawks had sometimes little bells hung on them, perhaps to dare the birds ; that ia, to tni 
them from rising. f Smc«, 



5S3 



SHAKSPEARE 



Actl. 



* My title's good, and belter far th.Hn his. 

^Var, But prove it, Henry, and thou shall 
be king. [the crown. 

K. Hen. Henry the fourth by conqjiest got 

York. *Twas by rebellion against his king. 

K. Hen. 1 know uot what to say ; my title's 
weak. 
Tell me, niny not a king adopt an heir? 

York. What then ? [king : 

* K. Hen. An if he may, then am I lawful 

* For Richard, in the view of many lords, 
Resign'd the crown to Henry the fourth; 
Whose heir my father was, and I am his. 

York. He rose against him, being his sove- 
reign, 
And made him to resign his crown perforce. 
IVur. Suppose, my lords, he did it uncon- 
strain'd, 
Think you, 'iwere prejudicial to his crown*? 
Kie. No; for he could not so resign his 
crown, [reign. 

But that the next heir should succeed and 
K. Hen. Art thou against us, duke of Exe- 
ter? [don me. 
Exe. His is the right, and therefore par- 

* York. Why whisper you, my lords, and 

answer not? [king. 

Exe. My conscience tells me he is lawful 
K. Hen. All will revolt from me, and turn 

to him. [lay'st. 

North.. Plantagenet, for all the claim thou 
Think not, that Henry shall be so deposed. 

* IVar. Deposed he shall be, in despite of 

all. [southern power, 

J\'orth. Thou art deceived : 'tis not thy 
' Of Essex, Norfolk, Sutfolk, aor of Keni, — 
Which uiakes thee thus presumptuous and 

proud. — 
Can set the duke up, in despite of me. 

Cl'f. King Henry, be thy title right or wrong, 
Lord Clitlord vows to fi^ht in thy defence : 
May that ground gape, and swallow me alive, 

* Where 1 shall kneel to him that slew my 

father ! [my heart ! 

' K. Hen. O Clifford, how thy words revive 

York. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown: 

What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords? 

l^f'ar. Do right unto this princely duke of 

York ; 

Or I will fdl the house with armed men. 

And, o'er the chnir of state, where now he sits. 

Write up his title with usurping blood. 

[He.stamps, and the Soldiers show them- 
selves. 

* K. Hen. My lord of Warwick, hear me 

but one word ; — 

* Let me, for this my life-time, reign as king. 

York. Confirm the crown to me, and to 
mine heirs, 
4nd thou shall reign in quiet while thou liv'st 
K.Htn. 1 am content: Richard Planta- 
gcHet, 
Enjoy the kingdom after my decease. 

CliJ. Whj'.t wrong is this uu o the prince 

your son? [himself? 

^ar. What gocwl is this to England, and 



West. Base, fearful, and despairing Henry! 

* Clif. How hast thou injured both thyself 

and ns ! 
West. I cannot slay to hear these articles. 
North. Nor I. 
CTif. Come, cousin, let us tell the queen 

these news. [rate king, 

* Htst- Farewell, faint-hearted and degenc 

* In whose cold blood no spark of honoui 

bides. [York. 

North. Be thou a prey unto the house o? 

* And die in bands for this unmanly deed ! 

Clif. In dreadful war may'st thou be ovef 
come ! 
Or live in peace, abandoned and despised ! 

[Exeunt North., Clif., «/<rf West 

* War. Turn this way, Henry, and regard 

them not. [not yiehi, 

Exe. They seek revenge, and therefore wLi 
K. Hen. Ah, Bxeter I 

War. Why should yon sigh, my lord ■. 

K. Hen. Not for myself, lord Warwick. 
but my son, 
Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit. 
But, be it as it may : — I here entail [ever; 

* The crown to thee and to thine heirs in 
Conditionally, that here thou take an oath 

To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live. 
To honour me as thy king and sovereign ; 

* And neither by treason, nor hostility, 

* To seek to put me down, and reign thyself. 
York. This oath 1 willingly take, and w.41 

perform. [Coming from the Thront. 

War. Long live king Henry! — Plantagemt, 

embrace him. [forward sons! 

* K. Hen. And long live thou, and these tly 
York. Now York and Lancaster are recoi 

ciled. [them foe*. 

Exe. Accursed be he that seeks to make 

[Senet. The Lords come for uard, 

' York. Farewell, my gracious lord; I'll to 

my castle. [dien.. 

War. And I'll keep London, with my sol 

Norf. And I to Norfolk, with my foili>w- 

ers. » [came. 

Mont. And I unto the sea, from whence I 

[Exeunt York, and his Sons, War wick, 

Norfolk, Montagi'E, Soldiers, and 

Attendants. 

* A. Hen. And I, with grief and sorrow, 

to the court. 
Enter Queen Margaret and the Trin c 

of Wales. 
Ere. Here comes the queen, whose looks 
I'll steal away. i bewray + her anger: 

K. Hen. Exeter, so will I. [(roi/'g. 

* Q. Mar. Nay, go not from me, I will 

follow thee. [will slay. 

K. Hen. Be p.itient, gentle queen, and i 

* Q. Mar. Who can be patient in such ex- 

tremes ? [maid, 

* Ah, wretclied man! would I had died -t 

* And never seen thee, never burne thet: son, 

* Seein<: ihou hast proved so unnatural a fathei ! 

* 1 lath he deserved to lose his birthright thus ? 

* Hadst thou but loved him half so well as 1 ; 



i. e., Detrimental to the general rights of hereditary royalty* t Betray, discover. 



Scene /.J 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



587 



* Or felt that p lin which I flid for him once; i 

* Or nourishM liiin, as 1 did with my blood ; 

* Thou wouUlst have iett thy dearest heart- i 

blood there, [heir, j 

•Rather than made that savage duke thine ' 

* And disinherited thine only son. I 

* Prince. Father, you cannot disinherit me : 

* If you be king, why should not 1 succeed .' 

* AT. Hen. Pardon nie, Margaret ; — pardon 

me, sweet son; — [me. 

* Theearlot' Warwick, and the liuke, enforced 
Q. Alar. Enforced thee ! art thou king, and 

wilt be forced^ [wretch! 

1 shame to hear tliee speak. Ah, timorous 
Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me ; 
' And given unto the house of York such head, 

* As thou shall reign but by their sufiferance. 

* I'o entail him and his heirs unto the crown, 

* What is it, but to make ihy sepulchre, 

* And creep into it far before thy time ? 

* Warwick is chancellor, and the lord of 

Calais ; [sf»as ; 

Stern Faulconbridge commands the narrow 
The duke is made protectoj of the realm ; 

* And yet shall thou be safe? * such safety finds 

* The irembling lamb, environed with wolves. 

* Had I been tliere, which am a silly woman, 

* The soldiers should have toss'd me on their 

pikes, 
' Before 1 would have granted to that act. 
^ But ihou preferr'st thy life before thine 
honour : 
And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself, 
Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed. 
Until that act of parliament be repeal'd, 
V\'hereby my soji is disinherited. 
The northern lords, that have forsworn thy 
colours, [spread: 

V/^ill follow mine, if once they see them 

• 4 nd spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace, 
' 4nd utter ruin of the house of York. 

' J hus do I leavethee: — Coine, son, lei's away; 
Our army's ready ; come, we'll after them. 
A'. Hen. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear 
me speak. [get thee gone. 

Q. Mar. Thou hast spoke too much already ; 
ATo Hen. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay 

with me i 
Q.Mar. Ay, to bemurder'd by his enemies. 
Prince. WheL I return with victory from 
the field, 
\ il see your grace : till then, 1*11 follow her. 
Q. M'tr. Come, sou, away; we may not 
linger thus. 
[Exeunt Q leen JMargaset, and the Prince. 

* K. Hen. Poor queen! how love to me, 

and to her son, 
' Hath made her break out into terms of rage! 

• Revenged may she be en that iiateful duke; 

• \V hose haughty spirit, winged with desire, 

• Will cost my crown, and, like an empty ea^le, 

• Tire * on the flesh of me, and of my son ! 

• The loss of those three It^rd* torments my 

heart: [fair: — 

• ril write onto them, and entreat them 
- Cvme, cousin, yoa shall b«j the messenger. 



♦■ Exe. And I, X hope, shall reconcile them 
an. [^ Exe ant % 

SCENE II. A Room in Sandal Castle, near 

VVakefieM, in Yorkshire. 

Enter Euward, Richard, awrt Montague. 

' Rich. Bn.'ther, though 1 be youngest, give 

me leave. " -' 

Eiiw. No, 1 can better play the orator. 
Mont. But I have reasons strong and forcible. 
Enter York. 

* York. Why, how now, sons and brother, 

at a strife? 

* What is your quarrel? how began it first? 

* Ediv. No quarrel, but a slight contention. 

* York. About what? [grace, and us ; 
' Rich. About that which concerns your 

' The crown of England, father, which is yours. 

'York. Mine, boy? not till king Henry be 

dead. [or death. 

* Rich. Your right depends not on his life, 

* Edw. Now you are heir, therefore enjoy 

it now : [breathe, 

* By giving the house of Lancaster leave to 

* It will outrun you, father, in the end. [reign. 
' York. I took an oath, that he should quietly 

* Edw. But, for a kingdom, any oath may be 

broken : 

* I'd break a thousand oaths to reign one year. 

' Rich. No ; God forbid, your grace should 
be forsworn. 

* York. I shall be, if I claim by open war. 

* Rich. I'll prove the contrary if you'll hear 

me speak. 

* York. Thou canst not, son ; it is impossible. 
' Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not 

* Before a trive and lawful magistrate, [took 
' That hath authority over him that swears : 

' Henry had none, but did usurp the place ; 
' Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, 

* Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. 

* Iherefore, lo arms. * And, father, do but 

think, 

* How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown ; 

* W^ithin whose circuit is Elysium, 

* And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. 

* Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest, 

* Until the white rose, that I wear, be dyed 

* Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart. 

* York. Richard, enough ; I will be king, or 

die. — 
' Brother, thou shall to London presently, 
'And whet on Warwick to this enterprise. — 

* Thou, Richard, shall unto the duke of Norfolk, 

* And tell him privily of our intent. — 

* You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham, 
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise: 

* In them I trust ; for they are soldiers, 

* Witty t and courteous, liberal, full of spirit. — 
'While you are thus employ'd, what resteth 
But that I seek occasion how to rise ; [more, 

* And yet the king not privy to my drift. 
Nor any of the house of Lancaster? 

Enter a Messenger. 

* But, stay ; What news I Why corneal thou la 

such post? 



• Peck. 



t Of sound judgment 



5S8 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



l-'icf J, 



' Mess. The queen, with all the northern earU 
and lords, 

• Intend here to besiege you in yonr castle : 

* She is h^iil by with tweniy ihonsund men; 

* And therefore lortify yonr hold, my lord. 

* York. Ay, with my sword. What! ihuik'st 

thou thafvve fear them? — 

• Edward and RichanI, you shall stay with me ; 

* My brother Montague shall post to London : 

• Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, 

• Whom we have leli protectors ot the king, 

• W ith pDwerlul polic> strengthen themselves, 
•And trust not simple Henry, nor his oaths. 

* Mont. Brother, 1 go; I'll win them, fear 

it not : 

• And thus most humbly I do take my leave. 

[Eccit. 
Enter Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer. 
York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, 
mine uncles! 

* Yon are come to Sandal in a happy hour; 
The army of the queen me^n to besiege us. 

air John. She shall not need, we'll meet her 
in the field. 

* York. What, with five thousand men? 
Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a 

need. 
A woman 's general 1 What should we fear? 
[.4 March ajar off. 

* Edw. I hear their drums ; let's set our men 

in order; 
And issue forth, and bid them battle straight. 

* York. Five men to twenty ! — though the 

odds be great, 

* I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. 

* Many a battle h.ive I won in France, 
'Whenas the enemy hath been ten to one; 
•Why should i not now have the like success? 

[Alarum. Ej.eu7it. 

SCENE in. Plains near ^^naA\ Castle, 

Alarums: Excursions. Enter Rutland, 

and Lis Tutor. 

* Rut, Ah, whither shall 1 fly to 'scape their 

hands! 
Ah, Tutor, look, where bloody Clifford comes ! 
Etiter CLiFtoKD and Soldiers. 
Cllf. Chaplain, away ! thy priesthood saves 
thy lite. 
A§ for the brat of this accursed duke, 
Whose father slew my father, — he shall die. 
Tat. And I, my lord. will bear him company. 
Cllf. Soldiers, away with him. [cent child, 
*Tat. Ah, Clifford I murder not this inuo- 
Lest thou be hated both of God and n:an. 

[Eiityjorcfd off by Soldiers. 

Clif. How now I is he dead already? Or, is 

it fear, [them. 

That makes him clone his eyes?— I'll open 

• Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the 

wretch 

• That trembles under his devouring paws : 
And so he walks, insultint; o'er his prey; 

• And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder. — 

• Ah, gentle Clitford, kill me with thy sword. 
And not with such a cruel threat'ning look. 



Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before 1 die ; — 
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath, 
Be thou revencjtd on n»en, and let me live. 

CiiJ'. In vain tliou speak'sl, poor hoy ; my 

father's blood [should enter. 

Hath stopp'd the passage where thy v\ord9 

Rut. 1 hen let my father's blood open it 
a^ain; 
He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. 

Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives. 
Were not revenge sufficient for me ; [an i thine. 
No, if 1 digtf'd up thy forefathers' graves, 
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains. 
It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. 
The sight of any of the house of York 
Is as a fury to torment my »(;ul ; 

* And till 1 root out their accursed line, 

* And leave not one alive, I live in h< II. 
Therefore [L fling his Hand, 

Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death : 
To thee I pray ,. Sweet Clifford, pity me! 
Clif. Such pity as my rapier*s point affbni?, 

* Rut. I never did thee barm^ Why will 

thou slay me? 
Clif. Thy father hath. 
Rut. But 'twas ere I was born. 

Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me; 
Lest, in revenije thereof,— sith* God is just,-' 
He be as miserably slain as L 
Ah, let me live in prii^on all my days; 
Atul when I give occasion of offence. 
Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. 

Clif. No cause? 
Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. 

[Clifford stabs him. 

Rut. Dii faciantf laudis summa sit ista 

tuiP/i [Dies, 

Clif. Plantap:enet! I come, Planfagenet f 

And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade. 

Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, 

Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe oti 

both. [Exit, 

SCENE IV. The same. 
Alarum, Efiter York. 

* York, The army of the queen hath got the 

fiel(l: 

* My uncles both are slain in rescuing me; 
' And all my followers to the eager foe 

* I'lirn back, and fly, like ships before the wttt4, 

* Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved walve.«. 

* My sons — Crod knows what hath berhauicfl 

them : [.«*elvo» 

But thts I know, — they have demean'd then* 
Like men born to renown, by lite, or death. 

* Three times did Richard make a lane to me „ 
And thrice cried,— Cof/rage. father f fight /t 

* And full as oft came Edward to my side, [out f 
W^ith purple falchion, painted to the hilt 

* In blood of those that had enconnierd IiIhi: 

* And when the hardiest warriors did retire, 

* Richard criGi\,— Charge.' atuigite no ffot of 

ground! [towht 

'And cried,— il crown, w else a glorious 

* A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre f 
With this, we charged again : but out, alas! 



• Since. 



t Heaven grant this niAy be your greatest boast. — Ovid. Epist,. 



Scene IT.] 



THIRD PART OF KTXG HENRY VI. 



5b9 



' We bodged* as;aiu ; as I have seen a swan i 
« With bootless labour swim against the tide. 
And spend her strength with over-matching 
waves. [A short Alarum within. 

* Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue; 

* And I am faint, and cannot fly their fury : 

' And were I strong I would not shun their fury : 

* The sands are numbered, that make up my 

life; 

* Here must I stay, and here my life murt end. 

Enter Qyxe^en Margaret, Clifford, 
Northumberland, c//d Soldiers. 

* Come, bloody Clifford, — rough Northumber- 

land, — 
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage ; 

* I am your butt, and I abide your shot. 

T^orth. Yield to our mercy, proud Plan- 

tagenet. 
CliJ, Ay, to such mercy, as his ruthless arm. 
With downright payment, show'd unto my 

father. 
Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car, 
Aiid made an evening at the noontide prick t. 
York. My ashes, as the Phoenix, may bring 
forth 
' A bird that will revenge upon you all : 

* And, in that hope, 1 throw mine eyes to 

heaven, 
Scorning whatever you can afflict me with. 

* Why come you n.ot? what! multitudes, and 

fear? [no further; 

Clif. So cowards fight, when they can fly 

* So doves do peck the falcon's piercing ta- 

lons; 
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives. 
Breathe out invectives 'gainst (he officers. 
York. O, Clififord, but bethink thee once 

again, 

* And in thy thought o'er-run my former time : 

* And, if liiou canst for blushing, view this 

face; [cowardice, 

And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with 

* Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly 

ere this. ' [word ; 

Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for 
But buckle with the blows, twice two for one. 

{Draws. 
Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford I for a thou- 
sand causes, 
I would prolong awhile the traitor's life : — 
Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northum- 
berland, [so much. 
North. Hold, Clifford ; do not honour him 
To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart : 
What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, 
For one to thrust his hand between his teeth. 
When he might spurn him with his foot away? 
It is war's prize to take all vantages; 
' And ten to one is no impeach of valour. 
ITkey lay hands on York, who struggles. 
Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with 

the gin. 
North, So doth the coney struggle in the net, 
\\ OB.lL is taken jfrisoner. 



York. Fo triumph thieves upon their con- 

quer'd booty; [match'd. 

So true men| yield, with robbers so o'er- 

North. What would your grace have done 

unto him now? [Mo-rthumberland, 

Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford, and 

Come make him stand upon this molehill here; 

* That raught^ at mountains with outstretched 

arms. 
Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. — 

* What! was it you, that would be England's 

king? • 
Was't you that revell'd in our parliament. 
And made a preachment of your high descent? 
Where are your mess of sons to back you now? 
The wanton Edward, and the lusly George? 
' And Where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, 
Dicky your boy, that, with his grumbling 

voice. 
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies ? 
Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rut- 
land? [blood 
Look, York ; I stain'd this napkin Ij with the 
That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point. 
Made issue from the bosom of the boy : 
And, if thine eyes can water at his death, • 
1 give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. 

* Alas, poor York ! but that I hate thee deadly, 
T should lament thy miserable state. 

I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York ; 
Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and 

dance. [trails. 

What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine en- 
That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death ? 
♦Why art th©u patient, man? thou shonldst 

be mad ; [thus. 

* And I, to make tfiee mad, do mock thee 
Thou would'st be fee'd, 1 see, to make me 

sport ; 
York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown. 
A crown for York ; — and, lords, bow low to 

him. — 
Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on. — 

[Putting a paper Crown on his Head, 
Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! 
Ay, thi* is he that took king Henry's chair; 
And this is he was his adopted heir. — 
But how is it that great Plantagenet 
Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath ? 
As I bethink me, you should not be king, 
Till our king Henry had shook hands with 

death. 
And will you pale IT your head in Henry's glory 
And rob his temples of the diadem. 
Now in his life, against your holy oath? 
O, 'tis a fault too too unpardonable! — 
Off with the crown; and, with the crown, 

his head ; [dead ** 

And, whilst we breathe, take time to do hira 

Clif. That is my office, for my frither's sake 

Q.Mar. Nay, stay; let's hear the orisoiii 

he makes. 
York. She-wolf of France, but worse tha 

wolves of France, 



• ». e.f We boggled, made bad, or bungling work of our attempt to rally. 

t Noontide pomt on the dial. f Honest men. § Reached. 

Handkucnief. ^ Impale, encircle viith a crown. ** Kill btm 

3 E 



590 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act II, 



Wlicwe toiigtre more poisons than the adder's 
Howill-befeeniiiig is it in thy sex, [Jooth! 
To triumph like an Amazonian trull, 

* Upon their woes, whom fortune captiv;»tcs? 
But t'^« thy face i?, visor like, unchanging, 
Made i.npudent witli use of evil deeds, 

1 would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush: 
To tell thee whence thou earnest, of whom de- , 
rived, [not shameless. ' 

Were shame enou2;h to shame thee, wert thou 
Thy father bears the type * of king of Naples, 
Of both the sicils, and Jerusalem; 
Yet not so wealthy ae an English yeoman. 
Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? 1 
It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud 

queen; 
Unless the adage must be verified, — 
That beggars, mounted, run their horse to 

death. 
*Tis beauty, that doth oft make women proud ; 
Hut. God he knows, thy share thereof is small ; 
*Tis virtue, that doth make them most admired; 
The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at : 
*Ti8 government t that makes them seem di- 
vine ; • 
The want thereof makes thee abominable : 
Thou art as opposite to every g;ood, 
As the Antipodes are unto us, 
Or as the south to the septentrionj. 
O, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide ! 
How cculd'st thou drain the life-blood of the 
To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, [child, 
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? 
Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible; 

* Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorse- 

less, [wish : 

* Bid'sl thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy 

* VVould'st have rue weep? why, now thou 

hast thy will : 

* For raging wind blows up incessant showers, 
And, when the rage allays, the rain betiins. 
These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies; 

* And every drop cries vengeance for his 

death, — [French-woman. 

* 'Gainst thee, fell Cliflford,— and thee, false 



Nurth. Beshrew me, but his passions^raov* 
me so, 
That hardly can I cl eck my eyes from tears. 

York. That face of his the hungry cannibals 
Would not have toiich'd, would not have 

stain'd with blood: 
But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, 
O, ten times more, — than tigers of Hyrcania. 
See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears : 
This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet 

boy, 
And 1 with tears do wash the blood away. 
Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this : 

{He gives back the HandkerchieJ, 
And, if thou tell'st the heavy story right. 
Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears ; 
Yea, even my foes will shed fast-f lUing tears, 
And say, — Alas, it was a piteous deed ! — 
There, take the crown, and, with the crowu 

my curse ; 
And, in thy need, such comfort come to thee. 
As now I reap at thy too cruel hand! — 
Hard-hearted Cliftbrd, take me from the 

world ; 
My soul to heaven, niy blood upon your heads* 
North. Had he been slaughter-man to all 
my kin, 
' I should not for my life but weep with him, 
Tc see how inly sorrow gripes his soul. 

Q. Mar. What, weepiiig-ripe, my lord 
Northumberland ? 
Think but upon the wrong he did us all. 
And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. 
Clif. Here's for my oath, here's for my fa 
ther's death. [Stabbing him, 

Q. Alar. And here's to right our gentle- 
hearted king. Stabbing him 
York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious 
God! 
* My soul flies through these wounds to seek 
out thee. [Dies. 
Q. Mar. OS with his head, &nd set it ob 
York gates ; 
So York may overlook the town of York. 

[Exeunt s 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. A Plain near Mortiuer's Cross 
in Herefordshire. 

Drums. Enter Edward and Richard, 
with their Forces , marching. 

• £du\ I wonder, how our princely father 
'scaped ; 

• Or whether he be 'scaped away, or no, 

• From c:iiHbrd'L and Northumberland's pur- 

su t ; [file news ; 

• flail he been ta'en, we should have heard 
Had lie been slain, we should have heard the 

news ; [have h<;ard 

• Or, had he 'scapefl, methinks, we should 

• I he happy tidings of his goo«l escape. — 

• Jhe distinguishing mark. f Government, 

of leMipri , and decency of manners. 

Il Dc'ine.iiicil Jiiins«ilf. 



* How fares my brother ? why is he so sad f 

Rich. I cannot joy, nntil 1 be resolved 
Where our right valiant father is become. 

* I saw him in the battle range about; 

* And watch'd him, how he singled Clifford 

forth, [troop 

* Methought, he bore him ||, in the thickest 
As doth a lion in a herd of neat ^ : 

• Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs; 

• Who having pinch'd a few, ;«.nd made them 

cry, 

• The rest stand all altrof, and bark at him. 

• So fared our father with his enemies; 

• So fled his enemies my warlike father ; 

* Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son 

in the language of the time, signified evennett 

X I he north. ^ Sutterings. 

H Nedi caiih', cows, o\en, ^c. 



T 



Scene 1,] 



THIRD PART OF KING HEiVIlY VI 



591 



See, how the niorninor opes her ajohleii ijatts, 
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun*! 

* How well resembles it the pi ime of youth, 
•Triium'd like a younker, prancing to his 

love! [suns? 

E<ln\ Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three 

RicJi. Tiiree glorious suns, each one a per- 
fect &UU ; 
Not separated with the racking clouds +, 
But severed in a pale clear-shiuing sky. [kiss. 
See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to 
As if they vow'd some league inviolable : 
Now are tliey but one lamp, one light, one 
In this the heaven figures some event. [sun. 

* Ediv. 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet 

never heard of. 
I think, it cites us, brother, to the field; 
That we,, the sons of brave Plantagenet, 

* Each one already blazing by our meeds J, • 
Should, notwithstanding, join our lights toge- 
ther, 

* And over-shine the earth, as this the world. 

* Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear 
Upon my target three fair shining suns, 
. * Rick. Nay, bear three daughters; — by 

your leave 1 speak it. 

* You love the breeder better than the male. 

Enter a INIessenger. 

* But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretel 

* Some dreadful stoiy hanging on thy ton;:ne? 
Mesfi. Ah, one that was a woful looker on, 

When as the noble duke of York was slain, 

* Your princely father, and my loving lord. 

* Ediv. O, speak no more! for 1 have heard 

too much. [all. 

* Rich. Say how he died, for T will hear it 

* iV/f.9.5. Environed he was with many foes ; 

* And stood against them as the hope of Troy^ 

* Against the Greeks, that would have entered 

Troy. 

* But Hercules himself must yield to odds ; 
'*■ And many strokes, though with a little axe, 

* Hew down and fell the hardest titnber*d oak. 

* By many hands your father was subdued; 

* But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm 

* Of unrelenting Clifford, and the queen : 

* Who crown'd the gracious duke in high de- 

spite ; [wept, 

* Laugh'd in his face ; and, when with grief he 

* The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his 

cheeks, 
A napkin steeped in the harmless blood, 
' Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Cliflford 
slain : 

* And, after many scorns, many foul taunts, 

* They took his head, and on the gates of York 

* They set the same ; and there it doth remain, 

* The saddest spectacle that e'ei I view'd. 
Ediv. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean 

upon ; 

* Now thou art gone, we have no stafiF, no 

stay ! — [slain 

* O Clifford, boisterous Clifford, thou hast 
♦.The flower of Europe for his chivalry ; 

* And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, 

t 

* Aurora takes for a time her farewell of the sun, when she dismisses him to his diurnal course 
+ z. e.. The cLouds in rapid tumultuary motion. % Merit. ^ Hector. jj Killed. 



For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish'd 
thee ! — 
Now my soul's palace ig become a prison ; 
Ah, would she break from hence ! that thi» 

my body 
' Might in the ground be closed up in rest : 

* For never henceforth shall 1 joy again, 

* Never, O never, shall 1 see more joy. 

* Rich I cannot weep; for all my body's 
moisture [heart: 

Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning 

* Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great 
burden; [withal, 

* For selfsame wind, that I should speak 

* Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast, 

* And burn me up with tiames, that tears 
would quench. 

* To weep, is to make less the depth of grief: 

* Tears, then, for babes; blows, and revenge 
for me '■ — 

' Richard, I bear thy name, I'll vengethy deatk 

* Or die renowned by attenjpting it. 
Edw. His name that valiant duke hath left 

with thee ; 
' His dukedom and his chair with me is left. 
Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's 

bird. 
Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun : 
For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom 

say ; 
Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. 

March, Enter Warwick and MoiNtague, 
with Forces, 
War. How now, fair lords? What fare! 
what news abi oad ? [recounf 

* Rich, Great lord of Warwick, if we should 
Our baleful news, and, at each word's deliver 

ance. 
Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told. 
The words would add more anguish than tW 

wounds. 

valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. 
Edw. O Warwick! Warwick! that Plan- 
tagenet, [tion. 

Which held thee dearly, as his soul's redenip- 
Is by the stern lord Clitford done to death 1|. 
War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news 
in tears : 
And now, to add more measure to your woes, 

1 come to tell you things since then befall'n. 
After the bloody fray at WakefieUl fought. 
Where your brave father breathed his latest 

gHSp, 

Tidings, as s^wiftly as the posts could run. 
Were brought me of your loss, and his depart. 
I then in Lon'lon, keeper of thi kina:, 
Muster'd my soldiers.gather'd tiocks of friends 
And very well appointed, as 1 thought, 
March'd towards Saint Albau's to intercept 

the queen. 
Bearing the king in my behalf along : 
For by my scouts I was advertised, 
That she was coming with a full intent 
To dash our late decree in parliament. 



592 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Act II 



Tou( liin§ king Heury's oath, and your suc- 
cession. 
Short taic to make, — we at Saint Alban*s met, 
Our battles joi..ed, and botli sides fiercely 

fongtit : 
But, whether 'twas the coldness of the king, 
Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, 
That robh'd my soldiers of their hated spleen; 
Or whether 'twas report of lier success; 
Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, 
*\Vho ihunvlers to his ctplives— bloodanddeath 
I cannot judi^e : but, to conclude with truth 
Their we.ipons like to lightning came and went; 
Our soldiers'— like the night owl's lazy flight, 
* Or like a lazy thrasher with a flail, — 
Fell gently down, as if they struck their 

friends. 
I cheered ihem up with justice of our cause, 
With promise of high pay, and great rewards: 
But all in vain ; they had no he<irt to fi^^ht. 
And we, in them, no hope to win the day. 
So that we fled ; the king, unto the queen ; 
Lord George your brother, Norfolk,and myself, 
In haste, pust-hasle, are come to join with you; 
For in the marches here, we heard, you were, 
Making another head to fight again. 

* Etw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gen- 

tle Warwick? [England? 

And when came George from Burgundy to 

* War\ Some six miles ottthe duke is with 

the soldiers : 
And for your brother,— he was lately sent 
From your kind aunt, duchess of Burgundy, 
' With aid of soldiers to this needful war. 
Rich. Twas odds, belike, when valiant 
Warwick fled : 
Oft have 1 heard his praises in pursuit. 
But ne'er, til! now, his scandal of retire. 

H ar. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost 
thou hear : [mine 

For thou shalt know, this strong right hand of 
Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, 
And wring the awful sceptre from his fist; 
Were he as famous and as bold in war. 
As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer. 
Jlic/i. I know it well, lord Warwick; blame 
me not; 
'lis love, 1 bear thy glories, makes me speak. 
But, in this trouMous time, what's to be done? 
Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, 
And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, 
Numbering our Ave-Maries with our beads? 
Or sliall we on the helmets of our foes 
Tell our <levotion with revengeful arms? 
If for the last, say— Ay, and to it, lords. 
Haf . Why, therefore Warwick came to 
seek you out; 
And therefore comes my brother Montague. 
Attend me, lords. Theprond insultingqueen, 
With Clirtord, and the haught • Northumber- 

l.nd, 
And ot their feiither, many more proud birds. 
Hive wrou;;hi the eHsy-mellingking like wax. 
He swore consent to >our s^ucce.-sion. 
His oath enrolled in the pariiammt; 
And now to London all the crew are gone. 



To frustrate both his oath, and what beside 
May make against the house of Lancaster. 

* Their power, I think, is thirty thousand 

strong: ' 

Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself, 
With all the friends that thou, brave earl of 

March, 
Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure, 

* Will but amount to five and twenty thousand, 
W^hy, Via ! to London will we march amain; i 
And once again bestride our foaming steeds, 

' And once again cry — Charge upon our I'oes ; 
But never once again turn back, and fly. 
Rich. Ay, now, methinks, 1 hear great 
Warwick speak : 
Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, 

* Tliat cries — Retire,if Warwick bid him stay. 

Edw. Lord W^arwick, on thy shoulder will 
I lean ; [hour! 

' And when thou fall'st, (as God forbid the 
Must Edward fall, which peril heaven fore- 
fend ! [York ; 
War. No longer earl of March, but duke of 

* The next degree is, England's royal throne : 
For king of England shalt thou be proclaini*d 
In every borough as we pass along ; 

And he that throws not up his cap for joy, 

* Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. 
King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague, 
Stay we no longer dreaming of renown, 

* But sound the trumpets, and about our task. 

* Rich. Then, Ciitford, were thy heart as 

hard as steel, 

* (As thou hast shewn it flinty by thy deeds) 

* I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine. 

* Edtv. Then strike up, drums; — God, and 

Saint George, for us ! 

Enter a Messenger. 
War. How now ? what news ? [by me, 
Mes<t. The duke of Norfolk sends you word 
The queen is coming with a puissant host ; 
And craves your conipany for speedy counsel. 

* War. Why then it sorts t, brave wairiors : 

Let's away. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. ^f/ore York. 
Enter K'm^ Henry, Quet-n MahgaHet,^^^ 

Prince of Wales, Clifford, and Nor- 

TRU MBERLXSG, with Forccs. 

Q.Mar. W^elcome, my lord, to this brave 

town of York. 

Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy. 

That sought to be encompiss'd with your 

cro\vn: [lord? 

' Doth not the object cheer your heart, my 

' K. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that 
fear their wreck ; — 
To see this s^ght, it irks my very soul. — 
Withhold revenge, dearr;od ! 'tis noi my fault, 
Not wittingly have I infiiagcd my vow. 

cur. My gracious liege, this too much lenity 
And haruifnl pity, iviusi he laid aside. 
I o whom do lions cas't their gentle look« '( 
Not to the beast that. would usurp their den. 
Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? 
Not his, that spoils her young befc^re her faco» 



Lofty. 



t Why then tilings are as they should be. 1 Foolu»hly. 



Scene rn THIUD PART OF KING HEMRY VI. 



593 



VVlu) 'scapes the lurking: serpent's inori.il sting I • 
InoI he, that sets his foot upoa her back. 
The smallest worm will luru, being trod^len 
on; [brood. 

And fioves will peck, in safeguard o^ tiieir 
Ambitious York ('.id level at thy crown, 
Ihou siiiiling, while he knit his an^ry brows : 
He, but a duke, would have his son a king. 
And raise his issue, like a loving sire ; 
Thou, being a king, bless'd witL a goodly son, 
Didst yield consent to disinherit him, 

* Which argued thee a most unloving father. 
Unreasonable credtnres teed their >oung : 
And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, 
Yet, in protection of their tender ones, 
Who hath not seen them (even with those 

wings [flight, 

Which sometime they have used with fearful 

Make war with him that climb'd unto their 

nest, [fence? 

Offering their own livei in their young's de- 
For shame, my liege, make them your prece- 
Wtre it not pity that this goodly boy [dent! 
Should lose his birthright by his father's fault; 
And long hereafter say unto his child, — 
What 7ny great grandfather and grandsire 
Mycareless father fondly* gate away ? [goty 
Ah, what a shame were this ! Look on the boy ; 
And let his manly face, which promiseth 
Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart, 
To hold thine own, and leave thine own with 

him. [orator, 

K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play'd the 

Inferring arguments of mighty force, [hear, — 

* But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never 
That tilings ill got had ever bad success ? 
And happy always was it for thit son. 
Whose father for his hoarding went to hein 
I'll leave my son my viituou* deeds behind ; 
And 'would, my father had left me no more I 
For all the rest is held at such a rate, 

* As brings a thousand-fcid more care to keep, 

* Than in possession any jotof pleasure, [know. 
Ah, cousin York ! 'svould thy best friends did 

* How it doth grieve me that thy head i& here ! 

* Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits ; 
our foes are nigh, [faint. 

* And this soft courage makes your followers 

* You promised knighthood to our forward son; 

* Unsheath your sword, and dub him pre- 
fently. — Edward, kneel down. 

K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet,arise a knight; 

And learn this lesson, — Draw thy sword in 

right. [leave, 

Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly 

I'll draw it as apparent to the crown. 

And in that quarrel use it to the death, [prince. 

Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward 

Enter a Messenger. 
Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness: 

* For, with a band of thirty thousand men. 
Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of 

York; 
And, in the towns as they do march along, 
Proclaims him king, and many fly to him : 
Darraign your battle t, for they are at ha-nd. 



C'lil. I would, your highness would depart 

thf field; [sent. 

The queen hath best success when you are ab- 

Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord, and le ive us to 

our fortune. [fore I'll stay. 

A' Hen. VV hy, that's my fortune loo ; there- 

North. Be it with resolution then to fight. 

Prince. My ro>al father, cheer these noble 

lords, 

And hearten those that fight in your defence : 

Unsheath your sword, good father ; cry, Saint 

Georne ! 
March. Enter Edward, George, Rich- 
ard, Warwick, Inoriolk, Montague, 
and Soldiers. 

Edw. ISow, perjured Henry ! wilt thou kneel 
' And yet thy diadem upon my head ; [for grace, 

* Or bide the mortal fortune of the field? 

Q. Mar. Go, rate thy minions, proud in- 
sulting boy ! 

* Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms, 

* Before thy sovereign, and thy lawful king? 

EdW. I am his king, and he should bow his 
I was adopted heir by his consent: [knee ; 

Since when, his oath is broke ; for, as 1 hear. 
You — that are king, though he do wear the 

crown, — 
Have caused him, by new act of parliament, 
' To blot out me, and put his own son in. 

* Clif. And reason too ; 

Who should succeed the father, but the son? 
'Rich. Are you there, butcher?— O, lean- 
not speak ! [swer thee, 

* Clij^. Ay, crook-back ; here I stand, to an- 

* Or any he the prcudest of thy soil. 

Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, 

was it not? [fied, 

Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satis- 
Rich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to 

the fight. [.yield the crowm? 

War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou 
Q. Mar. W^hy, how now, long-tongued 

Warwick 1 dare you speak? 
When you and 1 met at Saint Al ban's last. 
Your legs did better service than your hands. 
iVar. Then 'twas my turn to fly, an^ now 

'tis thine. [y«n ^^A, 

Clif. You said so much before, and yet 
War. *Twas notyour valour, Clifford, drove 

me thence. [make you stay. 

* North. No, nor your manhood, that durst 
Rich. iSorthumberiai.d, I hold thee re- 
verently ; — 

Break off the parle ; for scarce I can refrain 
The execution of my big-swoln heart 
Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. 
Clif. I slew thy father : CalTst thou him a 
child? [coward, 

Rich. Ay, like a dastai-d, and a tre.icherous 
As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland ; 
But, ere sun-set, I'll make thee curse the deed. 
K. He7i. Have done with words, my lords, 
and hear me speak. [thy lips, 

Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close 
K. Hen. I pr'ythee, give no limits to my 
tongue. 



Fooliihly. 



t i. c.^ Arrange your host, put your host in order. 
3S t 



.594 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act II ' 



1 am H kiiiji, rtiid pi iviltiged to speak. 

( lij. M\ litji*-', ilic wound, ttiat bred this 
- ineeiiiv^ here, 
Caniiot be cured by words; therefore be still. 

/fie//. I hen,executioner,iin8heatlithy sword: 
Bv liiin that made us all, 1 am resolved*, 

* That Cliftord's manhood lies upon his tongue. 

* £du'. Say, Henry, shall 1 have my rigLt, 

or no.' 
A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day, 
That ne'er shall dine, unless thou yield the 

crown. [head ; 

fVar. If thou deny, their blood upon thy 
For York in justice puts his armour on. 

* Pnnce. If that be right, which Warwick 

says is rigiit. 
There is no wrong, but every thing is right. 
Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother 
stands ; 
For, well 1 \vot,thouhastthy mother's tongue. 
Q. Mar, But thou art neither like thy sire, 
But like a toul misshapen stigmatic, [nor dam ; 
Mark'd by the destinies* fo be avoided, 

* As venom toads, or lizards* dreadful stings. 

Hull Ircm of Naples, hid with English gill j. 
Whose father bears the title of a king, 
(As if a channel ^ should be call'd the sea,) 

* Shaniest thou not, knowing whence thou art 

extraught, 

* To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart ||? 

Edtv. A wisp of straw were worth a thou- 
sand crowns, 
To make tiiis shameless calletH know herself. — 

* Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, 

* Although thy husband may be Menelaus**; 

* And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother 

wrong'd 

* By that false woman, as this king by thee. 

* His father reveli'd in the heart of France, 
And tamed the king, and made the Dauphin 

stoop ; 
And, had he match'd according to his state, 
He miiiht have kept that glory to this day ; 
But, when betook a beggar to his bed. 
And graced thy poor sire witlihis bridal day; 

* Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for 

him [France, 

* That WHsh'd his father's fortunes forth of 
And lieapM sedition on his crown at home. 

* For what hath broach'd this tumult, but thy 

pride? 
Hadst I hon been meek, onr title still had slept ; 
And we, in pity of the gentle king. 
Had slipp'd our claim until another age. 

* Ceo, But, when we saw our sunshine made 

thy spring; 
' And that thy summer bred us no increase. 
We set the axe to thy usurping root : [selves, 
And though the edge hath something hit vwr- 

* Yet,know thou, since we have begun to strike, 

* We'll never leave, till we have hewn thee 

down, 
Or bit bed thy growing with our heated bloods. 
Edn\ And, in this resolution, 1 dety thee ; 



Not willing any longer conference, 
Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.— 
Sound trumpets ! — let our bloody colours wavei 
And either victory, or else a grave. 

Q. Mar. Stay, Kdward. [longer stay: 

Edw. No, wrangling woman ; we'll no 
These words will cost ten thousand lives to- 
day.. S^Exeunt, 

SCENE III. A Field of Battle between 

Towton and Saxton in Yorkshire. 
Alarums: Excursions, Enter Warwick, 

* War, Forspent with toil, as runners with a 
I lay me down a little while to breathe : [race 
For strokes received, and many blows repaid. 
Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of iheii 

strength, 

* And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile. 

Efiter Edward, running. 
Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, un 
gentle death ! [clouded* 

* For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is 

War. How now, my lord ? what hap 1 w hat 
hope of good ? 

Enter George. 

* Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad 

despair; 

* Our ranks are broke, and ruin follow^s us: 

' What counsel give you, whither shall we flyt 

* Edtv. Bootless is flight, they follow us 

with wings ; 
' And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit. 
jE'w^tr Richard. 

* Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou with- 

drawn thyself? [drunk, 

* Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath 

* Eroach'd with the steely point of (Clifford's 

lance : 

* And, in the very pangs of death, he crie^, — 
' Like to a dismal clangor heard from far, — 

' WaruicKy renfigel brother, revenge my 

death ! 
' So underneath the belly of their steeds, 

* Ihat stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking 

blood, 

* The noble gentleman gave np the ghost. 

* War. Then let the earth be drunken with 

our blood : 
I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. 

* Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, 

* \\ ailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; 

* And look upon tt, as if the tragedy [tors i 

* Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting ac- 
' Here on my knee 1 vow to God above. 

' I'll never pause again, never standstill, [mine> 
' Till either death hath closed these e>es of 
' Or fortune given me measure of revenge. 
Edw. O W arwick, 1 do bend my knee with 
thine; 

* And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine. — 

* And, ere my knee rise froiu the earth's cold 

face, [Tlue, 

* I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to 
Thou setter up and plucker down of kings! 



• It is my firm persuasion. + One branded by nature. t ^i'^ " ^ superficial covering 
of '^old. 5 Kennel was Uien pronounced channel. 1| To show thy meanness ot birth by 

•hy indccent'railing. % Drab. •• i. c, A cuckold. ti And are mere spectators. 



■-e II!.\ 



THIRD PART OF KING IlKNRY VI. 



595 



* i esct'cliing thee, — if wilh thy will it stands, 

* That to my toes \\\\9 body niu*t be prey, — 

* Vet that th\ brazen ^ates of heaven may ope, 

* And give sweet passaiie to my sinful rouI! — 

* Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, 

* Where-e'ei it be, in heaven, or on earth. 

* Rich. Brother, siive me thy hand ; — and, 

gentle Warwick, 

* Let me embrace thee in my weary arms: — 

* I, that did never weep, now melt with woe, 

* That winter should cut oflF our spring-time so. 

* War. Away, away ! Once more, sweet 

lords, farewell. 

* Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops, 

* And give them leave to fly that will not stay ; 
And call them pillars, that will stand to us ; 

* And, if they thrive, promise them such re- 

wards 

* As victors wear at the Olympian games : 

* Thts may plant courage in their quailing* 

breasts ; 

* For yet is hope of life, and victory. — 

* Fore-slow + no longer, make we hence amain. 

{Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. The same. Another Part of 

the Field. 
Excursions. Enter Richard and Clif- 
ford. 

* Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee 

alone : 

* Suppose, this arm is for the duke of York, 

* And this for Rutland ; both bound to re- 

venge, 

* Wert thou environ'd vrith a brazen wall. 

Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here 
alone : 
This is the hand, that stabb'd thy father York ; 
And this the hand that slew thy brother Rut- 
land ; [death, 
And here's the heart, that triumphs in their 
An*l cheers these hands, that slew thy sire and 
To execute the like upon thyself; [brother. 
And so, have at thee. 

[They fight. Warwick enters; 
CiAVFOKM fiies. 

* Rich, i^'ay, Warwick, single out some 

other chase ; 

* For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE V. Another Part of the Field. 
Alarum. Eiiter King Henry. 

* K. Hen. This battle fares like to the 

morning's war, [light ; 

* When dying clouds contend with growing 

* What lime the shepherd. blowin;^ of his nails, 

* Can neitiier call it perfect day, nor night. 
; * Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea, 

' 'Forced by the tide to combat #ith the wind; 

Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea 
\ Forced to retire by fury of the wind : [wind ; 
\ Sometime, the flood prevails ; and then the 
j Now, one Ihe better; then, another best; 
I Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, 

Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered ; 



* So is the equal poise of this fell war. 

* Here on this molehill will I sit me down. 

* To whom God will, there be the victory I 

* Fur iMargaret my queen, and Clifford too, 

* Have chid me from the battle ; swearing botl^ 

* They prosper best of all when I am thence. 

* *Wouhl I were dead ! if God's good wil 

were so : 

* For what is in this world, but grief and woe 

* O God ! methinks, it were a happy life, 

* To be no better than a homely swaia ; 

* To sit upon a hill, as I do now, 

* To carve out dials quaintly, poi*nt by point, 

* 1 hereby to see the minutes how they run : 

* How many make the hour full complete, 

* How many hours bring about the day, 

* How many days will finish up the year, 

* How many years a mortal man may live. 

* When this is known, then to dividethe times: 

* So many hours must I tend my flock ; 

* So many hours must I take my rest ; 

* So many hours must 1 contemplate ; 

* So many hours must I sport myself; 

* So many days my ewes have been with 

young ; 

* So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean ; 

* So many years ere I shall sheer the fleece : 

* So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and 

years, 

* PassM over to the end they were created, 

* Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. 

* Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how 

lovely ! 

* Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 

* To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, 

* Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy 

* To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? 

* O, yes it doth ; a thousand fold it doth. 

* And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely 

curds, 

* His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, 

* His wonted sleep nnder a fresh tree's shade, 

* All which secure and sweetly tie enjoys, 

* Is far beyond a prince's delicates, 

* His viands sparkling in a golden cup, 

* His body Ci)uched in a curious bed, [him. 

* When care, mistrust, and treason wait on 
Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his 

Father, dragging in the dead Body. 
Son. Ill blows the wind, that profits no- 
body. — 

* This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, 

* May be possessed with some store of crowns: 

* And I, that haply take them from him now 

* May yet ere night yield both my life and them 

* 'I'o some man else, as this dead man doth me. 

* Who's this ?— O God ! it is ray father's face, 

* Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd. 

* O heavy times, begetting such events! 

* From London by the king was I press'd forth ; 

* My father, being the earl of Warwick's man, 
' Came on the part of York, pressd by hii 

master; 

* And I, who at his hands received my life, 

* Have by my hands of life bereaved him — 

* Pardon me, God, I knew not what I didl-« 



* Sinking into dejection. 



t To fore-slow is to be dilatory, to loiter. 



593 



SHAKSrEARE. 



[Act It 



And pardon, father, for I knew not thee! — 

• My tears shall wipe away these blooily 

marks; [their fill. 

• And no more words, till they have flow'd 

* K, Hen, O piteous spectacle ! O bloody 

times ! 
Whilst lions war, and battle for their dens, 

• Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. — 
•Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for 

tear ; 

• And let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war, 

• Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharged 

with grief. 
Enter a Father, 2t7/o has killed his Son, with 
the Body in his Arms. 

* Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted 

me, 

• Give me thy gold, if thon hast any gold ; 

• Fi)r I have bought it with an hundred blows. 

• But let me see : — is this our foreman's face 1 

• Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son ! — 

• Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, [arise, 

• Ihrow up thine eye; see, see, what showers 

• Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, 

• Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and 

heart ! — 
' O, pity, God, this miserable age ! — 

• What stratagems*, how fell, how butcherly, 

• Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural, 

• This deadly quarrel daily do'h beget ! — 

• O boy, thy fnilier gave thee life too soon, 

• And haih bereft thee of thy life too late! - 

K. Hen. Woe above woe! grief more than 
common grief! [deeds! — 

• O, that my death \vonld stay these ruthful 

• O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity I — 

The red rose and the white are on liis face. 
The fatal colours of our striving houses: 

• The one, his purple blood right well resem- 

bles; [sent : 

• The other, his pale cheeks, metbinks, pre- 
Wither one rose, and let the other flourish ! 

• If you contend, a thousiind lives must wither. 

Son. How will my mother, for a father's 

death. 
Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied ? 
Futli. How will my wife, for slaughter of 

my son, 

• Shed seas ot tears, and ne'er be satisfied ? 

* K, Hen. How will the country, for these 

woful chances, 
' Misthink t the king, and not be satisfied 1 

* Son. Was ever son, so rued a father's death? 

* Fath. Was ever father, so bemoan'd a son? 

* K. Hen. Was ever king, so grieved for 

subjects' woe 1 [much. 

• Much is your sorrovv ; mine, ten times so 

• Son. I'll bear thee kence, where I may weep 

my fill. [t£xit,uith the Body. 

* Fafh. These arms of mine shall be thy 

winding- sheet; 

• My heait, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre; 

• For from my he iritiiine image ne'ershall go. 

• My sighing breast shall be tliy funeral beil ; 

• And so ob»equious j will thy father be, 



* Sad for the loss of thee, having no more, 

* As Priam was for all his vaii;ini sons, [will, 
I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that 
For I have murdered where I should not kill. 

[Kiit, with the Borty, 
' K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone 
with care, 
' Here sits a king more wofol than you are. 
Alarums : Excurstons. Enter Queen Mar- 
garet, Prince q/" Wales, and Exeter. 

* Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your 

friends are fled, 
' And Warwick rages like a chafed bull: 

* Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. 

* Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord, towards 

Berwick post amain : [hounds 

' Edward and Richard, like a brace of gf^y- 
' Having the fearful flying hare in sight, 

* With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wr ?th, 

* And bloody stetl grasp'd in their ireful hauds, 

* Are at our backs; and therefore hence ara.iia. 

* Exe. Away ! for vengeance comes along 

with them: 

* Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed ; 
Or else come after, I'll away before. 

* K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good 

sweet Exeter ; 
' Not that 1 fear to stay, but love to go 

* Whither the quten intends. Forward : 

away ! [Exeunt, 

SCENE VI. The same. 
A loud Alarum. Enter Clifforv, wounded. 

* Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here 

it dies, 
Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light. 
O, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow, 
jVfore than my body's parting with my soul. 
My love, and fear, glew'd many friends t* 

thee ; 
' And, now I falljhy tough commixtures melt- 
Impairing Henry, strength'niug mis-proua 

York, 
The common people swarm like summer flies : 
And whither fly the gnats, but to the sun ? 
And who shines now but Henry's enemies ? 
O Phoebus! hadst thou never given consent 
That Phaeton sliould check thy fiery steeds, 
Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth : 
And, Henry, hanst thou sway'd askijigssiiouid 
Or as thy father, and his father, did, (do. 

Giving no ground unto the house of York, 

* They never then had sprung like summer 

iUes ; 

* I, and ten thousand in this Luckless realm, 
Had left no mournini; widows for onr death, 
And thou this day hadst keptthy chairin peace. 
For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air i 

* And what makes robbers bold, but ioo much 

lenity? [wounds; 

Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my 

* No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight: 
The foe is meiciless, and >vill not pity ; 
For, at their hands, I have deserved no pity. 
' The air huth got into my deadly wounds. 



• This word here means dreadful events. t Think anfavourably of. 

T Careful of obsequies, or funeral rites. 



Scene VL] THIRD PART OF KIXG HENRY VI. 



597 



And much effuse of blood doth make me 
faint : — [rest ; 

Come, York, and Richard, Warwick, and the 
I stabb'd your father's bosoms, split my 
breast. \^H' faints. 

Alarum uii-d Retreat. Enter Edward, 
George, Richard, Montague, War- 
wick, and Soldiers. 

* Edw. I^ow breathe we, lords; good for- 

tune bids us piuse, 

* And smooth the frowns of war with peace- 

ful looks. — 

* Some troops pursue the bloody-minded 

queen ; — [king, 

'That led calm Henry, though he were a 

* As doth a sail, fili'd with a fretting gust, 

* Command an argusy to stem the waves, [them? 
' Bat think you, lords, that Clifford tied with 

War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape : 
For, though before his face I speak the words. 
Your brother Richard mark'd him for the 
grave : 

* And, whereso'er he is, he's surely dead. 

[Clifi ORD groansyund dies. 

Ediv. Whose soul is that which takes her 

heavy leave? [departing*. 

Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death^s 

Edw. See who it is : and now the battle's 

ended, 

If friend, or foe, let him be gently used. 

* R.ch. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 

'tis Clifford ; 

* Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch 

* In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, 
' Put set his murdering knife unto the root 

* From whence that tender spray did sw<;etly 

spring, 

* I mean our princely father, duke of York. 

\^ar. From off the gates of York fetch 

down the head, [there : 

Your father's head, which Clifford placed 

* Instead whereof let this supply the room; 
Measure for measure must be answered. 

Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to 

I our house, 

' That nothing sung but death to us and ours : 

* Now death shall stop his dismal threatening 

sound, 

' And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. 

[Attendants bring the Body forivard. 

War. I think his understanding is bereft : — 

Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks 

to thee? — [life. 

Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of 

And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say. 

Rich. O, *would he did I and so, perhaps, 

he ioth; 
Tis but '.is policy to counterfeit, 



* Because he would avoid such bitter taunts, 

* Which in the time of death he gave our 

father. [words t. 

Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager 
Rich. Chitord, ask mercy, and obtain no 

grace %. 
Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. 
War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. 
Geo. While we devise. fell tortures tor thy 

faults. [to York. 

* Rich* Thou didst love York, and I am son 
Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity 

thee. [you now? 

Geo. Where's Captain Margaret, to fence 
War. They mock thee, Clifford ! swear a» 

thou wast wont. 

* Rich. What, not an oath? nay, then the 

world goes hard, [oath : — 

* When Clifford cannot spare his friends au 
I know by that he's dead; And, by my soul, 

* If this right hand would buy two hours' life. 
That 1 in all despite might rail at him, 

* This hand should chop it off; and with the 

issuing blood 
Stifle the villain, whose unstaonched tbirst 
York and young Rutland could not satisfy. 
War. Ay, but he's dead: off with the trai- 
tor's head, 
And rear it in the place your father's stands. — 
And now to London with triumphant march. 
There to be crowned EnsjUnd's royal king. 

* From whence shall Warwick cut the sea t* 

France, 
And ask the lady Bona for thy queen : 
So shalt thou sinew both these lands together ; 

* And, having France thy friend, thou shalt 

not dread 
The scatip.r'd foe, that hopes to rise again; 
For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, 
Y"et look to have them buz, to ottend thine 
First, will 1 see the coronation; [ears, 

' And then to Brittany Pil cross the sea. 
To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. 
Ediv. Even as thou will, sweet Warwick, 
let it be : 

* For on thy shoulder do I build my teat; 

* And never will I undertake the thing, 

* Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. 
' Richard, 1 will create thee duke of Gloster; 

* And George, of Clarence ; — Warwick, as 

onrself, 

* Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best. 

Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence ; George, 
of Gloster ; 
For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous. 

War. Tut, that's a foolish observation: 
Richard, be duke of Gloster : now to Lonuoa 
To see these honours in possession. {Exeunt 



• For separation. 



t Soar words; words of asperity, 
X Favoor 



699 



SHAKSPEARE. 



ACT 111. 



SCENE I. A Chase in the North of 
England. 

JSnter 'Ttvo Keepers, ftv'^/i Cross-botvs in their 
Hands. 

• 1 Kefjy. Under this thick grown brake* 

we'll shroud ourselves; [come; 

• For thniiigh this laund t anon the deer will 

• And in this covert will we make our stand, 

• Culling the principal of all the deer. 

•i Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both 
may shoot. [cross-bow 

• 1 heejj. That cannot be; the noise of thy 

• Will scare the herd, an 1 so my shoot is lost. 

• Here stand we both, and aim we at the best; 

• And, for the time shall not seem tedious, 

• I'll tell thee what befel me on a day,j 

• In this self place where now we mean to 

stand. [he be past. 

• 2 Keep. Here comes a man, let's stay till 
Enter King He^k^^ disguisedyWith a 

Prayer-book, 
K, Hen. From .Scotland am I stern, even 
of pure love, [si^ht. 

• To greet mine ovvn land with my wishful 

• ]So, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine; 

• Thy place is till'd, thy sceptre wrung from 

thee, [anointed : 

•"Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast 
No bending knee will call thee Caesnr now, 

• No humble suitors press to speak for right, 

• No, not a man comes for redress of thee ; 
For how can I help them, and not myself? 

• 1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a 

keepei-*s fee : 
' This is the quondam king ; let's seize upon 
him. [versities ; 

• K. Hen. Let me embrace these sour ad- 

• For wise men say, it is the wisest course. 

• 2 Keep. Why linger we? let us lay hands 

upon him. 

• 1 Keep. Forbear a while; we'll hear a 

little more. 
K. Hen. My queen, and son, are gone to 
France for aid; [wick 

And, as 1 hear, the t;reat commanding War- 

• Is thither gone, to crave the French king's 

sister 

• To wife for Edward: If this news be true, 

• Poor quten, and son^your lahour is but lost ; 

• For Warwick is a subtle orator, 

• And Lewis a prince soon won with moving 

words. [him ; 

• By this account, then, Margaret may win 

• For she's a woman to be pitied much : 

• Her sighs will make a batteiy in his breast ; 

• Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; 

• The tiger will be mild, whileshedoth mourn; 

• And Nero will be tainted with remorse, 

• To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish 

tears. [give : 

• Ay, but she's come to beg; Warwick, to 
Sb«, OD hit Uft iid«, craving aid for Hinry ; 



He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. 
She weeps, and says — her Henry is deposed; 
He smiles, and says — his Edward is install'd ; 

* That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak 

no more : [^^rong, 

* Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the 

* Inferreth arguments of mighty -strength; 

* And, in conclusion, wins the king from her, 

* With promise of his sister, and what else, 

* To strengthen and support king Edward's 

place. [soul, 

* O Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thon, poor 

* Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn. 
2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'stof 

king* and queens ? [1 was born to : 

* K. Htn. More than I seem, and less than 
' A man at least, for less I should not be ; 
And men may talk of kings., and why not I? 

* 2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou 

wert a king. [that's enough. 

K, Hen. Why, so 1 am, in mind ; an(* 
2 Keep. But, if thoa be a king, where it 

thy crown ? [my head ^ 

K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not oi. 

* Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian 

stones, [lent> 

* Nor to be seen : ' my crown is call'd con- 

* A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. 

' 2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd 

with content, [tenteu 

Your crown content, and yon, must be con 

' Jo go along^ with us : for, as we think, 

' You are the king, king Edward hath deposed; 

* And we his subjects, sworn in ail allegiance, 
' Will apprehend you as his enemy. 

* K. Hen. But did you never swear, and 

break an oath ? [not now. 

* 2 Keep. No, never such an oaih, nor will 

* K. Htn. Where did you dwell, when I 

was king of England? 

* 2 Keep. Here in this country, where we 

now remain. [months old ; 

* K. Hen. 1 was anointed king at nine 

* My father and my grandfather, were kings ; 

* And you were sworn true subjects unto me? 

* And, tell me then, have you not broke yoi»r 

* 1 Keep. No; [oaths? 
For we were aubjects, but while you were 

king. [a man i 

* K. Hen. Why, am I dead ? do I not breathe 

* Ah, simple men, you know not what you 

swear. 

* Look, as blow this feather from my face, 

* And as the air blows it to me again, 

* Obeying with my wind when I do blow, 

* And yielding to another when it blows, 

* Commanded always by thegreatei gust; 

* Such is ttie li^ihiness-of you common men. 

* But do not break your oaths; for, of that sin 

* My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. 
Go where you will, the king shall be com 

manded ; 

* And be you kings; command, and I'll obey. 



Thicket. 



t A pl.iin r\tci:<led between wo*»d8 



Scene /.] 



THIRD PART O^ KING HENRY VI 



$99 



* 1 Keep, We are true subjects to the king, 

king Edward. 

* K. Hen. So would you be again to Henry, 
If lie were seated as king Edward is. 

1 Ket^y. VVe charge you, in God's name, and 
in the king's, 
To go with us unto the officers. 

* K. Hen. In God's name, lead ; your king's 

name be obey'd : 

• And what God will, then let your king per- 

[form ; 

• And what he will, I humbly yield unto. 

[Exeunt* 

SCENE XL Loudon. A Room in the Palace, 
iE/«/er King Edward,Gloster, Clarence, 
and Lady Grey. 
' K, Ediv. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Al- 
bans* field 

• This lady's husband, sir Johr. Grey, was slain, 
Hia lands then seized on by the conqueror: 
Her suit is now, to repi'ssess those lands ; 

• Which we in justice cannot well deny, 
Because in quarrel of the house of York 

• The worthy gentleman did lose his life. 

GLo, Your highness shall do well, to grant 
he'" suit ; 

• It were dishonour, to deny it her. 

K. Edio. It were no less ; but yet Pll make 

* Glo. Yea! is it so? [a pause. 
I see, the lady hath a thing to grant, 

Before the king will grant her humble suit. 

Cla. He ktiows the game; How true he 

keeps the wind? \Aaide. 

' Glo, Silence ! [Aside. 

' K, ^r/w. Widow, we will consider of your 

suit ; [mind. 

*' And come some other time, to know our 

* L. Grey, Right gracious lord, I cannot 

brook delay : [now ; 

May it please your highness to resolve me 
And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me. 

* Glo. [Aside.] Ay, widow? then I'll war- 

rant you all your lands, 

• And if what pleases him, shall pleasure you. 
Fight closer, or, good faith, you'll catch a 

blow, 

* Cla. I fear her not, unless she chance to 

fall. [Aside. 

* Glo God forbid that! for he'll take van- 

tages. [Asif/e. 

* K. Edw. How many children hast thou, 

widow? tell me, 
Cla. I think, he means to beg a child of her. 

[Aside. 
GJo. Nay, whip me then; he'll rather give 

her t\vo. [Aside. 

L. Grey. Three, my most praciwns lord. 
Glo. Yon shall have four, if you'll be ruled 

bv him. [Aside. 

K. Edw. 'Twere pity they should lose 

their father's land. [then. 

Ji. Grey. Be pitiful, dread lord, antl grant ii 
K. Edit'. Lords, give us leave ; I'll try this 

widow's wit. [have leave, 

'^lo. Ay good leave • have yoa ; for you will 



* Till youth take leave, and leave you to the 

crutch. 
[Gloster «nrf Clarence retire to 
the o'her side. 

* K. Edw. Now tell me, ma 'am, do yoa 

love your children? [seit. 

* Ij. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love my- 

• K, Edw. And would you not do much, to 

do them siood ? [t tin some harm. 

• Li. Grey. To do them gooil, I would su»- 

♦ K Edw. Then get your husband's lauds, 

to do them good. [jesly. 

* Li. Grey. Therefore I came unto your ma- 

• K. Eiw. I'll tell you how these lands are 

to be got. [highness' service. 

• Li. Grey. So shall you bind me to your 

• K. Edw, What service wilt thoo do me, 

if I give them? [in me to do. 

• L. Grey. What you command, that ie»ts 

• K. Edw. But you will take exceptions to 

my boon. 

• L. Grey, No, gracious lord, except I can- 

not do it. 

• K. Ediv. Ay but thou canst do what I 

mean to ask. [grace commands, 

* Lj. Grey. Why, then I will do what your 

• Glo. He plies her hard ; and much rain 

wears the marble. [Aside, 

♦ Cla. As red as fire! nay, then her wax 

must melt. [Aside, 

L, Grey, Why stops my lord ? shall I not 

hear my task ? 
K, Edw. An easy task ; 'tis but to love a king. 
L, Grey. That's soon perform'd, because [ 
am a subject. [freely uive thee. 

K. Elw, Why then, thy husband's lands I 
Li. Grey. I take my leave with many thou- 
sand thanks. [court'sy. 
Glo. 1 he match is made; she seals it with a 

* K. Ediv. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love 

I mean. [loving liege. 

* L. Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my 

* K. Edw. Ay, but, I fear me, in another 

sense. 
What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get ? 

* E, Grey. My love till death, my humble 

thanks, my prayers; [grants. 

* That love, which virtue begs, and vi tue 

K, Edw. No, by my troth, 1 did not mean 
such love. [thonght you did. 

* L. Grey. Why, then you mean not as I 

• K. Edw. But now you partly m -.y per 

ceive my mind. [I perc< ive 

* L. Grey. My mind will never grant what 

* Your highness aims at, if I aim arisilit. 

K. E'lw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with 
thee. [in prison. 

* L, Grey, To tell you plain, I had rather lie 
K. Ediv. Why, then thou shalt not have thy 

husband's lan;is. [my dower; 

Lj.Grey. Why, then mine hojoesty shall be 
For by that loss I will not purchase them. 

• K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy chil 

firen mightily. [them and me. 

//. Grey. Herein your highress wrongs both 
But, mighty lord, this merry iuciinatioi 



• This phrase implies readir»e$s of assent. 



600 



SIIAKSPKARE. 



[Act J II 



Accords not wiih the sadness • of my suit ; 
Please you dismiss me, either with ay, or no. 
K, EdUK Ay ; if thou wilt say ay, to iiiy 
request : 
\o ; if thou dost say no, to my demand. 
JL. Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at 
an end. 

* Glo. The widow likes him not, she knits 

her brows. {Aside. 

Cla. He is the bluntest wooer in Christen- 
dom. l^Aaiae. 

* K, Edw. [Aside.'] Her looks do argue her 

replete with modesty ; 

• Her words do show her wit incomparable ; 

• All her perfections challenge sovereignty: 
One way, or other, she is for a king: 

And she fhall be my love, or else my queen. — 
Say, that king Edward take thee for hi^ queen'.' 
L,. Grey, 'lis better said than done, my 
gracious lord: 
I am a subject fit to jest withal. 
But far unfit to be a sovereign. 
K, Ediv. Sweet widow, by ray state I swear 
to thee, 
I speak no more than what my soul intends ; 
And that is, to enjoy thee for my love. 

jL. Grey. And that is more than I will yield 
unto : 

* I know, 1 am too mean to be your queen ; 
And yet too good to be your concubine. 

A'. Edw. You cavil, widow ; I did mean, 

my queen. 
JL. Grey. 'Twill grieve your grace, my 

sons should call you— father. 
K. Edw. No more, than when thy daughters 
call thee mother. 
Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children; 
And, by God's mother, 1, being bat a bachelor, 
Have other some : why, 'tis a happy thing 
To be the father unto many sons. 

* Answer no more, for thou shall be my queen. 

Glo. The ghostly father now hath done his 
shrift, [A,side. 

Cla. When he was made a shriver, 'twas for 
shift. [Aside. 

K, Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we 
two have had. 

* Glo» The widow likes it not, for she looks 

sad. [marry her. 

K. Edw, You'd think it strange if 1 should 
Cla. To whom, my lord ? 
K. Edw. Why, Clarence, to myself. 

Glo. That wouM be ten days' wonder, at 

the least. 
Cla. That's a day longer than a wonder lasts. 

* Glo. By so much is the wonder in extremes. 
K, Ediv. Well, jest on, brothers : 1 can tell 

you both, 
Her suit is granted for her husband'* lands. 
Enter a Nobleman. 
Noh, My gracious lord, Henry yonr foe is 

taken, 

And br«>ught your prisoner to your palace 

gate. [1 ower : — 

K, Eaw. See, that he be convey'd unto the 

And go we brothers, totbe man that took him. 

• The seriouJ>neM 



* To question of his apprehension. — 
'Widow, go you along; — Lords, use her 

honourable. 

[Exeunt King Edward, Lady Ck£Tj 
Ci.ARtivCL, and Lord. ' 

Glos. Ay, Edward will use women honour- l 
abl>. ' 

'Would he were wasted, m;»rrow, bones, and 
' all, [spring, 

*That from his loins no hopeful branch may 
, * To cross me from ihe goUleii time 1 look for ! ^ 

* And yet, between my soul's desire, and me, 

* (The lustful Edward's title buried,) [v.ard, 

* Is Clarence, Henry, and liii son young fcd- 

* And all the unlook'd-for issue of their bodies, \ 

* lo take their rooms, ere 1 can place myself: 
A cold premeditation for my purpose ! 

* Why, then I do but dream on sovereignty ; i 

* Like one that stands upon a pronjoniory, | 

* And spies a tar-off shore where he w^uld \ 

tread, 

* Wishing his foot were equal with his eye; 

* And chides the sea that sunders him from 

thence, ! 

* laying — he'll lade it dry to have his way : 

* So do 1 wish the crowo, being so tar off; ' 

* And so 1 chide the means that keep ma 

from it ; 

* And so 1 say-^ril cut the cansos off, 

* Flattering me with impossililities. — 

* My eyes too quick, niy heart o'erweens tOv» 

much, [them. 

* Unless my hand and strength could equal 
♦Well, say there is no kingdom then for 

Richard ; 

* ^\ hat other pleasure can the world afford 1 

* I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap, 

* And deck my b(id> in gay ornanieuts, [looks, 
Ai:d witch sweet ladina with my words and 
' () miiierahle thought! and more unlikely, 

' Than to accomplish twenty goJ<len cro\\n8! 
Why, love foreswore me in my mother's 
womb: 

* And, for I should not deal in her soft laws 

' She (li-d connpt trail nature with some bribe 
' To shrink mine arm up like a witlur'd shrub 
' To make an envious moui.tain on my back. 
Where sit;? deformity to mock niy body ; 
' To shape my legs of an unequal size ; 

* To dispropoi tion me in evtiy part, 

* Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp, 

* 'ihat carries no impression like thed»n). 
And am 1 then a man to be bt'loved ? 

' O, monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought 

* Then, since this earth affords nt> joy to me, 

* But to command, W check, to o'erbe;»r such 

* As ate of better p»r»on than myself, 

* I'll make my heaven — to dream upon the 

crown ; [hell, 

* And, w hiles T live, to account this world but 

* Lntil tiiv mi»sha^)ed trunk that bears this 

head. 

* Be round impaled + with a gloriout crown. 

* And yet I know not how to get the crown, 

* For many lives stand between me and home 

* And I, — like one lost in a thorny wood, 

t Encircled. 



Scene II,] 



THIRD PART OF KINIJ^ HENRY VI. 



601 



Thai rents the thorns, a»d is rent with the 
thorns ; 

* Seeking a way, and straying from the way ; 

• Not knowing how to find the open air, 

* But toiling desperately to find it out, — 

• Torment myself to catch the English crown : 

• And from that torment I will free myself, 

• Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. 
Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile; 

* And cry content to that which grieves my 

heart ; 

* And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, 

• And frame my face to all occasions, [shall; 

• I'll drown more sailors than the merraaid 

• 1*11 slay more gazers than the basilisk ; 

• I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, 

• Deceive more hlily than Ulysses coald, 

• And, like a Sinon, take another Troy : 
I can add colours to the cameleon ; 

* Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages, 

* And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school. 
Can 1 do this, and cannot get a crown ? 

Tut 1 were it further oflf, I'll pluck it down. 

[Exit, 

SCENE III. France. A Room in the 
Palace* 
Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King, 
and Lady Bona, attended ; the King takes 
his State. Then enter Queen Margaret, 
Prince Edward her son, and the Earl of 
Oxford. 

* K.Lew. Fair queen of England, worthy 

Margaret, [Rising. 

* Sitd^wn with us; it ill befits thy state, 

* And birth, that thou shouidst stand, while 

Lewis doth sit. [Margaret 

* Q. Mar, No, mighty king of France ; now 

• Must strike her sail, and iearu a while to 

serve, [fess, 

• Where kings command. I was, I must con- 

* Great Albion's queen in former golden days : 

* But now mischance hath trod my title down, , 

* And with dishonour laid me on the ground ; 

* Where 1 must take like seat unto my fortune, 

• And to my humble seat conform myself. 

* K.Lew Why, say, fair queen, whence 

springs this deep despair? 

* Q. Mar. From such a cause as fills mine 

eyes with tears, [in cares. 

* And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd 

* K. Lew. Whate'er it be, be ihou still like 

thysetf, 

• And sit thee by our side : yield not thy neck 

[S-eats her hy hivi. 

• To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind 
' * Still ride in triumph over all mischance. 

* Be plain, qu-t-t.-n Margaret, and tell thy grief; 

• It shall bn eased, if Fiance can yield reliL'f. 

* Q. Mar. Those gr jcious words revive my 

diooping thoughts, [speak. 

• And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to 

* iSow, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis, 

♦ That Henry, sole possessor of my love, 

* Is, of a king, become a banish'd man, 

♦ And forced to live in Scotland a forlorn ; 

• While proud ambitious Edward, duke of 

* Usurps the re^a vUle, and tke seat [York, 



* Of England's true-anointed lawful king. 

* This is the cause that I, poor Margaret, — 

* With this my son, prince Edward, Henry's 

heir, — 

* Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid ; 

* And, if thou fail us, all our hope is dor.e : 

* Scotland hath will to help, but cannot btlp; 

* Our people and our peers are both milled, 

* Our treasure seized, our soldieis put to tiight^ 

* And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight. 

• K, Lew. Renowned queen, with patience 

calm the storm, 

* While we bethink a means to break it off. 

• Q. Mar. The more we stay, the stronger 

grows our foe. [succour thee. 

* K, Lew. The more I stay, the more I'll 

• Q. Mar. O, but impatience waiteth on 

true sorrow : [sorrow : 

* And see, where comes the breeder of my 

Enter Warwick., artendfd. 

* K, Lew. What's he, approacheth boldly to 

our presence? [greatest iriend. 

Q. Mar. Our earl of Warwick, E(iv\ard's 
K. Letv. "Welcome, brave Warwick! What 

brings thee to France % 
[Descending from his State , Queen Mar« 

CARET rises. 

• Q. Mar. Ay, now begins h second storm 

to rise ; 

* For this is he that moves both wind and tide. 

* ffar. From worthy Edward, king of 

Albion, 
My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, 
J come, in kindness and unteigneil love, 
First, to do grteiings to thy royal person ; 
And, then, to crave a league ot amity ; 
And, lastly, to confirm that amity 
With nuptial knot, if thou vouchcafe to grant 
That virtuous lady Bona, thy fair sister. 
To England's king in lawful nuirriage. 

* Q. Mar. Li that go forward, Henry's hope 

is done. [in onr king's behalf, 

fVar. And, gracious madam, [To Bona.] 

* I am commanded, with your lea\ e aiul favour. 
Humbly to kiss your hand, and with niy tongue 
To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart ; 
Where fame late entering at his heedful ears. 
Hath placed thy bi3auty'>> image, and thy virtue. 

Q. Mar. King Lewis, and lady Bona, hear 
me speak, 

* Before you answer Warwick. His demand 

* S prings not from Edward's well-nieant honest 

* But from deceit, bred by necessity ; [lovtj, 

* For how can tyrants safely govern home, 

* Unless abroad they purchase great alliance? 

* To prove him tyrant, this reason may suf- 

fice, — 

* That Henry liveth still : but were he dead, 

* Yet here prince Edward stands, king Hen- 

ry's son. [and niaifiage 

* Look therefore, Lewis, that hy this league 

* Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour' 

* For though usurpers sway the rule a while, 
♦Yet heavens are just and time suppresseth 

H'ar. Injurious Margaret ! [wrongs, 

Princi. And why not queen I 

War, Because thy father Henry did usurp; 

And thou no more art prince than she is queea, 

3F 



603 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act J II 



O.iJ'. Then Warwick disannuls ^rtal John of 
Gaunt, 
Whirli di<i »ubdue the greatest part of Spain ; 
And, after John of Gaunt, lienry the fourth, 

* Whose wisdi>ni was a Jiiirror to the wisi'si ; 
Ar)d, att^M- ih it wise prince, Henry the fitlh, 
M ho h}' his prowe.os conquered all France : 
From these our Henry lineally descends. 

War Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth 
discourse. 
Yon told not, how Henry the sixth hath lost 
All tliHt which Hf nry the fitth had gotten ? 
Meihinks, these peers of France should smile 
But for the rest, — you tell a pedigree [at that, 
Of threescore and two years ; a silly time 
To make presciiption fi>r a kingdom's worth. 

* Ouf. Why, Warwick, canst thou speak 

against thy liege, 

* Whom thou oheyedst thirty and six years, 
And not bewTiiy thy tre.ison with a bliish? 

IVar. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the 
Now buckler fa'sehood with a pedigree^ [I'^ht, 
For shame, leave Henry, and call Kdward king. 

* Oj/. Call him my king, by whose injurious 

doom 

* My elder brother, the lord Aubrey Vere, 
Was (lone to deaths and more than so, my 

father. 
Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years, 

* When nature brought him to thedoor of death? 
>»o, Warwick, no ; while lile uphohls this arm, 
This arm upholds the house of Lancaster. 

IVar. And I the ht)use of York. 
A". Lejv. Queen Mai garet, prince Edward, 
and Oxford, 

* VouchsJife, at our request, to st^jnd aside, 
' Wliile 1 use finiher conference wilhW nrwick, 

*Q.Mar. Heaven grant that Warwick's 
words bewitch him not! 
{Rt tiring uitk the Piince and Oxford. 

* K, Lew. >»ow, Warv>ick, tell me, even 

upon thy coiiscii nee, 

* Is Edward your true king ? for I were loath, 
' To link u ith him that were not lawful chosen. 

War. Thf reon I pawn my credit and mine 

honour. 
K. Lew. But is he gracious in the people's 

eye 1 [tunate. 

War, Ihe more, that Henry was unfor- 
K. Lew. Then further, — all dissemblijig set 

aside, — 
' Tell me for truth the measure of his love 

* Unto our sister Bona. 

War. Such it seems, 

As may beseem a monarch like himself. 
Myself have often heard him say, and swear, 
That this his love was an eiern.d plant ; 
Whereof the root wa.> fix'd in virtue's ground. 
1 he leaves and fruit niaintaiu'd with beauty'*. 

sun ; 

Exempt trom envy •, but not from disdain, 

UnU'Ss the lady IU»na quit his pain, [resolve. 

K. Lciv. Now, bister, let us hear your firm 

Jlonu. ^ our grant, or your denial shall be 

mine :— M:»y, 

Yet Iconfeiis, [To War.] that often ere tliis 

• Malioe, or haired. 



When I have heard your king's desert recount-' 
Mine ear hatli teujpted ju( gment to desire [ed 

* K, Lnr. Ihen, Warwick, thus, — Our sis- 
ter shall be Edward's ; 

* And now forthwith shall articles be drawn 
♦Touching the jointure that }our king must 

make [poise ! : — 

* Which with her dowry shall be counter- 
Draw near, queen Margaret, and be a witness. 
That Bona shall be wite to the English king. 

Prime. To Edward, but not to the Eni;li&h 
king. [device 

* Q. Mar. Deceitful Warwick ! it was tny 

* By this alliance to make void my suit ; 

* Before thy coming, Lewis wasHenry's friend. 

* A. Litv. And still is friend to him and 
Margaret : 

* But if your title to the crown be weak, — 

* As may appear by Edwaid's liood success, — 

* Then 'tis but re ison that 1 be released 

* From giving aid, which late 1 promised. 

* Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand, 

* That your estate requires, and mine can 
yield. [ease; 

War. iJenry now lives in Scotland, at his 
Where having nothing, nolhiui; he can lo?e. 
And as for y(ju >ourself, our quo i, dam queen, 
You have a father able to maintain y* u ; 
And better 'twere, you troubled him than 
France. [Warwick, peace ; 

* Q. Mar. Peace, impudent and shamelesi 

* Proud setter up and puli'er-vlown of kings! 

* I will not hence, tiil wi h my talk and tears, 

* Both tuU of truth, 1 make king Lewis behold 
♦Thy sly conveyance t, and thy lord's false 

love ; [ther. 

* For both of you are birds of self-same fea- 
[A H&rn sounded ivithin, 

K, Leiv. Warwick, this is some post to us, 
or thee. 

Enter a Messenger. 
Mess. My loid ambassador, these letters are 
for }ou ; 
.'•ent from your brother, marquis Montague. 
These from our king unto your majesty. — 
And, madam, these for you; from whom 1 
know not. 

[7'o Margaret. They all lead their 

Lt ttt vs. 

Orf. I like it well that our fair queen and 

mistress [his. 

Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at 

Prince. Nay, mark, how Lewis stamps as 

* I hope, all'^ tor the best, [he were nettled : 

* A. Jjftv. Warwjck, what are thy news! 
and yours, fair queen i [unhoped joys. 

* Q. Mar. Mine, such as fill my heart with 
War. Mine, lull of sorrow and heart's dis- 
content, [lady Grey f 

K. hue. What has your king married the 

* And now. to sooih your forgery and his, 
' Sends me a paper to persuade me patience t 

* Is this the alliance that he seeks with France { 
' Dare he presume to scorn us in ttiis manner? 

* Q. Mar, I tohl your majesty af mucb 
before : 

JogiiUng. 



Set Hi- J I J] 



THiaD PART OF KliSG HEiNRY VI. 



a 33 



This proveth Edward's love, and Warwick's 

honesty. [of heaven, 

War. King Lew is, I here protest, — in si^ht 
And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss, — 
That 1 am clear from this misdeed of Edward's, 
No more my kiug, for he dishonours me; 
Ent most himself, if he couid see his shame. — 
L>id I forget that by the hoose of York 
My father came untimely to his death I 
Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece ? 
Bid I impale him with the regal crown ? 
Did I put Henry fron» his native right ; 
' And am I guerdon'd* at the last with shame? 

* Shame on himself! for my desert is honour. 

* And, to repair my honour lost for him, 

* I here renounce him, and return to Henry : 

* My noble queen, let former grudges pass. 
And henceforth 1 am tliy true servkor ; 

I will revenge his wrong to lady Bona, 
And replant Henry in hi» former state. 

* Q. Mar. Warwick, these words have 

tui n'd my hate to love ; 

* And I forgive and quite forget old faults, 

* And joy that thou becomest king Henry's 

friend. [friend, 

War. So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned 
') hat, if king lewis vouchsafe to furnish us 
With some few bands of chosen soldiers, 
I'll undertake to land them on our coast. 
And force the tyrant from his seat by war. 
'Tis not his new-made bride shall succour him: 

* And as for Clarence, — as my letters tell me, 

* He's very likely now to fall from him ; 

* For matching more for wanton lust than 

honour, [try. 

* Or than for strength and safety of our coun- 
» Bona. Dear brother, how shall Bona be 

revenged, 
But by thy help to this distressed queen? 

♦ Q. Mar. Renowned prince, how shall poor 

Henry live, 

* Unless thou rescue him from foul despair? 

♦ Bona. My quarrel, and thisEnglish queen's 

are one. [with yourb. 

I • War. And mine, fair lady Bona, joins 

• A. IjPW. And mine with hers, and thine, 

and Margaret's ; 
Therefore, at iast, I firmly am resolved 
YoH shall have aid. 

• Q. Mar. Let me give humble thanks for 

all at once. [in post; 

K. Lew. Then England's messenger, return 



And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, 
Tliat 1^'wis of France is sending over masker* 
To revel it with him and his new bride: [withal. 

* Thou seest what's past, go fear -r thy king 
Bona. Tell him, in hope he'll prove a wi- 
dower shortly, 

I'll wear the willow garland for his sake. 

Q. Mar. Tell him, tny mourning weeds are 
And I am ready to put armour on. [laid aside. 

War. Tell him from me, that he hath done 
me wrong ; 
And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be lon^. 
There's thy reward ; be gone. [£a7^ Mess. 

K. Lew. But, W^arwick, thou, 

And Oxford, with five thousand men, [battle: 
Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward 

* And, as occasion serves, this noble queen 

* And prince shall follow with afresh supply. 

* Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt ; 

* What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty >. 

H'ar. This shall assure my constant loyalty: 
That if our queen and this young prince agree, 
1*11 join minp eldest daughter, and my joy. 
To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands. 

* Q. Mar. Y'es, 1 agree, and thank you for 

your motion : — 
' Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous, [wick ; 

* Therefore delay not, give thy hand to War- 

* And, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable, 

* That only Warwick's daughter shall he thine. 

* Prince. Yes, I accept her, for she well 

deserves it ; 

* And here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand. 

[He gives his hand ?o Wakwick. 

* K. Lew. Why stay we now ? These sol- 

diers shall be levied, 

* And thou, lord Bourbon, our high admiral, 

* Shall waft them over with our royal fleet. — 

* 1 long till Edward fall by war's njischance, 

* For mocking marriage with a dame of France. 

[Exeunt all Out Warwick. 
War. I came from Edward as ambassador. 
But I return his sworn and mortal foe : 
Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me. 
But dreadful war shall answer his demand. 
Had he none else to make a staled, but me ? 
Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. 
I was the chief that raised him to the crown. 
And I'll be chief to bring him down again : 
Not that I pity Henry's misery. 
But seek reveage on Edward's mockery. 

{Exit, 



ACT IV. 

SCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace. 
Enter Gloster, Clarence, Somerset, 



Montague, and Other, 

* Glo. Now, tell me, brother Clarence, what 

think you 
' Of this new marriage with the lady Grey? 
• Hath not our brother made a worthy choice? 

* Cla. Alas, you know, 'tis far from hence 

to France ; I 



Ile\varded. 



t Friirht. 



* How could he stay tillWarwlck made return ? 

* Som. My lords, forbear this talk ; here 
comes the king. 

Flourish. Enter King Edward, attended; 
Lady Gkey,^^ Queen; Pembroke, Staf- 
ford, Hastings, «/jrf Others, 

* Glo. And his well-chosen bride. 

* Clar. I mind to tell him plainly what I 
think. [like you our choicr 

' K. Edw. Now, brother of Clarence, how 

; A stalkiu;; horse, a pretence. 



604 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Ant JV 



That you stand pensive, as half malconlent ? 

* Clar, As veil as Lewis of France, or the 

earl of Warwick ; [ment, 

* Whicli are so weak ot courage, and in judg- 

* Thai they'll take no oftence at our abuse. 

* K. Kdn . Suppose they takeottence without 

a CHUse, [ward, 

* They are but Lewis and Warwick ; I ara Ed- 

* Your king and Warwick's, and must have my 

will. [our kin^i : 

Glo. And yon shall have yonr will, because 

* Yet hasty niarriai:;e seldom proveth well. 

K. Etnv. Yea, brother Richard, are you of- 

* Glo. Not 1: [fended too? 

* No ; God forbid, that I should wish ihem 

sever'd ['tv^ere pity, 

'Whom God hath join'd together: ay, and 
To sunder them that yoke so well together. 

* K. Edw. Setting your scorns, and your mis- 

like, aside, 

* Tell me some reason, why the lady Grey 

* Should not become my wife, and England's 

queen : — 

* ^nd yon too, Somerset, and Montague, 

* Speak freely what you think. [Lewis 

* Clar. Then this is my opinion, — that king 

* Becomes your enemy, for mocking him 

* About the marriage of the lady B* na. [charge, 

* Glo. And Wa» wick, doing what yon gave in 

* Is now dishonored b> tl5i& new marriage. 

* K. Edfv. W hat, if both Lewis and Warw ick 

be appeitsed, 

* By such invention as I can device ? 

Mont. Yet to have join'd with France in 

Wich allinnce, [monwealih 

Would more have strengthen'd this our com- 

•Gainst foreign storms, than any home-bred 

maniHL:e. [itself 

* H'ist. Why, knows not Montague, that of 

* England is safe, if true witliin itself? 

* Mont. Yes ; bui the safer, when 'tis back'd 

with France. [ing France: 

* Hast, 'lis better using France, than trnst- 

* Let ns be back'd with God, and with the seas*, 

* Which he hath given for fence impregnable, 

* And with their helps only defend themselves ; 

* In them, and in ourselves our safety lies. 
Clar. For this one j-peech, lord Hastings 

well deserves 

* To have the heir of the lord Hnngerford. 

* AT. Edw. Ay, what of that i it was my will 

and grant ; [law. 

* And, for this once, my will bhall stand for 

* Glo. And yet, methinks, your grace hath 

not done well, 
' To give the heir and daughter of lord Scales 

* Unto the brother of your loving bride ; 

* She better would have fitted me or Clarence : 
' But in yonr bride yon bury brotherhood. 

* Cliir. Or else yoa would not have bestow'd 

the heir t 
' Of the lord Eonville on your new wife's son, 
' And leave your brothers to go speed else- 

whe» -. 



K. Edw, Alas, poor Clarence 1 is it for • 

wife 

* That thou art malcontent? I will provide tliee 

* Clar. In choosing for yourself, you show'd 

yonr judgment ; 

* Which, being shallow, you shall give me leave 

* To play the broker in mine own behalf; 

* And. to that end, 1 shortly mind to leave you. 

* K. Edtv, Leave me, or tarry, Edward will 

be king, 

* And not be tied unto his brother's wi'l. 

* ,Q. Eliz. My lords, before it pleased his ma- 

* To raise my state to title of a queen, [ josty 

* Do nte but right, and you must all confess 

* That 1 was not ignoble ot descent, [luiie. 

* And meaner than mjself have had like f.i- 

* But as this title honours me and 'mine, [ing, 

* So yonr dislikes, to whom 1 would e pleas- 

* Do cloud my joys with danger and with sor- 

row, [tiieir frowns : 

* K. Edv>. My love, forbear to faw n iipon 

* What danger, or what sorrow can befall thee, 

* So long as Edward is thy constant fiiend, 

* And their true sovereign whom they must 

obey? [too, 

* Nay, whom they shall obey, and love tRee 

* Unless they seek for hatred at my banc's : 

* Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe, 

* And they shall feel the vengeance of my w rath, 

* Glo. I hear, yet say not much, but think 

the more. [Aside, 

Enter a Messenger. ^ 

* K. Edw. Now, messenger, what letters, or 
FromFraiice? [what news, 

* Mess. My sovereign liege, no letters ; and 

few words, 

* But such a* I, without your special pardon, 
Dare not relate. 

* K. Edw. Go to, we pardon thee : there- 

fore, in brief, [guess them. 

* Tell me their words, as near as thou canst 
' What answer, makes king Lewis unto our 

letters ? [words ; 

Mess, At my depart, these were his veiy 

Go tell false Eawrd, thy supposed king,— 

That Lewis of France is sending over 

maskers 
To revel it with him avd his new bride. 
K. Edrr. Is Lew is so brave ? belike, he 
thinks mc Henry. 

* But what said lady Bona to my marriage ? 

Mess. I hese were her words, ultei'd with 

mild disdain ; [shortly y 

Tell him, in hoje he*ll prove a widmter 

Pll wear th*' wilUnv garland for his .soke. 

K. Edw. I blame not her," she could say 

little less; [queen I 

* She had ilie wrong. But what said Henry's 

* For I have heard that she was there in place:. 

Mess. Tell him, quoth she, fi>y mourning 
weeds are aone^y 
And J am ready to put armour of 

* K. £W7/'. Belike, she mindsto play the Ama- 
But whatiaid Warwick to these injuries? [z«m). 



• ThU has been the advice of every man who In any age understood and favoured the inteiesi 
of Enel^ud. t The beirt^ases of great estates were in the wardship of the king, who 

matched them to bit favourite*. ; Present. J Thrown off. 



Scene i.] 



THIRD PART OV KING HlilNRY Vt. 



605 



* Mess, He, more incensed against your 

majesty [words ; 

Than all the rest, discharged me with these 

Tell him from me, that he hath done me 

wrong, [long. 

And therefore I'll uncro^vn him, ere't be 

K, Emt\ Ha! durst the traitor breathe out so 

prond wo ids? 
Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarn*d : 

* They shall have wars, and pay for their pre- 

siiniplioii. 

* But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret? 

Mess. Ay, gracious sovereign; they are so 
link*d in friendship, [wick's daughter, 

* That young prince Edward marries War- 

Clar. lielike, the elder ; Clarence will have 
the younger. 

* Now, brother kin^, farewell, and sit yon fast, 

* For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter; 

* That, though I want a kingdom, yet in mar- 

* 1 may not prove inferior to yourself. — [riage 
You, that love me and Warwick, follow me. 

[£U?^ Clarence, cwdSoMERSLT/o/^cms. 

* Gio, .Not 1 : 

* My thoughts aim at a further matter ; I 

* Stay not for love of Edward, but the crown, 

[Aside. 

K. Edw. Clarence and Somerset both cone 

to Warwick! [pen ; 

* Yet am I arni'd against the worst can hap- 

* And liaste is needful in this desperate case — 
Pembroke, and Stafford, you in our behalf 
Go levy men, and nihke prepare for war; 
They are already, or quickly will be landed : 
Myself in person will straight follow you. 

[Exeunt Pembroke and Stafford. 
But, ere I go, Hastings,— and Montague, — 
Resolve my doubt. You twain of all the rest, 
Are near to Warwick, by blood, and by 

alliance: 
Tell me, if you love Warwick more than me ? 
If it be so, then both depart to him ; 
I rather wish you foes, than hollow friends; 
But if you mind to hold your true obedience, 
' Give me assurame with some friendly vow. 
That 1 may never have you in suspect. 
Mont. So God help Montague, as he proves 
true ! [caus« ! 

Hast. A^nd Hastings, as he favours Ed ward's 
K. Edw. ISow, brother Richard, will you 
stand by us ? [stand you. 

Glo. Ay, in despite of all that shall with- 
K, Edw. Why so; then am I sure of vic- 
tory, [hour. 

* Now therefore let us hence, and lose no 

* Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE II. A P/aiw m Warwickshire. 

Enter V/xrwick. and Oxford, withFrench 

and other Forces. 

War. Trust me, ray lord, all hitherto goes 

well ; 

The common people by numbers swarm to us. 

Enter Clarence and Somerset. 
But, see, wheie bonstrbel and Clarence come. 
Speak, suddenly, my lords, are we all friends? 
C'lur. Fear iU»i il)4l, iuy lord. ^ 



War. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome onto 
Warwick ? 
And welcome, Somerset: — I hold it cowardice 
To rest misti ustful where a noble heart 
Hath pawn'd an open hand in siiin of love; 
Else might 1 think that Clarence, Edward's 

brother, 
Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings: 
But welcome, Clareuce ; my daughtiT shall 

be thine. 
And now what rests, but, in night's coverture, 
I hy brother being carelessly eucamj/d. 
His soldiers lurking in the towns about. 
And but attended by a simple guard. 
We may surprise and take him at our plea- 
sure? [easy: 
Our scouts have found the adventure very 

* That as Ulysses, and stout Diomede, [tents, 

* With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus' 

* And brought from thence the Thracian fatal 

steeds ; 

* So we, well cover'd with the night's black 

mantle, 

* At unawares may beat down Edward's guard, 

* And seize himself; 1 say not — slaughter him, 

* For I intend but only to surprise him. — 
' You, that will follow me to this attempt, 

* Applaud thenameof Henry, with your leader. 

[They all cry, Henry I 
Why, then, let's on our way in silent sort: 
For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint 
George ! [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. Edward's Camp, near Warwick. 

Enter certain Watchmen, to guard the 
King's Tent. 

• 1 Watch. Come on, my masters, each 

man take his stand ; 

* The king, by this, is set him down to sleep. 

* 2 Watch. What, will he not to-bed? 

• 1 Watch. Why, no: for he hath made a 

solemn vow 

* Never to lie and take his natural rest, 

* Till Warwick, or himstlf, be quite sup- 

press'd. [ihe day, 

♦ 2 Watch. To-morrow then, belike, shall be 

* If Warwick be so near as men report. 

* 3 Watch. But say, [ pray, what noble- 

man is that, 

* That with the king here resteth in his tent? 

♦ 1 Watch. 'lis the lord Hastings, the king's 

chiefest friend. 
» 3 Watch. O, is it so ? But why commands 
the king, 

* That his chief folio wers lodge in towns about 

him, 

* While he himself keepeth in the cold field ? 

* 2 Watch, 'lis the more honour, because 

more dangerous. [quietness, 

* 3 U atch. Ay ; but give me worship and 

* I like it better than a dangerous honour. 

* It Warwick knew in what estate he stands, 

* 'TIS to be doubted, he would waken him. 

* 1 Watch. Unless our halberds did shut up 

his passage. [his royal tent 

• 2 W utcn. Ay ; wherefore eLse guard we 

* i'>iit toviefciv' 'ids person rrom night fotfsl 

3 F iJ 



603 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act If 



Enter Warwick, Clak£nce, Oxford, So- 
merset, awr/ forces. 

* ff'ar. This is his tent; and see, where 

stand his guard. 

* Courage, my masters : honour now, or never ! 
' But follow me, and Edward shall be ours. 

1 yVatcli. Who goes tlieref 

2 lyutcli. Stay, or thou diest. 
Warwick, and the rest, cry all — Warwick! 

Warwick! and set upon the Guard; 
li/iu/ly, crying — Arm! Arm! War- 
wick, and the rest,Jollotvbig them.. 
Tli€ Drum beating, and Trumpets sound- 
ing. Re-etiter Warwick, and the re^t, 
bringing the King out in a Gown, sittirig 
in a Chair; Gloster and HASTiNGsy?y. 

• Som. Wliat are they that Hy tliere ? 

* War. Richard and Hastings : let them go, 

here's the duke. 
K. Edw, The duke! why, Warwick, when 
we parted last. 
Thou call'dst me king? 

War, Ay, but the case is alter'd : 

* When you disgraced me in my embassade, 

* 1 hen I degraded you from being king. 
And come now to create you duke of York. 
Alas I how should you govern any kingdom. 
That know not how to use ambassadors; 
>Jor how to be contented with one wife ; 
Mor how to use your brothers brotherly; 

* Nor how to study for the people's welfare ; 
Nor how to shrowd yourself from enemies? 

* K. Edw. Yea, brother of Clarence, art 

thou here too? 

* Nay, then 1 see, that Edward needs must 

down. — 

* Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance, 

* Ot thee tlij^self, and all thy complices, 
Edward will always bear himself as king : 

•Though fortune's malice overthrow my state, 

* My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel. 
War. Then, for his mind*' be Edward Eng- 
land's king : \Takes q^ his Crown. 

But Henry now shall wear the English crown, 

* And Je true king indeed ; thou but the sha- 

dow. — 

* My lord of Somerset, at my request, 

* See that forthwith duke Edward be convey'd 

* Unto my brother, archbishop of York. 

* When 1 have fought with Pembroke and his 

fellows, 

* I'll follow you, and tell what answer 

* Lewis, and the la«ly Bona, send to him : — 
Now, for a while, farewell, good duke of York. 

• K. Edtc. VVhat fates impose, that men 

must needs abide; 

• Ii boots not to resist both wind and tide. 
{Exit King Edward, Led out ; So>ikrs£T 

witiL him. 
O.iJ'. What now remains, my lords, for us to 

* BiU march to London with oursoldieis ? ^.lo 
H ar. Ay, that's the first thing that we have 

to do ; 
To free king Henry from imprisonment. 
And «ee him seated in the regal throne. 

IKceunt. 



SCENE IV. London. A Room in the 

Palace. 
Enter Queen Elizabeth and Rivers. 

* Riv. Madam, what makes you iu this sud- 

den change? {to learn, 

* Q. Eliz. \\ hy, brother Rivers, are you yet 

* What late niisfortune is befall'n kin^Edward^ 

Riv. What, loss of some pitched battle 
against Waiwick? [person. 

* Q. Eliz. No, but the loss of his own royal 

* Riv. Then is my sovereign slain! 

* Q. Eliz. Ay, almost slain, for he is taken 

prisoner ; 
' Either betrayed by falsehood of his guard, 

* Or by his foe surprised at unawares : 

* And, as I further have to understand, 

* Is new committed to the bishop of York, 

* Fell Warwick's brother, and by that our toe. 

* Riv. These news, I must confess, are lull 

of grief: 

* Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may ; 

* W arwick may lose, that now hath won the 

day. [life's decay. 

* Q. Eliz. Till then, fair hope must hinder 

* And I the rather wean me from despair, 

* For love of Edward's otfspiing in my womb : 

* This is it that makes me bridle passion, 

* And bearwith mildness mymisfortune's cross; 

* Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a tear, 

* And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs, 

* Lest with my sighs or tears 1 blast or drown 

* King Edward's fruit, true heir to the EuLdish 

crown. [become? 

* Rii . But, madam, where is Warwick then 

* Q. Eliz. 1 am informed, that he comes to 

wards London, 

* Toset the crown once more on Henry's head : 

* Guess thou the rest; king Edward's friends 

must down. 

* But, to prevent the tyrant's violence, [faith,) 

* (For trust not him that hath once broken 

* I'll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary, 

* To save at least the heir of Edward's right; 

' There shall I rest secure from force and 
fraud. [Hy ; 

* Come therefore, let us fly, while we may 

* If Warwick take us, we are sure to die. 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE V. A Park near Middleham Castle 

in Yorkshire. 

Enter Gloster, Hastings, Sir William 

Stanley, arid Others. 

* Glo. Now, my lord Hastings, and sir Wil 

liam Stanley, 
' Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither, 

* Into this chiefest thicket of the parku 
'Thus stands the case: You know, our king, 

my brother, 

* Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hand* 

* He hath good usa«4e and great liberty ; 

* And often, but attended with weak guard. 

* Comes hunting this way to disport hiinself, 

* I have dverlised him by secret means, 

' That if about this hotir, he make this way. 



• 



• i. c. In his mind ; as far as hit' own miud i;« es- 



THIRD PAP,,T OF KING HENRY VI. 



607 



Under the colour of his usual game, [men, i 
He shall here find his friends, with horse and 
To set him free from his captivity. 

E ter King Kuvvard, and a Huntsman. 

'Hunt. Ihis way, my lorci ; for this way 
lies the game, [the huntsmen stand. — 

' K. Edw. ^ay, this way, man; see, where 

Now, brother of Gioster, lord Hastings, and 

the rest, [deer? 

Stand you thus close, to steal the bishop's 

* Glo. Brother, the time and case requireth 

haste ; 
Your horse stands ready at the park corner. 

* K. Edw. But whither sh>dl we then? 

* Hast. To Lynn, my lord; and ship from 

thence to Flanders, [was my mea*.iing. 

* Glo. Well guessM, believe me; for that 

* K, Edw. Stanley, I will requite thy for- 

wardness. [to talk. 

* Glo. But wherefore stay we? *tis no time 

* K. Eiitv. Huntsman, what say'st thou? 

wilt thou sjo alon»? [hangM. 

* Hunt. Better do so, than tarry and be 

* Glo. Come then, away ; let's have no more 

ado. [from Warwick's frown ; 

* K. Edw. Bishop, farewell : shielil thee 
And pray that I may repossess the crovvn. 

\^Exeunt. 

SCENE VI. A Room in the Toiver. 
EnterKiu^ Henry, Clarence, Warwick, 

SOMEKSET, yoUil^ RICHMOND, OxFORD, 

Montague, Lieutenant of the Tower , and 
Attendants. 

* K. Hen. Master lieutenant, now that God 

and friends 
•Have shaken Edward from the regal seat; 
•And luru'd my cii)tive state to liberty, 

• My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys; 
•At our ent.irgement what are thy due fees? 

* Lieu. Subjects may challenge nothing of 

their sovereii^ns ; 

* But, if an humble prayer may prevail, 

* 1 then crave pirdon of your majesty. 

* K. Htn. For what, lieutenant? lor well 

using me? [ness, 

♦ Nay, be thou sure, I'll well requite thy kind- 

♦ Fortliat it made my im[)risonmenta pleasure: 

• Ay, such a pleasure as incaged ; irds 

* Conceive, v/hen, after many moody thoughts, 

* At last, by notts of household harmony, 
*Tl)ey qnlty forget their loss of liberty. — 

* But, Warwick, afier God, thou set'st me free, 

* And chiefly , therefore, I thank God, and thee ; 

• He was the antlior, thou the instrument. 

• Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite, 
^ By living low, where fortime cann«)t iun t me ; 

• And that the people of this blesstd land 

* May not be puuisU'd with iny thwarti.ig stars; 
Warwick, although my head still wear the 
1 here resign my government to iliee, [crown. 
For thou an fortunate in all thy deeds. 

* IVar. \ onr grace hath still been famed for 
, virtuous ; 

ll And now may seem as wise as virtuous, 
f By spying, ami avoiding, fortune's malice. 



* For few men rightly temper with the stars* : 

* Yet in this one thing let me blame your grace^ 

* For choosing me, when Clarence is in placet. 

* Clar. No, Warwick, thou art worthy o^, 

the sway, 

* To whom the heavens, in thy nativity, 

* Adjudged an olive branch, and laurel crown, 

* As likely to be blest in peace and war; 

* And therefore I yield thee my free consent. 

* War. >nd I choose Clarence only for puo- 

tector. [both your hands ; 

* K. Hen. Warwick, and Clarence, give me 

* Now join your hands, and with your hands, 

your hearts, 

* That no dissension hinder government : 

' 1 make you both protectors of this land; 

* While I myself will lead a private life, 

* And in devotion spend my latter days. 
To sin's rebuke, and my Creatoi's rr<*ise. 

War. What answeis Clarence to his sove- 
reign's will? [consent; 

* Clar. That he consents, if Warwick yield 

* For on thy fortune 1 repose myself. 

* War. Why then, though loath, yet must I 

be content: 

* We'll yoke together, like a double shadow 

* To Henry's body, and supply his place ; 

* I mean, in bearing weight of govern. nent, 

* While he enjoys the honour, and ids ease. 
♦Anil, Ct irence, now then it is more than 

needful, [traitor, 

♦Forthwith that Edward be pronounced a 

* And all his lands and goods be contisfate. 
Clar. Wh it else? and that succession be de- 
termined, [his part. 

* War. Ay, therein Clarence shall noi want 

* K. Hi n. But, with the first of all your 

chief affairs, 

* Let m>e entreat, (for I command no more,) 

* That Margaret your queen, and my son Ed- 

ward, [speed .■ 

* Be sent for, to return from France with 

* For, till I see them here, by doubtful fear 

* My joy of liberty is half eclipsed, [all speed. 
Clar. It shall be ilone, my sovereiirn, with 
' K. Hen. My lord of Somerset, what youth 

is that, 

* Of whom you seem to have so tender care? 

' Som. My liege, it is young Henry, earl oi 
Richmond. [secret powers 

* A. Hen. Come hither, England's htjpe : U 

[Lays his Hand on his Heaa 
' Suggest but truth to niy divining thou-hts, 
'This pretty lad I will prove our country's 

* His looks are full of peaceful majesty ; [bliss. 
' His head by nature framed to wear a crown, 

* His hand to wield a sceptre; and himself 
' Likely, in time, to bless a regal throne. 
Make much of him, my lords; for this is he, 

' Must help you more than you are hurt by me. 
Enter a Messenger. 

* War. What news, my friend? [brother, 

* Mes*>\ That Edwar 1 is escaped fiom you«* 

* And tied, as he hears since, to Burgundy. 

* War. Unsavoury news: But how madt* 

he escape? 



* Few men conform their temper to their destiny, t Present. J Afterward Henry VH. 



«>os 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[.4c/ IV. 



* Mess. Hf was> convey 'd by iiicharn duke 

ot Gloster, 

• And tlie lord Hastings, who attended* him 

• In secret am msh on tlie forest side, ^ 

• And tioin the bis. op'.s hnnlsmen rescued him; 

• For huntint^ was his daily exercise [chaf^je. — 

* H or. My brother was toi> careless oi his 

• Bnt lit ns hence, my soveieign, to provide 

• A salve tor any sore that ma) betide. 

[Kieu/tt King Henry, VVar., Clar., 
Lieut., (ififl Attendants. 

* Som. My lord, I like not of this tiight of 

Edward's; [help; 

•For, doubtless. Burgundy will yield him 

• And we shall have more wars, before't be 

• As Henry's late p<esai:ing prophecy [long. 

• iJid glad my heart, with hope of this young 

Richmond ; [flicts 

• So doth my heart misgive me, in these coi>- 

• What may befall him, to his harm, and ours : 

• Therefore, lord Oxford, to prevent the worst, 

• Forthwith we'll send him hence to Britany, 
•Till storms be past of civil enmity, [crown, 

* Oaf. Ay ; for, if Edward repossess the 

• Tis like, that Richmond with the rest shall 

down. 

* Som, It shall be so ; he shall to Britany. 

• Come, therefore, let's about it speedily. 

[Exeu?it. 
SCENE VII. Be/ore York. 
Enter King Edward, Gloster, Hastings, 
u7Ki Forces. 

* K, Edw. Now, brother Richard, lord 

Hastings, and the rest ; 

• Yet thua far fortune maketh us amends, 

• And says — that once more I shall interchange 

• My waned state for Henry's regal crown. 

• Well have we pass'd, and now repass'd the 

seas, 
' And brought desired help from Burgundy: 

• What then remains, we being thus arrived 

' From Ravenspurg haven before the gates of 
York, 

• But that we enter, as into our dukedom? 

* GLo. The gates made fast! — Brother, 1 like 

not this ; [hold, 

♦For many men, that stumble at the thr« s- 

• Are well foretold — that danger lurks within. 

* K. Edw. Tush, man! abodements must 

not now altright us : 

• By fair or foul means we must enter in, 

• For hither will our friends repair to us. 

* Hast. My liege, I'll knock once more, to 

summon them. 
Enter, on tlie fValls^ the Mayor (/York, 
ami his Brethren. 

* May. My lords, we were forewarned of 

your coming. 
And shut the gates for safety of ourselves ; 
For now we owe allegiance unto Henry. 
' K. Eaw. iiut, master mayor, if Henry be 

your king, 
^ ft Edward, at the least, is duke of York. 

* Muy. True, my good lord ; I know you 

tor no icbs. 



I * K, F4w. Why, and 1 challenge nothing 
j but my dukedom ; 

! • As being well content with that alone. 
j * Gio. Hut, wlieu the fox hath once got i» 
his nose 

* iie'll soon lind means to make the bod> 
;• follow. \^A.siiit 

I * Hast. Why, master mayor, why stanr 
! you iti a doubt ? 

i Open the gates, we are king Henry's friends 
' May. Ay, say you so? the gates shad the*, 
be open*d. {EjLciitit fro>n aho/e- 

* Glo. A wise stout captain, and per.-uaded 

soon! [all were well, 

* Ha^t. The good old man would fain that 

* So 'twere not 'long of himt: but, beiaj 

enler'd, 

* I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade 

* Both him, and all his brothers, unto reason. 
He-enter the Mayor arid Two Aldennen, 

belo7v. 

* K. Ediv. So, master mayor, these gatet 

must not be shut, 

* But in the night, or in the time of war. 

* What! fear not, man, but yield me up th^ 

keys ; [Takes his Keys 

' For Edward will defend the town, and the* 
' And all those friends that deign to follow mc 
Drum. Enter Montgomery, and Force^_ 
tnarchinq,. 
Glo. Brother, this is sir John Montgomery. 
Our trusty friend, unless 1 be deceived. 

* K. Edw. Welcome, sir John I but wh/ 

come you in arms ? [storn»_ 

Mont. To help king Edward in his time oi 
As evejy loyal subject ought to do. 

* K. Edw. Thanks, good Montgomery : Bti 

we now fori^et ^ 

* Our title to the crown ; and only claim 

' Our dukedom, till God please to send thi 
reft. [again; 

* Mont. Then fare you well, for I will hence 
I came to serve a king, and not a duke. — 

* Drummer, strike up, and let us march away. 

[/I March begun, 

* K. Etiw. Nay, stay, sir John, a while; 

and we'll debate, [cover'd. 

' By what s;ife means the crown may be re 

' Mont. What talk you of debating? In fev» 

words, [king, 

* If you'll njt here proclaim yourself our 
' I'll leave you to your fortune; and le gone. 
To keep them b.ick that come totuccour you ; 
Why ."Should we fiuht, if >ou pretend no lillel 

' Glo. Why, broilur, wherefore .^i.md you 
on nice points ? 

* K. E<Uv. VV hen we grow stronger, then 

we'll make (»ur claim: [i»g* 

* Till then, 'tis wisdom to conceal our mean- 

* Hast. Away with scrupulous wit! now ■ 

arms must rule. [unto crowns. 

* Glo. And fearless minds climb soonest 

* l^rother, we will proclaim you i)ut of haiid ; 
♦The bruit; thereof will bung >ou many . 

friends ! 



t Trie nia^or is willm- 



• /. e.. Waited for him. 
II Id enter, no he ma\ not be bltmed. 



; Noise, report. 



Srrnt VII.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



(J 09 



• K. Edw. Then be it as you will ; for 

'tis my right, 
And Henry but usurps the diadem. 
Mont. Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like 
himself; 
And now will I be Edward's champion. 
Hast. Sunnd, trumpet; Edward shall be 
here proclaim'd: — [tion. 

Come, fellow soldier, make thou proclama- 
{Givcs him a Pwper. Flourish. 
Sold. [Reads. '\ Edward the fourth, by 
the grace of God, king of England and 
France, and lord of Ireland, &c. 
Mjut. And whoso'er gainsays king Ed- 
ward's right, 
By this I challenge him to single fight. 

[Tkrotvs down his Gauntlet. 
All. Long live Edward the fourth! 

• K. Edw. Thanks, brave Montgomery ; — 

and thanks unto you all. 

* If fortune serve me, I'll requite this kindness. 
' Now, for this night, let's harbour here in 

York : [car 

* And, when the morning sun shall raise his 

* Above the border of this horizon, 

* WeM forward towards Warwick, and his 

mates ; 
For well I wot*, that Henry is no soldier, — 

* Ah, froward Clarence !— how evil it beseems 

thee, 

* To flatter Henry, and forsake thy brother ! 

* Yet, as we may, we'll meet both thee and 

Warwick. — [day ; 

* Come on, brave soldiers; doubt not of the 

* And, that once gotten, doubt not of large 

p;iy. [Exeunt. 

SCENE Vllt. London. A Eoom in the 
Palace. 
Enter King Hfnr y, Warwick, Clarence, 
Montague, Exeter, and Oxford. 
TVar. What counsel, lords ? Edward from 
Belgia, 
With hasty Germans, and blunt Hollanders, 
Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas. 
And with his troops doth march amain to 
London ; 

* And many giddy people flock to him. 

• Oif. Let's levy men, and beat him back 

again. 
Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out ; 
Which, bein'j; sufFer'd, rivers cannot quench. 
War. In Warwickshire I have true hearted 
friends, 
Kot mutinous in peace, yet bold in war; 
Those will I muster up : — and thou, son Cla- 
rence, 
Shalt stir, in Sufl^olk, Norfolk, and in Kent, 

* The knights and gentlemen to come with 

thee : 
' Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, 

* Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt 

find [mand'st: 

* Men well inclined to hear what thon com- 
And thon, brave Oxford, ^©ndrous well be- 
loved, 

• Know. 



In Oxfordshire shall ntu&tt-r up tDy friends. 
My sovereign, with the loving citizens — 

* Like to his island, girt in with the ocean, 

* Or modest Dian, circled with her nyn)phs. 
Shall rest in London, till we come to him. 
Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply. 
Farewell, my sovereign. 

K. Hen. Farewell, my Hector, and my 
Troy's true hope. [ness' hand. 

• Clar. In sign of truth I kiss your high- 

• K. Hen. Well-minded Clarence, hit thoa 

fortunate ! [my leave. 

• Mont. Comfort, my lord; — and so I take 

• Oxf. And thus [Kissing Henry's hand" 

I seal my truth, and bid adieu. 

• K. Hen. Sweet Oxford, and my loving 

Montague, [well. 

* And all at once, once more a kind fare- 

War. Farewell, sweet lords ; let's meet at 

Coventry. 
[Exeunt War., Clar., Oxf., aw<f Mont. 

• K. Hen. Here at the palace will 1 rest 

a while. 

* Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lord- 

ship? [field, 

* Methinks, the power, that Edward halh in 

* Should not be able to encounter mine. 

• Kre. The doubt is, that he will seduce the 

rest. 

• K. Hen. That's not my fear, my meed t 

hath got me fame. 

* I have not stopp'd mine ears to their de- 

mands, ll?»ys; 

* Nor posted off their suits with slow de- 

* My pity hath been Ijalm to heal their wounds, 

* My mildness hath allay'd their swelling grief.s, 

* My mercy dry'd their water-flowinsj tears: 

* I have not been desirous of their wealth, 

* Nor much oppress'd them with great subsi- 

dies ; [err*d ; 

* Nor forward of revenge, though they much 

* Then why should they love Edward more 

than me 1 

* No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace : 

* And, when the lion fawns upon the lamb, 

* The lamb will never cease to follow him. 
[Shout withi ' . A Lancaster! A Lancaster! 

Exe. Hark, hark, my lord! what shout* 

are these? 
Enter King Edward, Gloster, and 

Soldiers. 
' K, Edw. Seize on the shamefaced Henry, 
bear him hence, 

* And once again proclaim us king of Eng- 

land. — 

* Yon are the fount, that makes small brooks 

to flow ; 

* Now stops thy spring, my sea shall suck 

them dry, [ebb.— 

* And Mwell so much the higher by iheii 
' Hence with him to the Tower ; let him not 

speak. 

[Exeunt some with King Henry 

* And, lords, towards Coventry bend we oui 

course, 

* Whofe peremptory Warwick now remaiua 

\ Merit 



10 



siiakspi:are. 



[Act P 



lilt- Min sliine* hot, and if we use flt*lay, j • And take the grtnt-grown traitor iiiiaw:»r»^8 

C(>ld bitino; winter niar» oor hoped-tor hay*, i * Brave warriors, march amain lov^;»rds (j« 
• Glo. Away betimes, before his forces join, | ventry. [/^acwJif 



ACT V 



SCENE I. Coventry. 

Enter, upon the Walls, Vf kkvi ice., the Mayor 
p/' Coventry, Two Messengers, and Others, 

War. Where is the post, that came from 

valiant Oxford ? low ? 

How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fel 

* 1 Mess. By this at Dunsmore, marching 

hitherM'ard. [gue ?— 

War. How far oflf is oor brother Monta- 

Where is the post that came from Montague? 

' 2 Mess. By this at Daintry, with a puissant 

troop. 

Enter Sir John Somerville. 

• War. Say, Somerville, what says my 

loving son? [now ^ 

And, by the guess, how nigh is Clarence 

* Som. At Soiitham I did leave him with 

his forces. 
And do expect him here some two hour? 
hence. [Drvtn heard. 

* War. Then Clarence is at hand, 1 hear his 

drum. . [lies: 

• So7n. It is not his, my lord ; hereSouthant 

* Thednmi your honour hears, marcheth from 

Warwick. [look'd for friends. 

• War. Who should that be? belike, un- 

• They are at hand, and you shall quickly 

know. 
Drums, Enter King Edward, Gloster, 
and Forces, marching, 

• K, Edw. Go, trumpet, to the walls, and 

sound a parle. [the wall. 

* Glo. See, how the surly Warwick mans 
War. O, nnbid spite! is sportful Edward 

come? [duced, 

Where slept onr scouts, or how are they se- 
That we could hear no news of his repair? 

♦ K. Edw. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope 

the city gales, [knee? — 

* Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy 

* Call Edward— king, and i.r his haivJs beg 

mercy, 

* And he shall pardon thee these outrages. 

* War, Nay, rather, wilithoudraw thy forces 

hence, [down? — 

Confess who set thee up, and plucked thee 

Call Warwick — pafton, and he pinitent, 

And tliou slialt still remaiti the duke of York. 

Glo. 1 ihoxii^ht, at least, he would have 

said— the king ; 
Or did he make the just against his will ? 

• Har. Is not a dukedom, sii, a goodly gift ? 

• Glo. Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to 

* I'll do thee service for so good a gift +. [give ; 

* f-f ar. 'Twas I, that gave the kineflom to 

thy brother. [Warwick's gift. 

K. Edw. Why, then 'tis mine, if but by 



' War. Thou art an Atlas for so great a 
weight : 
And, weakimg, Warwick takes his gift again; 
And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject. 

* K. Eaiv. But Warwick's king isEdward'i 

prisoner : 
' And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this, — 
What is the body, when the head is off? 

* Glo. Alas, that Warwick had iio mot* 

forecast. 
But, whiles he thought to steal the single te»^ 
' The king was slily fingered from the deck^ I 
You left poor Henry at the bishop's palace. 
And, ten to one, you'll meet him in theTov ef 
K. Edw. 'Tis even so ; yet you are Warv It h 

still. [down, kneel down ir 

* Glo. Come, Warwick, take the time, knt#« 

* Nay, when? strikenow, or else the iron cooU 

* War. I had rather chop this hand off a\ « 

* And with the other fling it at thy face, [blow, 

* Than bear so low a sail, to strike to thee. 

* K. Edw. Sail how thou canst, have win* 

and tide thy friend ; [hni. 

* This hand, fast wound about thy coal-blacl* 

* Shall, whiles the head is warm, and new ch» 

off, [blood,-— 

* Write in the dust this sentence with th/ 

* Wind-changing Warwick now can changs 

no more. 
Enter Oxford, with Drums and Colours, 

* War. O cheerful colours! see, where 0» 

ford comes ! 
Or/. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster ! 

[Oxford and his Forces enter the City* 
' Glo. The gates are open, let us enter too. 
' K.Edw. So other foes may set upon o«r 

backs. 

* Stand we in good array; for they, no dontC, 

* Will issue out again, and bid us battle: 

* If not, the city, being br.t of small defence, 

* We'll quickly rouse the traitors in the samo. 

War. O, welcome, Oxford ! for we wanl 
thy help. 
jF/z/frM ONTA G HE, with Drum and Colours^ 
Mont. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster I 
{He iind his Forces enter the ( ity. 

* Glo. Thou and thy brother both shall buy 

this treason 

* Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear. 

* K. Edw. The harder matcheil, the greater 

victory ; 

* My mind presageth happy gain, and conquest 
^///ir Somerset, with Prum a fid Colours. 

Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster! 

[fie and his Forces enttr thr City 
Glo. Two of thy name, both dukes of So- 
merset, 
Have sold their livcii unto the house of York ; 



• The allusion is to the proverb, " Make hay while th** *un shines " f «. e.. Enroll myself 

Among tiiv il.p«wlanjB. I A pack of cards was anciently f» > t u.l a di ck of Cards 



9c€ne /,] 



THIRD PART OF KIIVG HENRY VI. 



611 



A.nd thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold. 
Enter Clarence, with Drum and Colours. 
I'iar. And lo, where George of Clarence 
sweeps along. 
Of for«e enough to bid his brother battle; 
" With whom an upright zeal to risjht prevails, 

* Mote than the nature of a brother's love : 

* Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if War- 

wick calls. [this means? 

Clar. Father of W^arwick, know you what 

[Taking the red Rose out of his Cap. 

Look here, 1 throw my infamy at thee : 

I will not ruinate my father's house, [gether. 

Who gave his blood to lime ♦ the stones to- 

' And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, 

Warwick, 
' That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt t, unnatu- 
To bend the fatal instruments of war [ral, 
' Against his brother, and his lawful king 1 

* Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath : 

* To keep that oath, were more impiety [ter. 

* I'han Jephtha's, when he sacrificed hisdaugh- 

* I am so sorry for my trespass made, 

* That, to'cleserve well at my brother's hands, 

* I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe; 

* With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee, 

* (As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad,) 

* To plague thee for thy foul misleading me. 
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee. 
And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks. — 

' Pardon me, Edw^ard, I will make amends ; 
. ' And, Richard, do not trown upon my faults, 

* For I will henceforth be no more unconstant. 

' K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten 
|j times more beloved, 

[fThan if thou never hadst deserved our hate. 
* Glo. Welcome, good Clarence ; this is bro- 
ther-like. " [just ! 
War. O passing + traitor, perjured, and nn- 
K. Edw. What, Warwick, wilt thou leave 
the town, and fight? 
Car shall we beat the stones about thine ears? 
r IVar. Alas, lam not coop'd here for de- 
F|k'iU away towards Barnet presently, ffence: 
I Alid bid thee battle, Edward, if thou darest. 
I K. Edw. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, 
and leads the way : — 
Lords to tlie field ; Saint George and victory. 
[March, Exeunt. 

lljSCENE n. A Field of Battle near B^^vnei. 
iMarnms, and Excursions. Enter King 
i- Edward, bri/iging in \\ a r wick wounded. 
' K. Edw. So, lie thou there : die thou, and 
I die onr fear ; 

I • For W ar wick was a bug §, that feared H ns all. 
• Now, Montague, sit fast ; I seek for thee, 
•'J hat Warwick's bones may keep thine com- 
pany. [Exit. 
War. Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend 
, or foe, 
j A^nd tell me, who is victor, York or Warwick ? 

Vhy ask 1 that? my n)angled body shows, 
. My blood, my want of strength, my sick 
heart shows, 



That I must yield my body to the earth, 
And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. 
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, 
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle 
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept ; 
Whose lop-branch overpeered Jove's spreading 
tree, [wind. 

* And kept lowshrul* from winter's powerful 

* These eyes, that now are dimmed with death's 

black veil, 

* Have been as piercing as th€ mid-<lay sun, 

* To search the secret treasons of the world : 
The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with 
Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres ; [blood. 
For who lived king, tut I could dig his grave? 
And who durst smile when Warwick bent his 

brow ? 
Lo, now my glory, s Yiear'd in dust and blood ! 
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had. 
Even now forsake n e ; and, of all my lands, 
Is nothing left me, l nt my body's length ! 
Why, what is pomp rule, reign, but earth and 

dust? 
And, live we how v e can, yet die we must. 

Enter Oxford and Somerset. 

* Som. Ah, Warwick, VVarwick 1 wert thon 

as we are, 

* We might recove' all our loss again \ 

* The queen from France hath brought a puis- 

sant power; [thou fly! 

* Even now we heard the news : Ah, couklst 

* H ar. Why, then I would not fly. — Ah, 

Montague, [hand, 

* If thou be there, sweet brother, take my 

* And with thy lips keep in my soul a while I 

* Thou lovest me lot; for, brother, if thou 

didst, [blood, 

* Thy tears would wash this cold congealed 
♦That glew» my iips, and will not let ine 

speak. 

* Come quickly, M jntague, or I am dead. 

* Sam. Ah, Warwick, Montague bath breathed 

bis last ; [wick, 

* And to the latest gasp, cried out for War- 

* And said — Command me to my valiant bro- 

ther, [spoke. 

* And more he woe Id have said ; and more he 

* Which sounded like a cannon in a vault, 

* That ndght not be distinjiiii.^h'd ; but, at last, 

* I well might hear flelivered with a groan, — 

* O, farewell, Warwick ! 

I'Var. Sweet rest to his soul ! — 

Fly, lords, and save yourselves ; for Warwick- 
bids 
You all farewell, to meet again in heaven. 

[Dks 
Oxf. Away, away , to meet the queen's grea 
power 1 
[Eieunty bearing ojf Warv7ick's Body 

SCENE [II. A7iother Part (f the FiHd. 
Flourish, Enter K\ng Edward intriumpJx 
with Clarence, Glostkr, and the rest. 

* K, Edw. Thus far oar fortune keep* as 

upward coarse, 



<> f., To cement. 



t Stupid, insensible of paternal fondness, 
j Bugbear. || Terrified. 



\ Eminent, egregioo* 



12 



shakspeare. 



Act V 



And we are graced with wreaths of victory. 

• But, in the midst of this bright-chiniug day, 
1 iipy a I'lack, suspicions, threat'idng: cloud. 
Thai will eucounier wiih our glorious sun, 

• Kre lie atuin Ins easelnl western bed : 

' 1 mean, my lords, — those powers, that the 
quren 

* Haili raided in Gallia, have arrived our coast, 

* Ami, as we hear, maich on to h^ht with us. 

• i'lor. A little gale will soon disperse that 

ciodd, [came: ( 

And blow it lo the source from whence it 
Thy very beams will dry those vapours up; 
r'or every cloud enjienders not a storm. j 

• Glo. I he queen is valued thirty thousand 

strong. 
And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her ; 
If she have time to breathe, be well assured 
Her fiction will he full as strong aj>onr». 
K. Edir. We are advertised by our loving 

friends, [bury ; 

That they do hold their course toward Tewhs- 
VV e havmii now the best at Barnet field, 
VV: .1 thither straight. For willingness rids 

way; [augmented 

* And, as we march, our strength will be 
In every county as we go along. — 

Strike up the drum ; cry — Courage! and away 

\^ExeuiU 

SCENE iV. Plains weflrr Tewksbury 
March. Enter Queen Margaret, Prince 
Edward, Somerset, Oxford, and Sol 
diers. 

• Q. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit 

and wail their loss, 

• But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. 

* What though the mast be now blown over- 

board, 

* The cable broke, the holding anchor lost, 

* AnM half our sailors svvallow'd in the flood, 

* Yet llvHs our pilot still! Is'l meet, that he 

' Shonhl leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad, 

• With tearful eyes add water to the sea, 

' And give more strength to that which hath 
too much ; [rock, 

• Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the 

• Which industry and courage might have 

saved? [this! 

•Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were 

* Say ,W.(rwick was our anchor ; W^hat of that 1 
' At»d Montague our top-mast ; What of him? 

* Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; What 

of these ? 

* Why, is not Oxford here another anchor? 

* And Somerset another goodly mast? [lings? 

• The friends of Ft ance our shrouds and tack 

• And, though unskilful, why nc.t Ned and I 
' For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge? 

* v\ e will not from the helm, to sit and weep ; 

• J?i'i keep our course, though the rough wind 

!»ay — no, [wreck. 

• From shelves and rocks that threaten us with 

• As good to chide the waves, as speak them 

• And what ic Edward, but a ruthless sea? [fair; 
What Clarence, but a quicksand of deceit? 

• Know. 



• And Richard, but a ragged fatal rock T 

• All these the enemies to our poor bark. 

• Say, you can swim ; alas, 'tia but a w hile : 

• Tread on the sand ; why, there you quickl 

sink : 

• Bestride tlie rock ; the tide will wash yon off, 

* Or else you famish, that's a ihieefidH deatij. 

• Ihis speak 1, lords, to let you unclerstaiid, 

* In case some one of you would fly from us, 

• That there's no hoped-for mercy with the 

brothers, [and rocks, 

• More than with ruthless waves, wjih sands, 

• W^hy, courage, then, what cannot be avoided, 

• Twere childisli weakness to lament, or fear. 

* Prutce. Methiuks, a woman of this va* ( 

liant spirit [words, 

• Should, if a coward heard her speak these 

• Infuse his breast with magnanimity, 

* And m<ike him, naked, foil a man at arms. 

* I speak not this, as doubling any here : 

• For, did I but suspect a fe.irful man, 

* He should have leave to go away betimes; 

* Lest, in oar need, he might infect another, 

* And make him of like spirit to himself. 

* If any such be here, as God forbid ! 

* Let him depat f, before we need his help- 

* OxJ\ Women and children of so high a 

courage! [shame. — 

And warriors faint! why, 'twere perpetual 

* O, brave young prince! thy famous grand- 

father [I've, 

Doth live again in thee: Long may'st thou 
To bear his image, and renew his glories! 

* Horn. And be, that will not light for such a 

hope, 

* Go home to bed, and, like the owl by day, 

* If he arise, be mocked and wonde. ed at. 

* Q. Mar. Th inks, jicnile Someiset ; — sweet 

Oxford, thinks. 

* Prince. And take his thanks, that yet hath 

nothing else. 

Enter a Messenger. 

* Mess. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is 

at hand, 

* Ready to fight ; therefore be resolute. 

* Oaf. 1 thought no less : it is his policy, 
' To haste thus fast, to tind us unprovided. 

SoJii, But he's deceived, we are in readiness. 

Q. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see \ our 

forwardness. [not budge. 

Oxf. Here pitch our battle, hence we w ill 

March. Enter, ut a distunce, Kin^j E u- 

WARD, CLARENcr, Glostlr, a <i Fut cpm, 

*A. Edw. Brave followers, jondtr stands 

the thorny wood, [stienuth, 

'Which, by the heavens' assistance, and )our 

* Must by the roots be hewn up yet we uii^hl. 

• 1 need not add more fuel to yonr fire. 

• For, well I wot *, ye blaze to burn them out 

• Give signal to the fight, and to it. lords. 

Q. Mar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen 
what J should say, 

* My tears gainsay t; for every word I speak 

* Ye see, I drink the water pf mine eyes. 

' Therefore^ no mo--* kmi this : — Henry, yow 
sovereigD; 

t Unsay, deuy. 



^cene IV.\ 



TKiiiD TMnr OF kjl\g henry VI. 



613 



Is prisoner to the foe; his stnte usurp' J, 
His realm a slHiJghterhoa>e, his subjects slain. 
His statutes cancell'd, aud his trcfisure spent ; 
And yonder is tlie wolf, thitt mikes this spoil. 
You fight in justice: then, in God's name, 
Be valiant, and give si2;i"al to tlie fight. [h>rds, 
[Exeunt both Armies. 

SCENE V. Another part of t tie same, 
■4.iurums: Excursions: and afterwards a 
Retreat* Thtn enter Ki.ig Edward, 
Clarence, Gloster, and Forces; with 
Queen Margaret, Oxford, a}id Somer- 
set, J-'risoners. 

* K. Ediu. Now, here a period of tumul- 

tuous bioils. [straight: 

Away with Oxford to Hammes' castle* 
for Somerset, off with his guilty head, [speak. 

• Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them 

O.'f. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with 
words. [tortune, 

* So77i. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my 
[Exeaiit Ojlpokd a/id ^o^iE\iSh.T, guarded, 

* Q. Alar. So part we sadly in this troublous 

• Tomeet with joy in sweet Jeru«aiem. [world, 

* K. Edw. Is proclamation mad^, — that, 

who finds Edward, 

• Shall have a high reward, and he his life? 

* Glo. It is: and, lo, where youthful Ed- 

ward comes. 
Enter Soldiers, with Prince Edward. 
AT. Edw. Brmg forth the gallaut, let us hear 
him speak : 

• What! can so yt)nng a thorn begin to prick? 

• E<lward, what satisfaction canst thon make, 

• For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, 

• And ail tiie trouble thou hast turn'd me to? 
Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambi- 
tious York! 

Suppose, that I am now my father's mouth ; 
Resign thy chair, and where I stand, kneel thou, 
"Whilst I propose the selfsame words to thee, 
Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer 
to. [solved! 

Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so re- 

* Glo. That you might still have worn the 

petticoat, [caster. 

And ne'er have stolen the breech from Lan- 

Princc. Let-^Ssoptfablein awinter's night; 

His currish riddles sort not witli this place. 

GLo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for 

that word. [to men. 

Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague 
Glo. For God's sake, take away this captive 

scold. [back rather. 

Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook- 

* K. Edit'. Peace, wilful boy, or i will charm J 

your tongue. 
Clar. Untuior'd lad, thou ait too malapert. 
Prince. I know my duty, you are all undu- 
tiful : 
Lascivious Edward, and thou perjured George, 
And thou misshapen Dick, — 1 tell ye all, 
an: your better, traitors as ye are ; — 



* And thou usnrp'st my father's right and mine. 

K, tdw. Take that the likeness of this raiier 
here. [Stabs him. 

* Glo. Sprawl'st thou? take that to end thy 

agouy. [Glo. stabs him, 

* Clar. And there's for twitting me with 

perjury. [Clak. stabs him, 

Q. Mar, u, kill me tool 
G^o, Marry, and shall. [Offers to kill her, 

* K. Edw. Jlold, Richard, hold for we have 

done too much. [with words §? 

Glo. Why should she live, to fill the world 

* K. Edw. What I doth she swoon i use means 

for her recovery. [brother : 

Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the king, my 

* I'll hence to London on a ses ious matter : 

* Ereye come there, be sure to hear some news. 

Clar. What? wnat? 

' Glo. The Tower, the Tower! [E<it, 

* Q. Mar. O, Ned, sweet Ned 1 speak to thy 

mother, boy ! 

* Canst thou not speak ? O traitors ! murderers ! 
They, that slabb'd Cassar, shed no blond at all, 
Did not oflfend, nor were not worthy blame, 

* If this foul deed were by to equal it. 

' He was a man ; this, in respect, a child ; 
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child. 
' What's worse than murderer, that I may 
name it? 

* No, no ; my heart will burst, an if I speak : — 

* And I will speak, that so my heart may burst. 

* Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals! 

* How sweet a plant have you uniimcly 

cropp'd ! 

* You have no children, butchers! if you had, 

* The thought of thera would have stirr'd up 

remorse ! 

* But, if you ever chance to have a child, 
Look in his youth lo have him so cut otf, 

* As,deathsmen! you have rid this sweet young 

prince! [perforce. 

K. tdw. Away with her ; go, bear her hence 
Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, de- 
spatch me here; [death: 
Here sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee my 
W^hat! wilt thou not? — then, Clarence, do it 
thou. [ease. 
Clar. By heaven, 1 will not do thee so much 
Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do , swe«t Clarence, 
do thou do it. [not do it. 
Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear, 1 would 
Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thy- 
'Twas sin before [] , but now 'tis charity, [self; 

* What! wilt thou not? where is that devil's 

butcher, [thou? 

Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art 
Thou art not here: Murder is thy alms deed; 
Petitioners for blood thou ne'er putt'st back. 

* K. E(/w. Away, 1 say ; I charge ye, bear 

her hence 
Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to 

this prince ! [ bJjit, led out forcibly. 
K. Edw. Where's Richard gone? [guess, 

* Clur, To London, all in post; and, -•j I 



• A ca«tle in Picardy. t The Prince calls Richard, for his crookedness, ^sop. 

\ I. e., T will compel you to be as silent as if yon were deprived of spcftch h\ enchantn.^at. 

j Dispute, contention. || She alludes to the desertion of Clarence. 

3 G 



6\% 



SlIAKSPKARE. 



[Art r 



To iiiiike a bloody supper in the Tower. 
/l. Edu\ He'8 gndden, if a thing comes in 
his head. [sort 

* Now march we hence : discharge the conrnion 

* With p.i> and thanks, .tud let's away to Lon- 

don, 

* And see our gentle queen how well she fares; 

* By this, 1 hope, she hath a son for :ne. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE VI. London. A Boom in the Toner. 

King Hk>cy is dinco- tred ail ting uith a 

Look in uis //*/ d, the Lieutenant atlend- 

it,g. Enter GLO&Tt.H. 

Glo. Good da>, n)y lord! What, at your 
book so hard? [should say rather; 

AT. hill. Ay, my good lord; My lord, 1 
Tis sin to fliitter, good Mas little better: 
Good (j|o<tei ,and good devil, were alike, [lord. 
•And both prtposterous ; tbertfore, not good 

* do. Sirrah, leave us to omselves; we 

must c«nter [Exif Lit-uteuant. 

•A'. H^H. ijp flies the reckless* shepherd 

from the wolt : [tieece, 

* So first the harmless sheep doth yield his 

* An<l next lis throat unto the butcher's knife. 
"W'h.it scene ot death hath Rt>scius now to act ( 

Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty 
The Ihiei rioth fear each bush an officer, [mind ; 

* K. Hen. The bird that hath been limed in 

a bush, [bush : 

* With trembling wings misdoubtethf every 
And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird. 
Have now the fatal object in my eye, 
Where my poor young was limed, was caught, 

and kill'd. [of Crete, 

* Glo. Why, what a peevish t fool was that 

* That taught his son the office of a fowl ? 
'And yet, for all his wings, the fool was 

drown'd. 

* K. Hfn I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus; 
Thy fat her,Mino8, that denied our course ; [boy, 
'The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet 
' 1 hy brother Edward ; and thyself, the sea, 

' Wluise envious onlf did swallow up his life. 

* Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words! 

* My breast can better brook thy dagger's p int, 
Than can my eais th;it tragic history. — [life? 

* But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my 

* Glo. Think'st thou 1 am an executioner? 
K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art; 

* If murdering innocents be executing, 

* Why, then thou art ati extcutioner. 

Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption. 

K. H(.n. Hadst thou been kill'd, when tJrst 
thou didst presume. 
Thou h idst not lived to kill a son of mine. 
' And thus 1 prophesy, — that many a thousand, 

* Which now mistrust no parcel ^ of my fear; 
And many an old man's sigh, and many a 

widow's, 

* And many an orphan's water-stai:ding eye, — 

* Men for their sons, wives for their husbands' 

late, 

* And orphans for their parents' timeless death, 



' Shall rue the hour that ever thon wast bora. 
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign ; 

* The night crow cried, aboding luckless time 
Do(^s liowl'd, and hideous tempests shook 

down trees ; 
The raven rot>k'd|i her on the chimney's top, 
And chatterin. pies in dismal discords sung. 
Thy mother felt n ore than a mother's pnin, 
And yet brought forth less than a njother's hope; 

* To wit, an indigest deformed lump, 

Not like the fruit of such a goodiN ti ee. [born, 
leeth hadsl thou in thy head, when thou w;'>st 
To signify, — thou earnest to bite the woi Id : 
And, if the rest be true which t have heard, 

* Thou earnest — 

Glo. I'll hear no more; — Die, prophet, in 
thy speech! {^lub.') him. 

For this, amongst the rest, was I ordaiu'd. 
K. Htn. Ay y and for much more slaughter 
aftiT this. 

God ! forgive my sins,and pardon thee ! [ Dies, 
Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lan- 
caster [mounted. 

Sink in the ground? 1 thought it would, liave 
See, how m> sword weeps for the poor king's 

death ! 
' O, may such purple tears be always shed 

* From those that wish the downfal of onr 
' If ^ny ^parkof life be yet remaining, [house! — 
Down, down to hell ; and say — 1 sent thee 

thither, [Stabs him again. 

I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. — 
Indeed, 'lis true, that Henry told me of; 
F>r I have often heard my mother say, 

1 came into the world with my lees forward: 
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste, 

* And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right? 
The midwife wonder'd ; and Ute women cried 
O, Je^us bless us, he is born ti/th teeth I 

* And so I was ; which plainly siLuitied — 
That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog 

* Then, since the heavens have shaped my body 
Letheil makecrook'dmy mind to answer it [so, 
1 have no brother, 1 am like no brother : 
'And this word — love, which gre> beards call 
Be resident in men like one another, [divine. 
And not in me; I am myself alone. — [light; 
Clarence, beware; thou keep'st nie from the 
But I will SOI til a pitchy da> for thee: 

For I will buz abroaci such prophecies, 

* That Edward shall be f. arful of his life; 
And ihen.to puige his tVar, I'll be thy death. 

* King Henry, and the prince, his son, are gone : 

* Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest ; 
Counting myself but bad, till 1 be best. — 

* I'll throw thy body in another room. 
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. 

[ii'a/Y. 
SCENE VII. The same. A Room in the 

Palace. 
King Edv^ard is discovered sitting on kix 
throne ; Queen Elizabeth nith the in- 
fant Prince, Ci.ARf.NCE, Gloster, Hast- 
ings, a /id ethers, near him. [royal throne, 
I K, Edw. Once more we sit in England's 



' •Careless, f To misdoubt is to suspect danger, to fear. J Childish. $ No p.irt of what 
mjf fears pr^^sage, y 1© rook, »ijinifie<1, to squat dow n or lodge on any thing. f Select. 



Scene VIL, 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



615 



Re-purchased with the blood of enemies. 
What valiant foe-inen, like to autumn's corn, 
Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their 

pride? 
Three dnkes of Somerset, threefold renown*d 
For hardy and undoubted champions: 
Two Clitfords, as the f;ither and the son : 
And two Northumberlands ; two braver men 
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's 

sound : [and Montague, 

* With them, the two brave bears, Warwick 
That in their chains fetler'd the kingly lion, 
And ma *e the forest tremble whrn they roar'd. 
Thus have we swept suspicion fiom our seat. 
And made our footstool of sec nity. — 
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy: — 
Young Ned, for thee, thine unch^j, and myself, 
Have in our armours vvatch'd the winter's niijht, 

* Went all a foot in summer's scilding heat, 
That thou might'stiepossess the crown in peace; 
And of our Ubours thou shalt le-ay the uain. 

Glo. I'll blast his harvest, if \our head were 
For yet I am not look'd onin th? Avarld. [laid; 
This shoulder vvas ordain'd so th'ck, to heave ; 
And heave it shall, some weight, or break my 

back : — 
Work thou the way, — and thou sLalt execute. 

[A.sfde. 
K. Edw. Clarence, and Gloster, love my 
lovely queen ; 



And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both. 

Clar. The duty, that 1 owe un»o youi ma' 

jesty, 

I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. 

K. Edw. Thanks, noble Clarence ; worthy 

brother, thanks. [thou sprang'st, 

* Glo. And, that I love the tree from whence 

* Witness the loving kiss 1 give the fruit : — 
To say the truth, so Judas kiss*d his i 

mastei ; [meant — all \\^rn\.^ Aside, 

* And cried- -all hail ! when as he ) 

K. Ediv. Now am I seated as my lOuI de- 
lights. 
Having my country's oeace, and brothers* 
loves. [with Margaret? 

Clar. VVl'it will your grace have done 
Reignier, Lei father, to the king of France 
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem, 
And hither have they sent it for her ransome. 
K. Ediv. Away with her, and waft her 
hen :e to France. [time. 

And now what rests, but that we spend the 
With ststely triumphs *,|||^iirihful comic 

sho^NS, 
Such as hefi* ^y^ pleasures of the court? — 
Souua, ^lums and trumpets! — farewell, sour 

annoy! 
For here, I irore, begins our lasting joy. 

[txeunt. 



PubLk ; bows. 



The three parts of King Henuy VI. are suspected, by Mr. Theobald, of being suppositi- 
tious, and are declared, by Dr. Warburton, to be certainly not Shakspeare's. Mr. I'heobald's 
suspicion arises from some obsolete words: but the phraseology is like the rest of ourauti>or*s 
style, and single words, of which however I do not observe more than two, can cor.clude 
little. 

Dr. Warburton gives no reason, but I suppose him to judge upon deeper principles and 
more comprehensive views, and to draw his opinion from the general effect and spirit of the 
composition, which he thinks inferior tc the other historical plays. 

From mere inferiority nothing can b«; inferred ; in the productions of wit there \\\U be ine- 
quality. Sometimes judgment will en and sonietimes tlie matter itself will defeat the artist. 
Of every author's works one will be the best, and one will be the worst. The colours are iiot 
equally pleasing, nor the attitudes equ^lf graceful, in all the pictures of Titian or Reyuidds, 

Dissimilituiie of style and heterogen irusness of sentiment, may sufficiently show that a work 
does not really belong to the reputed a itiior. But in these plays no such marks of spurious- 
ness are found. The diction, the ver?if cation, and the figures, are Shak^peare's. The?e plays, 
considered, without regard to characl m and incidents, merely as narratives in verse, are more 
happily conceived, and more accurauly finished than those of King John, Richard H. or 
the tragic sce-nes of King Henry JV and V. If we take these plays from ^diakspeare, to 
%vhom shall they be given? What ami or, of that age, had the same easiness of expression and 
fluency of numbers? 

Of these three plays I think the second the best. The truth is, that they have not sufficient 
variety of action, for the incidents are too often of the same kind ; yet miny of the characters 
tre well discriminated. King Henry, and his Queen, King Edward, the Duke of Gloster 
and the Earl of Warwick, are very strongly and distinctly painted. — Johnson. 



LIFE AND DEATH OP 

KING mCHARD III. 



^cr^ou^ rcpre^cntcti* 



■} 



Sons to 
the 



■• > to the 
J King. 



King Edward the Fourth. 

Euw ARU, Prince of fVules, after 
ivards King Edward V, 

Rich AiiD, (I /(kt of y ork. } King, 

George, dnk( (f Cla rence, "i Broth ers 

KicuKRD, dukeofGlosteryiffter-^- *^ ^^^ 
vards King Richard 111. 

A. Young Son of Clarence. 

H E N R Y , f « rZ uf Richmond^ afterwards King 
lit nry V II. 

Cardinal Houchier, Archbishop of Canter- 
bury. 

Thomas Roth era m, Archbishop of York. 

John MoRToamJS is hop of Ely. 

Duke of BuckWgham. 

Duke of Norfoi,k: Earl of Surrey, Ae? .90w. 

Earl Rivers, brother to king Edward's 
queen, {sons. 

Marquis of Dorset, and Lord Grey, her 

Earl of Oxford. Lord Hastings. Lord 
SiANLK.Y. Lord LovtL. 

Sir Thomas Vaug HAN. Sir Richard Rat- 

CLIKF. 



Sir William Catesby. Sir JamesTyrrbl. 
Sir James Blount. Sir Walter Herbert. 
Sir Robert Brablenbury, lieutenant of 

the Totver. 
CHRisiOFHERURSWicKjtfj^He^i. AnothcT 

Priest. 
Lord Mayor of London. Sheriff of Wilt 

shire. 

Elizabeth, queen of king Edward IV, 

Margaret, widow if king Henry VI. 

Duchess of York, mother to king Edward 
IV., Clarence, and Gloster. 

Lady Anne, widotv of Ediuurd, prince of 
Wales i son to king Henry VI.; after 
wards marritd to the duke of Gloster. 

A Young Daughter of Clarence. 

Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentle 
men, a Pursui- ant , Scrivener, Citizens^ 
Murderers, Messejigers, Ghosts, Sol- 
diers, cVC. 

Scene,— England 



ACT I. 



SCENE L London. A Street. 

Enter Gloster. 

Glos. Now is the winter of our discontent 
Made tilorious summer by tliis sun of York ; 
And all the clouds, that tower'd upon our house, 
In the deep bos<m of the ocean buried. 
l\ow are our brows bouml with victorious 

wieaths ; 
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ; 
Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings, 
Our dieadful marches to delightful measures*. 
Gritrvv;8aged war hath sniooih'd his wrinkled 

fit)nt ; 
And now, — instf>ad of mounting barbed t steeds, 
To frit;l!t the souls of fearful adversaries, — 
lie ca()ers nimhly in a lady's clian»ber. 
To (he last ivious pleasing of a lute. 
But I, — that am not shaped for sportive tricks, 
Nor made to couitan 'imorous looking-glass ; 
1, that am rudely slamp'd, and want love's ma- 
jesty, 
1 o ytrut before a wanton ambling nymph ; 
I, th tt am curtail'd of tliis fair proportion, 
Ch«'aterl of feiture by dit>sembling nature, 
Deionn'd, iiufuiishM, sent before M)y time 
Into ihih lire (thing world, scan-e half made up, 
Aiifl that so lamely and unfashionable, 
That dou« bark at sue, as I h dt by them ; — 
Why 1, in this weak piping time'of peace, 



Dance 



t Armed. 



Have no delight to pa?s away the time ; 
Unless to spy my shadow in the sun, 
And descant on mine own deformity; 
And therefore, — since 1 cannot prove a lover 
To entertain these fair well-spoken days, 
I am determined to prove a villain, 
And hate the idle pleasures of these days. 
Plot* havt! I laid, induotionst dangerous, 
By drunken prophecies, libeis. and dream 
To set my brother Clarence, and the kirjg. 
In deadly hate the one against the other: 
And, if king Edward be as true and just. 
As 1 am subtle, false, and treacherous, 
Ihis day should CI irence closely be mew'd up, 
About a prophecy, which says — that G 
Of Edwartl's heirs the murderer shall be. 
Live, thoughts, down to my soul I here Cla- 
rence tomes. 
Enter Clarence, guarded, and Braken 

BUHT. 

Brother, gocd day: What means this armed 
That waits upon your grace? [guard, 

Cl'/r. His majesty. 

Tendering my person's safety, hath :ippointe(l 
Ihis conduct to convey me to the Tower. 

(jIo. Upon what cause? 

Clur. J'ecai:sc tiiy name is— George. 

GIk Alack, my lord, that fatdl i& none of 
yours; 
He should, for that, commit ytuir godfathers* 

Preuaiationa for mischief 



Sc\ K'i 



KING RICHARD III. 



617 



O, h\ W ' # ^ V majesty hath some intent. 
That;, v~A"^' be newchristen'd in the Lower. 
But "t"^; t';;Wv' matter, Clarence? may Iknow? 

Clar. \»^\ Richard, when I know; for, I 
As yet i A> \ \>t : But, as 1 can leain, [protest, 
He hea'i vri fler prophecies, and dreams ; 
And froii> flit vross-row plucks the letter G, 
And say* —a > tzard told him, that by G 
His issue t^suh^Ssnied should be ; 
And, for loy v Atj.><* of George begins with G, 
li follows 'n U» t^oa^ht that I am he : 
These, as 1 lef rn, ord such like toys * as these. 
Have moved h''\ in.-^hness to commit me now. 

Glo. Why, t\i*^9i* j», when men are ruled by 
womcr : — 
*Tis not the kivf^ that ^ends you to the Tower; 
My lady Gre> , bta ■^'i\'<;, Clarence, 'tis she 
Ihat tampers 1 ina *o this «xtremity. 
W as it not she, and tfat [?t€d man of worship, 
Antony \Voode> i'le, hs^r brcuher there, 
That made hiin fe -xi lord Hastings to theTower; 
From whence th'fc pes«.n't d^y he is deliver'd? 
We are not safe, fli^rencCj we are not safe. 

Clar. By heaven, I thitJs. ti»ere is no man 

secure, [heralds 

But the queen's kind-«<l, ard right-walking 

That trudge betwixt ttre king and mistress 

Shore. 
Heard you not what an hn^jble fuppliant 
Lord Hastings was to her *» » bin delivery! 

Glo. Humbly complaioir*^- to h^,r deity. 
Got my lord chamberlain hi* 'iberty. 
I'll tell you what,— I think it v our way. 
If we will keep in favour with the king, 
To be her men, and wear her li^-^ry : 
The jealous o'er-worn widow, aoi herself +, 
Since that our brotlicr dubb'd th^m gentlewo- 
Are mighty gossips in this monarcl y. [men, 

£ii a\. 1 beseech your i^races botl' to pardon 
His majesty hath straitly given in cl arge, [me; 
That no man shall hdve private cot ference, 
Of what (Iciiree so ever, with his brother. 

Glo. Even so ? an please your worship, 
Brrtkeobury, 
You may partake of any thing we say : [king 
We speak no treason, man ! — We say, the 
Is wise, and virtuous; and his noble queen 
Well struck in yeare; fair, and not jealous: 
We say, that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, 
A cherry lip, 

A bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue; 
And the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks: 
How say you, sir? can you deny all this ? 

Brak. With this, my lord, myself have 
nought to do. [I tell thee, fellow, 

Glo. Naught to do with mistress Shore? 
He that doth naught with her, excepting one. 
Were best to do it secretly, alone. 

Brak. What one, my lord ? 

Glo. Her husband, knave: — Wonld'st thou 
betray me? [and, withal, 

Brak. I beseech your grace to paidon me ; 
Forbear your conference with the noble duke. 

Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, 
and will obey. [obey. 

Glo. We are the queen's abjects J, and must 



Brother, farewell : I will unto the king ; 
And whatsoever you will employ me in, — 
Were it to call king Edward's widow— sister, 
I will perform it to enfranchise you. 
Mean time, this deep disgrace in brotherhood. 
Touches me deeper than you can imagine. 

Clar* 1 know it pleast^th neither of us well. 

Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be 
I will deliver you, or else lie for you : [long; 
Mean time, have patience. 

Clar. I must perforce ; farewell. 

\^Exeunt Clakence, Brakenbury, 
and Guard. 

Glo. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er 
rtturn. 
Simple., plain Clarence! — I do love thee so. 
That 1 will shortly send thy soul to heaven. 
If heaven will take the present at our hands. 
But who comes here? the newdeliver'd Hast- 
ings ? 

Enter Hastings. 

Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious 
lord! ^ [lain.' 

Glo, As much nntomypRd lord chamber* 
Well are you welcome to tbis open air. 
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisoiv 
ment? [soners nmst ; 

Hast. VVith patience, noble lord, as pri- 
But I shall live, my lord, to give them thank?. 
That were the cause of my imprisonment. 

Glo. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Cla 
rence too ; 
For they, that were your enemies, are his. 
And have prevail'd as much on him, as you. 

Hast. More pity that the eagle should bt 
mew'd 5, 
While kites iind buzzards prey at liberty. 

Glo. What news abroad? [home ;— 

Hast. No nesvs so bad abroad as this at 
The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy, 
And his physicians fear him mightily, [indeed. 

Glo. Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad 
O, he hath kept an evil diet long, 
And over-much consuujed his royal person, 
Tis very grievous to be thought upon. 
What, is he in his bed ? 

Hust. He is. 

Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you. 

[Exit HAJiTINGS. 

He cannot live, I hope ; and must not die. 
Till (icorge be pack'd with posthorse up to 

heaven. 
I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, 
With lies well steel'd with weighty aiguments; 
And, if 1 fail not in my dt:ep intent, 
Clarence hath not another day to live : 
Which done, God take king Edward to his 

mercy. 
And leave the world for me to bustle in ! 
For then 1*11 marry Warwick's youngest 
daughter: [father? 

What though I kill'd her husband, and her 
\ The readieii way to make the wench amends, 
! Is — to become her husband, and her father : 
'. Ihe whicii will I ; not all so much for love. 
As for another secret close intent. 



' Fancies. 



t The Queen and Shore. 



X Lowest of subjects. 

3 G3 



§ Confined, 



CIS 



SliAKSPE VilE. 



\Art T. 



By marrying her, which I must reach unto. 
But yet I rna betore juy horse to market : 
Clarence still breathes: Edward still lives, and 

reigns; 
When they are gone, then must I count my 

^ains. \^ExU. 

SCENE II. The same. Another Street.. 
Enter the corpse of King Henry the S'irth, 
bo) ne in an open coj^in. Gentlemen bear- 
ing halbtrdSf toguardit; and Lady Anne 
as mourner » 

Anne. Set down, set down your honourable 
load,— 
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, — 
Whilst I a while obsequiously* lament 
'Ihe untimely tHJl of virtuous Lancaster. 
Poor key-cold figure of a *»oly kin^I 
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster ! 
Thou bloofiless remnant of that royal blood! 
Be it lawful that I invocate tliy ghost, 
'Jo hear the lamentations of poor Anne, 
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaui?hter'(l son, 
Siabb'd by the sel|plme hand that made these 

wounds ! 
Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life, 
I pour the helpless balm ot my poor eyes :— 
O, cursed be the hand that made these holes! 
Cursed the heart, that liad the heart to do it! 
Cursed the blood, that let this blood from hence ! 
More diieful hap betide that hated wreicli, 
That makes us wretched by the death of thee. 
Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads. 
Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives ! 
If ever he have child, abortive be it, 
Prodigious, and uniimely brought to light, 
Whos^e ugly and unnatural aspect 
IVIay fright the hopeful mother at the viev^r; 
And that be heir to his unhappiness ! 
If ever he have wife, let her be made 
More miserable by the death of him. 
Than I am made by my young lord, and 
thee! — [load, 

Come, now toward Chertsey with your holy 
Taken from Paul's to be interred there ; 
And, still as you are weary of the weiuht. 
Rest you, whiles I lament king Henry's corse. 
[The bearers take up the corpse , and 
advance. 

Enter Gloster. 
Glo. Stay you, that bear the corse, and set 
it down. [fiend, 

Anne. What black magician conjures up this 
To stop devoted charitable deeds I 

Glo. Vilhins, set down the corse; or, by 
Saiiit Paul, 
I'll make a corse of him that disobeys. 

1 Cent. My lord, stand back, and let the 

coffin p tss. [command : 

Glo. Untnauuer'd dog! stand thou when 1 

Advance thy halberd higher than my breast. 

Or, by Saint I'aul, I'll strike thee to my foot. 

And spurn upo.i thee, begg.ir, for thy boldness. 

[T .c hiari'r.s set doini the cnj)in. 

Anne. What, do \ou tremble? are you all 

afraid t 

• FunereaJ. 



Alas, 1 blame you not ; for you a-e mortal, 
Aifd mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. — 
Avannt, thou dreadful minister ol hell! 
J'hou ha'ist but power over bis nK):tal body, 
liis soultliou cansi not have ; iherefoi e be gone. 

Glo. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so cur.-t. 

Anne. Foul devil, for Goil's sake, hence, 
and trouble us not ; 
For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, 
Fili'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims. 
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds. 
Behold this pattern t of thy butcheries : 
O, gentlemen, see, see ! dead Heniy's wounds 
Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh I 
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity ; 
For 'tis thy presence lh;tt exhales this blood 
From cold and empty veins, where no blood 
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural. [dwells ; 
Provokes this deluge most unnatural 
O God, which this blood mad'sl, revenge his 
death! [his death I 

O earth, which this blood drink'.-rt, revenge 
Either, heaven, with lightning stiike the mur 

(lererdead, 
Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat liim quick ; 
As thou dost .-wallow up this good king's blood, 
Whi h his hell-goverii'd arm hath buteher'd 1 

Glo. Lady, you know no rule? of charity, 
Which renders good lor bad, blessings for 
curses. [nor man ; 

Anne, Villain, thon know'st no law of God 

Ko beast so fierce, but knows some touch t ! 

pity. lUo beast. 

Glo. But I know none, and therefore ain 

Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the 
truth! [»»giT- — 

Glo. More wonderful, when angels aie so 
Vouchsaie, divine perfection of a woman. 
Of these supposed evils, to give me leave. 
By circumstance, but to acquit myself. 

ylw/.e. Vouchsafe, diffused infection t»f aman. 
For these known evils, but to give me leave. 
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self 

Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let 
me have 
Some patient leisure to excuse myself. 

Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, 
thou canst make 
No excuse current, but to ban? thyself. 

Glo. By such despair, Ishouki accuse myseif. 

Anne. And, by despairing, shdt thou stand 
excused ; 
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself. 
That didst unworthy slaughter upon others. 

Glo. Say, that 1 slew tlier.i not \ 

Anne. Why then, they are not dead : 

But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. 

Glo. I did not kill your husbanil. 

Anne. ' Why, then he is alive. 

Glo. N ay, he is dead ; and slam by Ed^^ar^l's 
hand. [M.t.garet smw 

Anne. In thy soul's thrortt thou liest ; queea 
Thy nmrderous falchion smoking in his blocni ; 
The which thou once didst bend against her 

breast. 
But that thy brothers beat aside the point. 

t Example. 



Scene IJ.\ 



KING RICHAKD III. 



619 



Glo. 1 was provoked by her sland'rous 
tongue, [ders. 

That laid their guilt upon my jc"iltless shonl- 
Anne. Thou wast provoked by tby bloody 
mind, 
That never dreamt on aught but butcheries: 
Didbt thou not kill this king? 
GLo. I grant ye. 

Anne, Dost grant nie, hedge-hog ? then, God 
grant ine too. 
Thou niay'st he damned for that wicked deed J 
O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous. 

Glo. The fitter for the King ot heuven that 
hath hir.i. [never tome. 

Anne. He is in heaven, where thou sh:ilt 
Glo. Let him thank nie, that hoip to seud 
him thither ; 
For he was fitter fur that place than earth. 
Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell. 
Glo. Yes, one place else, if you will hear 
Anne, .Some dungeon. [me name it. 

GLo. Your bed-chamber. 

Anne. Hi rest betide the chamber where 

Ihou lie3t! 
Glo. ^o will it, madam, till I lie with you. 
Anne. I hope so. 

Glo. I know so. — But, gentle lady Anne, 
To leave this keen encounter of our wits, 
And fall somewhat into a slower method ; — 
Is not the causer of the timeless deaths 
Of these Plantagenets, Henry, and Edward, 
As blameful as the executioner? 

Anne, ihou wast the cause, aad most ac- 
cursed effect. [effect ; 
Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that 
Your beauty, which did haunt me in my sleep, 
To undertake the death of all the world. 
So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom. 
Anne, If i thought that, 1 tell thee, homi- 
ci'ie, [my cheeks. 
These nails should rend that beauty from 
Glo. 1 hese eyes could not endure that 
beauty's wreck ; 
You should not blemish it, if I stood by : 
As all the world is cheered by the sun. 
So I by tliat ; it is my d;iy, my life. 

Aftne. 1 Itck night o'ershade thy day, and 

death thy life ! 
Glo. Guise not thyself, fair creature: thou 

art both. 
Ajifit. I would I were, to be revenged on 
Gio. It is a quarrel most unnitural, [thee. 
To be revenged v)n him tliat loveth thee. 

Anne. It is a q-Mrrel just and reasonable, 
To be revenged on him that kill'd my bus 
band. [husband, 

Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy 
Did it to help thee to a better husband. 
Annt'. His better doth not breathe upon the 
earth. [he could. 

Glo. He lives, that Igves you better than 
Anne. Name him. 
Glo. Plantagenet. 

Anne. V\ hy, that was he. 

Glo. The lelf-saroe name, but one of better 
Anne. Where is h«f [nature. 



Glo. Here ! \She spits at him. 

Why dost thou spit at me ? [sake I 

Anne. Would it were mortal poison for thy 

Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a 

place. 
Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. 
Out of my sight ! thou dost infect mine eyes. 
Gio. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected 
mine. [tliee dead I 

Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to s rike 
Glo. 1 would they were, that 1 nnght die at 
once ; 
For now they kill me with a living death. 
Those eyes of thine from mine have dr.i wn salt 
tears, [drops: 

Shamed their aspects with store of ch'*dish 
These eyes, which never siied remorseful * tear, 
Not^ when my father York and Edward wept, 
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made, 
When black-faced Clifford shi>ok his sword 

at him : 
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child. 
Told the sad story of my father's death ; 
Anil twenty times made padte, to sob, and 

weep, 
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks, 
Like trees bedash'd with rain : in that sad time. 
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear ; 
And whrit these sorrows could not thence ex- 
hale, [weeping. 
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with 
I never sued to friend, nor enemy ; [word ; 
My tongue could never learn sweet soothing 
But now thy beauty is proposed my fee, 
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue 
to t^peak. [Sue looks scornJuUy ut. him. 
Teach not thy lip such scorn ; for it was made 
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. 
If thy reventieful heart cannot forgive, 
Lo ! here I lend thee this sharp-puiiited sword ; 
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast. 
And let the sonl forth that adoreth thee, 
I lay it naked to the deadty stroke. 
And humbly beg the death upon my knee. 

{He lays his breast o^en ; she uj;ers at 
if with his sword. 
Nay, do not pause; for 1 did kill king Henry j^ 
But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. 
Nay, now despatch ; 'twas 1 that stabb'd young 
Edsvard ! — 

{She again ofers at his breast. 
But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. 

[She let*s fall the stvord. 
Take up the sword again, or t^ke up mc. 

Anne, Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy 
I will not be thy executi )nei. [de ith, 

Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will no 
Anne. 1 have already. [it. 

Glo. That was in thy rage: 

Speak it atrain, and, even with the word, 
This hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy iovfc 
Shall, for thy love, kill a Jar truer love ; 
To both their deaths shall th.ou be accessary* 
Anne. I would 1 knew thy heart. 
Glo. *Tio figured in my ti>ngae, 
Anne. 1 fear me, both are iaise. 



• Pitiful. 



620 



SF.AMSPEAilE. 



Uct i 



Glo. Then liidii was never true. 

A7tne. Well, well, put up^your sword. 

Glo. Say iheii, my peace is made. 

Anne. 1 hat shall you know hereafter. 

Glo. But shall I live in hope? 

A.iine. Ail men, 1 hope, live so. 

GLo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. 

Anne. To take is not to give. 

{She puts on the ring, \ 

Glo. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy ; 
finger. 
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart ; j 
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. 
And if thy poor devoted servant may 
But beg one favour at tliy gracious hand. 
Thou (lost confirm his happin^?^ fur ever. 

Anne. What is it? [designs 

GLo. That it may please yon leave these sad 
To him that hath more ctuse to be a mourner. 
And presently repair to Crosby-place*: 
Wtiere— alter I have solemnly iuterr'd. 
At Chertsey monastery this noble king. 
And wet his grave wiih my repentant tears, — 
1 will with ail ei^dient duty see you ; 
For divers unknown reasons, 1 beseech you. 
Grant n»e this boon. [me too, 

Anne. With all my heait ; and much it joys 
To see yon are become so peniieu-t. — 
Tressel, and Berkley, go along with me. 

Glo. Bid me farewell. [serve; 

Anne.. *Tis more than you de- 

But, since yon teach me how to flatter you. 
Imagine I have said farewell already. 

lExexiit Lady ANNJi, Tkessel, and 
Berkley. 

Glo. Take up the corse, sirs. 

Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord? 

Glo. No, to White Friars; there attend my 
coming. 

[Exeunt the rest, with the corse. 
Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? 
Whs ever woman in this humour won? 
1*11 have her, — but I fvill iiot keep her long. 
What 1 I, that kil.'d her husband, and his father, 
To take her in her heart's exlremest hate; 
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, 
The blteding witness of her hatred by ; 
With God, her conscience, and these bars 

against me. 
And I no friends to back my sait withal. 
But the plain devil, and disseuibling looks. 
And yet to win her, — all the world to nothing! 
Ha! 

Hath she forgot already that brave prince, 
Edward, her lord, whom I some three months 

since, 
Stabb'd, m my angry mood atTewksbury? 
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,— 
Wramed in the prodigality of nature, [royal, — 
fouiig, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right 
The spacious world cannot again atford : 
And will she yet al)ase her eyes on me. 
That cropp'd the golden prune of this sweet 
And made her widow to a vvotul bed? [prince, 
< >rr me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety ? 
Ou. me, :hat halt, and am misshapi-n thus ? 

• In Bishopsgate street. 



My dukedom to a beggarly dernier t, 
1 do mistake my person all this while: 
Upon my life, she find?, althoi»;^h 1 cannot^ 
Myseif to be a maivellous proper n)an. 
IM be at charges for a looking-glass ; 
And entertain a score or two of taih^rs. 
To study fashions to adorn my body : 
Since 1 am crept in favour with myself, 
I will maintain it with some little cost. 
But, first, i*ll turn yon' fellow in his grave; 
And then return lamenting to my love. — 
Shine out, fair sun, till i have bought a glass. 
That I may see my shadow as I pass. [Exit. 

SCENE ill. The same. A Room in the 

Palace. 
Enter Queen Elizabeth, Lord Rivers, and 
Lord Grey. 
Riv. Have patience, madam; there's no 
doubt his majesty 
Will soon recover his accustom'd health. 
Grey, In that you brook it ill, it makes him 
worse : [f^'rtr 

Therefore, for God's sake entertain good com- 
And cheer his grace with quick and merry 
words. [of mr. I 

Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide 
Grey. No other harm, but loss of such a lord- 
Q. Eli%. The loss of such a lord includes ali 
harms. [gooilly soiv^ 

Grey The heavens have bkss*d you with a 
To be your comforter, when he is gone. 

Q. Eliz. Ah, he is young; and his minority 
Is put unto the trust of Hichai d Glosier, 
A man that loves not me, nor none of you. 
Riv. Is it concluded he shall be protector? 
Q. Eliz. It is determined, not concluded yet : 
But so it must be, if the king miscarry. 
Enter Buckingham and Si an ley. 
Grey. Here come the lords of Buckiugh;<m 
and Stanley, [gra«e! 

Buck. Good time of day unto your ro}al 
Stan. God make > our majesty joyful as \ <»u 
have been! [lord <ti Staniev, 

Q. Eliz. The countess Richmond, good iny 
To your good prayer, will scarcely say — amtn. 
Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife, 
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured, 
I hate not you for her proud arrogance. 

Stun. I do beseech you, either not believe 
The envious slanders of her false accusers ; 
Or, if she be accused on true report, [oefds 
Bear with her weakness, which, I think, pnv 
From wayward sickness, and no grounded 
malice. [o{ Stanley i 

Q. Eliz. Saw yon the king to-day, my lord 
Stan. But now, the duke of Buckingham. 
Are come from visiting his majesty. [and I, 
Q. Eliz. What likelihood of his amerd- 
ment. lords? [cheerfully. 

Buck. Madam, good hope ; bis grace speaks 
Q. Eliz. Uod grant him health! Did you 
confer with him? [mejii 

Buck. Ay, madam, he desires to make atone- 
Between the duke of G luster and your brothers, 
And between then) and my lord chamberlaiu; 

t A small '. i*r..'.ti coiu. 



^cine 11 L. 



K?NC; RICHAllD III. 



621 



And sent to warn* ihem to his royal presence. 

Q. Eii%. 'Would all were well! — Bui tUat 
will never be; — 
I fear, our happiness is at the height. 
Enter Gloster, Hastings, o7i(i Dorset. 

Glo. They do me wrong, and I will not en- 
dure it: — 
Who are tiiey, that complain unto the king, 
That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not? 
By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly. 
That fill his ears with such disseniious rumours. 
Because I cannot flatter, and speak fair, 
Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, 
Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, 
I must be held a rancorous enemy. 
Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm, 
But thus his simple truth must be abused 
J>> silken, sly, insinuating Jack?? 

Grey. To whom in ail this presence speaks 
your grace? 

Glor To thee, that hast nor honesty, nor 
grace. [wrong? — 

When have I injured thee? when done thee 
Or thee? — or thee? — or any of your faction? 
A plague upon you all! His royal grace, — 
Whom God preserve better than you would 

wish ! — 
Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while, 
But you must trouble him with levvdf com- 
plaints, [the matter; 

Q. Eliz, Brother of Gloster, you mistake 
The king;, of his own royal disposition, 
And not provoked by any suitor else; 
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred. 
That in your outward action shows itself, 
Against my children, brothers, and myself. 
Makes him to send ; thai thereby he may gather 
The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it. 

Glo. 1 cannot tell ; — The world is grown so 
bad, [perch ; 

That wrens may prey where eagles dare not 
Since every Jack j became a gentleman. 
There's many a gentle person made a Jack. 

Q. Eliz. Come, come, we know your mean- 
ing, brother Gloster ; 
You envy my advancement, and my friends ; 
God grant, we never may have need of you ! 

Glo, Meantime, God grants that we have 
need of you : 
Our brother is imprison'd by your means, 
Mysslf disgraced, and the nobility 
Held in contempt; while great promotions 
Are daily given, to ennoble those 
That sx^arce, some two days since, were worth 
a noble V [fnl height 

Q, Eliz. By Him, that raised me to this care- 
From that contented hap which 1 enjoy'd, 
I never did incense his majesty 
Against the duke of Clarence, but have been 
An earnest advocate to plead for him. 
My lord, you do me shameful injury. 
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. 

Glo. You may deny that you were not th.e 
cause 
Of my lord Hastings* late imprisonment. 



Rn . She may, my lord; for 

Glo. She may, lord Rivers? — why, who 
knows not so? 
She may do more, sir, than denying that ; 
She may help you lo many fair preferments; 
And then deny her aiding hand therein, 
And lay those honours on your high desert. 
What may slieuotV She may, — ay, marry, may 

Riv. What, marry, may she? [she, — 

Glo. \\ hat, marry, may she? marry with a 
A bachelor, a handsome stripling to : [king, 
I wis II, your grand am had a worser match. 

^. Ed%. My lord of Gloster, 1 have too long 
borne 
Your blunt upbraidings, and your bitter scoffs: 
By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty. 
Of those gross taunts 1 often have endured. 
I had rather be a country servant-maid. 
Than a great queen, with this condition — 
\o be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at: 
Small joy have 1 in being England's queen. 
Enter Queen Margaret, behind. 

Q. Mar. And lessen*d be that small, God, I 
beseech thee! 
Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me. 

Glo. What? threat you me with telling of 
the king? 
Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said 
I will avouch, in presence of the king : 
I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower, 
'Tis time to speak, my pains^ are quite forgot. 

Q. Mar. Out, devil ! I remember them too 
well : 
Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower, 
And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury. 

Glo. Ere you were queen, ay, or your husr- 
band king, 
I was a pack-horse in his great affairs; 
A weeder-out of his proud adversaries, 
A liberal rewarder of hi& friends ; 
To royalize** his blood, 1 spilt mine own. 

Q. Mar. Ay, and much better blood than his, 
or thine. [band Grey, 

Glo. In all which time, you and your hus- 
Were factious for the house of Lancaster ; — 
And, Rivers, so were you : — Was not your 

husband 
In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain? 
Let me put in your minds, if you forget, [are; 
What you have been ere now, and what you 
Withal, what I have been, and what I am. 

Q, Mar. A murd'rous villain, and so stih 
thou art. [Warwick, 

Glo. Poor CI irence did forsake his father 
Ay, and forswore himself, — Which Jesu par- 

Q.Mar. Which God revenge! [don! — 

Glo. To fight on Edward's party, for the 
crown ; ["P ♦ 

And,for his meed ft, poor lord, he is mew'dit 
I would to God, my heart were Hint like Ed- 
ward's, 
Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine ; 
I am too childi.^h-fo: lish for this world. 

Q. Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and 
leave this world. 



• Summon. + Rude, ignorant. J Low fellow. § A coin rated at 6v. ^d 

|l Think. % Labours. •• Make royal. tf Reward. +J Conlined, 



6 22 



SIIA.KSPE4RE. 



[Act t 



Thou CHCodaemon* ! there thy kingdom is. 

Hiv. My lord of Gloster, in those busy days. 
Which here yon urge, to prove us ent uiii'S, 
We tollow'd thtn our lord, our lawful king; 
So should we \ou, if jou should be our king. 

Glo, If 1 should be? — 1 had rather be a 
pidhir : 
Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof! 

Q. Eiiz. Aslittle joy,my lord.asyou suppose 
Yon should enjoy, were yon tills country's king; 
As Utile joy you may suppose in me, 
That I enjoy, hein^ the queeii thereof. 

Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the queen there- 
For I am she, and altogether joyless. [of; 

I can no longer hold me patient — {^Advancing. 
Here (oe, son wrangling pirates, thritfall out 
In shari.ig that which yc u have pill'dt from me: 
Whicti of yon trembles not, thai looks on me? 
If not, thai 1, being qiieeo, you bow like sub- 
jects; [rebels? — 
Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like 
Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away! 

Glo. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou 
in !ny sight? [marr'd ; 

Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast 
That will I make, betbre [ let thee go. 

Glo. Wert thou not banished on pain of death? 

Q. Mar. I was; but I do find more pain in 
banishment, 
Than death can yield me here by my abode. 
A husband, and a son, thou owesl to me. — 
And thou, a kingdom;— all of you, allegiance: 
This SO! row ih tt 1 have, by right is >ours; 
And all the pleasures you usurp are mine. 

Gl '. The curse my nohle father laid on thee, — 
When thou didst crown his warlike brows with 
pnper, [eyes; 

And viith thy scorns drew'st rivers from his 
And then, to dry them, gavest the duke a clout, 
Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rut- 
His curses, then from bitterness of soul [land ;— 
Denounced ngainst thee, are all fall'n upon thee; 
And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody 
deed. [cent. 

Q. Eltz. So just is God, to right the inno- 

Hast. (), 'twas the foulest deed to slay that 
babe. 
And the most merciless, that e*er was heard of. 

HiL\ Tyrants themselves wept when it was 
reported. [it. 

Dors. No man but prophesied revenge for 

Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept 
to see it. [1 came, 

Q. Mar. What ! were you snarling all, before 
l^nady to etch each »)ther by the throat, 
* nd turn you ail your hatred now on me? 
T id York's (iread curse prevail .o much with 

heaven, 
1 hat Henry's i'eath, my lovely Edward's death, 
Their kingdom's lo>s, my woful banishment, 
<(.iild all but answer for that peevish brat? 
(an curses pieice the clouds, and enter hea- 
vn ?— [cuises ! — 

\Vhy, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick 
Tliough not by war, by surfeit die your king, 
A.« ourt» by murder, to make liini a king! 



• Corrupt devil. 



t rUl.-\ged. 



Edward, thy son, that now is prince of \\ ale* 
For Ed ward, my son, that was prince of Wales 
Die in his youth, by like untimely violence! . 
Thyst If a tjueen, for me that was a queen, 
Outlive thy ghny» like my v\ retched sel. ! 
Lonsj; may'st thou live, to wail thy chil ren^ 
And see another, as I see thee now, [loos 
Deck'd in thy rights, as thou artstail'd in mine 
Long die thy happy days before thy death; 
And, alter many lengtl en'd hours of grief, i 
Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queeiv 
Rivers, — and Dorset, — you werestanders by.r 
And so wast thou, lord Hastings, — when nn 
son [hirt | 

Was stabb'd with bloody daggers ; God, I praj 
That none of you may live your natural age. 
But by some unlcok'd accident cut off! 

Glo, Have done thy charm, thou hateful 
wither'd hag. [thou shalt hear me 

Q Mar. And leave out thee ? stay, dog, for 
If heaven. have any grievous plague in store. 
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, 
O, let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe, 
And then hurl down their indignation 
On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace 
i he M orm of conscience stili be-gna w thy soul 
Thy friends suspect for traitors while \\\Wk 

livest, 
And take deep traitors for thy dearest frienda 
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine. 
Unless it be while some tormenting dream 
Attrights thee with a hell of ugly devils! 
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hogi 
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity 
The slave of nature, and the son of hell! 
Thou slander of thy mother's heavy wombi 
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins! 
Thou rag of honour! thou detested 

Glo. Margiret. 

Q. Mar. Richard ! 

Glo. Hal 

Q. Mar. I cat! thee no . 

Glo. I cry thee mercy then ; for I did think 
That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names 

Q, Mar. Why, so 1 did; but look'd for no 
reply. 
O, let me make the period to my curse, [garel 

Glo. 'Tis done by i.ie and ends in— Mar 

Q. Eliz. Thus have you breathed your curse 
against yourself. [of my fortune! 

Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish 
Why strew'.stthou sugar on that bottled spider j. 
Whose deadly web insnareth thee about? 
Fool, fool! thou wlici'st a 'cnife to kill thyself. 
The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me 
To help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back'd 
toad. [curse; 

Tlast. False-boding woman, end thy frantic 
Lest, to thy harm, thou move our patience. 

Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you! you have 
all moved mine. 

Rir. Were you well served, you would be 
taught your duty. [do me duty, 

Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should 
Teach me to be your queen, and you my sub- 
jects : 

X Alludius to ClosterS ftrm anti vei-.om. 



0, 



Scene III.] 



KIxNG RICHARD III. 



623 



0,serve me \ven,and teach yourselves th;it duty. 

Dor. Dispute not with her, site is lunatic. 

Q. Mar. Peace, master marquis-, you are 
malapLrt; [rent*: 

Vour fire-new stamp of honour is scarce cur- 
O, that yoni yv)unii nobility could judi^e, 
What 'twfie to lose ii, and be miserable! 
Tliey th it s and bi^li, have niany blasts to 
shake them ; [pieces. 

And, if they fall, they dash themselves to 

Glo. Good counsel, marry ; — iearn it, learn 
it, m;irqnis. [me. 

Dor. it tenches you, my lord, as much as 

do. Ay, and nuuh moie : But I was born 
Our aieryt bnildeth in the cedar's top.[sohiuh, 
And dallies with the wind, and scorns ih.esun. 

Q. Mar, And turns the sun to shade ; — alas ! 
alas!— 
Witness my son, now iu the shade of death ; 
W'hose brii;ht out-shining beams thy cloudy 
Hath in eternal darkness folded up. [wrath 
Yonr aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest: — 
O God, that see'st it, do not sutler it ; 
As it WHS won vvith blood, lost be it so. [charity. 

JBuCx. PfHce, peace, for sh;inie, if not fi>r 

Q. Mar. Urge neither chai i y nor sh mie to 
Uncharitably with me have you de;dt, [me ; 
An«l shanufnily by yon my hopes are butcher'd. 
iMy chanty is outrage, liie my sliatne, — 
And in my shame still live my sorrow's rage! 

Buck. Have done, have done. [hrind, 

Q, Mar. O princely Buckins^ham, I kiss thy 
In sign of league and amiiy with thee: 
Now fair belal thee, and thy noble house ! 
Thy garments are not spotted v\ith onr blood. 
Nor thou within the compass of Oiy curse. 

Buck. Nor no one here ; for curses never 
pass 
The lips of those that breathe them in tlie air. 

Q. Mar. I'll not believe but they ascend 
tlie sky. 
And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace. 
O Buckingham, beware of yoiKler dog: [bite.«», 
Look, when he fawns, he bites; and, when he 
His venom tooth will rankle to the death : 
Have not to do with him, beware uf him ; [him ; 
Sin, ( eath. and hell have set their marks on 
And all their ministers attend on him. [ingham? 

Glo. What doth she say, my lord of Hnck- 

Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious I 
lord. [gentle counsel ? 

Q. Alar. What, dost thou scorn n)e for my 
And sooth the devil that I warn iliee from 1 
O, but remember this another day. 
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow; 
And say, poor Margaret was a prophetess. — 
Live each of you the subjects to his ha'e. 
And he to yours, and all ot you to God's ! [ Exit. 

Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear 
her curses. [at liberty. 

Riv. And so doth mine ; I muse;, wiiy she's 

GLo. I cannot blame hei-, by God's holy 
mother ; 
She hath had too much wrojig, and I repent 
My part thereof, that 1 have done to her. 



j ^. Eii%, I never did her any, to my know- 
ledge, [wrong, 
! Glo. Yet you have all the vantage $ of her 
j I was too hot to do some body good. 
That is too cold in thinking of it now. 
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid; 
He is frank'd || up to fatlini^ for his pains ; — 
God pardon them that are the cause thereof! 
Rlv. a virtuous and a christian-like con- 
clusion. 
To pray for them that have done scathlT to us. 

Glo. So do 1 ever, being well advised ; — 
For had 1 cursed now, I had cursed myself. 

[J side* 

Enter Gates by. 

Cafes. Madam, his majesty doth call for yon. 

And foryour grace, — and]yon,my noble lords. 

Q. Etiz. Caiesby, I come : — Lords, will 

you go with me? 
Riv. Madam, we will attend upon your 
grace. [Eietmt all hat Glostkk, 

Glo^ 1 do the wronsi, and first begin to brawl. 
The secret mischiefs th it 1 set abroach, 
1 lay unto the grievous chariie of others. 
Clarciice, — whom I, indeed, have laid in dark 
I do beweep to many simple gulls ; [ness,-— 
Namely, to 8lanle>, Hastings, Buckingham 
And teil tlieni— 'tis tlie queen and her allies. 
Th.tt stir the king against the duke my brother 
Now they believe it ; and withil whet me 
lo be revenged on Kivers, Vriuglwm, Grey : 
But then I sigh, and, vvith a piece of scripture, 
Tell them— that God bids us do goi^d tor evil; 
An I thus I clothe my naked villdny 
VV ith old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ : 
And seem a saint, wlien most 1 play the devil. 

Enter Two .Murderers. 
Hut soft, here come my executioners. — 
How now, my hard\ , stout resolved mates? 
Are you row going to despatch tins thing? 
1 Murd. \V e are, my lord ; and come to 
have the warrant. 
That we may be admitted where he is. 

Glo. Well thought upon, I have it here 
about me : [Gires the U arrant. 

When you have done, rep lir to Crosby-place. 
But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, 
Withal obdurate, do not he^r him plead ; 
For Clirence is well spoken, and, perhips 
Mavmove your hearts to pity, if you mark him, 
1 Murd. Tut, tut, my lord, we wiil not 
stand to prate. 
Talkers are no good doers; be assured. 
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues. 
Glo. Your eyes drop mill-stones, when fools* 
eyes drop tears : 
I like you, lads ; — about your business straight; 
Go, go, despatch. 
1 Murd. We will, my noble lord. [£!r, 

SCENE IV. The same. A Room in tthe 
T>>2ver. 
Enter Clarence and Br.^kknbury. 
Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily 
to-day? 



, He was just created marqii 
Ii 1^' 



iiis of Dorset, 
at in a aty. 



t Nest. 



* Wonder. 
H.a-.i.. 



$ Advantage. 



6'j4> 



oilAKSPEAKE. 



JAci 



Clar. O, I have passed a inii-crable nigiil. 
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly si}<hts, 
That, as 1 am a christian fai htul man, 
I would not spend another such a night, 
Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days ; 
So full of dismal tenor was the tiuie. 

Brak. What was your dream, my lord.? I 
pray you, tell ;iie. [the Tower, 

Cla. Methought, that I had broken from 
And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; 
And, in my company, my brother Gloster, 
\\ ho from my cabin tempted me to walk 
Upon the hatches : thence we iook'd toward 

England, 
And cited up a thousand heavy times. 
During the wars of York and Lancaster 
That had befail'n us. As we paced along 
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, 
Methought, that Gloster stumbled ; and, in 

falling. 
Struck me, that thought to stay him, over- 
Into the tumbling billows of the main, [board, 

Lord ! methought, what pain it was to drown! 
W hat dreadful noise of water in mine ears ! 
\\ hat sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! 
Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; 
A thousand men, that fishes gnaw'd upon ; 
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 
Iiiestimable stones, unvalued jewels, 

All scrttter'd in the bottom of the sea, [holes 
Some lay in dead men's skiUls; and, in those 
^Vhere eyes did once inhabit, there were crept 
(As 'twere in seorn of eyes,) reflecting gems, 
Th.it woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, [by. 
And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatler'd 
Brak, Had you such leisure in the time of 
To gaze upon these secrets of the deep 1 [death, 

Clar. Methought, I had; and olten did 1 
strive 
To yield the ghost : but still the envious flood 
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth 
To setk the empty, vast, and wand'ring' air ; 
Rnt sinoiher'd it withii) my panting bulk*, 
\V liich almost burst to belch it in the sea. 

Bi "k. Awaked you not with this sore apony? 

Clar. O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after 
(>, then bet{an the tempest to my soul ! [life ; 

1 ptss'd, methought, the melancholy flood, 
With th.tt grim ferryman which poets write of. 
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 

"he first that there did greet my stranger soul. 
Was my great father-in-law, renowned War- 

\\ick, 
Who cry'd aloud. — What xcourgefor yerjury 
Can this d'Vk monarchy a^ord false CLa- 

rf nee ? 
And Ko he vanish'd : Then came wand'ring by 
A sh id(ivv like an aniiel, with bright hair 
Dibbled in blood ; and he shriek'd out aloud, 
Clarencr is come ,— false yjieetiiig, perjured 

Clat ^/ue, — 
Thf/t siahb'd me in the field by Tewkslntry ; 
Seize U7i hi/n, Juries, take him to your to?- 

vients f 
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends 
KnuronM me, ana howled in mine ears 



Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise 
1 treiiihling waked, and, for a season after. 
Could not believe but that I was iji hell; 
6uch terrible impression made \\\y dream. 
Brak. ISo marvel, lord, though it ahrighted 

you ! 
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. 
Clar. O, Brakenbury, 1 have done thee* 

things — 
That now give evidence against my soul, — 
For Edward's sake ; and, see, how he requitt^s 

me! — [thee. 

God ! if my deep prayers cannot appease 
But thou wilt be avenged on my initdeeds, 
Yet execute thy wrath on me alone : [dren I-— 
O, spare my guiltless wife, and iny poor chil 

1 pray tl.ae, gentle keeper, stay by me ; 
My soul is heavy, and 1 fain wouid sieep. 

Brak. 1 will, my lord; God give your grace 
good rest ! — 
[Clarence reposes himself on a Chair, 
Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours, 
Makes the night morning, and the noon tid« 

night. 
Princes have but their titles for their glaries. 
An outward honour for an inward toil j 
And, for unfelt imaginations. 
They often feel a world of restless cares : 
So that, between their tiiLs, and low name, 
ihere's nothing differs but the outward fame. 
Enter the Two Murderers. 
1 Murd. Ho ! who's here '? 
Brak. What wouldst thou, fellow 1 aad 
how earnest thou hither \ 

1 Murd. T would speak with Clarence, ami 
I came hither on my legs. 

Brak. What, so brief ? [tedious: — 

2 Murd. O, sir, 'tis better to be brit f than 
Let him see our commission ; talk no more. 

{A Paper is dtiivered to Brak an- 
bury, icho reads it. 
Brak. I am, in this, commanded to deliver 
The noble duke of Clarence to your hands : — 
I will not leason what is meant hereby. 
Because 1 will be guiltless of the meaning. 
Here are the ke>s ; there sits the dnke asleep . 
I'll to the king ; and signify to him, 
That thus I have resign'd to you my charge. 

1 Murd. You may, sir ; 'tis a point of wis- 
dom : Fare you well. {Ea:it Brakenbury. 

2 Murd. What, shall we stab him as he 
sleeps'? 

1 Murd. No; he'll say, 'twas done cowardly, 
when he wakes. 

2 Murd.Vs hen he wakes ! why, fool, he shall 
never wake until the great judgment day. 

1 Murd. Why, tiien he'li say, we stabb'd 
him sleeping. 

2 Murd. The urging of that word, judg 
ment, hath bred a kind of remorse in me. 

1 Murd. What i art thou afraid ? 

2 Murd. Nut to kill him, having a warrant 
for it ; but to be damn'd tor killing him, from 
the which no warrant can defend mc. 

1 Murd. I thought, thou hadst been resolute* 

2 Murd. So 1 am, to lei hiiu live. 



Body. 



Si-ne IV.] 



KING RICHARD III. 



623 



\ Murd. I'll brtck to the duke ot G luster, 
and tell hiiii so. 

2 Mtird. jSay, I pr'y'hee, stay a little: I 
hope, this holy humoiir of n.iiie will change ; 
It was wont to hold me but while one would 
tell twenty. 

1 Murd. How dost thou feel thyself now % 

2 Murd. 'Faith some certain dregs of con- 
science are yet within me. 

1 Murd, Remember our reward, when the 
deed's done. 

- 2 Murd. Come, he dies ; 1 had forgot the 
reward. 

1 Murd, Where's thy conscience now? 

2 Murd. In the duke of Gloster's purse. 

1 Murd. So when he opens his purse to give 
us onr reward, thy conscience flies out. 

■i Murd. 'Tis no niauer ; let it go ; there's 
few, or none, will entertain it. 

1 Murd. What, if it come to thee again? 

'2 Murd. I'll not meddle with it. it is a 
dangerous thiiig, it makes a man a co\Card ; a 
man cannot steal, but it accuseth him ; a man 
cannot swear, but it checks him ; a man can- 
not lie with his neighbeur's wife, but it detects 
him ; 'Tis a blushing shame-faced spirit, that 
mutinies in a man's bosom ; it fills one full of 
obstacles : it made me once restore a purse of 
gold, that by chance I found ; it beggars any 
man that keeps it ; it is turned out of all towns 
and cities for a dangerous thing ; and every 
man, that mean? to live well, endeavours to 
trust to himself, and live without it. 

1 Murd. 'Zounds, it is even now at my 
elbow, persuading me not to kill the duke. 

2 Murd. Take the devil in thy mind, and 
believe him not: he would insinuate with 
thee, but to make thee sigh. 

1 Murd. I am strong-framed, he cannot 
prevail with me. 

'I Murd. Spoke like a tall* fellow, that 
respects his reputation. Come, shall we fall 
to work ? 

1 Murd. Take him over the costard f with 
the hilts of thy sword, and then throw him into 
the malmsey-butt, in the next room. 

2 Murd. O excellent device! and make a 
gop of hiiij. 

1 Murd. Soft ! he wakes. 

2 Murd. Strike. 

1 Murd. ^o, we'll reason with him. 
Clur. Where art thou, keeper i give me a 

cup of wine. [lord, anf)n. 

1 Murd. You shall have wine etiougu, my 
Clar. In God's name, what art thou? 
1 Murd. A man, as you are. 
Clar. But not, as 1 am, royal. 
1 Murd. Nor you, as we are, loyal. 
Clar, Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks 

are humble. [looks mine own. 

1 Murd. My voice is now the king's, my 
Clar, How darkly, and how deadly dost 

thou speak ! 
Your eyes do menace me : Why look yon pale? 
M' ho sent you hither ? Wherefore do you come ? 
Both Murd. To, to, to, 



Clitr, To murder me? 
Both Murd. Ay, ay. [me so, 

dor. Vou scarcely have the hearts to tell 
And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it, 
Wheiein, my friends, have I otleuded you? 

1 Murd. Offended us you have not, but the 

king. 
Clar. I shall be reconciled to him again. 

2 Murd. Never, my lord ; therefore pre- 

pare to die. [of men, 

Clar. Are yon call'd forth from out a world 
To slay the innocent? What is my ottenct;? 
Where is the evidence that doth accuse me? 
What lav\ ful quest! have given their verdict up 
Unto the frowning judge i or who pronoimced 
The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death 1 
Before 1 be convict by course of law. 
To threaten me with death is most unlawful. 
I charge you, as you hope for any goodness. 
By Chiist's dear blood shed for our grievous 

sins. 
That you depart, and lay no hands on me ; 
The deed you undertake is damnable. 

1 Murd. What we will do, we do upon 

command. [our king. 

2 Murd. And he, that hath commanded, is 
Clar. Erroneous vassal ! the great King of 

kings 
Hath in the table of his law commanded, 
i That thou shalt do no murder ; Wilt thou then 
Spurn at his edict, and fulfil a man's ? 
Take heed ; for he holds vengeance in his hand. 
To hurl upon their heads that break his law. 
2 Murd. And that same vengeance doth he 

hurl on thee. 
For false forswearing, and for mnrdet too : 
Thou didst receive the sacrament, to tight 
In quarrel § of the house of Lancaster. 

1 Murd. And, like a traitor to the name of 

God, [ous blade. 

Didst break that vow; and, with thy treacher- 
Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son. 

2 Murd. Whom thou wast sworn to cheiish 

and defend. [ful law to u a, 

1 Murd. How canst thou urge God's dread- 
When thou luist broke it in such 6edr degree ? 

Clar. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill 
deed ? 
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake : 
He sends you not to murder me for this ; 
For in that sin he is as deep as I. 
If God will be avenged for the deed, 
O, know you, that he doth it publicly ; 
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm j 
He need? no indirect nor lawless course, 
To cut ofl those that have oflended him. 

1 Murd. Who made thee then a bloody 
minister. 
When gallant-springing, brave Plantagenet, 
That princely novice |j, was struck dead by thee? 

Clar. My brother's love, the devil, and my 
rage. [thy fault, 

1 Murd. Thy brother's love, onr duty, and 
Provoke us hither now to slaugliter thee. 

Clar, If you do love my brother, hate not 
I am his brother, and I love him well, [me 



• Brave. 



t Head. 



X Inquest, jury. 



^ On the part. 
3 H 



D Youth 



6^,6 



SHAKSPEAllE. 



[Act If* 



If you Kre i.irecl for ineed ♦, i^o back again, 
Aiul I will send you to my brother Gloster ; 
Wlio shall reward you belter for my lie, 
Than Kdvvard will for tidings of n»y de ith. 

'ZMurd. You are deceived, your brother 
Gloster hates you. 

Clxr. O, no ; he loves me, and he holds me 
Go y<»a to liim from me. [dear; 

Jiotti Maid. Ay, so we will. 

Ctur. Tell him, when ihbt our princely 
filth tr York 
BlessM his thiee sons with his victorious arm. 
And chat <ie I ns f.oni his soul to love each other, 
He liil tlioui^ht of this divided friendship : 
Bid {iloster think on this, and he will weep. 

1 AIii' (i. Ay, millstones ; as he lesson'd us 
to weep. 

Cl/tr. O, d ' not slander him, for he is kind. 

1 Murd. Kisiiit, as snow in harvest. — Come, 
you deceive yourself; 
'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here. 

Clar. It cannot be ; for he bewept my for- 
tune, [sobs. 
And hiigu,'d me in his arms, and swore, with 
That tie wotdd labour my delivery. [you 

1 Mnrd. Wiiy, so he doth, when he delivers 
From tiiis earth*s thraldom to the joys of 

heaven. [must die, my lord.. 

2 Murd. Make peace with God, for you 
Clar. Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul. 

To counsel me to make my peace with God, 
And art thou yet to tliy own soul so blmd, 
Ihat thou wilt war with God, by murdering 
Ah, sirs, consider, he, that set you on [me? — 
To do this deed, will hate you for the deed. 
2 Murd, What shall we do % 



Clar. Relent, and save your souU* 

1 Murd. Relent I 'tis cowardly, and wo- 

manish, [deviliih. — 

Clar. Mot to relent, is beastly, savage. 
Which of you, if you were a prince's son. 
Being penit from liberty, as 1 a.m now, — 
If two such murderers as yourselves came to 
Would not entreat for life? — [you, — 

My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks ; 
O, if thine eye be not a flatterer. 
Come thou on my side, antl entreat for me. 
As you would beg, were you in my distress. 
A begi^ing prince what be^jgar pities not? 

2 Murd. Look behind you, my lord. 

1 Murd. Take that, and that; if all this will 

not do, [Stab.s him. 

ru drown you in the malmsey-butt within. 

[aoiit, tvith the body. 

2 Murd. A bloody deed, and desperately 

despatch'd ! 
How fain, like I'ilate, would I wash my hands 
Of this most grievous guilty murder done 1 
Re-enter Jirst Murderer. 

1 Murd. How now? what mean'st thou, 

that thou help'st me not? 
By heaven, the duke shall know how slack 
you have been. [his brother! 

2 Murd. I would he knew, that 1 had saved 
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say ; 
For I repent ine that the duke is slain. [ Exit. 

I Murd. So do not I ; go, coward, as thou 
Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole [art. 
Till that the duke give order for his burial ; 
And when I have my meed, 1 will away ; 
For this will out, and then I must not stay. 

ib:xit. 



ACT IL 



SCENE 1. 



The same. A Room in the 
Palace, 



Enter King Edward, (led in sick,) Queen 
Elizvblth.Durset, Rivers, Hastings, 
Buckingham, GRjcY,a/i6/ Others, 

K. Edw. Why, so:~now have 1 done a 
good day's work ; — 
Yon peers, continue this united league : 
1 every day expect an embassage 
Fron) my Hedeemer to redeem me hence; 
And more in peace my soul shall part to 
he.iven, [earth. 

Since I have made my friends at peace on 
Rivers, and Hastings, take each other's hand; 
Disseinble not your h.itred, swear your love. 

H.L'. By heaven, my soul is purged from 
grudjiing hale ; 
And witii my lund I seal my true heart's love. 

Hast, ^io thrive I, as 1 truly swear the like! 

K. Edw. 'Jake heed, you dally not beiore 
your king ; 
Lest he, that is the supreme King of kings, 
Confound your hidden falsehood, and award 
Either of you to be the other's end. 

Ha^t, bo prosper 1, as i swear perfect love ! 

• Reward. 



Riv, And 1, at I love Hastings with my 
heart ! [in this, — 

K, Ediv. Madam, yourself are not exempt 
Nor your son Dorset, — Buckingham, noryou ; 
You have been factious one against the other. 
Wife, love lord Hastings, let him kiss your 
And what you do, do it unfeigned iy. [hand ; 

Q. Etiz. There, Hastings; — I will never 
more remember 
Our former hatred, So thrive I, and mine! 

K. Edw. Doi set, embrace him, — Hastings, 
love lord marquis. - [test, 

jyor. This interchange of love, I here pro. 
Upon my part shall be inviolable. 

Ha^t.AwA soswear 1. [Emhraces\)ov.S¥T. 

K. Edw. Now, princely Buckingham, seal 
thou this leai^ue 
With thy embraceu'ents to my wife's allies. 
And make me happy in your unity, [his h rite 

IJuck. Whenever Buckingham doth turn 
Upon your grace, {To the Queen.] but with all 

duteous love 
Dotli chtrish you, and yours, God punish me 
With hate in those where i expect most lovel 
When 1 have most need to employ a friend, 
And most assuie;! that he is a friend, 

t .Shut n\u 



^nr /-l 



RICIIAUD in. 



627 



Det*p, hoiluw.lrertclierons, and fnU of guile, 
lie hw unto me ! this do 1 bep ot heaven, 
When i am cold in love, to you, or yours. 

[ tJm ') ru ci /<^>^ R I V £ R s , 4^ • 
K. Edio. A pleasing cordi il, princely Buck- 
ingham, 
Is this ihy vow unto my sickly heart. 
There wantelh how o-Jir brother Gloster here. 
To make the blessed period of this peace. 
Buck, And, in good time, here comes the 
noble duke. 

l£ ter Gloster 
Glo. Good morrow to my sovereign king, 
and queen ; 
And, princely peers, a happy time of day! 
AT. E iw. Happy, indeed, as we have spent 
the ilay : — 
Brother, we have done deeds of charity ; 
M ide peace oi enmity, fair love of hate. 
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. 
Glo A llessed labour, n»y most sovereign 
liege. — 
Among this princely heap, if any here. 
By false inielligence, or wrong surmise. 
Hold me a foe ; « 

If I unv\itting y, or in my rage. 
Have aught committed that is hardly borne 
By any in this presence, I desire 
To reconcile me to his friendly peace : 
Tis death to me, to be at enmity ; 
1 hate it, an i desire all good men's love. — 
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you. 
Which I will purchase with my duieous 

service; — 
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, 
If ever any grudge were lodged between us ; — 
Of yon, lord Rivers, — and, lord Grey, of yon, — 
That all without desert have frown'd on me ; — 
Diikes, taris, lords, gentlemen ; indeed, of all. 
I do not know that Englishman alive, 
With whom my soul is any jot at odds. 
More than the infant that is born to-night ; 
1 thank my God for my humility. [alter. — 
Q. Eiiz. A holy-day shall this be kept here- 
l would to God, all strifes were well com- 
pounded. — 
My sovereign lorci, I do beseech your highness 
To take our brother Clarence to your grace. 

Glo. Why, madam, have I otfer'd love for 

To be so flouted in this royal presence? [this, 

Who knows not, that the gentle duke is dead? 

[Thej/ ail start. 

You do him injury to scorn his corse. 

K, Edw. \\ ho knows not he is dead ! who 

knows he is? [thi 

Q. Eliz. All-seeing heaven, what a world is 
• Buck. Look 1 so pale, lord Dorset, as the 
rest? [presence. 

Dor. Ay, my good lord ; and no man in the 
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. 
K. Edw. Is Clarence dead? the order was 
reversed. [died 

Glo. But he, poor man, by your first order 
And that a winged Mercury did bear; 
Some tardy cripple bore the countermand. 
That cann too lag to see him buried : — 
God granl .that some, less noble, and less loyal 
Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in bloody 



Deserve not worse than wrelchtd Clarence did. 
And yet go current from suspicion. 
Enter Si AN LEY. 
Stan. A boon my sovereign, for my service 

dont! [of sorrow. 

K. Eiw. I pr'ythee, peace ; my soul is full 
Stan. I will not rise, unless your highness 

hear me. [reqnesi'st. 

K, Edw. Then say at once, what is it thon 

Sta7i. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's 

Who slew to-day a riotous sientleman, [life ; 

Lately attendant on the (Juke or Norfolk. 

K. Edio. Have I a tongue to doom my 

brother's death. 
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave ? 
My brother kill d no man, his fault was thought. 
And yet his punishment was bitter death. 
Who sued to me for him \ who, in my wrath, 
Kneel'd at my teel, and bade me be advised? 
Who spoke of brotherhood? who spoke of 

love? 
Who told m.e, how the poor soul did forsake 
The miglity Warwick, and did hghi for me? 
Wiio told m:-, in the tield at Tewksbury, 
Whtn Oxford had me down, he rescued me„ 
And said, De.tr brother, live, and be a kh/g f 
Who told me, when we both lay in the field. 
Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me 
Even in his g irmenis ; and did give himself. 
All thin and naked, to the n«jmb-cold night? 
All this from my remembrance brutish wrath 
Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you 
Had so much grace to put it in my mind. 
But when your carters, or your waiting vassals, 
HavedoPie a drunken slaughter, and defaced 
The precious image of our dear Redeemer, 
You straight are on your knees for pa>don, 

pardon ; 
And I, unjustly too, must grant it you: — 
But for \\\y brother, not a man would speak. 
Nor 1 (ungracious) speak unto myself 
For liiin, poor roul. — The proudest of yon ail 
Have been beholden to him in his life ; 
Yet none of yon would once plead for his life. 
() God ! I fear, thy justice will take hold 
On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for thi» 
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. O, 
Poor Clarence ! 

[Exeunt King, Queen, Hastings, 
Rivers, Dorset, and Grev. 
Glo. This is the fruit of rashness ! — Marked 

you not. 
How that the guilty kindred of the queen 
Looked pale, when they did hear of Clarence* 

death ? 
O! they did urge it still unto the king: 
God will revenge it. Come, lords ; will you go. 
To comfort Edward with our company? 
Buck. We wait upon your grace. [Exeunt, 

SCENE IL The sajne. 
Enter the Duchess of York, icUh a Son and 
Daughter o/ Clarence. 
Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father 
Diich. l^o, boy. [dead* 

Daugh. Why do you weep so oft? and beat 
your breast ; 
And cry~0 Clarence-, my unhaffy soni 



62S 



SHAKSPE4RE. 



«/ //. 



^on. Why do you iouk on lis, and shake 
your head, 
And call us — orphans, wretches, cast-aways, 
If that our noble father be alive t [both ; 

Duch. My pretty cousins, you mistake me 
I do lament the sickness of the king. 
As loath to lose him, not >our father's death ; 
tl were lost sorrow, to wail one that's lost. 

^071. Then, grandam, you conclude that he 
is dead. 
The king my uncle is to blame for this : 
God will revenge it ; whom I will importune 
With earnest prayers all to that effect. 

JDaugh. And so will I. 

Duch, Peace, children, peace ! the king 
doth love yon well : 
Incapable* and shiillow innocents. 
You cannot guess who caused your father's 
death. [Gloster 

So7t. Grandam, we can: for my good uucie 
Told me, the king, provoked to't by the queen. 
Devised impeachments to imprison him : 
And when my uncle told me so, he wept, 
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek ; 
Bade me rely on him, as on my father. 
And he would love me dearly as his child. 

Duch. Ah, that deceit should steal such 
gentle shapes. 
And with a vinuous visor bide deep vice! 
He is my son, ay, and therein my shame, 
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. 

Sofi, Think you, my uncle did dissemble, 

Duch. Ay, boy. [grandam? 

Son. I cannot think it. Hark ! what noise is 

this? 
Enter Queen Elizabeth distractedly ; 
Rivers, and Dorse'i, foUonii/g her. 

Q. Eiiz. Ah ! who shall hinder me to wail 
and weep ? 
To chide my fortune, and torment myself? 
I'll join with black despair against my soul, 
And to myself become an enemy, [patience? 

Duch. What means this scene of rude im- 

Q. ELiz. To make an act of tragic violence : 
Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead. 
Why grow the branches, when the root is gone? 
Wiiy, v\ iiher not the leaves, that want their 

sap? — 
If you v. ill live, lament ; if die, be brief ; 
Thnt our swift-winged souls may catch the 
Or, like obedient subjects, follow him [king's; 
To his new kingdom of perpetual rest. 

Duch. Ah, so much interest have I in thy 
sorrow, 
As I h^d title in thy noble husband ! 
I have bewept a worthy husband's death, 
And lived by looking on his images : [hiance. 
Bat now two mirrors of his piincely sem- 
Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death ; 
And 1 for comfort have but one false ghiss, 
That grieves me when I see my shame in him. 
Thou .lit a widow; yet thou ait a motlier. 
And hast the comfort of thy children kft ihce: 
But death hath snatch'd my husband from my 
arms, [hands. 

And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble 

• IgQorauU 



Clarence, and Edward. O, wha cat se have I 
(Thine being but a moiety of m^ g» J«'f,) 
To over-go thy plaints, and drown thy cries ! 

Son. Ah, aunt 1 you wept not for our tatlier'a 
death ; 
How can we aid you with our kindred tears? 

Daugh. Our fatherless distress was left un 
moan'd, 
Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept ! 

^. Eiiz, Give me no help in lamentation, 
I am not barren to bring forth laments: 
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, 
J hat 1, being govern'd by the wai'ry moon. 
May send Jbrth plenteous tears to drown the 

world ! 
Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward I 

ChiL Ah, for our father, for our dear lord 
Clarence! [and Clarence I 

Duch. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward 

Q. Eliz. M hat stay had 1, but Edward? and 
he's gone. [he's gone. 

CMl. What stay had we, but Clarence? and 

Duch. What stays had I, but they ? and 
they are gone. [loss. 

Q, Eliz. Was never widow had so dear a 

Chit. Were never orphans, had so dear a loss. 

Duch. W as never mother had so dear a loss. 
Alas! I am tl-.e mother of these griefs ; 
Their woes are parceU'dfj mine are general. 
iShe for an Edward weeps, and so do I; 
I for a Clarence weep, so dolh not she : 
These babes for Clarence weep, and so do 1 : 
1 for an Edward weep, so do not they : — 
Alas! you three, on me, threefold distress'd, 
Pour all your tears, I am your sorrow 's nurse. 
And I will pamper it with lamentations. 

Dor. Comfort, dear mother ; God is much 
displeased. 
That you take with unthankfulness his doing; 
In common worldly things, 'tis call'd— un- 
grateful, 
With dull unwillingness to repay a debt. 
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent ; 
Much more to be thus opposite with heaven. 
For it requires the royal debt it lent you. 

Riv. Madam, bethink you, like a careful 

mother, [for him, 

Of the young prince your son: send straight 

Let him be crown'd ; in him your comfort lives 

Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's 

grave, 
And plant your joys in living Edward's throne, 
i^Viier Gloster, Buckingham, Sianllv 
Hastings, Ratcliff, and others. 

Glo. Sister, have comfort: all of us have 
To wail thedimmingof our shining star ; [cause 
But none can cure their harms by wailing them. 
Madam, my mother, 1 do cry you mercy, 
I did not see your grace: — Humbly on my knee 
I crave your blessing, [thy breast, 

Duch. God bless thee; and put meekness in 
Love, charily, obedience, and true duly ! [man I 

(jIo. Amen; and make me die a good old 
That is the butt-cud of a mother's blessing; 

[Aside, 
1 marvel, that her grace did leave it out. 

f Divided. 



Vctne If.] 



KIJSG liiCilAliD III. 



629 



Buck. You cloudy princes, and heart-sor- 
rowing peers. 
That bear ibii mutual heavy load of moan, 
JSow cheer each other in eitch other's love : 
1 hough we have spent cfur harvest of this king, 
We are to reap the harvest of his son. 
The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts, 
But lately splinted, knit, and join'd together. 
Must gently be preserved, cherish'd, and kept : 
Me seeraeth good, that, with some little torain. 
Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be 

fetched 
Hither to London, to be crown'd our king. 
Riv. Why with some little train, ray lord of 

Buckingham? 
Buck, Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude, 
The uew-heal'd wound of malice should break 

out; 
\\ hich would be so much the more dangerous, 
By how much the estate is green, and >et un- 

govern'd : 
Where every horse bears his commanding rein. 
And may direct his course as please himself. 
As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent. 
In my opinion, ought to be prevented, [of us ; 
Glo. I hope the king made peace with all 
And the compact is firm, and true, in me. 

Riv. And so in me ; and so, I think, in all : 
Yet, since it is but green, it should be put 
To no apparent likelihood of breach, [urged : 
Which, liaply, by much company mi^hl be 
Therefore 1 say, with noble Buckingham, 
That it is meet so few should fetch the prince. 
Hast. And so say L 

Glo. Then be it so; and go we to determine 
Who they shall be that straight shall post to 

Ludlow. 
Madam, — and you, my mother, — will you go 
To ^ive your ceflsures* in this weighty business % 
[Exeunt all but Buckingham and 
Gloster. [prince. 

Buck. My lord, whoever journeys to the 
For God's sake, let not us two stay at home: 
For, by the way, I'll sort occasion, 
A.* index + to the story we late taik'd of, [prince. 
To part the queen's proud kindred from the 
Glo. My other self, my counsel's consistory. 
My oracle, my prophet! — My dear cousin, 
I, as a child, will go by thy direction. 
Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay be- 
hind. [Exeunt. 
SCENE IIL Thesayne. A Street, 
Enter two Citizens, meeting. 

1 Cit. Good morrow, neighbour : Whither 

away so fasti [self: 

2 Cit. I promise yon, I scarcely know my- 
Hear you the news abroad? 

1 Cit. Yes ; the king's dead. 

2 Cit. Ill news, by'r lady ; seldom comes the 

better : 
fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy world. 
Enter another Citizen. 

3 Cit. Neighbours, God speed! 

1 Cit. Give you good morrow, sir, 

3 Cit. Doth the news hold of good king Ed- 
ward's death? 



2 Cit. Ay, sir, it is too true; God help, the 

while ! 

3 Cit. Then, masters, look to see a troublous 

world. [shall reign. 

1 Cit, No, no ; by God's good grace, his son 
3 Cit. Woe to that land, that's governed by 

a child 1 

2 Cit, In him there is a hope of government ; 
That, in his nonage j, council under him, 
And, in his full and ripen'd years, himself, 

N o doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well. 
1 Cit, So stood the state, when Henry the 
sixth 
Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old. 

3 Cit, Stood the state so? no, no, good 

friends, God wot 5; 
For then this land was famously enrich'd 
With politic grave counsel ; then the king 
Had vii^tuoiis uncles to protect his grace, 
i Cit. Why, so hath this, both by his father 

and mother. [father; 

3 Cit, Better it were they all came by his 
Or, by his father, there were none at all : 
For emulation now, who shall be nearest. 
Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not. 
O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloster; 
And the queen's sous, and brothers, haught and 

proud : 
And were they to be ruled, and not to rule, 
This sickly land might solace as before. 

1 Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst; all 

will be well. [on their cloaks; 

3 at. When clouds are seen wise men put 
When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand ; 
When the sun sets, who doth not look for night I 
Untimely storms make men expect a dearth: 
All may i*e well ; but, if God sort it so, 
Tis more than we deserve, or I expect, [fear: 

2 Cit. Truly, the hearts of men are full of 
Vou cannot reason || almost with a man 

That looks not heavily, and full of dread, [so: 

3 Cit, Before the days of change, still is it 
By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust 
Ensuing danger ; as, by proof, we see 

The waier swell before a boist'rous storm, 
but leave it all to God ! W hither away ? 

2 Cit. Marry, we were sent for to the justices, 

3 Cit, And so was I ; I'll bear you company. 

[Exeunt, 
SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the 
Palace. 
Enter the Archbishop of York, the poung 
Duke q/' York, Queen Eliza beth, and the 
Duchess (/York. 

Arch. Last night, I heard, they lay at Stony- 
Stratford ; 
And at Northampton they do rest to-night: 
To-morrow, or next day, they will be here. 
Duch, I long with all my heart to see the 
prince; 
I hope, he is much grown since last I saw him, 
Q, EHz. But I hear, no ; they say, my son of 
Hath almost overta'en him in his growth. [Yoik 
York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so. 
Duch, Why, my young cousin; it is good t« 
grow. 



Opinion. 



t Preparatory. 



X Minority. 



5 Knows. 

3 H 3 



H Converse. 



630 



SliAKSPEAaE. 



[Act JIf. 



York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at 

M> nil if hivtrs talk' bow I di<l grow 

Moif iImii in> bi oilier; At/, qoolh my uncle 

V losier, [opuie: 

Small hero.s nn re gnice, great wted^ aogrow 

An«i since, nieihinks, 1 would not grow so last, 

BeC/tnse swt-ei Howers are slow, and weeds 

iiMke haste. [<li<l not Hold 

iJtth. Good futh. eood faith, the saving 

In him thai did ohjfct the same to thee: 

he uas the wieiched'st thing, when he was 

So I .hu H giowinii, and so leisurely, [>oiinj',, 

lh.1t. It his Idle wt-re true, he shouhl be gra 

cious. [madam. 

Aith. And so, do doubt he is, my gracious 

IJuch. I hope he is; but yet let niulhers 

doubt. [meniberM, 

Yotk. i\ow, by my troth, if 1 had been re- 

I could have ^iven my uncle's iirace a tlout, 

To louch his i^rt'vvih, n^^aicr than he touch'd 

nnnt-. [me hear it. 

IJuc/t. How, my yocng York! I pr*ytheeltt 

York. Marry, ihey say, my uncle grew so 

fast, 

That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old ; 

Twas full two jears ere 1 could get a tooth. 

Giaiidam, this would have been a biting jest. 

Dutli. 1 pr'>thet-, pretty \ork, who told 

York. Graudam, his nurse. [thee this .' 

Duvh. His nnisef why, she was dead ere 

thou wast born. [told me. 

York. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who 

^. Eliz. A parlous* boy * Go to, you are 

too shrewd. [child. 

Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the 

Q. Eiiz. Pitchers have ears. 

Knter a Messenger. 
Arth. Here conies a messenger : 

What news? 

Mess. Such news, my lord, 

As grievej me to unfold. 
^. £lix. How doth the prince ? 



Mess. Well, madam, and in health. 

Duck. What is thy news* 

Mess. Lord Rivers, and lord Grey, aie sen 
to Pon fret. 
With them sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. 

Ducli. V\ ho hatk commuted them V 

A/o-s. The mii^hiy dukes 

Gloster and Buckingham. 

Q. b.liz. For what offence! 

Mess. The sum of all I can, 1 have disclosed 
Why, or for what, the nobles weie coniniitted. 
Is all unknown to me, my fiiacious lady. 

^. LUz. Ah me, 1 seethe ruin of my housel 
The tiger now hath seiztd the gentle hind ; 
Insulting t>rann> begins to jut 
Upon the innocent and av\eless throne ; — 
Welcome, destruction, lilood,and massacre! 
i see, a» in a map, the end of ail. 

Duck. Accurst (land unquiet v\ rankling days. 
How man> of you have nine eyes beheld ! 
M> husband lost his life to get the crov\n ; 
And often up and down m\ sons were tost. 
For ine to joy and wetp their t^ain and loss; 
And being seated, and dointstic brt-ils 
Clean over-blowii, ihemselv s, the conquerors. 
Make war upon themselves ; brother to brother. 
Blood to blood, self 'gainst self: — O prepos- 
terous 
And frantic courage, end thy damned spleen ; 
Or let me die, to look on death no more ! 

^. Eliz. Come, come, my boy, we will to 
sanctuary. — 
Madam, farewell. 

Duch. Stay, I will go with you. 

^. Eliz. Yon have no cause. 

Arch. My gracious lady, go. 

[To the Queen. 
And thither bear your treasure and your goods. 
For my part, Pll resign unto your grace 
1 he seal 1 keep ; and so betide to me, 
As well I tender you, and all of yours I 
Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary. 

[Kieunt* 



ACT in. 



SCENE I. The same. A Street. 

The trunipets sound. Enter the Prince of 
Wales, Gloster, Buckingham, Cardinal 
BoucHiER, awrf Others. 

Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, 
to your chamber. [sovereign : 

Glo. Welcome, dear cousin, my t'longhis' 
Theweary wayhath madeyou melancholy. [way 

Prime. No, uncle ; but our crosses on the 
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy : 
7 want more uncles here to welcome me. 

Glo. Sweet priuce, the untainted virtue of 
your years 
Hath not yet dived into the world's deceit : 
No more car. you didtinguish ofa man, [knows, 
Than of his outward show; which, God he 
Seldom, or never, jumpetb with the heart. 
Tbose UDOltoi^ which y ou want, were dangerous; 



Your grace attended to the sogar'd words, 

But look'd not on the poison of their hearts : 

God keep you from them, and from such false 

friends ! [they were none. 

Prince. God keep me from false friends 1 but 

Glo. My lord, the mayor ot London comes 

to greet you. 
Eyittr the Lord Mayor, and his Train. 
May. God bless your grace with health and 

happy days! 
Prince. I thank yon, good my lord ; and 
thank you all. [Exeunt Mayor. 4c. 
1 thought my mother, and my brother York, 
Would long ere this have met us on the way: 
Fie, what a slug is Hastings ! that he conies not 
To tell us whether they would come, or no. 
Enter Hastings. 
Buck. And in good tunc, here c^oies the 
sweating lord. 



• PeriloiM, dangerouf. 



Scene 1.] 



KING RICHARD III. 



651 



/'rincr. Wei coine> wiy lord: What, will our 
mother come I [not I, 

Hast. On what occasion, God he knows. 
The queen your mother, and your orother York, 
H^.ve tail en sanctuary : the tender prince 
Would fain h;ive come with me to meet your 

grace, 
But by his mother was perforce withheld. 

Buck. Fiel what an indirect and peevish 
course 
h this of hers ? Lord cardinal, will yonr^race 
Peisuade the king to send the duke of 1 ork 
Unto his princely brother presently? 
If she deny,— lord Hastings, go with him, 
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. 

Card, My lord of Buckingham, if my weak 
oratory 
Can from his mother win the duke of York, 
Anon expect him here : Butif she be obdurate 
To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid 
We should infringe the holy privilege 
Of blessed sanctuary ! not for all this land. 
Would I be guilty of so deep a sin. 

Buck. Yon are too senseless-obstinate, my 
Too ceremonious, and traditional : [lord, 

Weigh it but with the grossness of this age. 
You break not sanctuary in seizing him. 
'1 he benefit thereof is always granfed [place, 
To those whose dealings have deserved the 
And those who have the wit to claim the place : 
This prince hath neither claim'd it, nor de- 
served it ; 
And therefore, in mine opinion , cannot have it : 
Then taking him from thence, that is not there, 
You break no privilege nor charter there. 
Oft have I heard of sanctuary men ; 
But sanctuary children ne'er till now. [for once. 

Card. My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind 
Come on, lord Hastings, will you go with me? 

Hast. I go, u^y lord. 

Prince. Good lords, make all the speedy 
haste you may. 

[Exeunt Cardinal and Hastings, 
Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come. 
Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? 

Gio. Where it seems best unto your royal 
If I may counsel you, some day, or two, [self. 
Tour highness shall repose you at the Towei' : 
Then where you please, and shall be thought 

most fit 
For your best health and recreation, [place: 

Prince. I do not like the Tower, of any 
Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord I 

Glo. He did, my gracious lord, begin that 
place; 
Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. 

Prince. Is it upon record, or else reported 
Successively from age to age he built it? 

Buck. Upon record, my gracious lord. 

Prince. But say, my lord, it were not re- 
gi^ter'd ; [age, 

Methinks, the truth should live from age to 
A3 'twere retail'd to all posterity, 
Kven to the general all-endiog day. 

Glo. So wise so young, they say, do ne'er 
live long. lAside. 



Prince. What say you, uncle ? 
Glo. I say, without characters, fame Jives 
long. 
Thus, like the formal * vice, Iniquity, \ a - j 
I moralize twomeaningsin one word. ) ^•^*"^' 
Prince. That Julius Caesar was a famous 
With what his valour did enrich his wit, [man ; 
His wit set down to make his valour live : 
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; 
For now he lives in fame, though not in life. 
I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham. — 
Buck. What, njy gracious lord? 
Prince. An if I live until I be a man 
I'll win our ancient right in France again. 
Or die a soldier, as I lived a king. 
Glo. Short summers lightly t have i for- 
ward spring. [Aside. 
Enter York, Hastings, and the Cardinal. 
Buck* Now, in good time, here comes the 
duke of York. [loving brother? 
Prince. Bichard of York ! how fares our 
York. Well, my dread lord ; so I musr call 
you now. [yours : 
Prince. Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is 
Too late J he died, that might have kept that 

title. 
Which by his death hath lost much majefty. 
Glo. How fares our cousin, noble lord of 
York? [lord, 

York, I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my 
You said, that idle weeds are fast in growth : 
The prince my brother hath outgrown me far. 
Glo. He hath, my lord. 
York. And therefore is he idle 1 

Glo. O, my fair cousin, I must not say so. 
York. Then is he more beholden to yoti 

than 1. 
Glo. He may command me as my sovereign; 
But you have power in me, as in a kinsman. 
York. I pray you, uncle, then, give me ibis 
dagger. [heart. 

Glo. My dagger, little cdusin ? with all my 
Prince. A beggar, brother? [gi'^'tt; 

York. Of my kind uncle, that I know will 
And, being but a toy, which is no grief to give. 
Glo, A greater gift than that I'll give my 
cousin. [it I 

York. A greater gift ! O, that's the sword to 
Glo. Ay, gentle cousin, were it li'4ht enough. 
York. O then, I see, you'll part but with 
licjht gifts ; 
In weightier things you'll say a beggar, nay. 
Glo. It is too weiglity for your grace to wear. 
York. I weigh it lightly were it heavier. 
GlO' What, would you have my weapon, 
little lord ? [you call nie. 

Yark. I would, that I might thank vou as 
Glo. How? 

York. Little. 'talk ;— 

Prince. My lord of York will still bt .ross in 

TIncle.yonr grace knows how to bear with him. 

York. Vou mean to bear me, not to bear 

with me : — 

fTncle, iriy broiher mocks both yon and me; 

Hecaii.*erliall am little, i'ke an;.pe, [slmnUlers 

lie thinks that you si oaivl br.w me on you 



Sensible Vice, the buffoon in the old plays. 



t Cotunjoniy. 



JLatcly, 



632 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IIa^ 



Buck. With what a sliarp-provided wit he 
reasons ! 
To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle. 
He pretiily and aptly taunts himself: 
So cunning, and so young, is won(ierful. 

Giu, i\ly gracious lord, will't please you 
pass along \ 
Myself, and my good cousin Buckingham, - 
\\ ill to your nioilier, to entreat of her 
To meet you at the Tower, and welcome yoo. 

York. What, will you go unto the Tower, 
my lord I [it so. 

Prince. My lord protector needs will have 

York. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. 

Clo. W hy, sir, what should you fear 1 

York Marry, my uncle Clarence* angry 
ghost ; 
My grandam told me he was murder'd there. 

Prince. I fear no uncles dead. 

Glo. iS'or none that live, I hope. 

Prince. And if ihey live,l hope I need not 
fear. 
But come, my lord, and, with a heavy heart, 
Phmking on them, go I unto the Tower. 

{Exeunt Prince, York, Hastings, Car- 
dinal, and Attendants, 

Buck. Think you, my lord, this little prating 
Was not incensed * by his cubtle mother, [York 
To t;umt and scorn you thus opprobriously 1 

Glo. No doubt, no doubt : O, 'tis a parlous 
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capablef; [boy; 
He's all the mother's, from the top to toe. 

Buck. Well, let them rest. — 
Come hither, gentle Catesby ; thou art Fworn 
As deeply to effect what we intend, 
As closely to conceal what we impart : 
'ihou know'.^t our reasons ur^ed upon the way ; 
What iliink'st thou { is it not an easy matter 
To make William lord Hastings of our mind, 
For the instalment of this noble duke 
In the seat royal of this famous isle '? [prince, 

date. He for his father's sake so loves the 
That he will not he won to aught against him. 

Buck. What tliink'st thou then of Stanley ? 
will not he ? 

Cote. He vvill do all in all as Hastings doth. 

Buck. Weil then, no more but this: Go, 
gentle Catesby, [ings, 

And, as it were far off, sound thou lord Uast- 
Ilow he doth stand affected to our purpose ; 
And sumnHm him to-morrow to the Tower, 
To sit about the coronation. 
If thou <lost hud him tractable to us, 
Encoinatre him, and tell him all our reasons : 
If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling^ 
Be thoM so to ; and so break off the talk. 
And liive us notice of his inclination : 
Tor we to-njorrow hold divided; councils, 
\N herein thystif slialt highly be employed. 

Glo. Commend me to lord William: tell 
him, Catesby, 
His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries 
To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret cattle ; 
\nd bid my friend, for joy of this i,ood news, 
Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. 



Buck. Good Catesby, go, effect this buiK 
ness soundly. [I can, 

Cate. My good lords both, with all the heed 
Glo. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere 
Cate, You shall, my lord. [we deep t 

Glo. At Crosby-place, there shall you find 
us both. [Exit Catesby. 

Buck. l<.ow, my lord, what shall we do, if 
we perceive 
Lord Hastings will not yield to our compIotsT 
Glo. Chop off his head, man ; — somewhiit 
we will do : — 
And, look, when I am king, claim thon of me 
The earldom of Hereford, and all the moveables 
Whereof the king my brother was possessed. 
Buck. V\\ claim that promise at your grace'* 
hand. [kindness. 

Glo. And look to have it yielded with all 
Come, let us sup betimes ; that afterwards 
We may digest our complots in some form. 

[Exeunt-t 

SCENE II. ^e/bre Lord Hastings' i/oM^e, 
Enter a Messenger. 

Mess, My lord, my lord ! {Knocking} 

Hast. [Within.'] Who knocks 1 

Mess, One from lord Stanley. 

Hast. {Within.] What is't o'clock \ 

Mess. Upon the stroke of four. 
Enter Hastings. 

Hast, Can-not thy master sleep the tediout 
nights? [say 

Mess. So it should seem, by that I have to 
First, he commends him to your noble lord- 

Hast. And then, — [ship. 

Mess. And then he semis you word, he dreamt 
To-night the boar had rased off his helm : 
Besides, he says, there are two councils held ; 
An<l that may be determined atihe one. 
Which may make you and him to rue at the 
other. [pleasure,— 

Therefore he sends to know your lordship's 
If presently you vvill take horse with him. 
And with all speed post with him toward 

the north. 
To shun the danger that his soul divines. 

H'lyt. Go, fellow, go, return unto ihy lord ; 
Bid him not fear the separated councils : 
His honour, and myself, are at the one ; 
And, at tlie other, is niy good friend Catesby ; 
Where nothing can proceed, that loucheth us. 
Whereof 1 shall not have intelligence. 
Tell him, his fears are shallow, wanting in- 
stance § : 
And for his dreams — I wonder he's so fond (j 
To trust the mockery of uncpiiet slumbers: 
To fly the boar, before the boar pursues. 
Were to incense the boar to follow us, [chase. 
And make pursuit, where he did mean no 
Go, bid thy master rise and come to me ; 
And we will both together to the l ower, 
Where, he shall see, the boarlF will use ui 
kindly. [you say. 

Mess. I'il go, my lord, and tell him m h.-».t 

[Exit 



• lucited. 



t Intelligent. t Separate. 

% i. €., < ;io»tcr, who had a boar U 



i Example 
I hi^ arms. 



i; Weak. 



Scene II.] 



KING RICHARD III. 



633 



Enter Catesbt. 
Gate. Many good morrows to ray noble lordl 
Hast, Good morrow, Catesby ; you are early 
Mirring : ' [state 1 

What news, what news, in this our tottering 
Cate, It is a reeling world, indeed, my lord ; 
And, I believe, will never stand upright, 
Till Richard wear the garland of the realm. 
Hast. How! wear the garland? dost thoa 
Cate- Ay, my good lord, [mean the crown ? 
Heist. I'll have this crown of mine cut from 
my shoulders. 
Before I'll see the crown so fonl misplaced. 
But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it ? 
Cate. Ay, on my life ; and hopes to find 
you forward 
Upon his party, for the gain thereof: [news, — 
And, th-reupon, he sends you this good 
That, this same very day, your enemies. 
The kindreu of the queen, must die at Pomfret. 
Hast. Indeed, 1 am no mourner for that 
news. 
Because they have been still my adversaries: 
But, that I'll give my voice on Richard's side. 
To bar my master's heirs in true descent, 
God knows, I will not do it, to the de ith. 
Cate. God keep your lordship in that gra- 
cious mind ! [month hence, 
Hasf. But I shall laugh at this a twelve- 
Thatthey, who brought me iu my master's hate, 
1 live to look upon their tragedy. 
Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older, 
I'll send some packing, that yet think not on't. 
Cate. 'lis a vile thing to die, my gracious 
lord, 
When men are unprepared, and look not for it. 
Hast. O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls 
it out [do 
With Rivers,Vaughan, and Grey : and so 'twill 
With some men else, who think themselves as 

sate 
As thou and I ; who, as thou know'st, are dear 
To princely Richard, and to Buckingham. 
Cate. The princes both make high account 
of you, — 
For they account his head upon the bridge. 

{Aside, 
Hast. I know they do ; and I have well 
deserved it. 

£'/i?er Stanley. 
Come on, come on, where is your boar-spear, 

man 1 
Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided? 
Stan. My lord, good-naorrow ; and good 
morrow, Catesby : — 
You may jest on, but, by the holy rood *, 
I do. not like these several councils, I. 

Hast. My lord, I hold my life as dear as 
A.nd never, in my life, I do protest, [yours ; 
Was it more precious to me than *tis now : 
Tliink you, but that I know our state secure, 
1 would be so triumphant as I am ? 

Stan, The lords at Pomfret, when they rode 
from London, [sure. 

Were jocund, and supposed their states were 
Aud they. Indeed, bad no cause to mistrust; 



♦ Cross. 



t Know. 



But yet, you see, how soon tiie day o'er-cast. 
This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt ; 
Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward ! 
What, shall we toward the Tower ? the day is 
spef\t. [you what, my lord 1 

Hasi. Come, come, have with y(m. — Wott 
To-day, the lords you talk of are beheaded. 
Stan. They, for their truth, might better 
wear their heads. 
Than some, that have accused them, wear their 
But come, my lord, lei's away. .[hats. 

Enter a Pursuivant. 
Hast. Go on before, I'll talk to this good 
fellow. [Exiunt Stan, and Catesby. 
How now, sirrah 1 how goes the world with 
thee ? [to ask. 

Purs. The better, that your lordship please 
Hast. I tell thee, man, 'tis belter with me 
now, [meet : 

Than when thou met'st me last where now we 
Then I was goin^' prisoner to the Tower, 
By the suggestion of the queen's allies ; 
But now 1 tell thee, (keep it to thyself,) 
Ihis day those enemies are put to death. 
And I in better stale than e'er 1 was. [content ! 
Purs. God hold it, to your honour's good 
Hast. Gramercy, fellow ! There, drink that 
for me. [Throwing him his purse. 

Purs, I thank your honour. 

[Exit Pursuivant. 
En^er a Priest. 
Pr, Well met, my lord ; i am glad to see 
your honour. [my heart. 

Hast. I thank ihee, good sir John, with all 
I am in your debt fv)r your last exercise ; 
Come the next Sabbath, aud 1 will content you. 
Enter Buckingham. 
Buck. What, talking with a priCvSt, lord 
chambeilain .' [priest; 

Your friends ai Pomfret, they do need the 
Your honour hath no shriving j work in hand. 
Hast. Good faith, and when 1 met this holy 
man, 
The men you talk of came into my mind. 
What, go you towarrl the Tower I [there : 

Buck. 1 do, my lord ; but long I cannot stay 
I shall return before your lordship thence. 
Hast. Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner 

there. 

Buck. And supper too, although thou 

know'st it not. [Aside, 

Come, will you go ? 

Hast, I'll wait upon your lordship, 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III. Pomfret. Before the Castle, 

Enter Ratcliff, with a guard, conducting 
Rivers, Grey, and vaughan, to exe- 
cution. 

Rat. Come, bring forth the prisoners. 

Biv, Sir Richard Ratclitf. let me tell thee 
To-day shalt thou behold a subject die, [this, — 
For truth, for duty, and for loyalty, [of yon I 

Grey. God keep the prince from all the pacSi 
A knot you are of damned blood-suckeri. 

X Confession. 



634. 



SIIAKSPEAttE. 



\Art in 



Vaugh. You live> thai sUall cry woe for this 
hereafter. [out. 

Rat. Despatch ; the limit of your lives is 

Riv. () Pomfret, Pomfret ! O thou bloody 
Fatal and oiiiinous to noble peers! [prison, i 
Within the guilty closure of thy walls, 
llichard the second here was hackM to death : 
And, for more slander to thy dismal seat, 
We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink. 

Grey. Now Alargaret's curse is fallen upon 
our heads. 
When she exclaim'd on Hastings, yoo, and I, 
Forstanding by when Richard stabb'd her son. 

Riv. Then cursed she Hastings, then cursed 
she Buckingham, 
Then cursed she Richard : — O, remember, God, 
To hear her prayers for them, as now for us ! 
And for my sister, and her princely sons, — 
Be satisfied, dear God, with our true bloods, 
Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt ! 

Rat. Make haste, the hour of death is ex- 
piate *. [here embrace : 

Riv. Come, Grey, — come, Vaughan, — let us 
Farewell, until we meet again in heaven. 

{^Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Totvcr. 
Buckingham, Stanley, Hastings, the 

Bishop of Ely, Catesby, Lovel, and 

Otiiers, sitting at a Table : Officers of the 

Council utt ending. 

Hast. Now, noble peers, the cause why we 
Is to determine of the coronation : [are met 
In God's name, speak, when is the royal day? 

Buck. Are all things ready for that royal 
time 1 

Stan. They are ; and wants but nomination. 

£ly. To-morrow then 1 judjje a happy day. 

Buck. Who knows the lord protector's mind 
herein ? 
Who is most inward t with the noble dnke? 

My. Your grace, we think, should soonest 
know his mind. [hearts, — 

Buck. We know each other's faces : for our 
He knows no more of mine, than I of yours ; 
Nor I of his, my lord, than y<iu of mine : — 
Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. 

Hast. 1 thank his grace, I know he loves 
me well ; 
But, for his purpose in the coronation, 
I have not sounded him, nor he deliver*d 
His gracious pleasure any way therein : 
But you, my noble lord, may name the time ; 
And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice, 
Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part. 
Enter Gloster. 

Ely. In happy time, here comes the duke 
himself. [morrow : 

Glo. My noble lords and cousins, all, good 
I have been long a bleeper ; but, 1 trust, 
My absence doih neglect no groat dt^ign, 
Which by my presence might have been con- 
cluded, [niy !^rd, 

puck. Had yon not come upon jvMircue, 
William lord Hastings had pronounced your 
pait, — 



1 mean, you-r voice, — tor crow ning of the kir g. 
Glo. 'ihan my lord Hastings, no man might 
beholder; [welK — 

His lordship knows me well, and loves me 
My lorfi of Ely, when I was last in Hoi born, 
I saw good strawberries in your garden there ; 
1 do beseech you send tor some of them. 
Ely. Marry, and will, my lord, with all iry 
heart. [Eiit Ei.^i. 

Glo. Cousin of Buckingham, a word wi'h 
yon. [Takes him asidi', 

Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our businew , 
And linds the testy gentleman so hot, 
That he will lose his head, ere give consent, 
His master's child, as worshipfully he terms li 
Shall lose the royalty of England's throne. 
Buck. Withdraw yourself awhile, I'll f* 
with you. 
[t:xet(7it Gloster and Bdckinghaf 
Stan. We have not yet set down this day t X 
triumph. 
To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden \ 
For I myself am not so well provided, 
As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. 
Re-enter Bishop of Ely. 
Ely. Where is my lord protector t I hav»- 
For these strawberries. [seu^ 

Mast. His grace looks cheerfully and smooiK 
this morning ; 
There's some conceit % or other likes him well. 
When he doth bid good morrow with sucL 

spirit. 
I think, there's ne'er a man in Christendom, 
Can lesser hide his love, or hate, than he ; 
For by his face straight shall ye know hii 
heart. [his face^ 

Stun. What of his heart peiceive >ou in 
By any likelihood he show'd lo-day ? 
Hast. Marry, that with no man here he is 
offended ; 
For, were he, he had shown it in his looks. 
Re-enter Gloster and Buckingham. 
GLo. 1 pray you ail, tell me what they de- 
serve. 
That do conspire my death with devilish plots 
Of daiimed witchcraft ; and that have pre- 

vail'd 
Upon my body with their hellish charms? 
Hast. The tender love 1 bear your gra* c, 
my lord. 
Makes me most forw^ard in this noble presence 
To doom the otfendors : W hosoe'er thfy be, 
I say, my lord, they have deserved death. 
Glo. Then be your eyt* the witness ot their 
evil. 
Look how T am bewitch'd ; behold mine at m 
Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up : [witcii. 
And this is Edward's wife, that nionsnona 
Consorted with that harlot, strumpet Shore, 
That by their witchcraft thirs have marked nie. 
Hast. If they have done this deed, my noble 
lord, — [strumpet, 

Glo. Ifl thou protector of this dainntd 
Talk'st thou to me of its?-— Ihou art a trai- 
tor :— [>wear, 
Oflf w ith his head : now, by Sai it Fam i 



Expiated, completed. 



t Intimate. 



X Thought. 



Scfne jr.] 



KING RICHARD III. 



^3^ 



I will noi dine until I see tb.e same. — 
Lovel, and Catesby, look ibat it be done; 
The rest thai love nie, rise, and follow me. 

lExeir/U Council, tvitn Gloster and 
Blckingham. 
Hast. Woe, woe, for England! not a whit 

for me ; 
For I, too fond *, might have prevented this: 
Stanl-ey did dream the boar did r.ise Ids helm ; 
But 1 <lisdain'd it, and did scorn to rly. 
Three times to-day my foot clotii horse did 

stnm!)le, 
And gtartled, when he look'd upon the Tower, 
As loath to bear me to the slaiivihtei-hoiis . 
O, now I want the piiest tliat spake to me: 
I now repent 1 toUf'the pursuivant, 
As too triumphing, how mine enemies. 
To-day at Pomfrel bloodily were tuitcher'd, 
And I myself secure in grace and favour. 
O, Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse 
Is ligtited on poor Hastings' wretched head. 
Cate. Despatch, my lord, the duke would 

be at dinner ; 
Make a short shrift, he longs to see your head. 
Hast. O momentary grace of mortal men, 
Which we more hunt for than the grace of 

God! 
W ho builds his hope in air of your fair looks. 
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast; 
Ready, with every nod, to tumble down 
Into the fatal bowels of the deep. 

JLov. Com>e, come, despatch ; 'tis bootless 

to exclaim. [land! 

Hast. O bloody Richard !— miserable Eng- 
I prophesy the feaifoil'st time to thee. 
That ever wrenched a-e hath look'd upon. — 
Come, lead nie to the block, bear him my head ; 
I'hey smile at me, who shortly shall be dead. 

\_Exeu7it. 

SCENE V. Thesam. The Tower -walL-:. 
Enter Glostkr and Buckingham, in 
rusty armour t marvellous ill-favoured. 
Glo. Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and 
change thy colour? 
Murder thy breath in middle of a word, — 
And then again begin, and slop again, 
As if thou wert distraught, and mad with 
terror? [gedian ; 

Back. Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tra- 
Speak, and look back, and pry on every side, 
Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, 
Intendingt deep suspicion : ghastly looks 
Are at my service, like enforced smiles ; 
And both are ready in their offices, 
At any time, to grace my stratagems. 
But what, is Catesby gone? [along. 

Gto. He is ; and see, he brings the mayor 
Enter the Lord Mayor and Catesby. 
Buck. Let me alone to entertain him. — 

Lord mayor, — 
Glo. Look to the draw-bridge there. 
Bu(k. Hark, hark ! a drum. 

Glo. Catesby, o'erlook the walls. 
Buck. Lord mayor, the reason we have sent 
lor yoo, 

• Weak, fooljsh. 



Glo. Look back, defend thee, here are ene- 
mies. 
Buck. G(»d and our innocence defend and 
guard us ! 
Enter Lovel ^/wd R\tcliff, with 
H Asi iNCJs's head. 
Glo. Be patif nt, they are friends ; Ratcliflf, 

and Lovel. 
Lov. Here is the head of that ignoble traitor. 
The daugeioiis and unsuspected 11 istiuiis. 
Glo. So dear 1 lo>ed the man, that I must 
weep. 
I took him for the plainest harmless*t creature, 
That breathed upon ihe earth a christian; 
Made hiiii my I'Ook, wherein my soul recorded 
The history of all her si cret ihousihts : 
So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of 

virtue, 
That, his apparent open guilt omitted, — 
I mean, his conversation with Shore's wife, — 
He lived from all attainder o^" suspect. 

Buck. Well, well, he was the covert'st 
Bhelter'd traitor 
That ever lived. — Look you, my Uird mayor. 
Would you imagine, or almost believe, 
(Wer't not, that by gieat pieservation 
We live to tell it you,) the subtle traitor 
This day had ( lotted in the council-house. 
To murder me, and my good lord ot Gloster? 
May, What! had he so? [dels? 

Glo. What ! think you we are Turks, or infi- 
Or that we would, against the form of law. 
Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death ; 
But that the extreme peril of the case. 
The peace of England, and our persons' safety. 
Enforced us to tliis execution? 
May. >iow, fair befal you ! he deserved his 
death : [ceeded, 

And your good graces both have well p'O- 
To warn false traitors from the like attempts. 
I never look'd for bette'" at his hands. 
After he once fell in with mistret^S Shore. 
Buck. Yet had we not determined he should 
die. 
Until your lordship came to see his end ; 
Which now the loving haste of these our 
friends, [ed : 

Somewhat against our meaning, hath prevent- 
Because, my lord, we would ha^'? had you 

heard 
The traitor speak, and timorously coirfess 
The manner anri the purpose of his treasons; 
1 hat you might well have signified tl'e same 
Unto the citizens, who, haply, may 
Misconstrue us in him, and wail his death. 
May. But, my good lord, your grace's wore' 
shall serve. 
As well as I had seen, and heard him speak: 
And no not doubt, right noble prioces both. 
But I'll acquaint our duttons citizens 
^\ith ail your just proceedings in this case. 
Glo. And to that end we wi^h'd jour lord- 
ship here, 
j To avoid the censures of the carping world, 
i Buck. But since you came too laie of our 
I intent, 

♦ Preteudlaj. 



636 



SH AKSi'KARF- 



[Art IfF 



Yet witness what you hear we did intend : 
And 80, my good lord mayor, we Lid tarewell. 
[E.iit Lord Mayor. 
Glo. Go after, after, cousin Buckingham. 
The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all 

post : — 
There, at yoilr meetest vantage of the time, 
Infer the hastardy of Edward's chifdren :. 
Tell them, how Edward put to death a citizen. 
Only for saying — he would make his son 
Heir to the Crown, meaning, indeed, his house. 
Which, by the siun thereof was termed so. 
Moreover, urge his hateful luxury, 
And bestial appetite ir. change of lu?t; 
Which stretchM unto their servants, daugh- 
ters, wives, 
Even where his raging eye, or savage heart. 
Without control, listed to make his prey. 
Nay, for a need, thus far come near my per- 
son: — [child 
Tell them, when that my mother went with 
Of that insatiate Edward, noble York, 
My princely father, then had wars in France; 
And, by just computation of the time. 
Found, that the issue was not his begot ; 
"Which well appeared in his lineaments, 
Being nothing like the noble duke my father: 
Yei touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off; 
Because, my lord, you know, my mother lives. 
Buck. Doubt not, my lord; I'll play the 

orator, 
s if the golden fee, for which I plead, 
Were for myself; and so, my lord, adieu. 
Glo. If you thrive well, bring them to Bay- 
nard's castle; 
Where you shall find ine well accompanied. 
With reverend fathers, and well-learned 
bishops. [o'clock. 

Buck. I go ; and towards three or four 
Look for the news that the Guildhall affords. 
[Exit Buckingham. 
Glo. Go, Level, with all speed to doctor 
Shaw,— t^olh 

Go thou [to Cat.] to friar Penker ; — bid them 
Meet me, within this hour, at Baynard*s castle. 
[Exeu7it LovEL and Gates by. 
Now will I in, to take some privy order 
To draw the brat« of Clarence out of sight ; 
And to give notice, that no manner of person 
Have, any time, recourse unto the princes. 

[Exit. 
SCENE VI. A Street. 
Enter a Scrivener. 
Scriv. Here is the indictment of tiie good 
lord Hastings; 
Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd. 
That it may be to-day read o'er in Paul's. 
And mark how well the sequel hangs together : 
Eleven hours I have spent to write it over. 
For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me; 
The precedent* was full as long a doing: 
And yet within these five hours Hastings lived. 
Untainted, unexamined, free, at liberty. 
Uere'i a goo<^ ^'orid the while! — Who is so 
groM, 

• Original draft- 



That cannot see this palpable device i 
Vet who so bold, but »ays — he sees it not? 
Bad is the world ; and all will come to noniiht. 
When such bad dealing mustbeseeninthiui-iht. 

[Edit. 

SCENE VII. The same. CoMrfq/" Bay nard'» 

Castle. 
Enter Gi.osT^'R and'WvcvunGnkfu.meetivg, 

Glo, How now, how now T what say the 
citizens ? 

Buck. Now by the holy mother of our Lord, 
The citizens are mum, say not a word. 

Glu. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's 
children? [Lucy. 

Buck. I did ; with hib contract with Lad> 
And his contract by deputy in France : 
The insatiate greediness of his desires. 
And his enforcement of the city wives; 
His tyranny for trifles ; his own bastardy,— 
As being got, your father then in France; 
And his resemblance, being not like the duke. 
Withal, 1 did infer your lineaments, — 
Being the right idea of your father. 
Both in your form and nobleness of mind : 
Laid open all your victories in Scotland, 
Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace. 
Your bounty, virtue, fair humility ; 
Indeed, left nothing, fitting tor your purpose, 
Untoncli'd, or slightly handled, in discourse. 
And, when my oratory gt ew to an end, 
I bade them, tliat did love their country's goo<l^ 
Cry — God save Hichard, Englana's royal 

Glo. And did they so? [king ! 

Buck. No, so God help me, they spake not 
a word ; 
But, like dumb statuas, or breathless stones, 
Stared on each other, and look'd deadly pale. 
Which when I saw, I reprehended them ; 
And ask'd the mayor, what meant this wilful 

silence : 
His answer was, — the people were not used 
To be spoke to, but by the Recorder. 
Then he was urged to tell my tale again: 
Thus saith the duke^ thus hath the duke 

inferr*d ; 
But nothing spoke in warrant from himself. 
When he had done, some followers of mine 

own. 
At lower end o'the hall, hurl'd up their caps. 
And some ten voices cried, God save Ai/tg 

Hirhard! 
And thus I took the vantage of those few,— 
Thauks,ge7itlecitiz€nSf a fid frie fid s,quot\\ I; 
This general applause, and cheerful shout ^ 
Argues your wisdom, and your love to 

Richard: 
And even here brake off and came away. 

Glo. What tongueless blocks were they ! 
Would they not speak? 
Will not the mayor then, and his brethren, 
come? 

Buck. The mayor is here at hand ; intend ^ 
some lear ; 
Be not you sp<»ke with, but by niighty suit : 
And look you get a prayer-book in your haud^ 

t Pretend. 



Scene V/L] 



KlXn RICH4RD III. 



637 



And stand between two churchmea, good my 

lord ; 
For on that ground I'll make a holy descant : 
And be not easily won to our requests; [it. 
Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take 
Glo. I go ; and if you plead as vvell for them. 
As I can say nay to thee for myself, 
No doubt we'll bring it to a happy issue. 
Buck. Go, go, up to the leads ; the lord 
mayor knocks. [Exit Gloster. 

Enter the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and 

Citizens. 
Welcome, my lord ; I dance attendance here ; 
I think, the duke will not be spoke withal. — 

Enter, from the Castle, Gates by. 
Now, Catesby ! what says your lord to my re- 
quest? [lord, 
Cate. He doth entreat your grace, my noble 
To visit hira to-morrow, or next day : 
He is within, with two right reverend fathers. 
Divinely bent to meditation ; 
And in no worldly suit would he be moved. 
To draw him from his holy exercise, [duke ; 
Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious 
Tell him, myself, the mayor and aldermen, 
In deep designs, in matter of great moment. 
No less importing than our general good, 
Are come to have some conference with his 
grace. 
Cate. I'll signify so much unto him straight. 

[Exit. 
Buck. Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an 
HeisnotloKingona^lewd day-bed*, [Edward! 
But on his knees at meditation ; 
Not dallying with a brace of courtezans. 
But meditating with two deep divines; 
Not sleeping, to engross! his idle body, 
But praying, to enrich his watchful soul : 
Happy were England, would this virtuous 
Take on himself the sovereignty thereof: [prince 
But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it. 
May. Marry, God defend, his grace should 
say us nay ! [again ; — 

Buck. I fear he will : Here Catesby comes 
Re-enter Catesby. 
Now, Catesby, what says his grace? [sembled 
Cate. He wonders to what end you have as- 
Such troops of citizens to come to him, 
I His grace not being warn'd thereof before. 
He fears, my lord, yon mean no good to him. 
Buck. Sorry I am, my noble cousin should 
, Suspect me, that I mean no good to him : 
I By heaven, we come to him in perfect love ; 
[ And so once more return and tell his grace. 
I [Exit Catesby. 

When holy and devout religious men 
Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them 
So sweet is zealous contemplation. [thence ; 
Enter Gloster, in a Gallery above, be.tiveen 
Two Bishops. Catesby returns. 
May. See, where his grace stands 'tween two 
clergymen 1 [prince. 

Buck. Two props of virtue for a christian 
To stay him from the fall of vanity : 
And, see, a book of prayer in his hand ; 
True ornaments to know a holy man. — 



Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince. 
Lend favourable ear to our requestt; 
And pardon us the interruption 
Of thy devotion, and ri^jht christian zeal. 

Glo. My lord, there needs no such apology; 
I rather do beseech you pardon nie, 
Who, earnest in the service of my God, 
Neglect the visitation of my friends. 
But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure? 

Buck. Even that, I hope, which pleaselh 
God above, 
And all good men of this ungovern'd isle. 

Glo. 1 do suspect I have done some offence. 
That seems disgracious in the city's eye ; 
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. 

Buck. You have, my lord ; Would it might 
please your grace. 
On our entreaties to amend your fault! 

Glo. Else wherefore breathe lin a Christian 
l;ind? 

Buck. Know, then, it is your fault, that you 
resign 
The supreme seat, the throne majestical. 
The sceptred office of your ancestors. 
Your state of fortune, and your due of birth. 
The lineal glory of your royal house. 
To the corruption of a blemish'd stock: 
Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, 
(Which here we waken to our country's good,) 
The noble isle doth want her proper limbs; 
Her face defaced with scars of infamy, 
Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants. 
And almost shoulder'd j in the swallowing gulf 
Of dark forgeifulness and deep oblivion. 
Which to recurej, we heartily solicit 
Your gracious self to take on you the charge 
And kingly government of this your land ; 
Not as protector, steward, substitute. 
Or lowly factor for another's gain : 
But as successively, from blood to blood. 
Your right of birth, your emperylj, your own. 
For this, consorted with the citizens. 
Your very worshipful and loving friends. 
And by their vehement instigation. 
In this just suit come 1 to move your grace. 

Glo. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence. 
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof. 
Best fitteth my degree, or your condition: 
If, not to answer, — you might haply think, 
Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded 
To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, 
Which fondly you would here imp*.)se on me 
If to reprove you for this suit of yours. 
So seasoned with your faithful love to me. 
Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends 
Therefore, — to speak, and to avoid the first; 
And, then in speaking, not to incur the last, — 
Definitively thus I answer you. 
Your love deserves my thanks ; but my desert 
Unmeritable, shuns your high requesL 
First, if all obstacles were cut away, 
And that my path were even to the crown. 
As the ripe revenue and due of birth ; 
Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, 
So mighty, and so many, my defects, [ness, — 
That 1 would rather hide me from my great 



• A couch. 



t Fatten. 



X Thnist into. 



$ Recover. 



I Empire. 



638 



SHAKSPKAUE. 



[Act IT 



Being a baik to brook no mighty sea,— 
Than in my i^it-atness covet lo be hid, 
And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. 
But, God i)e thank'd, there is no need of nie ; 
(And much I jieed* to help you, it need were;) 
The royal tree haih lift us royal fruit. 
Which, mellowM by the siealinii h(.ur8 of time, 
Will well btcoiiie the seat of mnjc^ty, 
And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. 
On him I lay what you wouid lay on me. 
The right and fortune of his happy stars, — 
Which, (iod defend, that I should wriui; from 
him I [your grace ; 

Bark. My lord, this argues conscience in 
But the respects thereof are ni ef and trivial, 
All circumstances well considered. 
You say that Edward is your rother's son ; 
So say we loo, hut not by Edward's wife ; 
For hrsl he was contract tt» lady Lucy, 
'i our mother lives a vvitne^s to his vow; 
And afterwards by substitute betroth'd 
To Bon,i, sister to the king of France. 
These both put by, a poor petitioner, 
A care crazed mother to a marjy sons, 
A beauty-waning uid distressed widow, 
Evt n in the afternoon of her best days, 
Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye, 
Seduced the pitch and heiijht of all his thoughts 
1 o base declension and loath'd bigamy : 
Bv her, in his unlawful tied, he got [prince. 
This Edsvard, whom our manners call — the 
More bitterly could 1 expostulate, 
Save that, for reveience to some alive, 
I give a sparing limit to my tongue. 
'I hen, good my lord, take to yoir royal self 
'i'his protter'd beneht of dignity : 
If not to bless us and the land withal. 
Yet to draw ft>rth your noble ancestry 
Ftom the corrU(>tion of abusing time, 
L'nto a lineal true-derived course, [treat you. 
Mtnj. Do, good my lor<l ; your citizens en- 
Buck. Refuse not, mighty lord, this prof- 
fer'd love. [ful suit. 

Cate. O, niake them joyful, grant their law- 
Glo. Alas, why would you heap those cares 
I am unfit for state and majesty : — [on me? 
I do beseech you, take it not amiss ; 
1 cannot, nor I will not, yield lo you. 



Buck. If you refuse it,— as in love and zea , 
Loath to depose the child, your brother's son ; 
As well we know your tenderness of heart, 
And gentle, kind, etteminale remorse I, 
Which we have noted in you to your kindred, | 
And equally, indeed, to all estates, — 
Yet know, whe'r you accept our suit or no, 
Y'our brother's son shall never reign our king; 
But we will plant some other in your throne. 
To the disgrace and downfal of your house. 
And, in this resolution, here we leave you ; 
Come, citizens, we will entreat no more. 

[Exennt Buckingham «wrf Citizens. 

Cate. Call them again, sweet prince, accept 
their suit; 
If you deny them, all the land will rue it. 

Glo. Will you enforceme toa world of cares? 
Well, call them again ; I arn not u»ade of stone. 
But penetrable to yonr kind entreaties, 

[Exit Catesby. 
Albeit against my conscience and my soul. — 

Be-e/ter Buckingham and the Best, 
Cousin of Buckingham, — and sage, grave meo, 
Since you will buckle fortune on my back, 
To bear her burden, whe'r i will or no, 
I must I'.ave patience to endure the load : 
But if black scandal, or foul-taced reproach. 
Attend the sequel of your imposition. 
Your mere enforcement shall acquittance we 
From all the impure blots and s>tains thereof; 
For God he knows, and you may partly see. 
How far I am from the desire of this. 

May. God bless your grace! we see it, and 
will say if. 

Glo. In say ing so, you shall but say the truth. 

Buck, Then I salute you with this rcyal 

title, — [kingi 

Long live king Richard, England's worthy 

AIL Amen. [crownedt 

Buck. To-morrow may it please you to be 

Glo. Kven when you please, since you will 
have it so. [^race ; 

Buck. To-morrow then we will attend yoor 
And so, most joyfully, we take our leave. 

Glo. Come, let us to out holy work again.— 

[To the Bishops. 

Farewell, good cousin ;— farewell, gentle 

friends. [Ej^eunt, 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. Before the Tower. 
Enter on o'le side. Queen Ej.izabeth, 
Duchess o/YoRR, awvy Marquis o/!)oh set ; 
oi tlii ikher, Annk, Duchess o/C.loster, 
tcnd.ng Lady Maroarkt Plantag en£t, 
Clarence's young Daughter, 

Duch. Who meets us here?— my niece 
Plant ii'eiiet 
led in the hand ot her kind annt of Gloster? 
Now, for my life, she's wand'ring lothe lower. 
Oh pure heart's love, to greet the lender 
Daughter, well met. [prince. — 

Aune. Go<l give your graces both 

• Wan* abiitty. 



A happy andajo>ful timeofday! [ther away? 

Q. Eliz. As much to you, good sister ! Whi* 

Anue. No further than the Tower; and, as 
Upon the like devotion as yourselves, [1 yuess 
To gri.lulate the gentle princes there, [together,' 

Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks; we'll enteral 

Enter Brakenbury. 

And, in good time, here the lietttcnant coines. 

Master lieutenant, pray you, by yonr leave, 

How doth the prince, and n»y young son ot 

York ? [patience, 

Brak. Right well, dear madam : By ycur 
I in.iy not sutter you to visit them ; 
The icing hath strictly charge<l the contrary , 



f Minute, 



i Pity. 



Scene / ] 



KING RICHARD 111. 



639 



Q. A7i2. The king! who's that? 

Brak. I mean, the iord protector. 

Q. Eli%, The Lord protect him from that 

kingly title! [me? 

Hath he set bounds between their love and 

1 am their mother, who shall bar me from 

them t [them. 

DiiCii. 1 am their father's mother, I will see 

Anne. 1 heir amit 1 am in law, in love their 

mother : [blame, 

Then bring me to their sights ; I'll bear thy 

And take ihy office from thee, on ?hy peril. 

Brak. N o, madam, no, 1 may not leave it so; 
I am bound by oath, and theretore pardon nje. 

\^Exit BRAKENbURY. 

Enter Stanley, 
Stan. Let me but meet you, ladies, one 
hour hence. 
And I'll salute your grace of York as mother. 
Ami reverend looker-on of two fair queens — 
Come, madam, you must straight to West- 
minster. I'/'othe L> a c/ie.s.s tU G LUSTER* 
There to be crowned Richard's ruy d queen. 

Q, Eiiz, Ah, cut my l^ce asunder! [beat. 
That my pent heart may liave some scope to 
Or e se J swoon with tins dead-kiilmi^ news. 
Anne. Despiteful tidings! O unpleaslng 



O when, I say, I iook'd on Richard^ face. 
This was my wish, — Be thou, quoth I, ac- 

ctirsed, 
For making me, so younii,, so old a widow ! 
Aiid,wkenthoii wedd'^t jet sorrow kuunt thy 
A7id be thy wife ( >J' any be so mud) [bed; 
More miserable by the life of thee, [d.eath ! 
Than thou has/: made me by my a ear lord's 
IvO, ere 1 can repeat this curse again, 
Even in so short a space, my w<unan's heart 
Grossly grew captive to his honey words, 
And proved the subject of mine own soul's 
curse, [rest ; 

Which ever since hath held mine eyes from 
For never yet one hour in his bed 
Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep. 
But w ith his timorous dreams was «till awaked. 
Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick 
And will, no doubt, shoitiy be rid of me. 
Q. Eiiz. hoor heart, adieu ; 1 pity thy com- 
plaining [lor youis. 
Anne, ^o more than with my soul 1 mourn 
Dor. Farewell, thou woeiul welcomtr of 
ulory ! [ot it I 
Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that takestth) leave 
Duch. Go thou to Richmond, and good for- 
tune uuide ihee ! [7c> . ors. t. 



Dor. be of good cheer : — Mother, how 

^. Eiiz. O Doj set, speak not to me, gel thee 
gone, 
Death and destruction dog thee at the heels ; 
Thy mother's name is ominous to children : 
If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas. 
And live with Riclimond,from the reach of hell. 
Go, hie thee, hiethee,from this slaughter-house. 
Lest ihou increase the number of the dead ; 
And make me (lit- the thrall of Mai gnret's curse, 
Nor mother, wife,nor England's counted queen. 

Stan. Full of wise care is tiiisyour counsel, 
madam : 
Take all the swift advantage of the hours ; 
You shall have letters from me to my son 
In your behalf, to meet you on the way : 
Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay. 

Duch. O ill dispersing wind ot misery I 
O my accursed womb, the bed of death ; 
A cockatrice * hast thoa hatch'd to the world. 
Whose unavoided eye is murderous ! [was sent. 

Stan. Come, madam, conie ; I in all hasie 

Anne. And I with all unwillingness will ■d,o. 
O, would to God, that the inclusive verge 
Uf golden metal t, that mnst round my brow, 
Were red-hot steel, lo sear % me to the brain 1 
(Anointed let me be with deadly venom ; 
Ind die, ere men can say — God save the queen I 

Q, Eiiz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glo- 
To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm, [ry ; 

Anne. No ! why ? — When he, that is my 
husband now, 
fJame to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse ; 
, K^hen scarce the blood was well wash'd from 
his hands, 
SVhich issued from my other angel husband, 
And that dead saint which then 1 weeping fol- 
low'd ; • 

• A «eipent, supposed to ongmate from a cock's 



fares your grace f Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend 



thee! [/oA.nnl. 

Go thou to Siiictuary, and good thoughts pos- 

sess thee ! {To Q. E iz ^ kith 

I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with 
I i«hty odd years of soirow have I seeii, [me! 
And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of 

teenj. [tleio>er. — 

Q. Eltz. Stay yet; look back, with me, i.nio 
Piiy, you ancient stones, those tender ba es. 
Whom envy hath imnmred within >our vvalisl 
Rough cradle for such liitle pretty ones i 
hude ragged nurse ! old sulleji play-tellow 
For tender prinees, use my babies well ! 
So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. 

[tlxeunt, 

SCENE 11. A Room of State in the Palace. 
Flourish of Trumpets. Richard, us King 

upon his Throne ; Buckingham, CATJiS- 

BY, AT Page, and. Jl hers. 

K. Rich. Stand all apart. — Cousin of Buck- 
ingham, 

Buck. My gracious sovereign, [thy advice 

K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Jhus his^h, by 
And thy assistance, is kinsi Ruhard seated ; — 
But shall we wear these glories for a day ' 
Or shall tliey last, and we rejoice in thenj ? 

Buck. Still live they, and for ever let them 
last! [thetou h|i, 

K. Rich. Ah, Buckingham, now do I pl.iy 
To try if thou be current gold indeed : — 
Young Edward lives; — ihink now what 

B.ck. Say on, my loving lord. [Would speak. 

K. Ri< h. Why, Buckingham, I say, 1 would 
be king. [I'ego. 

Buck. Wiiy,soyou are, my t! rice lenowiied 

IC. Rich. Ha ! am I king { 'Tis so : b^ut Ld- 

Buck. True, noble prince [ward lives. 

t 1 he ci ow n. j Bura. 

h^itoue. 



6i0 



SIIAKSPEAUE. 



[Act ir. 



K. Rich, O bittvr consequence, 

That Edward sliU should live, — true, noble 

prince ! — 
Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull : — 
Shall 1 be plain ? 1 wish the bastards dead ; 
And I would have it suddenly performed. 
What say'st thou uow l speak suddenly, be 
brief. 

Buck. Your grace may do your pleasure. 

K. Rich, Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kind- 
ness freezes : 
Say, have I thy consent, that they shall die ? 

Buck, Give me some breath, some little 
pause, dear lord. 
Before I positively speak in this : 
1 will resolve your grace immediately. 

[Exit Buckingham, 

Cate. The king is angry ; see, he gnaws his 
lip. {Aside. 

K. Rich. I will converse with iron-witted 
fools, [Descends from his Throne, 
And unrespeclive boys * : none are for me. 
That look into me with considerate eyes ; — 
High-reaching Buckingham grows circum- 
Boy, [spect, — 

Page, My lord. [rupting gold 

K. Rich. Know'stthou not any, whom cor- 
Would tempt unto a close exploit f of death % 

Page. I know a discontented gentleman, 
Whose humble means match not his hauglity 
Gold were as good as tweniy orators, [mind : 
And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. 

K. Rick. What is his nime ? 

Page. His name, my lord, is — Tyrrel. 

K. R'ch. I partly know the man ; Go, call 
him hither, boy. — [Eiit Page. 

The deep-revolving witty | Buckingham 
Ko more shall be the neighbour to my coun- 
Hatli he so long held out with me untired, [seis : 
And stops he now for breath f — well, be it 
so. — 

Enter Stanley. 
How now, lord Stanley ? what's the news 1 

Stan. Know, my loving lord, 

The marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled 
To Richmond, in the parts where he abides, 

K. Rich. Come hither, Catesby : rumour it 
abroad, 
That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick; 
I will take order for her keeping close. 
Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman, 
Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' 

daughter : — 
The boy is foolish, and 1 fear not him. [out. 
Look, how thou dream'st! — I say again, give 
That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die: 
About it; for it stands me much upon§. 
To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage 
me. — [AVi^ Catesby. 

I must be married to my brother's daughter. 
Or el^e my kingdom stands on brittle glass: — 
Murder her brothers, and then marry her! 
i. ncertain way of gain 1 But J am in 
8o far in blood, that sin will plack on sin. 
fcar-fallin;i pity dwells not in this eye. — 



/?£'-e/fier Page, t^'i/A Tyrrel. 
Is thy name— Tyrrel 1 
Tyr, James Tyrrel, and your most obedient 
A. Rich. Art thou, indeed? [subject. 

Tyr, Prove mc, my gracious h>rd. 

AT. Rich. Barest thou resolve to kill a friend 
of mine? [enemies. 

Tr. Please you; but I had rather kill two 
A, Rich. Why, then thou hast it; two deep 
enemies, [ers. 

Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturb- \ 
Are they tha I would have thee deal || upon : 
Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower. 
Tyr, Let me have open means to come to 
them. 
And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. 
A, Rich. Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, 
come hither, Tyrrel ; 
Go, by this token :— Rise, and lend thine ear : 
[^Vhispers, 
There is no more but so : — Say, it is done. 
And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it. 
Tyr, I will despatch it straight. [Exit» 

Re-enter Buckinoham. 
Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind 
The late demand that you did sound me in. 
K, Rich, VV ell, let that rest. Dorset is fled 

to Richmond. 

Buck. I hear the news, my lord. 

K. Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's son :— 

Well, look to it. [promise. 

Buck. My lord, I claim the gift, my * ue by 

For which your honour and your faith is 

pawn'd ; 
The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables. 
Which you have promised I shall posKcss. 
AT. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife ; if she 
convey 
Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it. 
Buck. What says your highness to my just 
request ? [sixth 

K, Ri€k. I do remember me, — Henry tl;e 
Did prophesy, that Richmond should be kin^. 
When Richmond was a little peevish U boy. 
A king ! — perhaps — 
Buck. My lord ! 

K, Rich, How chance, the prophet could 

not at that time, [liinj I 

Have told me, I being by, that I should kill 

Buck. My lord, your promise for the earl 

dom ! [Exeter. 

AT. i2ic/t. Richmond!— When last I was at 

The mayor in courtesy showed me the castle. 

And call'd it— Rougeaiont : at whick name, I 

started ; 
Because a bard of Ireland told me once, 
I should not live long after 1 saw Richmond. 
Buck. My lord I 

K, Rich, Ay, what's o'clock ? 

Buck, I am ^hus bolt* 

To put your grace in mind of what you pro- 
mised me. 
K. Rich, Well, but what is't oMock? 
Buck, Upon the strok« 

Of ten. 



• Inconsiderate. t Secret act. 

$ It is of the utmost consequence to my designs. 



X Cunning. 

Ij Act. % Foolish. 



Sect ^I^ 



KING RICHARD III. 



641 



K, ^ich. Well, iet it strike. 
Bu-k, Why let it strike ? 

fC. Rich. Because that, like a Jack *, thou 
keep'st the stroke 
Betwixt thy begsi;ing and my meditation. 
I am not in the giving vein to-day. 
Buck. Why, then reioive me whe'r you will 
or no. [the vein. 

K. Rich. Thon tronblest me; I am not in 
[Exeunt King Richard, and Train. 
Buck. And is it thus? repays he my deep 
service [thisT 

With such contempt? made I him king for 
O, let me think on Hastings ; and be gone 
To Brecknock t, while my fearful head is on. 

lExit, 

SCENE III. The same, 
Eftter Tyrrf-l. 
Tyr. The tyrannous and bloody act is done > 
The most arch deed of piteous massacre, 
That ever yet this land was guilty of. 
Dighton, and Forrest, whom I did suborn 
To do this piece of ruthless % butchery. 
Albeit they were fiesh'd villains, bloody dogs, 
Melting with tenderness and mild compassion, 
Wept like two children, in their death's sad 

story. 
O thus, quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes, — 
Thus,thus,(\noi\\ Fovrest,gir(ilmg one another 
Within their alabaster innocent arms: 
Their lijps were four red roses on a stalk. 
Which, in their summer beauty, kiss'd each 
A book of prayers on their pillow lay : [<tt/. er. 
Which once, quoth Forrest, almost changed 

my mind ; 
But, O, the devil — there the villain stopp'd ; 
When Dighton thus told on, — we smother'd 
The most replenished sweet work of nature, 
That, from the prime creation, e'er she 

framed. — 
Hence both are gone with conscience and re- 
morse, [both. 
They could not speak; and so I left them 
To bear this tidings to the bloody king. 

Enter King Richard. 

A.nd here he comes : — All health, my sovereign 

lord! [news'? 

K, Rich. Kind Tyrrel ! am I happy in thy 

Tijr. If to have done the thing you gave in 

Beget your happiness, be happy then, [charge 

For it is done. 

K. Rich. But didst thou see them dead 1 
Tyr. I did, my lord. 

K. Rich. And buried, gentle Tyrrel i 

Tyr. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried 
them ; 
But where, to say the truth, I do not know. 
K* Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, at after 
supper, 
When thou shalt tell the process of their death. 
Mean time, but think how I may do thee good. 
And be inheritor of thy desire. 
Farewell, till theul 



Tyr. I liumbly take my leave. {Exit, 

K. Rich. The sun of Clarence have I pennM 
up close ; [riage ; 

His daughter meanly have I match'd in mar- 
The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom. 
And Anne my wife hath bid the World good 
night. [aims 

Now, for I know the Bretagne§ Richmond 
At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter. 
And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown. 
To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer. 
Enter Catesby. 
Cate. My lord, — [in so bluntly \ 

K. Rich. Good news or bad, thai thou coraest 
Cate. Bad news, my lord . Morton 1| is fled 
to Richmond ; [Welshmen, 

And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy 
Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. 
K. Rich. Ely with Richmond troubles me 
more near. 
Than Buckingham, and his rash-levied strength. 
Come, — I have learn'd, that fearful comment* 
Is leaden servitor to dull delay ; [ing 

Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary: 
Then fiery expedition be my wing, 
Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king ! 
Go, muster men : my counsel is my shield ; 
We must be brief when traitors brave the field, 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. The same. Before the Palace, 
Enter Queen Margaret. 
Q. Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mel- 
And drop into the rotten mouth of death, [low. 
Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd. 
To watch tiie waning of mine enemies. 
A dire induction IT am I witness to. 
And will to France ; hoping the consequence 
W^ill prove as bitter, black, and trag^ical. 
Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret ! who 

comes here ? 
£'/z^er Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess 
o/York. 
Q. Eliz. Ah, my poor princes ! ah, my ten* 
der babes ! 
My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets I 
If yet your gentle souls fly in the air. 
And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, 
Hover about me with your airy wings. 
And hear yonr mother's lamentation ! [for right 
Q. Mar. Hover about her; say, that right 
Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. 
Duch. So many miseries have crazed my 
voice, 
j That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute. 
Edward Piantagenet, why art thon dead? 

Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet, 
Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. 
Q. Eliyi. Wilt Ihou, O God, fly from such 
gentle lambs. 
And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? 
When didst thou sleep when such a deed was 
done ? [sweet son. 

Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my 



• An image like those at St. Dunstan's church in Fleet-street. t His castle in Wales. 

X Merciless. 5 The country in which Richmond had taken refuge. 

y Bishop of Ely. H Introduction. 

3 13 



642 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV, 



Diich. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal- 
livinj: gh.>st, [life usurp'd, 

Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by 
Brief abstract and record of tedious days, 
Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, 

[Sitting (iotvn. 
Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood ! 

Q. Etiz. Ah, that thou wouldst as soon attbrd 
As thou cansi yield a melancholy seat ; [a grave, 
Then would 1 hide my bones, not rest them 

here! 
Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we 1 

[Sitting don n by her, 

Q. Mar. If ancient sorrow be most reverent, 
Give mine the benefit of seniory *, 
And let my griefs frowi) on the upper hand. 
If sorrow can admit society, 

[Sitting down with them. 
Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine: — 
I had an Edward, till a Richard kili'd him ; 
1 had a husband, till a Richard kili'd him: 
Thou hndsl an Edward,till a Richard kilTd him; 
Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kili'd him. 

Duch. I had a Richard too, and thou didst 
kill him ; 
I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. 

Q. Afar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and 
Richard kili'd him. 
From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept 
A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all to death : 
T^at dog, that had his teeth before his eyes. 
To worry lambs, awd lap their gentle blood ; 
That ford defacer of God's handy-work ; 
That excellent grand tyrant of the earth, 
That rei-ns in .ailed eyes of weeping souls, 
Thy womb let loose to chase us to onr graves. 
O upright, just, and true-disposing God, 
How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur 
Pre>s on the issue of his mother's body, 
And makes her pew-fellowf with others' moan ! 

Duch. O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my 
woes ; 
God witness with me, I have wept for thine. 

Q. Mar. Bear with me, I am hungry for re- 
And now I cloy me with beholding it. [venge, 
Thy Edward he is dead, that kili'd my Edward; 
Thy otiier I dward dead, to quit my Edward; 
Young York he is but boot J, because both they 
Matcli not the high peifection of my loss. 
Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Ed- 
And the beholders of this tragic play, [ward; 
The a uUerate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, 

Grey, 
Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves. 
Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer; 
Only reserved iheir factor to buy souls. 
And Sfud ihein thitlier : hut at hand, at hand. 
Ensues his piteous and unpitied tni\ : 
Earth gapis, hell burns, tiends i oar,saint8 pray, 
'Jo have him suddenly conveyed from hence : 
Cancel h»s bond of life, dear God, I prny, 
Th.it I m.iy live to say, the dog is dead ! 

Q. E :^ O, thou didst prophesy, the time 
would Come, 
Thai 1 should wish for thee to help me curse 



That bottled spider,thHt foni bunch-back'd toad. 

Q. Mar, I call'd thee, then, vain flourish of 
my fortune ; 
I call'd thee, then, poor shadow, painted queen. 
The presentation of but what 1 was, 
The flattering index§ of a direful pageant. 
One heaved a-high, to be hurlM down below ! 
A mother only mock'd with two fair babes ; 
A dream of what thou wast, a garish || flag, 
To be the aim of every dangerous shot; 
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble ; 
A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. 
Where is thy husband now? where be thy 

brothers ? 
Where be thy two sons ? wherein dost thou joy f 
Who sues, and kneels, and says, God save th« 

queen 1 
Where be the bending peers that flattered thee ? 
Where be the thronging troops that foilow'd 

thee? 
Decline all this, and see what now thou art. 
For happy wife, a most distressed widow ; 
For joyful mother, one that wails the name ; 
For one being sued to, one that humbly sues; 
For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care : 
For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me. 
For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one ; 
For one commanding all, obeyed of none. 
Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about. 
And left thee but a very prey to time ; 
Having no more but thought of what thou wert. 
To torture thee the more, being what thou art- 
Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not 
Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow? [yoke ; 
Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd 
From which even here I slip my wearied head. 
And leave the burden of it all on thee. 
Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mis- 
chance ; [France. 
These English woes shall make me smile in 

(^. Eliz. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay 
a while, 
And teach me how to curse mine enemies. 

Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and 
fast the day ; 
Compare dead happiness with living woe ; 
Think that thy babes were fairer than they 
And he that slew them, fouler than he is : [were. 
Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse ; 
Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. 

Q. Eliz. Wy words are dull, O, quicken 
them with thine ! [and pierce like mine. 

Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, 
[Exit Q. Marg.arlt. 

Duch.^hy shonld calamity be full of wcrdsl 

' . Eliz. Windy attorneys to their client 
Airy succeeders of intestate joys, [w( es. 

Poor breathing orators of miseiies ! [impart 
Let them have scope : thou^^h what ihty do 
Help notliiui: else, yet do they ease the heart. 

Duch, If so, then be not tonjiue-tied : go 

will me, 

And in the breath of bitter words let's smother 

My damned son, that thy two sweet sons 

smoihei'd- [Drum witi^iiu 



• Seniority. t Compani- n. i Thrown in to b»»ot. 

Indexes w» re anciently pitced it the bc;;ijining of Looks. U Flaring. 



icen-' jy ] 



KING RICHARD III, 



343 



1 hear 18 drum, — be copious in exclaims. 
3 t I King Richard, and his Train, 

murciu g. 
K, Rich. Who incei cepts me in my expedi- 
lion \ [thee, 

Duch. O, she that mi^ht have intercepted 
By straiiiiling thee in iier accuised womb, 
Prom all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast 
done. [goWlen crown, 

Q. Etu. Hidesl thou that forehead with a 
Where should be branded, if that right were 
right, [crown, 

Theshu^hter of the prince that ovve<i * that 
And liie dire death of my poor sons and bro 
thers { [dren I 

Tell nie, thou villain-slave, where are my chil- 
Duch, Thou to id, thou toad, where is thy 
brother Clarence? 
And little Ised Plantagenet, his son? 
Q. t£iiz. Where is the gentleRivers, Vaugh- 
J)uch. Where is kind Hasiiugs ? [an, Grey ? 
K. Rich. A flourish, trumpets ! — strike ala- 
rum, drums] 
Let not the heavens hear these tell-t ile women 
Rail on the Lord's anointed : Stiike, I say — 
[Fiouris/i. Alarums. 
Either be patient, nnd eiitre^it me fair. 
Or with the clamorous report of war 
'ihus will 1 drown jour exclamations. 

Duch. Art thon my son ? [yourself. 

AT. Rich. Ay ; 1 thank God, my fatlier, and 
Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience. 
K. Rick. Mad<tm, 1 have a touch of your 
condition t, 
That cannot brwok tke accent of reproof. 
Duch. U, let me speak. 
K. Rich. Do, then; but I'll not hear. 

Due It. I will be mild and gentle in my words. 
K. Rich. And brief, good mother; fori am 
in haste. [thee, 

Duch. Ai t thou so hasty ? I have staid for 
God knows, in torment and in agony, [you? 
K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort 
Duch. N o, by the holy rood j, thou know'st 
it well, [hell. 

Thou camest on earth to make the earth n y 
A grievous burden was thy birth to me ; 
Tetchy^ and wayward was thy infancy; 
Thy schooi-days frightful, desperate, wild, and 
furious ; [turous ; 

Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and veii- 
Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and 
bloody, [hatred: 

More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in 
What comfortible hour canst thou name. 
That ever graced me in thy company ? 

K. Rick. 'F .iih, none, but Humplirey Hour, 
that cali'd your grace 
To breakfast once, forth of my company. 
If I be so disgracious in your sii:;ht, 
Let me march on, and not otiend you,madara. 
Strike up the drum. 

Duch. I pr'ythee hear me speak. 

K. Rich. You speak too bitterly. 

Duch, Hear me a word ; 



For I shall never speak lo ihee again. 

K. Rick. So. [ordinance, 

Duc:i. Either thou wilt die by (Joii's just 
Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror ; 
Or 1 with grief and extreme age shall perish, 
And never look upon thy face again. 
Therefore, take with thee my most heavy curse; 
Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more. 
Than all the complete armour that thou wear*stl 
My prayers on the adverse party fight ; 
And there the little souls of Ldward's children 
Whisper the spirits of thine enemies. 
And promise them success and victory. 
Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end ; 
bhame serves thy life, and doth thy deatk 
attend. [t^it 

Q. ELiz. Though far more cause, yet mact 
less spirit to curse 
Abides in me ; I say amen to her. {Going 

K. Rich. Stay, madam, 1 must speak a wore 
with you. [blood 

Q. Eliz. 1 have no more sons of the roya 

For thee to murder : for my daughters 

Ricliard, — [queens; 

They shall be praying nuns, not weepinj 

And therefore ievtl not to hit their lives. 

K. Rich. ^ iiVL have a daughter call'd- 
Eiizabeth, 
Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious, [her live 

Q. Eliz. And must she die for this? O, ItT. 
And I'll conupther manners, stain her beauty y 
Slander inyselr, as false to Edward's bed ; 
Throw over her the veil of infamy : 
So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, 
I will confess she was not Edvvaru's daughtei-. 

K. Rich. \\ rong not her birth, she is oi 
royal blood. [not so, 

Q. ELiz. To save her life, I'll say— she \t 

K. Rich. Her life is safest only in her birih 

Q. El'Z. And only in that safety died hei 
brothers. [opposite. 

K, Rich. Lo, at their births good stars wer< 

Q. Eliz. No, to their lives bad triends >^\ere 
contrary. [tlestiny. 

K. Rick. All unavoidedil is the doom oi 

Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace make* 
destiny : 
My babes were destined to a fairer death. 
If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life. 

K. Rich You speak as if that I had slain 
iny cousins. [cozen'd 

Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed ; and by their uncle 
Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. 
Whose hands soever lanced their tender hearts. 
Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction ; 
Iso doubt the murderous knife was dull and 

blunt. 
Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart. 
To revel in the entrails of my lambs. 
But that still IT use of grief makes wild grief 
tame, [boys^ 

My tongue should to thy ears not name my 
Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes 
And I, in such a desperate bay of death. 
Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft. 



• Owned. 



t Disposition. 

y I navoiudble. 



: Cru 



ConJitTUt, 



) Touchy, fretful. 



Si4. 



SHAK8PEARE. 



[Act IV 



Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom, [piise, 
A. Rick, Madam, so thrive I in my enter- 
Aud dangerous success of bloody wars, 
As 1 intend more good to you and yours, 
Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd I 
Q* Etiz. W hat good is cover'd with the face 
of heaven, 
To be discovered, that can do me good ? ■ 
K. Rich. The advancement of your children, 
gentle lady. [their heads ? 

Q, Eiiz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose 
K. Rich. ISo, to the dignity and height of 
fortune, 
The high imperial type of this earth's glory*. 
Q. Eliz. Flatter my sorrows with report ot it ; 
Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour, 
Canst thou demise t to any child of mine I 

K. Rich. Even all I have; ay, and myself 

Will I withal endow a child of thine ; [and all. 

So in the Lethe of thy angry soul [wrougs, 

Thou drown the sad remembrance of those 

Which thou supposest I have done to thee. 

Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that the process of 

thy kindness 

Last longer telling than thy kindness' date. 

A'. Rich. Then know, that from my soul, I 

love thy dawghter. [her soul. 

Q. Eliz. My daughter's mother thinks it with 

K. Rich. What do you think 1 

Q. Eliz. That ♦hou dost love my daughter, 

from thy soul : [brothers; 

So, from thy soul's love, didst thou love her 

And, from my heart's love, 1 do thank thee 

for it. [meaning : 

K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my 

I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter, 

And do intend to make her queen of England. 

Q. Eltz. Well then, who dost thou mean 

shall be her king? 
K. Rich. Even he, that makes her queen : 
Q. Eliz. What, thou i [Who else should be ? 
K. Rich. Even so : VV hat think you of 

it, madam .' 
Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo her? 
K. Rich. Ihat 1 would learn of you. 

As one being best acquainted with her humour. 
Q. Eliz, And wilt thou learn of nie? 
A'. Rich, Madam, with all my heart. 

Q. Eliz. Send to her, by the man that slew 
her brothers, 
A pail of bleeding heaits ; thereon engrave, 
Edward, and York, then, ha^jlyj, will she 
weep : [garet 

Therefore present to her, — as sometime Mar- 
]Jid to thy father, sleep'd in Rutland's blood, — 
A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain 
Ihe purple sap from her sweet brother's body. 
And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal. 
If this inducement move her not to love, 
Send her a letter of thy noble deeds ; 
iell her, thon madest away her uncle Clarence, 
Mm- uncle Hivers ; ay, and, for her sake, 
Made&l quick conveyance with her good aunt 
Anne. [not the way 

K. Rich. You mock me, madam ; this is 
To win your daughter. 



Q. EHz. There is no other way ; 

Unless thou couldst put on some other shape. 
And not be Richard that hath done all this. 

A. Rich. Say, that I did all this for love of 
her ? [but have thee, 

Q. Eliz. Nay, then indeed, she cannot choose 
Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. 

A. Rich. Look, what is done cannot be now 
amended : 
Men shall de^il unadvisedly sometimes. 
Which after-hours give leisure to repent. 
If 1 did take the kingdom from your sons, 
To make amende. Til give it to your daughter. 
W 1 have kill'd the issue of your womb. 
To quicken your increase, 1 will beget 
Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter. 
A grandam's name is little less in love. 
Than is the doting title of a mother ; 
Tiiey are as children, but one step below. 
Even of your mettle, of your very blood ; 
Of all one pain, — save for a night of groans 
Enduredof her, for whom you bid like sorrow. 
Your children were vexation to your youth^ 
But mine shall be a comfort to your age. 
The loss you have is but a son being king. 
And, by that loss, y ourdaughter is made queen 
I cannot make you what amends I would. 
Therefore accept such kindness as I can. 
Dorset, your son, that, with a fearful soul. 
Leads discontented steps in foreign soil. 
This fair alliance quickly shall call home 
To high promotions and great dignity : 
The king, that calls your beauteous daughte*^ 

wife. 
Familiarly shall call thy Dorset— brother ; 
Again shall you be mother to a king. 
And all the ruins of distressful times 
Repair'd with double riches of content. 
What! we have many goodly days to see: 
The liquid drops of tears that you have shed. 
Shall come again, transforniM to orient pearl. 
Advantaging their loan, with interest 
Often-times-double gain of happiness. 
Go then, my mother, to thy daughter go ; 
Make bold her bashful years with your ex 

perience ; 
Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale ; 
Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame 
Of golden sovereignty ; acquaint the princess 
With the sweet silent hours of marria2,e joys : 
And when this arm of nune hath chastised 
'1 he petty rebel, dull brain'd Buckingham, 
Bound with tiiumphant garlands will 1 come. 
And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed ; 
To whom I will retail my conquest won, 
And she shall be sole victiesig, Caesar's Caesar. 

Q. Eliz. What were I best to say i her 
father's brother 
Would be her lord ? Or shall I say, her uncle ? 
Or, he that slew her brotherc, and her uncles?- 
L nder whnt title shaJ I woo for thee, 
That God, the law, my honour, and her love, 
Can make seesn ple^ising to her lender years? 

A. Ruh. Infer fair England's peace by this 
alliance. [lastin- war. 

Q. Eliz. Which she shall purrl-.ase witlut^lJ 



• A crown. 



t Bequeath. 



I Perhaps. 



fctne IK] 



K1-\G UiCliAHD III. 



641 



AT. Jtich. Tell her, the king, that may com- 
mand, entreats — [King forbids*. 

Q. E'iz. Tliat at her hands, which the king's 

K. Rich. 8ay, she shall be a high and mighty 
queen. 

Q. Ei'%. To '.vail the title, as her mother doth. 

K. Rich, Say, I will love her ever! islinvly. 

Q. Eii:i, But how long shall that title, ever, 
last t [end. 

K. Rich, Sweetly in force unto her fair life's 

Q. Eliz, Hut how long fairly shall her sweet 
life l.tst ? [lengthens it. 

K. Rich. As long as heaven and nature 

Q, Etiz, As long as hell, and Richard, likes 
of it. [ject low. 

K. Rich. Say, I, her sovereign, am her sub- 

Q. Etiz. But she, your subject, loaths such 
sov'reignty. 

K. R'ch, He eloquent in my behalf to her. 

Q, Eliz, An hunest tale speeds best, being 
plainly told. [loving tale. 

JT. Rich, Then, in plain terms tell her my 

Q. EL>%. I lain, and not honest, is too harsh a 
style. [too quick. 

K. Rich. Your reasons are too shallow and 

Q. Eliz. O, no, my reasons are too deep ahA 

dead;— [graves. 

Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their 

K, Rich. Harp not on that string, madam ; 
that is past. [strings hreak. 

Q. Eliz. Harp on rt still shall I, till heart- 

K. Rich, Now, by my George, my garter t, 
and my crown, — (third usni p'd. 

Q. Eliz. Profaned, dishonour'd, and the 

K. Rich, I swear — 

Q. KHz. By nothing ; for this is no oath. 
Thy George, profaned, hath lost his holy 
honour ; [virtue ; 

Thy garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly 
Thy crown, usurp'd, disgraced his kingly glory; 
If something thou wouhigtswenrto be believed, 
Swear then by something that thou hast not 

K. Rich. Now by the world, — [wrong'd. 

i^, Eiiz. Tis full of thy foul wrongs. 

K. Rich, My father's death,— 

Q. Eliz. Thy life hath that dishonour'd. 

K. Rich, Then, by myself,— 

Q. Eliz. Thyself is self-misused. 

k. Rich. Why then, by God,— 

Q. Eliz. God's wrong is most of all. 

If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him. 
The unity the king thy brother made. 
Had not been broken, nor my brother slain, 
If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him, 
J he imperial metal, circling now thy head, 
Had graced the tender temples of ray child ; 
And both the princes had been breathing here, 
"Which now, two tender bed-fellows for dust. 
Thy broken faiih hath made a prey for worms. 
What canst thou swear by now 1 

K. Rich, By the time to come. 

Q. Eliz. That thou hast wronged in the time 
o'er-past ; 
For I myself have many tears to wash 
Hereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee. 

• U the Levitleal Law, Cbtp. xvifi. 14. 

Fooli.^ih. 



The children live, whotse pareuts ihoa hd« 

slaughter*d, — 
Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age. 
The parents live, whose children thou has^ 

butcher'd — 
Old barren plants, to wail it with their age. 
Swear not by time to come ; for that thou hasf 
Misused ere used, by limes ill-used o'er past. 

A'. Rich. As 1 intend to prosper, and repent^ 
So thrive I in my dangerous attempt 
Of hostile arms ; myself myself confound ; 
Hvaven, ami fortune, bar me happy hours ; 
Day, yield me not thy light ; nor, night, thy 
Be opposite all planets of good luck [rest ; 

To my proceeding, if, with pure heart's love. 
Immaculate devotion, hi»ly thoughts, 
I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter 1 
in her consists my happiness, and thine ; 
Without her, follows to myself, and thee, 
Herself, the land, and many a christian soul. 
Death, desolation, ruin, and decay : 
It cannot be avoided, but by this; 
It will not be avoided, but by this. 
1 herefoi e, dear mother, (1 must call you »0,) 
Be the attorney of my love to her. 
Plead w^iiat I will be, not what I have been ; 
Not my deserts, but what i will deserve : 
I Ti^e the necessity and *tate of times, 
And be not peevish j found in great designs. 
Q. Eliz. Shall 1 be tempted of the devil thus! 
K, Rich. Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do 

g.ood. 
Q. Eliz. Shall I forget myself, to be myself I 
K. Rick. Ay, if your selfs remembrance 

wrong yourself. 
Q. Eliz. But thuu didst kill my children. 
K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I 
bury them ; [breed 

Where, in that nest of spicery^, they shall 
Selves of themselves, to your recomforture. 
Q. E iz. Shall I go win my daughter to thy 
will ? [deed. 

K. Rich. And be a happy mother by the 
Q. Eliz. I go. — Write to me very shortly. 
And you shall underst-md from me her mind. 
K. Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss, and 
50 farewell. 

IKlssing her. Eait Q. E(.iz.ibkth. 
Relenting fool, and shallow, changing wotnani 
How now? what news? 

Eiter Ratcli FF ; C at esby follmviftg. 
Rat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western 
Rideth a puissant navy ; to the shore [coast 
Throng many doubtful hollow.hearted frieods, 
Unarm'd, and unresolved to beat them back ; 
'Tis ihought, that Richmond is their admiral ; 
And there they hull, expecting but the aid 
Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore. 
A'. Rich. Some light-foot friend post to the 
duke of Norfolk :— 
Ratcliff, thyself,— or Catesby ; where is het 
Gate. Here, my good lord. 
K, Rich. Catesby, fly to the duke. 

Cate, I will, my lord, with all convenient 
haste. 

f The ensigns of the Order of the Garter. 

§ The phoenix's nest. 



646 



SHAKSPEARE. 



lAct JV, 



AT, Rich. Ratclitt, come hither: Post lo 
Salisbury ; 
When thou comest thither, — Dull nnmindful 
villain, [To Catesby. 

Why stay'st then here, and go'st not to the 
duke^ [ness' pleasure, 

Cate. First, mighty liege, tell me your high- 
What from your grace I shall deliver to Him. 
K. Rich, O, true, good Catesby ; — Bid him 
levy straight 
The greatest strength and power he can make. 
And meet me suddenly at Salisbury. 

Cafe. I go. [Exit, 

Rat, What, may it please yon, shall I do at 
Salisbury 1 [before 1 go ? 

K. Rich. Why, what wouldst thou do there, 
Rat. Your highness told me, I should ^ost 
before. 

Enter Stanley. 
K. Rich, My mind is changed. — Stanley, 

what news with you ? 
Stan. None good, my liege, to please you 
with the hearing ; 
Nor none so bad, but well may be reported. 
K, Rich. Heyday, a riddle I neither good 
nor bad ! 
What need'st thou run so many miles about, 
When thou may'st tell thy tale the nearest way? 
Once more, what news 1 
Stan. Richmond is on the seas. 

K. Rich. There let him sink, and be the seas 
on him ! 
White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there? 
Stan, I know not, mighty sovereign, but by 
K. Rich. Well, as you guess? [guess. 

Stan, Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, 
and Morton, [crown. 

He makes for England, here to claim the 
K, Rich, Is the chair empty? is the sword 
unsway'd ? 
Js the king dead ? the empire unpossess'd ? 
What heir of York is there alive, but we ? 
And who is England's king, but great York's 

heir? 

Then, tell me, what makes he upon the seas ? 

Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I carmot 

guess. [your liege, 

K, Rich. Unless for that he comes to be 

You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman 

Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear. [come*. 

Stan, No, mighty liege ; therefore mistrust 

me not. 
K, Rich. Where is thy power then, to beat 
him back? 
Where be thy tenants, and thy followers? 
Are they not now upon the western shore, 
Safe-c6ndiicting the rebels from their ships ? 
Stan. No, my good lord, my friends are in 
the nort^^i. [in the north, 

K. Rich. Cold friends to me : what do they 
When they should serve their sovereign in 
the west? [mighty king : 

Stan. They have not been commanded, 
Pleaseth your majesty to give me leave, 
1*11 muster up my friends ; and meet your 
grace, 



Where, and what time, your majesty shaJ 
please. 
K. Rich. Ay, ay, thou wouldst begone ta 
join with Richmond : 
I will not trust you, sir. 

Stan, Most mighty sovereign, 

You have no cause to hold my friendship 

doubtful; 
I n^ver was, uor never will be false. 
K. Rich. Well, go, muster men. But, he&r 
you, leave behind [be firm. 

Your son, George Stanley; look your heart 
Or else his head's assurance is but frail. 

Stan, So deal wiih him, as 1 prove true to 
you. [Ejiit Stanley. 

Enter a Messenger. 
Mess, My gracious sovereign, now in I a- 
vonshire. 
As I by friends am well advertised. 
Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prel» 4i, 
Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother. 
With many more confederates, are in arms. 
Enter another Messenger. 

2 Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guildfordu 

are in arms ; 
And every hour more competitors* [strong. 
Flock to the rebels, and their power grows 
Enter another Messenger. 
^ Mess, My lord, the army of great Buck- 
ingham — 
K, Rich, Out on ye, owls ! nothing but 
songs of death ? [He strikes hira. 

There, take thou that, till thou bring better 
news. D*iS*y* 

3 Mess. 1 he news I have to tell your ria- 
ls, — that, by sudden floods and fall of watets, 
Buckingham's army is dispersed and scatter' d | 
And he himself wander'd away alone. 

No man knows whither. 

K. Rich. O, I cry you mercy : 

There is my purse to cure that blow of thine. 
Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd 
Reward to him that brings the traitor in? 
^Mess. Such proclamation hath been made, 
my liege. 

Enter another Messenger. 

4 Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel, and lord mar 

quis Dorset, 
'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. 
But this good comfort bring I to your highness, 
The Brelayne navy is dispersed by tempest: 
Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat 
Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks. 
If they were his assistants, yea, or no; 
Who answer'd him, they came from Buck- 
ingham 
Upon his party: he, mistrusting them, 
Hoised sail, and made his course again for 
Bretagne. [up in arms ; 

K. Rich. March on, march on, since we are 
If not to fight with foreign enemies. 
Yet to beat down these rebels here at liome. 
Enter Catesby. 
Cate. My liege, the duke of Buckingham is 
taken, [mond 

That is the best news ; That the earl of Rich- 



♦I 



• Ascodatcs. 



Srene tV.^ 



KING RICHARD III. 



G47 



Ifc with a mighty power* landed at Milford, 
Is cohJer news, but yet they nrnst be told. 
K» Rich. Away towards Salisbury ; while 
\ie reason here, 
A royal battle might be won and lost : — 
Some one take order, Buckingham be brought 
To Salisbury ; — the rest march on with me. 

{Exeunt, 

SCENE V. A Room iri Lord Stanley's 

House. 
Enter Stanley and Sir Christopher 

U«SWICK+. 

Stan. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this 

from me : — 
That, in the sty of this most bloody boar. 
My son George Stanley is frank'd |up in hold ; 
If I revolt, off goes young George's head ; 
The fear of that withholds my present aid. 
But, tell me, where is princely Richmond 

now % 



Chris, At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford west 

in Wales. 
Stan. What men of name resort to liim ? 
Chris. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned 
soldier ; 
Sir Gilbert Talbert, sir William Stanley ; 
Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, sir Jamcf 

Blunt, 
And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew; 
And many other of great fame and worth : 
And towards London do they bend their 

course. 
If by the way they be not fought withal. 
Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord ; commend 
me to him ; 
Tell him, the queen hath heartily consented 
He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter. 
These letters will resolve him of my mind. 
Farewell. 

[Gives papers foSirCHRisTopHER- 
[ Exeunt 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. Salisbury. An open Place. 

Enter the Sheriff, and Guard, with 
BccKiNCHAM, led to execution. 

Buck, Will not king Richard let me speak 

with him 1 
Sher. No, my good loid: therefore be pa- 
tient. [Rivers, Grey, 
Buck. Hastings, and Edward's children, 
II >ly king Henry, and thy fair son Edward, 
V.tughan, and all that have miscarried 
By underhand corrupted foul injustice ; 
If that your moody discontented souls 
Da through the clouds behold this present 

hour, 
J5 en for revenge mock my destruction I 
Has is AU-Sonls* day, fellows, is it not? 

Sher. It is, my lord. [doomsday. 

Buck. Why,then All Souls* day is my body's 
This is the day, which, in king Edward's time, 
I wis^'d might fall on me, when I was found 
False to his children, or his wife's allies: 
This is the day, wherein I wish'd to fall 
By the false faith of him whom most I trusted ; 
T>"»i8, this AlUSouls' day to my fearful soul,i 
If the determined respite of my wrongs §. 
Ttaat high All-seer which 1 dallied with, 
Hatb turned my feigned prayer on my head. 
And given in earnest what I begg*d in jest. 
Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men 
To torn their own points on their masters' 

bosoms: 
Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck,— 
When he, quoth she, shall split thy heart 
^ with sorrow y 

Rfjnember Margaret tons a prophetess. — 
Com >, sirs, convey me to the block of shame : 
Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of 
blame. 

[Exeunt BvcK.iNGHkM,Sfc. 



SCENE II. Plain near Tarn worth. 

Enter, with Drum and Col wr6,E.icHMONO 
Oxford, Sir James Blunt, Sir Walter 
Herrert, and Others, with Forces^ 
marching. 

Richm. Fellows in arms, and my most loving 
friends. 
Bruised underneath the yoke of tyranny. 
Thus far into the bowels of the land 
Have we raarcli*d on without impediment; 
And here receive we from our father Stanley 
Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. 
The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar. 
That spoil'd your summer fields, and fruitful 

vines. 
Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes 

his trough 
In your embowell*d bosoms, this foul swine 
Lies now even in the centre of this isle, 
Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn : 
From Tamworth thither, is but one day's 

march. 
In God's name, cbeerly on, courageous friends. 
To reap the harvest of perpetual peace 
By this one bloody trial of sharp war. 

Oxf. Every man's conscience is a thousand 
swords. 
To fight against that bloody homicide. 

Herb. I doubt not but his friends will turn 

tong. 
Blunt, He hath no friends, but who are 
friends for fear ; 
Which, in his dearest need, will fly from 
him. 
Richm, All for our vantage. Then, in God*s 
name, march : [wings, 

True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's 
Rings it makes gods, and meaner creatures 
kings. {Exeunt, 



* Force. f Chaplain to the countess of Richmond. 

X A i>ty in which hogs are set apart for fattening. ^ Injui ious practices. 



:548 



SHAKSPKARE. 



,Act r 



SCENE III. Bos worth Field, 
EnterKhig RicHKRU, and Forces ; th eDuke 
^ NoRiOLK, Earl of Surrey, a/id others. 
K. Rich. Here pitch our tents, eveu here in 
Bosworth field. — 
My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad?" 
Sar. iVly heart is ten times lighter than my 

AT. Rich, My lord of Norfolk, [looks. 

Aor. Here, most gracious liege. 

K. Rick. Norfolk, we must have knocks; 

Hal must we not? 
JVior. We must both give and take, my lov- 
ing lord. [to-night; 
K. Rich. Up with my tent : Here will 1 lie 
[Soldiers begin to set up the King's tent. 
But where to-morrow? — Well, all's one for 

that.— 
Who bath descried the number of the traitors ? 
Nor. Six or seven thousand is their utmost 
power. [count : 

K. Ricii, Why, our battalia trebles that ac- 
Besides, the king's name is a tower of stiength, 
Which they upon the adverse faction want. 
Up with the tent — Come, noble gentlenven. 
Let us survey the vantage of the ground; — 
Call for some men of sound direction : 
Lets want no discipline, make no delay; 
For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. 

[Exeunt, 

Enter, on the other side of the field, Rich- 

JiOND, Sir William Brandon, Oxford, 

and other Lords. Some of the soldiers 

pitch Richmond's Tent. 

RichjTi. The weary sun hath made a golden 

And, by the bright track of his fiery car, [set. 

Gives token of a goodly day to morrow. 

Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my 

ctaudard. — 
Give me some ink and paper in my tent ; — 
I'll draw the form and model of our battle. 
Limit* each leader to his several charge. 
And part in just proportion our small power. 
.My lord of Oxford,— you, sir William Bran- 
don, — 
And you, sir Walter Herbert, stay with me: 
The earl of Pembroke keeps t his regiment; — 
(Jood captain Blunt, bear my good night to 
And by the second hour in the morning [him, 
Pesire the earl to see me in my tent : — 
Yet one tiling more, good captain, do for me ; 
Where is lor<i Stanley quarter'd, do you know? 
Blunt. Unless 1 have mista'en his colours 
much, 

i Which, well I am assured, I have not done,) 
{is regiment lies half a mile at least 
South from the mighty power of the king. 

Rit h)ii. If without peril it be possible. 
Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak 

with him, 

And give him from me this most needful note. 

Blunt. Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake 

And so Go<l give you quiet rest lo-ni{ihi I [it ; 

Richm. Good night, good captain Bluut. 

Come, gentlemen, 



Let us consult upon to-morrow "» businessl 
In to my tent, the air is raw and cold. 

[They tvithdruw into the Tent 
Enter, to hit Tent, King Richard, Nor 
FOLK, Ratcliff, a/fd Catesby. 

K. Rich, What is't o'clock? 

Cate. It's supper time, my lord 

It's nine o'clock. 

K. Rich. I will not sup to-night. 

Give me some ink and paper. 
What, is my beaver easier than it was? 
And ail my armour laid into my tent? 

Cate, Itis, my liege; and all things are in 
readiness. [charge ; 

K. Rich. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy 
Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels. 

Nor. I go, my lord. [Norfolk. 

K. Rich. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle 

Nor. I warrant you, my lord. [Exit, 

K. Rich. Ratclifl, 

Rat. My lord? 

K. Rich. Send out a pursuivant at arms 

To Stanley's regiment ; bid him bring his power 
Before sun-rising, lest his son George fall 
Into the blind cave of eternal night. — 
Fill me a bowl of wiue.— Give me a watchj :— 
[To Catesby. 
Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow.— 
Look that my staves § be sound, and not too 
Ratcliflf, [heavy. 

Rat. My lord? [Northumberland? 

K. Rich. Saw'st thou the melancholy lord 

Rat. Thomaslheearl of Surrey, and himself, 

Mach about cock-shut (1 lime, from troop to 

troop, [diers. 

Went through the army, cheering up the sol- 

K, Rich. I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of 
I have not that alacrity of spirit, [wine: 

Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. 
So, set it down.— Is ink and paper ready? 

Rat. It is, my lord. 

K. Rich. liid my guard watch ; leave ma. 
About the mid of night, come to my tent. 
And help to arm me.— Leave me, 1 say. 

[King Richard retires into his Tent* 
^•ewvif Ratcliff tf we/ Catesby. 

Richmond's Tent opens, and discovers him, 
and his officers, ^c. 
Enter Stanley. 
Stan, Fortune and victory sit on thy helm f 
Richm. All comtort that the dark night can 
Be to thy person, noble father-in-law ! [afford. 
Tell me, how fares our loving mother? 

Stan. 1, by attorney^, bless thee from thy 
mother, 
Who prays continually for Richmond's good* 
So much for that.— The silent hours steal on, 
And flaky darkness breaks within the east. 
In brief, for so the season bids us be. 
Prepare thy battle early in the morning; 
And put thy torlnne to the arbilrement 
Of bloody strokes, and mortal-staring war, 
1, as I may, (that which I would I cannot,) 
With best advantage will deceive the time. 



11 



Appoint. 



t Rem dns with. 

U Twilight. 



X A watch-light. 
f Deputation. 



$ Wood of the lancet 



S<^fng JII.] 



KING RICHARD III. 



649 



And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms : 
But on thy side I may not be too forward, 
Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George, 
Be executed in his father's sight! 
Farewell. The leisure and the fearful time 
Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love, 
And ample interchange of sweet discourse, 
Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell 

upon ; 
God give us leisure for th 'se rites of love I 
Once more, adieu : — Be valiant, and speed 
well! [ment: 

Richm. Good lords, conduct him to his rcgi- 
rU strive with troubled thoughts to take a nap ; 
Lest leaden slumber peise* me down to-mor- 
row. 
When I should mount with wings of victory ! 
Once more, good night, kind lords and gentle- 
men. {Exeunt Lords, ^c.,ii'ith Stanley. 
O Thou! whose captain I account myself, 
Look on my forces with a gracious eye ; 
Put in their hands thy bruising-irons of wrath, 
That they may crush down with a heavy fall 
The usurping helmets of our adversaries! 
Make us thy ministers of chastisement, 
That we may praise thee in thy victory! 
To thee I do commend my watchful soul. 
Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes; 
Sleeping, and waking, O defend me still! 

[Sleeps, 

TAc Ghost o/* Prince Edward, ?ow^a Henry 
the Sixth, rises betiveen the ttvo tents. 

Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to- 
morrow! \To King Richard. 
Think, how thou stabb'dst me in my prime of 

youth 
AtTewksbury; Despair therefore, and die! — 
Be cheerful, Richmond ; for the wronged souls 
Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf: 
King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee. 
, The Ghost of King Henry the Sixth rises, 
Gkost. When I was mortal, my anointed 
body [To King Richard. 

By thee was punched full of deadly holes : 
Think on the Tower, and me; Despair and 

die; 
Harry the Sixth bids thee despair and die. — 
Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror ! 

[To Richmond. 
Harry, that prophesy'd thou should'st he king, 
Doth comfort thee in thy sleep; Live, and 
flourish ! 

The Ghost o/" Clarence 7'ises. 
Ghost. Let me sit Jaeavy on thy soul to- 
morrow ! [To King Richard. 
I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine, 
Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death ! 
To-morrow in the battle think on me 
And fall thy edgeless sword ; Despair, and die! 
Thou oflfspring of the house of Lancaster, 

[To Richmond. 
The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee ; 
Good angels gnard thy battle! Live and 
flourish f 



The Ghosts of Riyers, Grey, and 
Vaughan, rise. 
Riv» Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-mor- 
row, [To King Richard. 
Rivers, that died at Pomfret! Despair and die'. 
Grey, Think upon Grey, and let thy bouI 
despair! [7\) King Richard. 
Vaugh. Think upon Vaughan ; and with 
guilty fear. 
Let fall thy lance! Despair, and die ! — 

[To King Richard. 
All, Awake! and think our wrongs in 
Richard's bosom [To Richmond. 

Will conquer him ; — awake, and win the day ! 
Tfiie Ghost of Hastings rises. 
Ghost, Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake ; 
[To King Richard. 
And in a bloody battle end thy days ! 
Think on lord Hastings; and despair, and diet 
Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake! 

[To Richmond. 
Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's 
sake! 
The Ghosts of the two young Princes rise. 
Ghosts. Dream on thy cousins smothei'd in 
the Tower ; 
Let us be lead within thy bosnm, Richard, 
And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and 

death ! 
Thy nephew** sohIs bid thee despair, and die. 
Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake 

in joy ; 
Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy t 
Live, and beget a happy race of kings ! 
Edward's unhappy sons do bid ihee flourish. 
The Ghost o/" Queen Anne rises. 
Ghost. Richard, thy wife, that wretched 
Anne thy wife. 
That never slept a quiet hour with thee. 
Now fills thy sleep with perturbations: 
To-morrow in the battle think on me. 
And fall thy edgeless sword ; Despair, and die I 
Thou, quiet soul, sleep thou a qHiet sleep ; 

[T>> Richmond. 
Dream of success and happy victc>ry ; 
Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee. 
The Ghost 0/ B u c K I N G H A M rises-. 
Ghost. The first was I, that help'd thee to 
the crown ; [Tb King Richard. 

The last was I that felt thy tyranny : 
O, in the battle think on Buckingham, 
And die in terror of thy guiltiness! [death* 
Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds an<\ 
Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breatW 
1 died for hope, ere I could lend thee aid : 

[To Richmond. 

But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dis- 

may'd : [side ; 

God, and good angels fight on Richmond's 

And Richard falls in height of all his pride. 

[The Ghosts vanish. King Richard 

starts out of his dream, [my wounds, 

K. Rich. Give me another horse, — bind up 

Have mercy, Je*u! — Soft; 1 did but dteam« 



Weigh. 



3K 



650 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r 



coward conscience, how dost thou afflict 

me! [night. 

The li^lits burn blue. — It is now dead mid- 
Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling 

flesh. 
^Vhat do I fear ? myself? there's none else by : 
Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. . 
Is there a murderer here? No; — Yes; I am: 
Then fly,— What, from myself? Great reason; 

Why ? 
Lest I reven2:e. What? Myself on myself ? 

1 love myself Wherefore? for any good. 
That I myself have done unto myself? 
(), no : al !S, I rather hate myself, 

For hateful deeds committed by myself, 
lama villain : Yet I lie, I am not. [flatter. 
Fool, of thyself speak well: — Fool, do not 
My conscience hath a thousand several tongues. 
And every tongue brings in a several tale, 
And every tale condemns me for a villain. 
I'erjnry, perjury, in the highest degree ; 
Murder, stern murder, m the direst degree; 
All several sins, all used in each degree. 
Throng to the bar, crying all,— Guilty ! guilty I 
I sh lUdespair. There is no creature loves me ; 
And, if 1 die, no soul will pity me : — [self 
ISay, wherefore should they? since that I my- 
Finn in myself no pity to myself. 
Methonght, the souls of all that I had murder'd 
Came to my tent : and every one did threat 
To-morrow's vengeance on the head of 
Richard. 

Enter Ratcliff. 

Rat. My lord, 

fC. Rich. Who's there? 
Rat. Ratclifif, my lord ; 'tis I. The early 
village cock 
Hath twice done salutation to the morn; 
Your friends are up, and buckle on their ar- 
mour, [ful dream ! 
K. Rich. O, Ratclifif, 1 have dream'd a fear- 
Whatthinkest thou ? will our friends prove all- 
/?tf^ No doubt, my lord. [true? 
K. Rich. Rucliff, I fear, I tear! 
Rat. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of 
shadows. [night 
K. Rick. By the apostle Paul, shadows to- 
ll Hve struck more terror tothe soul of Richard, 
Than can the substance of ten thousand sol- 
di«r8, [mond. 
Armed in proof, and led by shallow Rich- 
It is not yet near day. Come, go with me ; 
Under onr tents I'll play the eaves-dropper. 
To hear if any mean to shrink from m?. 

[Ereunt King Richard flwd Batcliff. 
Richmond ^A^IA■e^. Enter Oxford and 
Others, 
fjords. Good morrow, Richmond. 
Richm, 'Cry mercy, lords, and watchful 
gentlemen. 
That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here. 
I ords. How have you slept^ my lord ? 
Richm. The Bweitest sleep, and fairest- 
bodin<4 dreanis, 
That ever enier'd \x\ a iirowsy head, 
liave I since >our aepartare had, my lords. 



Methonght their souls, whose bodies Richard 

murder'd. 
Came to uiy tent, and cried — On ! victory 1 
I promise you, my heart is very jocund 
In the remembrance of so fair a dream. 
How far into the morning is it, lords ? 
Lords. Upon the stroke of four. 
Richm,V/hyf then 'tis time to arm, and give 
direction. [ He advances to the troops. 
More than I have said, loving countrymen. 
The leisure and enforcement of the time 
Forbidg to dwell on : Yet remembe.* this, — 
God, and our good cause, fight upon our side ; 
The prayers of holy saints, and wronged souls. 
Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our 

faces ; 
Richard except, those whom we fight against 
Had rather have us win, than him they follow. 
For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen, 
A bloody tyrant, and a homicide ; [blish'd ; 
One raised in blood, and one in blood esta- 
One that made means to come by what he 
hath, [help him ; 

And slaughtered those that were the means to 
A base foul stone, made precious by the foil 
Of England's chair*, where he is falsely set; 
One that hath ever been God's enemy : 
Then, if you fight against God's enemy, 
God will, injustice, ward tyou as his soldiers ; 
If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, 
You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain ; 
If you do fight against your country's foes. 
Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire ; 
If you do fight in safeguard of your wives. 
Your wives shall welcome home the con- 
querors ; 
If you do free your children from the sword. 
Your children's children quitj it in your age. 
1 hen, ia the name of God, and all these rights. 
Advance your standards, draw yuur willing 

swords ; 
For me, the ransom of my bold attempt 
Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold 
But if \ thrive, the gain of my attempt [face ; 
The least of you shall share his part thereof. 
Sound, drums andtrumpets, boldly and cheer- 
fully; 
God, and Saint George! Richmond, and vic- 
tory! [Exeunt. 
Re-enter King Richard, Ratcliff, At 
tendants, and Forces. 
K, Rich. What said Northumberland, as 

touching Richmond? 
Rat. I1iat he was never trained up in arms 
K. Rich. He said the truth : And what said 

Surrey then? 
Rat. He smiled and said, the better for our 

purpose. 
K. Rich. He was i'the right; and BO,indeed, 
it is. [Clock strikes. 

Tell the clock there. — Give me a calendar. — 
Who saw the sua to-day? 
Rat. Not I, my lord. 

K. Rich. Then he disdain* to shine ; for, by 
the book. 
He should have braved § the east an hour ago , 



• Throne. 



t Guard. 



X Requite, 



§ Made it splendid. 



Scetie JIL] 



KING RICHARD III. 



651 



A black day will it be to somebody. 
Ratclifte, 

Bat. My lord? 

K. Rich. The sun will not be seen to-day ; 
Ihesky doth frown and lower upon our army : 
1 would these dewy tears were from the 
ground. • 

Not sh me to-day ! Why, what is that to me. 
More than to Richmond? fur the self-same 

heaven, 
That frowns on me, looks sadly upon him. 

Enter Norfolk. 

Nor. Arm, arm, my lord ; the foe vaunts 
in the field. [son my horse; — 

K. Etch. Come, bustle, bustle; — Capari- 
Call up lord Stanley, bid him bring his power; 
I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain. 
And thus my battle shall be ordered : — 
My fo reward shall be drawn out all in length. 
Consisting equally of horse and foot ; 
Our archers shall be placed in the midst: 
John duke of Norfolk, Thomas earl of Surrey, 
Shall have the leading of this foot and horse. 
They thus directed, we ourself will follow 
In the main battle ; whose puissance on either 

side 
Shall be well-winged with our chiefest horse. 
This, and Saint George to boot ! What think'st 
thou, Norfolk? 
Nor. A good direction, warlike sovereign. 
This found I on my tent this morning. 

[Giving a scroll. 
K.Bich. [reads.] Jocky (^' Norfolk , be not 
too bold, 
For Dickon* thy master is bought and sold, 
A thing devised by the enemy. — 
(io, gentlemen, every man unto his charge: 
Let not our babbliug dreams affright our souls ; 
Conscience is but a word that cowards use, 
Devised at first to keep the strong in awe ; 
Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our 

law. 
March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell; 
If net to heaven, then hand in hand to hell. — 
What shall I say more than I have inferr'd 1 
Remember whom you are to cope withal; — 
A sortt of vagabonds, rascals, and run-away s, 
A scum of Bretagnes,and base lackey peasants, 
Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth 
Te desperate ventures and assured destruction. 
You sleeping sate, they bring you to i.nrest; 
Vou having lands, and blessed with beauteous 

wives. 
They would restrain the one, distain the other. 
And who doth lead them, but a paltry fellow. 
Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost? 
A milk bop, one that never in his life 
Felt so much cold as over-shoes in snow? 
Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again ; 
Lash hence these over-weening rags of France, 
These famish'd beggars, weary of their lives ; 
Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit, 
For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd 
themselves. 



If we b« conquer'd, let men conquer us, 

And not these bastard Bretagnes ; whom our 
fathers [thump'd. 

Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and 

And, on record, left them the heirs of shame. 

Shall these enjoy our lands ? lie with our wives ? 

Ravish our daughters? — Hark, I hear their 
drum. {Drum afar o^. 

Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yeo- 
men! 

Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head! 

Spur your proud horses hard, and ride iu 
blood ; 

Amaze the welkin with your broken staves J? 
Enter a Messenger. 

What says lord Stanley? will he bring bis 

power? 

Mess, My lord, he doth deny to come. 

JiC, Rich. Off instantly with his son George's 

head. [marsh; 

Nor. My lord, the enemy is pass'd the 

After the battle let George Stanley die. 
A". Rich. A thousand hearts are great with- 
in my bosom I 

Advance our standards, set upon our foes; 

Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint 
George, 

Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons I 

Upon them! Victory sits on our helms. 

[Exeunt* 

SCENE IV. Another part of the field. 
Alarum: Excursions. Enter Norfolk, 
and Forces ; to him Catesbv. 
Cate. Rescue, my lord of Norfolk, rescue 
rescue ! 
The king enacts more wonders than a man. 
Daring an opposite to every danger; 
His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights. 
Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death . 
Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost! 
Alarum. Enter King Richard. 
K, Rich. A horse! a horse ! my kingdom for 
a horse I [a horse. 

Cate. Withdraw, my lord, I'll help you to 
K. Richm. Slave, 1 have set my life upon a 
And I will stand the hazard of the die I [cast, 
I think, there be six Richmonds in the field; 
Five have I slain to-day, instead of him: — 
A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! 

[Es:eunt, 
Alarums, jEVe/er King Richard and Rich- 
mond ; and exeunt fighting. Retreat, 
and flourish. Then enter Richmond, 
Stanley, bearing the crowfi, with divers 
other LordSf and Forces. 
Rich, God, and your arms, be praised, vic- 
torious friends ; 
The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. 
Stan. Courageous Richmond, well hastthoa 
acquit thee! 
Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty. 
From the dead temples of this bloody wretch 
Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal 
Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it. 



• The ancient familiarization of Richard. + Company. 

I Fii^ljt the glfi.p vviih khi- si-Lvr? of your lances. 



6 52 



SllAKiSPEARE. 



Mr/ f 



Richm. Great God of heaveu lay, am«n 
to all. 
Bat tell me firit, is young George Stanley 
living? [town; 

Stnn. He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester 
Wiiilhcr, ii it please you, we ma> now with- 
draw i.s. [either side? 

Jiic/it/u \V hat men of name aie slain on 

^tan. Johi. duke of Isorfolk, Walter lo.d 

Ferrers, [Brandon. 

Sir Robert Brakenbury, and sir Wiliitin 

Jiic, m. Inter tlieir bodies as becomes their 
Proclaim a pardoii to ttie soldiers fled, [births. 
Th.it in subn.ission will return to us; 
And iiieu, hs we have ta'en ihe .-acrament. 
We will unite the \\ Uite rose with the red : — 
Smile heaven upua this fair conjunction, 
That long hath frown'd upon their enmity! — 
What traitor liears me, and says not, — amen? 
F.njjland hath huig been mad and scarrM herself; 
The brother blindly shed the brother's olood. 



The father rashly slanghter'd hif own son, 
Ihe son, compeli'd, been butcher to the tirt 
All this divided York and Lancaster, 
Divided, in their dire division. 
O, now, let i\ichmond-dnd Elizabeth, 
I he true succeeiiers of each royal house, 
^y Owl's fair ordinance conjoin together I 
And let their heirs (God, if thy will be so) 
Enrich the time to come with smootii-faced 

peace, 
W^ith smilim; plenty, and fair prosper otis days I 
Abate the edge ot traitors, griicions Lord, 
That would reduce these bioody days again. 
And make poor England weep in streams of 

blood! 
Let them not live to taste this land's increase. 
That would with treason woutui this fair land't 

peace! [again ; 

Now civil wonnds are stopp'd, peace live» 
That she may long live here, Cod say— Amen. 

\^tlxeunU 



Thi* Ik *»>• « '^^ most celebrated of onr author's performances ; yet [ know net whether it 
bas not h2i|t-^*>»^9 to him as to others, to be praised most, when praise is not most dei-erved. 
That this p ^ nas scenes noble in themselves, and very well contrived to strike in the exhi- 
bition, cac lot be denied. But some parts are trifling, ethers shocking, and some improbable 

•JOUNdUN. 



KING HENRY VIII. 



^cr^ou^ tcpre^euteti. 



King Henry fAe Eighth. 

C-irdinal WoLSEY. Cardinal Campeius. 

Capucius, ambassador from the Emperor 
Chrjrits V. 

C'RKfi M ER, Archbishop of Canterbury, 

Duke 0/ Norfolk. Dnke ^/Buckingham. 

I)nke o/SuFFOLK. Earl r>/ Surrey. 

Lord Chamberlitin. Lord Chancellor. 

Gardiner, Bishop oj lyinchester. 

Bisliop of Lincoln. Lord Abergatenny. 
Lord San ds. 

Sir Henry Guildford. Sir Thomas Lo- 
vell. 

Sir Anthony Denny. Sir Nicholas 
V A u X . 

Secretaries to U'olsey. 

Cromwell, servant to Wolsey. 

Griffith, gentleman-usher to Queen Ka- 
tharine. 

Three other Gentlemen. 

Doctor BoTTS, physician to the King, 



Garter, king at arms. 
Surveyor to the Duke of Buckingham, 
Brandon, and a Serjeant at Arms. 
Door-keeper of the Council-chamber, For. 

ter, and his Man. 
Page to Gardiner, A Crier. 

Queen Katharine, wife to King Henry, 

afterwards divorced, 
Anne Bull en, her maid of honour ^ after' 

wards Queen. 
An old Jja.(iy , friend to Anne Bullen. 
Patience, woman to Queen Katharine, 

Several Lords and Ladies in the dumb 
shows; Women attending upon the 
Queen ; Spirits which appear to her ; 
Scribesy Officers^ Guards, and other 
Attendants, 

Scene,— chiefly in London and Westmin- 
ster ; once at Kimbolton, 



PROLOGUE. 



I COMF. no more to make you Laugh; 

things now, 
That bear a weighty and a serious brow, 
Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe, 
Such n«)ble scenes as draw the eye to flow. 
We now f resent. Those that can pity, here 
May, if they think it well, let fall a tear ; 
The subject will deserve it. Such as give 
Their money out of hope they may believe, 
May here find truth too. Those that come to 

see 
Only a show or two, and so agree 
The play may pass, if they be still, and willing, 
1*11 undertake, may see away their shilling 
Richly in two short hours. Only they. 
That come to hear a merry, bawdy play, 
A noise of ( argets ; or to see a fellow 
In a long motley coat, guarded • with yellow. 



Will be deceived : for, gentle hearers, know. 
To rank our chosen truth with such a show 
As fool and fight is*, beside forfeiting 
Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring, 
(To make that only true we now intend +,) 
Will leave us never an understanding friend. 
Therefore, for goodness* sake, and as you are 

known 
The first and happiest hearers of the town. 
Be sad as we would make ye : Think, ye see 
The very persons of our noble history. 
As they were living ; think, you see them great. 
And follow*d with the general throng, and 

sweat 
Of thousand friends ; then, in a moment, see 
How soon this mightiness meets misery ! 
And, if you can be merry then, I'll say, 
A man may weep upon his wedding-day. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. London, An Antechamber in 
the Palace. \ 

£!nter the Dike ofS ORFOhfi, at one door; 
at theoth?r, f/ic Duke q/" Buckingham, 
a7id the L')rd ALj^rgavenny. j 

B-uck. Gold morrow, and well met. How 
Since Ian weiavv in France? [have you done, 

Nor. I thank your grace, 

Hfcalthfnl : it.^ ever since a fresh admirer 1 
Of what [ «ai^ there. j 

Back. An untimely ague 



Stay*d me a prisoner in my chamber, when 
Those suns of glory, those two lights of ment/ 
Met in the vale of Arde. 

Nor. 'Twixt Gnynes and Arde ; 

I was then present, saw them salute on horse- 
back ; [clung 
Beheld them, when they lighted, how they 
In their embracement, as they grew together; 
Which had they, what four throned ones could 
Such a compounded one? [have weich'd 

Buck. All the whole time 

I was my chamber's prisoner. 



• Iac*^ 



t Pretend. 



* Henrv Vlff and Fraftriji T. king of Fr -mce- 
» K 3 



654 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act J 



Nor, Ihen you lost 

Ihe view of earthly glory : Men might *ay, 
liii this time, Pomp \^as single; but uow 

married 
To one above itself. Each following day 
Became the next day's master, till the last 
Made former wonders its. To-day, tbe French, 
All clinquant *, all in gold, like heathen "gods. 
Shone down the English : and, to-morrow, they 
Made Britain, India; every man that stood 
Show'd like a mine : their dwarfish pages 
As cherubims, all gilt : the madams too, [were 
Not used to toil, did almost sweat to bear 
The pride upon them, that their very labour 
VVas to them as a painting. Now this mask 
Was cry'd incomparable ; and the ensuing 

night 
Made it a fool, and beggar. The two kings 
Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst. 
As presence did present them; him in eye. 
Still him in praise ; and, being present both, 
'Twas said they saw but one ; and no discerner 
Durst wag bis tongue in censure f. When these 
suns [challenged 

fFor so they phrase them) by their heralds 
The noble spirits to arms, they did perform 
Beyond thought's compass ; that former fabu- 
lous story, 
Being now seen possible enough, got credit — 
That BevisJ was believed. 

Buck. O, you go far. 

Nor. As I belong to worship, and affect 
In honour honesty, the tract of every thing 
Would by a good discourser lose some life. 
Which action's self was tongue to. All was 
To the disposing of it nought rebell'd, [royal ; 
Order gave each thing view ; the otfice did 
Distinctly his full function. 

Buck. Who did guide, 

I mean, who set the body and the limbs 
Of this great sport together, as you guess? 

Nor. One, ceites§, that promises no ele- 
In such a business. [ment|| 

Buck. I pray you, who, my lord 1 

Nor. All this was order'd by the good dis- 
Of the ri«ht reverend cardinal of York, [cretion 

Buck. The devil speed him! no man's pie 
is freed 
From his ambitious finger. What had he 
'Jo do in these fiercelF vanities? I wonder 
That such a keech ** can with his very bulk 
Take up the rays o' tbe beneficial sun. 
And k<:cp it from the earth. 

Nor. Surely, sir, 

There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends : 
For, being not propp'd by ancestry, (whose 

i^race 
Chalks successors their w-ay,) nor call'd upon 
For high feats done to the crown ; neither al- 
To eminent assistants, but, spider-like, [lied 
Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note 
The force of his own merit makes his way ; 
A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys 



A place next to the king. 

Aher. I cannot tell 

What heaven hath given him, let some grave" 
Pierce into that ; but I can tee his prile [eye ' 
Ptep through each part of him: Whence hat 
If not from hell, the devil is a niggard ; [he that ? 
Or has given all before, and he begiiis 
A new hell in himself. ' 

Buck. Why the devil. 

Upon this French going-out, took he upon him 
Without the privily o' the king, to appoint 
Who should attend on him? He makes up 

the file n 
Of all the gentry ; for the most part such 
Too, whom as great a charge as little honour 
He meant to lay upon : and his own letter jj, 
The honourable board of council out, | 

Must fetch him in the papers. \ 

Aber, I do know i 

Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, thathaT* 
By this so sicken'd their estates, that ne\ er 
They shall abound as formerly. i 

Buck, O, many [them 

Have broke their backs with laying manors on 
For this great journey. What did this vanity, 
But minister communication of 
A most poor issue? 

Nor. Grievingly I think, [values 

The peace between the French and us not I 
The cost that did conclude it. ' 

Buck. Every man. 

After the hideous storm that follow'd, was 
A thing inspired : and, not consulting, broke 
Into a general prophecy, — That this tempest, 
Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded 
The sudden breach on't. 

Nor. Which is budded out ; 

For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath 
Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux [aitach'd 

Aber. Is it therefore 

The ambassador is silenced ? 

ISor. Marry, is't. 

Aber. A proper title of a peace ; and pnr 
At a superfluous rate ! [chased 

Buck. Why, all this business 

Our reverend cardinal carried §5. 

Nar, 'Like it your grace. 

The state takes notice of the private difference 
Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you, 
(And take it from a heart that wishes towards 

you 
Honour and plenteous safety,) that you read 
The cardinal's malice, and his potency 
Together : to consider further, that 
What his high hatred would effect wants not 
A minister in his power : You know his nature. 
That he's revengeful ; and I know, his sword 
tlath a sharp edge : it's long, and, it may be 

said. 
It reaches far ; and where 'twill not extend. 
Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel. 
You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comei 
That I advise your shunning. [that rock 



* Glittering, shining. + In opinion, which was most noble. 

J Sir Cevis, an old romance. i Certainly. H Praciice. 

I1 Prouii. •♦ Lump of far. i\ List. 

ti Sets down in his letter without consulting the council ^$ Conducted. 



\ 



Scene 1.] 



KING HENRY VIII. 



66S 



Enter Cardinal Wolsey, (the purse borne 
before him,) certain of the guar dy and two 
Secretaries with papers. The Cardinal in 
his passage fixeth his eye on Bucking- 
ham, a/irf Buckingham on A/??i, both full 
of disdain. 

Wol. The duke of Buckingham's surveyor? 
Where's his examination ? [ha ? 

1 Seer, Here, so please you. 

Wol. Is he in person ready 1 
1 Seer. " Ay, please your grace. 

Wol. Well, we shall then know more ; and 
Shall lessen this big look. [Buckingham 

[Exeunt Wolsey , and Train, 
Buck, This butcher's cur* is venom-mouth'd, 
and I [best 

Have not the power to muzzle him ; therefore. 
Not wake him in his slumber. A begiiar's 
Out-worths a noble's blood. [book 

Nor. What, are you chafed 1 

Ask God for temperance ; that's the appliance 
Which your disease requires. [only, 

Buck. I read in his looks 

iMatter against me; and his eye reviled 
Me, as his abject object: at this instant 
He bores t me with some trick: He's gone to 
I'll follow, and out-stare him. [the king ; 

Nor, Stay, my lord, 

^nd let your reason with your choler question 
What 'tis you go about : To climb ste p hills, 
Requires slow pace at first : Anger is like 
A full-hot horse; wlio being allowM his way, 
Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England 
Can advise me like you : be to yourself 
4.S you would to your friend. 

Buck, I'll to the king ; 

A.nd from a mouth of honour quite cry down 
This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim, 
There's ditference in no persons. 

Nur, Be advised ; 

Heat not a furnace for your foe *o hot 
That it do singe yourself: We may outrun. 
By violent swiftness, that which we run at, 
i And lose by over-running. Know you not, 
). The fire that mounts the liquor till it run o'?r, 
' (n seeming to augment it, wastes it? Be ad- 
[ say again, there is no English soul [vised : 
More stronger to direct you than yourself; 
\ [f with the sap of reason you would quench, 
: Or but allay, the fire of passion. 
n tuck. Sir, 

I am thankful to you ; and I'll go along [low, 
! By your prescription : — but this top-proud fel- 
(Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but 
From sincere motions,) by intelligence, 
And proofs as clear as founts in July, when 
We see each grain of gravel, I do know 
To be corrupt and treasonous. 

Nor. Say not treasonous. 

Buck, To the king I'll say't ; and make my 
vouch as strong 
As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox, 
Or wolf, or both, (for he is equal ravenous, 
As he is subtle ; and as prone to mischief. 
As able to perform it: his mind and place 
! lafecting one another, yea, reciprocally,) 



Only to show his pomp as well in France 
As here at home, suggests j the king our master 
To this last costly treaty, the interview, [glass 
That swallovv'd so much treasure, and like a 
Did break i' the rinsing. 

Nor. 'Faith, and so it did. 

Buck. Pray, give me favour, sir. This cun« 
ning cardinal 
The articles o'the combination drew, 
As himself pleased ; and they were ratified. 
As he cried, Thus let be : to as much end. 
As give a crutch to the dead: But our count- 
cardinal [sey, 
Has done this . and 'tis well ; for worthy Wol- 
Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows, 
; ("Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy 
To the old dam, treason,) Charles the emperor. 
Under pretence to see the queen his aunt, 
(For 'twas, indeed, his colour; but he came 
To whisper Wolsey,) here makes visitation: 
His fears were, that the interview betwixt 
England and France might, through their 

amity. 
Breed him some prejudice ; for from this league 
Peep'd harms that menaced him : He privily 
Deals with our cardinal ; and, as 1 trow. 
Which I do well — for, 1 am sure, the emperor 
Paid ere he promised, whereby his suit was 

granted 
Ere it was ask'd ; but when the way was made. 
And paved with gold, the emperor thus desired; 
Ihat he would please to alter the king's course. 
And break the foresaid peace. Let the king 

know, 
(As soon he shall by me,) that thus the cardinal 
Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases. 
And for his own advantage. 

Nor, I am sorry 

To hear this of him ; and could wish, he were 
Something mistaken in't. 

Buck. No, not a syllable ; 

I do pronounce him in that very shape 
He shall appear in proof. 
Enter Brandon ; a Sergeant at Arms before 
him, and two or three of the Guard. 

Bran, Your office, sergeant; execute it. 

Serg. Sir, 

My lord the duke of Buckingham, and earl 
Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I 
Arrest thee of high treason in the name 
Of our most sovereign king. 

Buck. Lo you, my lord. 

The net has fallen upon me; I shall perish 
Under device and practice j. 

Bran. I am sorry 

To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on 
The business present : ' Tis his highness' pleasure 
You shall to the Tower. 

Buck. It will help me nothing. 

To plead mine innocence ; for that dye is on me. 
Which makes my whitest part black. Toe 

will of heaven 
Be done in this and all tilings !— I obey. — 
O my lord Aberga'ny, fare you well. 

Bran. Nay, ht must bear you company:— 
The king [Tb Abergavenny. 



• Wolsey was the son of a butcher 



Stabs. X Excites $ Uafair stratagem* 



g:>6 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Art 1 



Is please I, vou shall to the Tower, till you 
How he deterniiuea further. [know 

Ah€i\ As the duke said, 

The will of heaven be done, and the kind's 
By me obe^'d. [pleasure 

Bran. Here is a warrant from [bodies 

The king, to attach lord Montacute; and the 
Of the duke's confessor. John cie la Court, 
One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor, — 

Buck. So, 80 ; 

These are the limbs of the plot: no more, I 
Bran. A monk o* the Chaitreux. [hope. 
Buck. O, Nichwlas Hopkins? 

Bran. He. 

Buck, My surveyor is false; the o'er-great 
cardinal [ready: 

Hath show'd him gold : my life is spann'd • al- 
I am the shadow of poor Buckingham; 
Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on. 
By dark'iiing my clear sun. — My lord, fare- 
well. [Kxeunt. 
SCENE II. The Council-Chamber, 
Cornets, Enter King Hknry, Cardinal 
WoLSEY, the Lords of the Council, Sir 
Thomas Lotell, Officers, and Atten- 
dants, The King enters ^ leaning on the 
Cardinal's shoulder. 

AT. Ben. My life itself, and the best heart 
of it, [level 

Thanks you for this great care : I stood i' the 
Of a full-charged confederacy, and give thanks 
'Jo you ih It choked it. — Let be call'd before us 
That gentleman of Buckingham's: in person 
I'll hear him his confession? justify ; 
And point by point the treasons of his master 
He ehall again relate. 

The King takes his stated. The Lords of 
the Council take their several places. 
The Cardinal places himself under the 
King's feet, on his right side. 
A noise within, crying. Room for the Queen. 
Enter the Queen, ushered by the Dukes of 
Norfolk and Suffolk : she kneels. The 
King ri.^eth from his state, takes her up, 
kisses, and placet h her by him. 
Q. Kath. Nay, we must longer kneel ; I am 
a suitor. [Half your suit 

K. Hen. Arise, and take place by us: — 
Never name to us; you have half our power: 
The other moiety, ere yon ask, is given; 
Repeat your will, and take it. 

Q. Kath. Thank your majesty. 

That you would love yourself; and, in that 
Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor [love. 
The dignity of your office, is the point 
Of my petition. 
K. H(n. Lady mine, proceed. 

Q. Kath. I am solicited, not by a few, 
And those of true condition, that your subjects 
Ar«» in great grievance: there have been com- 
missions [heart 
Sent down among them, which hath flaw'd the 
Of all their loyaitit-a :— wherein although. 
My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches 
Mo.*t bitterly on you, as putter-on 



Of these exactions, yet the king our master, 
(Whose b' nour heaven shield from soil !) eve* 

he escapes not 
Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks 
The sidts of loyalty, and almost appears 
In loud rebellion. 

Nor. Not almost appears. 

It doth appear; for, upon these taxations. 
The clothiers all, not able to maintain 
The many to them 'longing, have put oflF 
Ihe spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who, 
Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger 
And lack of other means, in desperate manner 
Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar. 
And danger serves among them. 

K. H<n. Taxation! 

Wherein? and what taxation? — My lord car- 
You that are blamed for it alike with us, [dinaly 
Know you of this taxation? 

yVol. Please you, sir, 

I know but of a single part, in aught 
Pertains to the state ; and front but in that filet 
Where oihers tell steps with me. 

Q. Kath. No, my lord. 

You know no more than others, but y u frame 
Things, that are known alike; which are not 
wholesome [must 

To those whicb would not know them, and yet 
Perforce be their acquaintance. These exao 
tions, [are 

Whereof my sovereign would have note, they 
Most pestilent to the heai ing ; and, to bear them. 
The b-ick is sacrifice to the load. They say 
They are devised by you ; or else you suffer 
Too hard an exclamation. 

K. Hen. Still exaction ! 

The nature of it? In what kind, let's know. 
Is this exaction ? 

Q. Kath. I am much too venturous 

Intemptingof your patience; but am bolden'd 
Under your promised pardon. The su'oject'f 
grief [from each 

Comes through commissions, which compel 
The sixth part of his substance, to be levied 
Wi Jiout delay ; and ihe |iretence for this 
Is named, your wars in France : This makei 
bold mouths : [freez< 

Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearti 
Allegiance in them; their curses now 
Live where their pravers did ; and it's comf 
That tractable obe(iience is a slave [to pass. 
To each incensed will. 1 would your highne8% 
Would give it quick consideration, for 
There is no primer business. 

K. Hen. By my life, 

This is against our pleasure. 

IVol. And for me 

I have no farther gone in this, than by 
A single voice; and that not pa*s'd me, but 
By learned approbation cf the judges. 
If I am traduced by totjgues, which neither 
My faculties, nor person, yet will be ikno'W 
The chronicles of my doing, — let me say, 
' I is but the fate of place, and the rough brake J 
That V irtue must go through. We must not stint | 



Measured. 



4 Chdr. 1 I am only one among the other counscllonk 

5 Th»ck»*t of thorns. || Hetard. 



Scene II.] 



KING liENRY VIII. 



6.57 



Our necessary acliuns, in the fear 

To cope* malicious censurers; which ever. 

As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow 

That is new trinim'd ; but i.enefit no further 

Than vainly longing. What we oft do best. 

By sirk interpreters, once tweak ones, is 

Not ours, or not ailo\v*d j: what worst, as oft. 

Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up 

For our best act. If we shall stand still, 

In fear our motion will be mock'd or 

carp'd at, 
AVe should take root here where we sit, or sit 
State statues only. 

AT. Hen, Things done well. 

And with a care, exen)pi themselves from fear ; 
Things done without example, in their issue 
Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent 
Of this commission ? 1 believe, not any. 
We must not rend our subjects from our laws, 
And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each? 
A trembling contribution! Why, we take, 
From every tree, lop, bark, and part o' the 

timber; [hack'd, 

And, thou};h we leave it wiih a root, thus 
The air will drink the sap. To every county, 
^Vhere this is questional, send our letters, with 
> ree pandon to each man that has denied 
The force of this commission : fray, look to't ; 
I put it to your care. 

l-VoL A word with you. 

[7b the Secretary. 
liCt there be letters writ to every shire, 
Of the king's grace and pardon. The grieved 

commons 
Hardly conceive of me ; let it be noised. 
That, through our intercession, this revokement 
And pardon comes ; I shall anon advise you 
Further in the proceeding. {Exit Secretary. 
Enter Surveyor. 
Q. Kath. I am sorry, that the duke of Buck- 
Is run in yoar displeasure. [ingham 
AT. Hen. It giieves many : 
The geutleman is learn'd, and a most rare 

speaker, [such. 

To nature none more bound ; his training 
1 hat he may furnish and instruct great teachers. 
And never seek for aid out\^ of himself. 
Yet see 

When these so noble benefits shall prove 
hiot well disposed, the mind growing once 

corrupt, [ugly 

They turn to vicious forms, ten times more 
Thau ever they were fair. This man so com- 
plete, [when we. 
Who was enroU'd *mongst wonders, and 
Almost with ravish'd list'ning, could not find 
His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady, 
Halh into monstrous habits put the graces 
That once were his, and is become as black 
As if besinear'd in hell. Sit by us ; you shall hear 
(This was his gentleman in trust,) of him 
Things to strike honour sad. — Bid hiuj recount 
Ihe rore-reciied practices; whereof 
We cannot feel too little, hear too much. 
WoL. Stand forth ; and with bold spirit 

relate what you. 



Most like a careiiil subjeci, have c*>llccied 
Out of the Duke of Buckingham. 

A". Hen. Speak freely. 

Surv. First, it was usual with him, every 
day 
It would infect his speech, That if the king 
Should without issue die, he'd carry H it so 
To make the sceptre his: These very words 
I have heard him utter to his son-in-law. 
Lord Aberga'ny ; to whom by oath he menaced 
Revenge upon the cardinal. 

IVol. Please your highness, note 

This dangerous conception in this point. 
Not friended by his wish, to your high person 
His will is most malignant ; and it stretches 
Beyond you, to your triends. 

Q. Katk, My learn'd lord cardinal. 

Deliver all with charity. 

K. Hen. Speak on: 

How grounded he his title to the crown, 
Upon our fail ? to this point hast thou heard 
At any time speak aught ? [him 

Surv. He was brought to tbia 

By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins. 

K. Hen. W hat was that Hopkins Y 

Surv. Sir, a Chartreux friar. 

His confessor ; who fed him every minute 
With words of sovereignty. 

K. Hen. liow know*st thou this ? 

Surv. Not long before your highness sped 
to France, 
The duke being at the RoseH, within the parish 
Saint Lawrence Ponltney, did of me demand 
What was the speech amongst the Londoners 
Concerning the French journey : 1 replied, 
Men fear'd, the French would prove perfidious, 
To the king's danger. Presently the duke 
Said, *Twas the fear, indeed ; and that he 

doubted, 
Twould prove the verity of certain words 
Spoke by a holy monk ; Tiiat o/t, says he. 
Hath sent to me, uishing me to yertnit 
John de la Court, my chaplain, a choice hour 
To hear from him a matter of some momejit : 
Whotn after under the confession's seal 
He solemnly had sworn, that, what he spoke, 
My chaplain to no creature Liring, but 
To me, should utter, with demure confidence 
This pausingly ensued, — Neither ti.e king, 
nor his heirs, [strite 

(Tell you the duke) shall prosper : bid him 
To gain the love of the commonalty ; the duke 
Shall govern E?igland. 

Q. Kath. If I know you well, 

You were the duke's surveyor, and losi your 
office [heed. 

On the complaint o' the tenants : Take good 
You charge not in your spleen a noble person. 
And spoilyour nobler soul I I say, take heed; 
Yes, heartily beseech you. 

AT. Hen. Let him on :— 

Go forward. 

Surv. On my soul, I'll speak but truth. 

I told my lord the duke, By the devil's iHu 

sions [d mgerous for him 

The monk might be deceived ; and that 'twas 



Encounter. t Sonvetirae. t Approved. $ Beyond. H Comluc-t, mainag«» 

Now Merchant Tailors' School. 



658 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act i. 



To rmiiinale on this so far, u»til 
It forjjed him some desi^Q, which, being be- 
lieved, 
It was much like to do : He answer'd, Tuidi ! 
It can do me no damage : adding further. 
That, had the kiog iu his last sickness faii'd, 
The cardinal's and sir Thomas Loveli's heads 
Should have gone oflf. 

AT. Hen. Hal what, so rank? Ah, ha! 
There's mischief in this man : Canst thou 

Surv. I can, my liege. [say further 1 

K. Hen, Proceed. 

Surv, Being at Greenwich, 

After your highness had reproved the duke 
-About sir William Blomer, — 

K. Hen. I remember. 

Of such a time: — Being my servant sworn, 

Uhe duke retain'd him his. But on; 

What hence? [committed, 

Surv. If^ quoth he, I for this had been 
As to the Toiver, I thought, — J would have 

play*d 
The part my father meant to act upon 
The usurper Richard : who, being at Salis- 
bury, [gra7ited, 
Made suit to come in his presence ; which if 
As he made semblance of his duty, would 
Ha ve j>ut his knije into him, 

K, He?i, A giant traitor ! 

Wol. Now, madam, may his highness live 
And this man out of prison 1 [in freedom. 

Q. Kath. God mend all I 

K. Hen. There's something more would out 
of thee; Whatsay'st? 

Surv. After — the duke his father, — with 
the knife, — [dagger, 

He slretch'd him, and, with one hand on his 
4.nother spread on his breast, mounting his 
eyes, [nour 

He did discharge a horrible oath ; whose te- 
Was,— Were he evil used, he would out-go 
His father, by as much as a performance 
Does an irresolute purpose. 

K. Hen. There's his period, 

To sheath his knife in us. He is attach'd ; 
Call him tx* present trial: if he may 
Find mercy in the law, 'tis his ; if none, 
Let him not seek't of us : By day and night, 
He's traitor to the height. [Exeunt, 

SCENE III. A Room in the Palace. 

Enter the Lord Chamberlain and Lord 
Sands. 

Cham, Is it possible, the spells of France 
should juggle 
Men into such atrange mysteries? 

Sands. New customs, 

Though they be never so ridiculous. 
Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd. 

Cham. As far as I see, all the good our English 
Have got by the late voyage, is but merely 
A fit* or two o' the face ; but they are shrewd 
ones; [directly, 

For when they hold them, you would swear 
Their very noses had been counsellors 
To Pepin, or Clotharius, they keep state so. 



Sands. They have all new legs, and lara« 
ones ; one would take it. 
That never saw them pace before, the spavia, 
A springhaltt reigu'd among them. 

Cham. Death! my lord. 

Their clothes are after such a pagan cut'too. 
That, sure, they have worn out Christendom. 
What news, sir Thomas Lovell? [How now? 
Enter Sir Thomas Lovell. 

Lov. 'Faith, my lord, 

I hear of none, but the new proclamation 
That's clapp'd upon the court-gate. 

Cham, What is't fort 

Lov, The reformation of our travcll'd gal- 
lants, [tailors. 
That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and 

Cham, I am glad, 'tis there ; now I wouW 
pray our monsieurs 
To think an English courtier may be wise. 
And never seethe Louvre J. 

Lov, They mnst either 

(For so run the conditions,) leave these rem- 
nants 
Of fool, and feather, that they got in France, 
With all their honourable points of ignorance^ 
Pertaining thereunto, (as fights, and fireworks; 
Abusing better men than they can be. 
Out of a foreign wisdom,) renouncing clean 
The faith they have in tennis, and tall stock" 
ings, [trave«. 

Short blister'd breeches, and those types of 
And understand again like honest men ; 
Or pack to their oid playfellows : there, I take 
They may, ciim privilegio §, wear away [it^ 
The lag end of their lewdness, and be iangh'd 
at. [diseases 

Sands, 'Tis time to give them physic, theii 
Are grown so catching. 

Cham, What a loss our ladies 

Will have of these trim vanities 1 

Lov, Ay, marry, [son* 

There will be woe indeed, lords ; the sly whor# 
Have got a speeding trit k to lay down ladies ; 
A French f?oug, and a fiddle, has no fellow. 

Sands. The devil fiddle theml 1 am gla*, 
they're going ; 
(For, sure, there's no converting of them ;) now 
An honest country lord, as I am, beaten 
A long time out of play, may bring his plain 

song, 
And have an hour of hearing ; and, by'r-lady. 
Held current music too. 

Cham. Well said, lord Sands ; 

Your colt's tooth is not cast yet. 

Sands. No, my lord ; 

Nor shall not, while I have a stump. 

Chain, Sir Thomai, 

Whither were yon a going? 

Lov. To the cardinal's; 

Your lordship is a guest too. 

Cham. O, 'tis true: 

This night he makes a supper, and a great one. 
To many lords and ladies ; there will be 
The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you. 

Lov. That churchman bears a bounteoo* 
mind indeed, 



07 ri mace. 



f Diseape in^-ident to horses. 
$ With authority. 



X A palace at Paris. 



if 

I "Sctene III.] 



KING HENRY Till. 



559 



i A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us ; 
His dews fall every where. 

Chufn. No donbt, he's noble; 

I He had a black mouth, that said other of him. 
Sands. He may, my lord, he has wherewith- 
al; in him, [trine: 
j Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doc- 
Men of his way should be most liberal, 
'They are set here for examples. 

Cham. True, they are so ; 

3ut few now give so great ones. My barge 
I stays*; [Thomas, 

I four lordship shall along : — Come, ^ood sir 
'Ne shall be late else : which I would not be, 
t^'or I was spoke to, with sir Henry Guildford, 
This night to be comptrollers. 
I Sands, 1 am your lordship's. 

{Exeunt, 
SCENE IV. The Presence-Chamber in 

York-Place. 
Hautboys, A small table under a state for 
the Cardinal, a longer table for the guests. 
Enter at one door Anne Bullen, and 
divers Lords t Ladies y and Gent letvomen, 
as guests; at another door, enter Sir 
Henry Guildford. 

Guild. Ladies, a general welcome from his 
Salutes ye all : This night he dedicates [grace 
To fair content, and you : none here, he hopes. 
In all this noble bevy t, has brought with her 
One care abroad ; he would have all as merry 
As first-good company, good wine, good wel- 
come, [are tardy ; 

Can make good people. O, my lord, you 

Enter Lord Chamberlain, Lord Sands, and 

Sir Thomas Lovell. 
The very thought of this fair company 
Clapp'd wings to me. 
Cham. You are young, sir Harry Guildford. 
Saiid. Sir Thomas Lovell, had the cardinal 
But half ray lay-thoughts in him, some of 
these [ed. 

Should find a running banquet ere they rest- 
^think, would better please tbem: By my life, 
rhey are a sweet society of fair ones. 

Lov. O, that your lordship were but now 
To one or two of these ! [confessor 

Sands. I would, I were; 

They should find easy penance. 

Lov. 'Faith, how easy? 

Sands. As easy as a down-bed would afford 

it. [Sir Harry, 

Cham. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? 

Place you that side, I'll take the charge of this : 

ITis grace is ent*ring. — Nay, you must not 

freeze ; [ther : — 

Two women placed together makes cold wea- 

My lord Sands, you are one will keep them 

Pray, sit between these ladies. [waking ; 

Sands. By my faith, 

i od thank yoor lordship. — By your leave, 
sweet ladies : 
[Seats himself between Anne Bullen 
and another Lady. 



If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me ; 
I had it from my father. 

Anne. Was he i^ad, sir? [too . 

Sands. O very mad, exceeding mad, in love 
But he would bite none ; just as I do now. 
He would kiss you twenty with a breath. 

{Kisses her% 

Cham, V\'"ell said, my lord.— 

So, now you are fairly seated :— Gentlemen, 
The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies 
Pass away frowning. 

Sands. For my little cure. 

Let me alone. 

Hautboys. Enter Cardinal Wolsey, at- 
tended, and takes his state j. 

FFbl. You are welcome, my fair guests ; that 

noble lady. 

Or gentleman, that is not freely merry, [come ; 

Is not my friend : This, to confirm my wel- 

And to you all good health. [Drinks. 

Sands. Your grace is noble ; — 

Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks, 
And save me so much talking. 

WgI. My lord Sands, 

I am beholden to you : cheer your neighbours.— 
Ladies, you are not merry ; — Gentlemen, 
Whose fault is this? 

Sands. The red wine first must rise 

In their fair cheeks, my lord ; then we shall 

have them 
Talk us to silence. 

AnnC' You are a merry gamester 

My lord Sands. 

Sands. Yes, if I make my play §. 

Here's to your ladyship ; and pledge it, madam^ 
For 'tis to such a thing, — 

Anne. You cannot show me. [anon. 

Sands. I told your grace, they would talk 
[Drum and Trumpets within: Chany 
bers II discharged. 

Wol. What's that ? 

Cham. Look out there, some of you. 

[Exit a Servant. 

Wol, What warlike voice t 

And to what end is this ? — Nay, ladies, fear 
By all the laws of war you are privileged, [not ; 
Re-enter Servant. 

Cham, How now ? what is't ? 

S-erv. A noble troop of strangers ; 

For so they seem : they have left their baige, 

and landed; 
And hither make, as great ambassadors 
From foreign princes. 

Wol. Good lord chamberlain, 

Go, give them welcome, you can speak th« 

French tongue ; [Ihem 

And, pray, receive them nobly, and conduct 

Into our presence, where this* heaven of beauty 

Shall shine at full upon them : Some attend him. 

[Exit Chamberlain, attended. All arise, 

and Tables removed. 

You have now a broken banquet, but we'll 

mend it. 
A good digestion to you all : and, once more, 
I shower a welcome on you ; — Welcome alU 



• The speaker is at Bridewell, and the cardinal'^ hoiae wag at Whitehall. 
X Chair. § Choose my gain2. || Small cauuon. 



f Company 



6'>0 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act II 



Hautboys, Enter the King, and twelve 
Others, as Maskers, hah/ ted like Shep- 
herds, with siJkteen Torch - bearers ; 
vsher< d by the Lord Chamberlain. They 
pass directly bejort the Cardinal, and 
gracejuUy salute him, 
A. noble company ! what are their pleasures ? 
Cham. Because they speak no English, thus 
they pi ay'd [tame 

To tell }Our grace; — That, having heard by 
Of this so. nobie and so fair assembly, 
'1 liis night to meet here, they could do no less. 
Out of the great respect they bear to beauty. 
But leave their flocks ; and, under your fair 

conduct. 
Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat 
An hour of revels with them. 

tVol. Say, lord chamberlain, 

They have done my poor house grace ; for 

which I pay them 
A thousand thanks, and pray them take their 
pleasures. 

[Ladies chosen for the dance. The 
K'wgchi'oses Ann Bullen. 
K. Hen, i he fairest hand I ever tonch'd ! 
O, beauty, 
fill now I never knew thee. {Music, Dance. 

Wol. My lord, 

Chum, Your grace ? 

Wol. Pray, tell them ihus much from me : 
There should be one amongst them, by his 

person, 
More woi tliy this place than myself ; to whom, 
[f I but knew hiui, with my luve and duty 
I would surrender ir. 
Ck/im. I will, my lord. 

[Cham, goes to the company, and returns. 
Viol. What say they? 
Cham, Such a one, they all confess. 



There is, indeed ; which they would hav 
Find out, and he will take it*. [your grace 

Wol, Let me see ttien. — 

[Come\/iom /trs .state. 

By all your good leaves, gentlemen ;— Here 

My royal chi»ice. [I'h n^ake 

K. Hen, You have found him, ca; dinal : 

You hold a fair assembly ; you do well, lord: 
You area churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal \ 
I should judge uow unhappily t* 

Wi.l. I am glad. 

Your grace is grown so pleasant. 

K. Hen, My lord chamberlain, | 

Pr'y thee, come hither : N\hat fair lady's tlutT 

Cham, An*\. please yoor grace, sir Tiomas 

Bullen's daughter, [women. 

The viscount Hochford, one of her highness' 

K, Hen, By heaven, she is a dainty one. — 
Sweet heart, 
I were unmannerly, to take you out. 
And not to kiss you.— A health, gentlemen, 
Let it go round. [ready 

Wol. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet 
P the privy chamber t 

Lov. Yes, my lord. 

Vi oL Your grace, 

I fear, with dancing is a little heated. 

K, Hen. I fear, too nuuh. 

Wol. 1 here's fresher air, my lord 

In the ne\t chamber. [Sweet partnt-r 

K. Hen, Lead in your ladies, eveiy one.— 
I must not yet forsake you .-—Let's be merry; 
Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen 

healths 

To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure X 

To lead i hem once ag;iin ; and then let's dream 

Who's best in favour, — Let the music knoi k it 

[Exeunt, with trumptcs 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. A Street, 



Enter two Gentlemen, meeting, 

1 Gent, Whither away so fast T 

2 Gent. O, — God save you ! 
*5ven to the hall, to hear what shall become 
Of the great duke of Buckingham. 

1 Ge7it. P(l save you 
That labour, sir. All's now done, but the cere- 
Of biint^iiig back the prisoner. [mony 

2 Geut. Were you there I 

1 Gent, Yes, indeed, was I, 

2 Gent, Pray, speak, what has happen'd? 

1 Gent. You may guess quickly what. 

2 Gent. Is he found guilty? 

1 Geiit. Yes, truly is he, andcondemn'd 

2 Gent. 1 am 8orr> for't. [npon it. 

1 Gent. So are a number more. 

2 G*ftt. But, pray, how pass'd it? [dnke 
1 Gent. I'll tell you in a little. The great 

^ame to the bar; where, to his accusations, 
He pleaded still, not guilty, and alleged 
Many sharp reasons to defeat the law. 



The king's attorney, on the contrary. 

Urged on the examinations, proofs, confessiooi 

Of divert witnesses ; which the duke desired 

To him brought, /'i/^ rare, to his face : 

At wliich appear'd against him, his surveyor ; 

Sir Gilbert Peck his chanceller ; and John 

Court, 
Confessor to him ; with that devil-monk, 
Hopkins, that made this mischief. 

2 Gent, That was he. 

That fed him with his prophecies ? 

1 Gent. The same 
All these accused him strongly ; which he fain 
Would have Hung from him, but, indeed, he 

could not : 
And so his peers, upon this evidence, 
Have found him guilty of Ugli treason Much 
He spoke, and learnedly, for life : but all 
Was either pitied in him, or forgotten, [self? " 

2 Gtnt. After all this, how did he bear him 
1 Gent. When he was brought again t</the 

bar,— to hear [stirred 

His knell rung out, bis juAgment,--be was 



• The chief place. 



f Mischievously. 



X Danee. 



Scene J.] 



KING HENRY VIII. 



6GI 



With inch an ag')tiy,lie sm'cjiI extremelv, 
And something spoke in choler, ill.^n'l hasty : 
I^ut he fell to himself again, and, swe* tly, 
in all the rest show'd a most noble patience. 

2 Gent. I do no*^ think, he tears death. 

1 Gent. Sure, he does not, 

He never was so womanish ; the cause 
He may a little grieve at. 

'2 Gent. Certainly, 

The cardinal is the end of this. 

1 Gent. 'Tis likely. 

By all conjectures : First, Kildare's attainder, 
Tlven deputy of Ireland ; who removed, 
Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too, 
Lest he should help his faiher. 

•2 Gent. That trick of state 

W IS a deep envious one. 

1 Gent . At his return, 
No doubt, he will requite it. This is noted, 
And generally; whoever the king favours, 
The cardinal instantly will find employment, 
And far enough from court too. 

2 Gent, All the commons 
Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience, 
Wish him ten fathom deep : this duke as much 
They love and dote on ; call him, bounteous 
The mirror of all courtesy ; — [Buckingham, 

1 Gent. Stay there, sir, 
A.nd see the noble niin'd man you speak of. 
Enter Buckingham/ rom his arra igiiment; 

Tipstaies before him, the axe with the 
edge townrds him ; halberds on each side: 
with him, Sir Thomas Lovell, Sir 
Nicholas Vadx, Sir William Sands, 
and common people. 

2 Gent, Let's stand close, and behold him. 
Buck, All good people, 

You that thus far have come to pity me, 
Hearwhat Isay, and then go home and lose me. 
i have this day received a traitor's judgment. 
And by that name must die ; Yet, heaven bear 

witness. 
And, if I have a conscience, let it sink me, 
Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful I 
The law I bear no malice for my death, 
It has done, upon the premises, but justice: 
But those, that sought it, I could wish more 

christians: 
Be what they will, I heartily forgive them : 
Yet let them look they glory not in mischief, 
Kor build their evils on the graves of great men ; 
For then my guiltless blood must cry against 
Forfurtherlife in this world I ne'erhope,[them. 
Nor will I sue, although the king have mer- 
cies [loved me, 

i More than I dare make faults. You few that 
And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, 
His noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave 

1 Is only bitter to him, only dying, 

i Go with me, like good angels, to my end ; 

I And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me 

l^ake of your prayers one sweet sacrifice. 
And lift rny soul to heaven. — Lead on, o'God's 
name. 

^ Lav, 1 do beseech your grace, for charity, 

' If ever any malice in your heart 



W ere hid against me,no w to forgive me frankly. 

buck. Sir Thomas Lovell, 1 as free forgive 
As I would be forgiven : I forgive all ; [you. 
There cannot be those numberless oflFences* 
'Gainst me, 1 can't take peace with : no black 
envy [grace; 

Shall make* my grave. — Commend me to his 
And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell 
him, [prayers 

You met him half in heaven: my vows and 
Yet are the king's; and, till my soul forsake me. 
Shall cry for blessings on him : May he live 
Longer than I have time to tell his years! 
Ever beloved, and loving, may his rule be! 
And, when old time shall lead him to his end. 
Goodness and he fill up one monument! [grace; 

Lov. To the waterside I must conduct your 
Then give my charge up to sir Nicholas Vaux, 
Who undertakes you to your end. 

Vaux. Prepare there. 

The duke is coming : see,tlie barge be ready ; 
A\n\ fit it with such furniture, as suits 
The greatness of his person. 

Buck. Nay, sir Nicholas, 

Let it alone ; my state now will but mock me. 
When I came hither, I was lord high constable. 
And fluke of Buckingham ; now, poor Edward 
Yet I am richer than my base accusers, [Bohun : 
That never knew what truth meant: I now 
seal it ; [groan for't. 

And with that blood will make them one day 
My noble father, Henry of Buckingliam, 
Who first raised head against usurping Richard, 
Flying for succour to his servant Banister, 
Being distress'<l, was by that wretch betray'd. 
And without trial fell ; God's peace be with himi 
Henry the seventh succeeding, truly pitying 
My father's loss, like a most royal prince, 
Restored me to my honours, and, cut of ruins. 
Made my name once more noble. Now his son, 
Henry the eighth, life, honour, name, and all 
That made me happy, at one stroke has taken 
For ever from the world. I had my trial, [me 
And, must needs say, a noble one; whic^ makes 
A little happier than my wretched father : 
Yet thus far we are one in fortunes, — Both 
Fell by our servants, by those men we loved 
A most unnatural and faithless service! [most; 
Heaven has an end in all : Yet, you that hear 
This trom a dying man receive as certain : [me. 
Where you are liberal of your loves, and 
counsels, [make friends. 

Be sure, 3 ou be not loose ; for those you 
And give your hearts to, when they once per- 
The least rub in your fortunes, fall away [ceive 
Like water from ye, never found again [pie. 
But where they mean to sink ye. All good p -o- 
Pray for me! 1 must now forsake ye ; the last 
Of my long weary life is come upon me. [hour 
Farewell : 

And when you would say something that is sad, 
Speak how I fell. — I have done ; and God for- 
give me! [Eveuiit Buck, and Train* 

1 Gent, O, this is full of pity !— Sir, it calUi 
I fear, too many curses on their heads. 
That were the authors. 



• Clofe. 



8 L 



C(12 



SHAKSPKARE. 



[Act II. 



2 Gent. it ihey be ^uUtle^s, 

Tis full of woe: yet I can give you iiikiiny; 
Of an ensuing evil, if it fall. 
Greater than this. 

1 Genf. Good angels keep it from ns \ 
Where may it be i You do not doubt my faith, 

sir ? [quire 

2 Ge?it. This secret is so weighty, 'twill re- 
A strong faith • to conceal it. 

1 Gent. Let me have it ; 
I do not talk much. 

2 Gent, I am confident ; 

You shall, sir : Did you not of late days hear 
A buzzing, of a separation 
Between the king and Katharine? 

1 Gejit. Yes, but it held not ; 
For when the king once heard it, out of anger 
He sent command to the lord mayor, straight 
To stop the rumour, and allay tliose tongues 
That durst disperse it. 

2 Gent. But that slander, sir. 
Is found a truth now : for it grows again 
Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain, 
Thekingwiil venture at it. Either the cardinal, 
Or sonie about him near, have, out of malice 
To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple 
That will undo her: To confirm this too. 
Cardinal Campeius is arrived, and lately ; 

As all think, tor this business. 

1 Gent. *Tis the cardinal ; 
And merely to revenge him on the emperor. 
For not bestowing on him, at his asking, 

ihe archbishopric of Toledo, this is purposed. 

2 Gent. 1 think, you have hit the mark: 

But is't not cruel. 
That she should feel the smart of this ? The 

cardinal 
Will have his will, and she must fall. 

1 Gent. 'Tis woful. 

We are too open here to argue this ; 
Let's think in private more. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IL An Antechamber in the Palace. 

Enter the Lord Chamberlain, reading a 
Letter. 

Cham. My lord^—The horses your lord- 
ship sent for, with all the care J hod, J saw 
well chosen, ridden, and furnished. They 
were young, and handsome ; and of the hest 
breed in the north. iVhen they uere ready to 
set out for London, a man of my lord cardi- 
nals, by commission, and main power, took 
* em from me ; with this reason, — ffis master 
would be served before a subject, if not before 
the king: ivhich stopped our mouths, sir. 
I fear, he will, indeed: Well, let hiin have 
He will have all, I think. [tliem : 

Enter the Dukes o/'Norfolk andSvvvoLK. 

Nor. Well met, my good 

Lord chamberlain. 

Cham. Good day to both your graces. 

Suf. How is the king employed ? 

Cham. I left him private, 

Fall of sad thoughts and troubles. 

Nor, Whafs the cause? 

♦ Great fidelity. 



Chain. It seenw, the marriage with hi? bro- 
Hap crept too near his conscience, [therms wife 

Snf. hio, his conscience 

Has crept too near another lady. 

Nor. *Tis8o; 

This is Ihe cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal : 

That blind priest, like the tldest son of fortune, 

Turns what he lists. The king will know him 

one day. [hiniself else. 

Snf Pray God, he do! he'll never know i 

Nor. How holily he works in all his busi- 
ness! [the league 
And with what zeal j For, now he has crack'd 
Between us and the emperor, the queen's great 

nephew, 
He dives into the king's soul ; and there scatter* 
Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience. 
Fears, and despairs, and all these for his mar 
And, out of all these, to restore the king, [riage 
He counsels a divorce: a loss of her. 
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years 
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre ; 
Of her, that loves him with that excellence 
That angels love good men vtith; even of hei 
That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls. 
Will bless the king ; And is not this course 
pious? ['Tis most irue, 

Chain. Heaven keep me from sucli counsel 
These news are every where ; every tongu« 

speaks them, 
And every true heart weeps for't : All, that dar« 
Look into these afi^airs, see this main end, [open 
The French king's sister. H eaven will one daj 
The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon 
This bold bad man. 

Si(f. And free us from his slavery. 

Nor. We had need pray, 
And heartily for our deliverance ; 
Or this imperious man will work us all 
From priiices into pages: all men's honours 
Lie in one lump before him, to be fashion'd 
Into what pitch f he please. 

Snf. For me, my lords 

I love him not, nor fear him ; there's my creed : 
As 1 am made without him, so I'll sland. 
If the king please; his curses and his blessings 
Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe i n. 
I knew him, and I know him ; so I have hiiri 
To him, that made him proud, the pope. 

Nor. Let's in; 

And, with aome other business, put the kim: 
From these sad thoughts, that work too much 
My lord, you'll bear us company? [upon him : 

Cham. Excuse me ; 

The king hath sent me otherwhere : besides, 
You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him : 
Health to your lordships. 

Nor. Thanks, my good lord chamberlain. 

[kxit Lord Chamberlain. 

Norfolk opens a folding-door. The King is 

discotered sifting, and reading 'jensivelt/, 

Suf. How sad he looks! sure, he is much 

K. Hen. Who is there? ha? [aflSicted. 

Nor. 'Pray God, he be not angry. 

K, Hen. Who's there, I say? How dare yoo 
Into my private meditations? [thrust y ourselves 

t High or low. 



Scene II.] 



KING HENRlf VIII. 



GG3 



\v lioiii am 1 J iia ^ [fencfs 

Aor. A gracious king, that pardons all of- 

Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty, this 

Is business of estate ; in which we coine [way, 

To know your royal pleasure. 

K. Hitf. You are too bold ; 

Go to ; I'll make ye know your times of busi- 
ness : 

Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha? — 
Enter Wolsey and Campeius. 

Who's there? my good lord cardinal? — O my 

The quiet of my wounded conscience, [Wolsey, 

Thou art a cure fit for a king. — You're welcome, 
[T'o Campeius. 

Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom ; 

Use us, and it: — my good lord, have great care 

I be not found a talker. [To Wolsey. 

WoL Sir, you cannot. 

I would, your grace would give us but an hour 

Of private conference. 

A. Hen, We are busy ; go. 

[To Norfolk and Suffolk. 
Nor. This priest has no pride in him ?" 
Suf. Not to speak of; 

I would not be so sick though * for his 

But this cannot contmue. '^ 

Nor. If it do, 

I'll venture one heave at him. 

Siif. I another., 

[Exeunt Norfoi-k and Suffolk. 

IVol. Your grace has given a precedent of 
wisdom 
Above all princes, in committing freely 
Your scruple to the voire of Christendom : 
Who can be anjiry now ? what envy reach you ? 
The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her, 
Must now confess, if they have any goodness. 
The trial just and noble. All the clerks, 
I mean the learned ones, in christian kingdoms, 
Have their free voices; Rome, the nurse of judg- 
Invited by your noble self, hath sent [ment, 
One general lougue unto ns, this good man 
This just and learned priest,cardinal Campeius; 
Whom, once more, 1 present uuio your high- 
ness, [bid him welcome, 

K. Hen. And, once more, in mine arms I 
And thank the holy conclave for their Joves; 
They have sent me such a man I would have 
wish'd for. [strangers* loves. 

Com. Your grace roust needs deserve i.ll 
You are so noble: To your highness' hand 
I tender my commission : by whose virtue, 
(The court of Rome commanding,)- you, my 
lord [vant. 

Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their ser- 
in the nnpartial judging of this businesis. 

K. Hen. Two equal men. The queen shall 

be acquainted [diner? 

Forthwith, for what you come: — Where's Gar- 

VVol. I know 3 our niajestj has always loved 
So dear in heart, not to deny her that [her 
A woman of less plac*- might ask by law, 
Scholars, allowed freely to argue lor her. 

K. Hen. Ay, and the best she shall have; 
and my favour 



To him that does best ; God forbid else. Car 
dinal, [tary ; 

Pr'ythee call Gardiner to me, my new secre- 
I find him a fit fellow. [Emt W olsey 

Re-enter Wolsey, with Gap diner. 
J'Vol. Give me your hand: much joy and 
You are the king's now. [favour to you ; 

Gurd. But to be commanded 

For ever by your grace, whose hand has raised 
me. [Aside* 

K. Hen. Come hither, Gardiner. 

[They converse ajpart. 

Cam. My lord of York, was not one doctor 

In this man's place before him? [Pace 

Wol. Yes, he was. 

Cam, Was he not held a learned man ? 

Wol. Yes, surely. 

Cam. Believe me, there's an ill opinion 

Even of yourself, lord cardinal, [spread then 

Wol. How! of me? 

Cam. They will not stick to say >ou envied 

him ; 

And fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous. 

Kept him a foreign mnnf still; whi(h so 

That he ran mad, and died. [grieved him, 

Wol. Heaven's peace be with him! 

That's christian's care enough : for living mur 

murers, 
There's places of rebuke. He was h. fool; 
For he would needs be virtuous : That good 

fellow. 
If I command him, follows my appointment ; 
I will have none so near else. Learn this, bro- 
ther. 
We live not to be griped by meaner persons. 
K. H(n. Deliver this with modesty to the 
queen. [Exit Gardiner. 

The most convenient place that I can thinK of. 
For such receipt of learning, is Black- Friars; 
There ye shall meet about this weiiihty busi- 
MyWolsey,seeitfurnish'd. — Omy lord, [ness: 
^\ ould it not grieve an able man, to leave 
So sweet a bedfellow? — But, conscience, con- 
science ; 
O, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III. An Antechamher in the 
Queen's Apartments. 

Enter Anne BuLLEN,«7/d an old Lady. 

Anne. Not for that utither ; — Here's the 
pang that pinches : [she 

His highness having lived so long with her, and 
So good a lady, that no tongue could ever 
Pronounce dishonour of her, — by r.iy life, 
She never knew harm-doing ; — O now, after 
So many courses of the snn enthroned, [which 
Still growing in a majesty and pon.p,--lhe 
To leave is a thousarid-fold mure bitter, ihr^n 
*Tis sweet at first to acquire, — after this pro 
To give her the avaunt; ! it is a j-ity [cess, 

Would move a nu)nsier. 

Old I J. Hearts of most hard temper 

Melt and lament for her. 

Anne. (), God's will 1 much better 



• So sick as he is proud. t Out of the king*? presee.ce. A sentence of ejeciioji. 



65i 



SHAKSPEAHE. 



[Ac/ If 



She iieVr had known pomp: though it be tern- 
Yet if that qiinrrel*, fortune, do divorce [poral, 
It from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging 
As ?onl and body's severing. 

Old L. Alas, poor lady ! 

She*s a stranger now again f. 

Anne. So much the more 

Must pity drop upon her. Verily, 
I swear, 'tis bettef to be lovvij' born, 
And range with humble livers in content, 
1 han to be peik'd up in a glistering grief, 
And wear a golden sorrow. 

Old L. Our content 

Is our best having J. 

Anne. liy my troth and maidenhead, 

I would not be a queen. 

Old L, Beshrew me, I would. 

And venture maidenhead for*t ; and so would 
For all this spice of your hypocrisy : [you, 

You, that have so fair parts of woman on y^u, 
Have too a woman's heart ; which ever yet 
Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty ; [.^ifts 
Whi'^h, to say sooth §, are blessings : and which 
(Saving your mincinv;) the capacity [ceive. 
Of your i^oft cheveril || conscience would re- 
If you might please to stretch it. 

Anne. Nay, good troth, — 

Old L, Yes, troth, and troth, — You would 
not be a queen ? 

Anne.^o, not for all the riches under heaven. 

Old L. 'Tis strange ; a three-pence bow'd If 
would hire me. 
Old as I am, to queen it : But, I pray yon, 
What think you of a duchess ? have you limbs 
To boar tLat load of title 1 

Anne. No, in truth. 

Old L. Then ytwi are weakly made: Pluck 
cff a little; 
I wonlf4 not be a young count in your way, 
For more than blushing comes to : if your back 
Cannot vouchsafe this burden, 'tis too weak 
Ever to get a boy. 

A nne. How you do talk ! 

I swear again, I would not be a queen 
For all the world. 

Old L. In faith, for little England 

You'd venture an emballing ; 1 myself ['longM 

Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 

No more to tlie crown but that. Lo, who 

comes hero ! 

Enter the Lord Chamberlain. 

('ham. Good morrow, ladies. What yere't 
v^'orth to know 
The secret of your confeience ? 

Anne. My good lord. 

Not your demand ; it values not your asking : ■ 
Our mistross* sorrows we were pit} ing. [iisg 

(^h<im. It was a gentle business, and becom- 
The action of good women; there is hope j 

All will be well. j 

Anne, Now I pray God, amen ! | 

Cham. You bear a gentle mind, and hea- 
venly blessings [Indy, 
Follow such cieatures. That yon may, fa-'- 
I'crceive I speak sincerely, and high note's ! 



Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty 
Commends his good ojxinion to yon, and 
Does purpose honour to yon no less flowing 
Than marchioness of Pembroke ; to which title 
A thousand pound a year, annual support. 
Out ( f his grace he adds. 

Anne. I do not know 

What kind of my obedience I should tender ; 
More than my all is nothing : nor my prayen 
Are not words duly hallovv'd, nor my wishes 
More worth than empty vanities ; yet prayeri 

and wishes. 
Are all 1 can return. 'Beseech your lordship. 
Vouchsafe to speak my thanks, and my obe- 
dience. 
As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness ; 
Whose health, and royalty, I pray for. 

Cham. Lady, 

I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit *• 
The king hath of you. — I have perused her 
well ; {Aside, 

Beauty and honour in her are so mingled. 
That they have caught the king : and wha 

knows yet. 
But from this lady may proceed a gem, 
lo lighten all this'isle { — Pll to the king. 
And say, I spoke with yon. 

Anne. My honour'd lord. 

{Kxit'Luvd Chamberlain. 

OldL. Why, this it is; see, seel 
I have been begging sixteen years in court, 
(An) yet a courtier beg'^arly,) nor could 
Come pat betwixt too early and too late. 
For any suit of pounds : and you, (O fate !) 
A very fresli-fish here, (fie, tie upon 
This conipell'd fortune !) have your month 
Ffcfore you open it. [fill'd up 

Arnje. This is strange to me. 

OldL. How tastes it ? in it bitter ? forty- 
pence, no. 
There was a lady once, ('tis an old story,) 
That\^ollld not be a queen, that would she 
not, [it ? 

For all the mud in Egypt : — Have you heard 

Anne. Come, you are pleasnnt. 

Old L. \\ ith your theme I could 

O'ermonnt the lark. The marchioness of Pem- 
broke ! 
A thousand pounds a year ! for pure respect; 
No other obligation : By my life. 
That promises uiore thousands : Honour's train 
Is longer than his foreskin, liy this tinje, 
I knovi' your back will bear a duchess. — Say, 
Are you not stronger than you were ? 

Anne. Good lady. 

Make yourself mirth with your particular 
fancy, [being, 

And leave me out on't. 'Would I had no 
If this ."^alute nty blood a jot ; it faints me. 
To fhfnk M hat follows. 
The quc<?n.'s ronifoitless, and we forgetful 
1 n oiu lon«j absence : Fray, do not deliver 
Wli&.*. h>*re yoi; have teaii tc her. 

Old L. What do /Of thin-'V <net 



• Quarrcller. 



t No longer an Eng;Ms?i woman. 
II Kid-jUin. 1i Ciookwl. 



* Pv*«»sefsioo. 
* Opinion, 



^T'uth 



KING HEj\RY VIII. 



665 



SCENE IV. A Hallin BUckhi^rs. 
r* limpets, sennet *, and cornets. Enter 
two Vergers, witk short silver wands ; 
next theniy tivo Scribes, in the habits of 
doctors ; after them, the Archbishop of 
Canterbury alone ; after him, the Bishops 
of Lincoln, Ely, Rochester, and Saint 
Asapb ; next them, with some small dis- 
tance, follows a Gentleman bearing the 
purse, with the great seal, and a car- 
dijials hat ; then two Priests, bearing 
each a silver cross ; then a Gentleman- 
Usher bare-headed, accompanied with a 
Sergeant ff^ Arms, bearing a silver mace ; 
then tivo Gentlemen, bearing two great 
silver pillars -^ ; after them, side by side, 
the ^7t'0 Cardinals Wolsey and Q> kuv s.i\j s; 
tivo Noblemen with the sword and mace. 
Then enter the King aw6? Queen, and their 
Trains. The King takes place under the 
cloth of state ; the two Cardinals sit 
under him as judges. The Queen takes 
place at some distance from the King, 
The Bishops place themselves on each 
side the court, inrnanner of a consistory ; 
between them, the Scribes, Thel.ords sit 
next the Bishops, The crier and the rest \ 
of the Attendants stand in convenient , 
order about the stage, 

Wol. Whilst our commission from Rome is ! 
Let silence be commanded. [read, 

K. Hen. What's the need? 

It hath already publicly been read, 
A.nd on all sides the authority allow'd ; 
iTou may then spare that time. 
Wol. Be*t so :— Proceed. 

Scribe. Say, Henry king of England, come 

into the court. 
Crier, Henry king of England, &c. 
K, He7i. Here. 
Scribe, Say, Katharine queen of England, 

come into court. 
Crier. Katharine queen of England, &c. 
[The Queen makes 710 answer, rises out of her 
chair, goes about the coiirt, cotnes to the 
King, and kneels at his feet ; then speaks,] 
Q. Kath. Sir, I desire you, do me right and 
And to bestGwyour pUy on me : for [justice ; 
I am a most poor woman, and a stranger, 
Born out of your douanions ; having here 
No judge inditferent, nor no more assurance 
Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir. 
In what have I oflfnded you? what cause 
Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure, 
Tliat thus you should proceed to put me off. 
And +ake your good grace from me ? Heaven 

witness, 
I have been to you a true and humble wife. 
At all times to your will conformable : 
Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, [sorry, 

\'ea, subject to your countenance; glad, or 
As I saw it inclined. When was the hour, 
1 ever contradicted your desire 1 [friends 

O' made it not mine too? Or which of your 



Have I not strove to love, although I kiu-w 
He were mine enemy ? what friend of mine 
That had to him derived your anger, did I 
Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice 
He was from thence discharged. Si) , call to 

mind 
That I have been your vnfe, in this obedience. 
Upward of twenty years, and have been Lkst 
With many children by you : If, in the course 
And process of this time, you can report. 
And prove it 100, against mine honour aught, 
My bond to wedlock, or my love and duly. 
Against your sacred person, in God's name. 
Turn me away, and let the foul'st contempt 
Shut door upon me, and so give me up 
To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir 
The king your father, was reputed for 
A prince most prudent, of an excellent 
And unmatch'd wit and judgment : Ferdinand, 
My father, king of Spain> was reckon'd one 
The wisest prince, that there had reign'd by 

many 
A year before : It is not to be questioned 
That they had gather'd a wise council to them 
Of every realm, that did debate this business. 
Who deem'd our marriage lawful : Wherefore 

I humbly 
Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may 
Be by my friends in Spain advised ; whose 

counsel 
I will implore : if not, i' the name of God, 
Your pleasure be fultill'd ! 

fVol. You have here, lady, 

(And of your choice,) these reverend fathers ; 
Of singular integrity and learnin-^, [men 

Yea, the elect of the land, who are assembled 
To plead your cause : It shall be therefore 

bootless!. 
That longer you desire the court ; as well 
For your own quiet, as to rectify 
What is unsettled in the king. 

Cam, His grace 

Hath spoken well, and justly : Therefore, ma- 
1 t's fit this royal session do proceed ; [dam, 
And that, without delay, their arguments 
Be now produced, and heard. 

Q. Kath. Lord cardinal,— 

To you I speak. 

Wol. Your pleasure, madarh ? 

Q. Kath. Sir, 

I am about to weep; but, thinking that 
We are a queen, (or long have dream'd so,) 

certain, 
The daughter of a king, my drops of tears 
ni turn to sparks of fire. 

Wol. Be patient yet. 

Q. Kath, I will when you are humble; 
uay, before, 
Or God will punish me. I do believe. 
Induced by potent circumstances, that 
You are mine enemy ; and make my challenge. 
You shall not be my judge: for it is you 
Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and 
me, [again 

Which God*s dew quench ! — Therefore, I say 



• Flourish on cornets. t Ensigns of dignity carried before cardinals, 

j Uscleps. 

3 L 3 



C66 



SHAKSPEARE. 



Act 11 



I utterly abhwr, yea, from my soul, 

Rfcluse you tor my judge; whom, yet once 

m« re, 
I hold my most malicious foe, and think not 
At all a friend to truth. 

li ol. I do profess 

You speak not like yourself; who ever yet 
Have stood tochaiity,;incl display M the effects 
Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom 
O'ertoppiug woman's power. Madam, you 

do me wrong ; 
I have no spleen against yon ; nor injustice 
For yon, or any: how far 1 have proceeded. 
Or how far further shall, is warranted 
By a commission from the consistory, 
Yea, the whole consistory of P,ome. You 

charge me, 
That I have blown this coal: 1 do deny it: 
The king is pjesent: if it be known to him 
That 1 gainsay* my de<d,how may he wound, 
And wortiiily, my falsehood ; yea, as much 
As you have done my truth. But if he know 
Tliat I am free of your report, he knows 
I am not of your wrong. Iherefore in him 
It lies, to cure me: and the rnre is, to 
Remove these thoughts frcm you. 'ihe vvhich 

before 
His highness shall speak in, I do beseech 
You, gracious madam, to unthink your speak- 
And to say so no more. [ing, 

Q, Kalti. My lord, my loru, 

1 am a simple woman, much too weak 
To oppose yoni cunning. You nre meek, and 
humble-monih'd ; [ingt, 

You sign yonr pla«;e and calling, in full seeni- 
W'ith meekness and hnnnhty : but your heart 
Is cramm'd with arrogaucy, spleen, and pride. 
You have, by fouuue, an 1 his higlmtss' fa- 
vours, [niouHited 
Gone slightly o'er low sti?pL ; and now are 
Where powers are your rttdiners: and your 

words. 
Domestics to you, serve your will, as 't please 
Yourself pronounce their ollice. 1 must tell you. 
You tender more your person's honour, than 
Your high profession spiritual: That again 
1 do refuse you for my judge ; and here. 
Before you all, appeal unto the p»'pe, 
To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness. 
And to be judged by him. 

[Slie curtsies to the King, a?id offers 
to depart* 

Cam. The queen is obstinate. 

Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, f»nd 
Disdainful to be try'd by it; 'tis not well. 
JShe's going away ! 

K. Hen. Call her again. 

Critr. Katharine queen of England, come 
into the court. 

Gf/f. Madam, you are call*d back. 

Q. Katlt. VV hat need you note it? pray yon, 

keep your way: [help. 

When you are call'd, return. — Now the Lord 

They vex me past my patience!— pray you, 

pass on : 



1 will not tarry : no, nor ever more. 
Upon this business, my appearance make . 
In any of their courts. 

[Ex runt Queen, Griffith, and her 
other Attendants. 
K. Hen. Go thy ways, Kate: 

That man i' the world, who shall report he has 
A better wife, let him in nought be trusted. 
For speaking lalse in that: Thou art, alone, 
(If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, 
Thy meekness saint-like, wiie-like government, 
Obeying in conmiandmg, — and thy parts 
Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee 
out X,) [born ; 

The queen of eartlily queens : — She is noble 
Ami, like her true nobility, she has 
Carried herself towards me. 

WoL. Most gracious sir, 

fn humblest manner I require your highness. 
That it shall please you to declare, in hearijig 
Of all these ears, (fur where i am robb'd and 

bound. 
There must 1 be unloosed; although not there 
At once§ and lully saiistied,) wl. ether ever 1 
Did broach this business to >our highness; or 
Laid any scruple in your way, which might 
Induce you to the question on't? or ever 
Have to yon, — but with thanks to God for such 
A royal lady, — spake one the least word, might 
1 e to the prejudice of her present state. 
Or touch of her good person t 

K. HiU. My lord cardinal, 

I do excuse you; yea, upon mine honour, 
1 free you from't. You are not to be taught 
That you have many enemios, that know not 
Why they are so, but, like to village ci.rs. 
Bark when their fellows dv) : by some of these 
The queen is put in anger. You are excused : 
But will you be more justified? you ever 
Have wish'd the sleeping of this business ; 

never 
Desired it to bestirr'd; but oft have hindered 
The passages 11 made toward it:— on my ho- 
nour, 
I speak, my good lord cardinal, to this point. 
And thus far clear him. Now, what moved 

me to't, — 
I will be bold with time, and your attention : — 
Then mark the inducement. Thus it came;— 

give heed to't : — 
My conscience first received a tenderness. 
Simple, and prick, on certain speeches utter'd 
By the bishop of Bayonne, then French am- 
bassador ; 
Who had been hither sent on the debating 
A marriage, 'twixt the duke of Orleans and 
Our daughter Mary : I'the progress of this bnsi- 
Ere a determitiate resolution, he [ness, 

(I mean, the bishop) did require a respite; 
Wherein he might the king his lord advertise 
W hether our daughter were legitimate, 
Respecting this our marriage with the <lo wager, 
Sometime our brother's wife. This respite 

shook 
The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me. 



Deny. 



t Appearance. 



1 Speak out thy merits. 
Ij Closed, or fastened. 



^ Immediately satisfied. 



Scene iV.\ 



KING HENRY VIII. 



(>67 



Yea, with a splitting power, and made to 

tremble [way, 

The region of my breast; which forced such 
That many mazed considerings did throng, 
And press'd in with this caution. First, me- 

ihought, 
I sn)od not m the smile of heaven ; who had 
Commanded nature, that my lady's womb 
If not conceived a male child by me, should 
Do no more offices of life to't, than 
The grave does to the dead: for her male issue 
Or died where they were made, or shortly after 
lliis world had air'd them: Hence 1 took a 

thought, [dom, 

This was a judgment on me ; that my king- 
Well worthy the best heir o'the world, should 

not 
Be gladded in't by me: Then follows, that 
I wt igii'd the danger which my realms stood in 
;'y this my issue'.s fail ; and that gave to me 
Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling* in 
iJie wild sea of my conscience, I did steer 
Toward this remedy, whereupon we are 
Now present here together ; that's to say, 
I meant to rectify niy conscience, — which 
i then did feel full sick, and }et not well, — 
By aJl the reverend fathers of the land. 
And doctors learn'd, — First, I began in private 
With you, my lord of Lincoln ; yon remember 
How under my oppression 1 did reekf, 
When I tirst moved you. 
Li7i. Very well, my liege. 

K. Hen. I have spoke long ; be pleased your- 
ilow far you satisfied me. [self to say 

Lin, So please your highness. 



The question did at first so stagger me, — 
Bearing a state of mighty moment in*t. 
And consequence of dread,— that I committed 
The daring'st counsel which I had to doubt ; 
And did entreat your highness to this course. 
Which you are running here. 

K. Hen. i then moved yon. 

My lord of Canterbury ; and got >our leave 
To make this present summons : — Unsolicited 
I left no reverend person in this court; 
But by particular consent proceeded. 
Under your hands and seals. Therefore, go on. 
For no dislike i'the world against the person 
Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny poinu 
Of my alleged reasons, drive this forward : 
Prove but our marriage lawful, by my ii.e. 
And kiugly dignity, we are contented 
To wear our mortal state to come with her, 
Katharine our queen, before the primest crear 
That's paragon'd j o'the world. [ture 

Cam. So please your highiiesis. 

The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fiuu-.^s 
That we adjourn this court till further day: 
Mean while must be an earnest motion 
]\]ade to the queen, to call back her appeal 
She intends unto his holiness. 

[Tlicy rise to depart. 

K. Hen. I may perceive \Asi(ie> 

These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor 
This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome. 
My learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer 
Pr'ythee return§! with thy approach, I know 
My' comfort comes along. Break up the court 
1 say, set on. 

[Eocevntf in manner as they entered 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. Palace at Bridewell. 

4 Boom in the Queen's Apartment. The 

Queen, aJidsome of her uonien, at work. 

Q. Kath. Take thy lute, wench: my soul 

grows sad with troubles; [working. 

Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst : leave 

I SONG. 

i Orpheus with his lute made trees, 
I And the mountain-tops, that freeze, 
Bow themselves, tvhen he did sing: 
To his music, plants, and Jloivers, 
Ever sprung; as sun, and showers. 
There had b€€n a lasting spHng, 
Every thing that heard him play. 
Even the billows of the sea. 

Hung their heads, and then lay by. 
Jn iiveet music is such art ; 
KlUifig care, and grief of heart, 
Fall asleep, or, hearing, die. 

Enter a Gentleman. 
Q. Kath. How now? [cardinals 

Gent. An't please yonr grace, the two great 
Wait in the presence ||. 
Q. Kath. Wo«ld they speak with me ? 



Gent. They will'd me say so, madam. 

Q. Kath. Pray their grace* 

To come near. {Exit Gent.] What can be 
their business [vonrt 

With me, a poor weak woman, fallen from fa- 
I do not like their coming, now 1 think on't. 
They should be good men; their affairs^ a^ 
But all hoods make not monks. [righteous : 
Enter Wolsey and CampilIUS. 

Vf ol. Peace to your highness? 

Q. Kath. Yonr graces find me here part of a 

housewife ; 

I would be all, against the worst may happen. 

What are your pleasures with me, reverend 

lords t [withdraw 

Wol. May it please you, noble madam, to 
Into your private chamber, we shall give yoix 
The full cause of our coming. 

Q. Kath. Speak it here; 

There's nothing I have done yet, o' my cou- 

science. 
Deserves a corner: 'Would all other women 
Could speak this with as free a soul as I do! 
My lords, 1 care not (so much I am happy 
Above a number) if my actions [them 

Were tried by every tongue, every e>e saw 



• Floating without guidance. i Waste, or wear nway. 

V An api)strophe to the absent bisliop. 1) I'rejseme tiliambcr. 



* Wi<t>out compare. 
% professions. 



66S 



SHAKSFKARE. 



[Act III 



EDvy and base opinion set against them, 
1 know my lile so even: If your business 
.Seek me out, and that way 1 am wife in. 
Out with it boldly; Truth loves open dealing. 

Wol. Tuntu est crii,d te mentiJi Inti gritui , 
regina serenissima, — 

Q. Kath. O, good my lord, no Latin; 
I am not such a truant since my coming,. 
As not lo know the language I have lived in : 
A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, 
suspicious; [thank 3 on. 

Pray, speak in English: here are some will 
If you speak truth, for their poor mistress'sake; 
Believe me, she has had much wrong : Lord 

carditiai. 
The williug'st sin I ever yet committed, 
May be absolved in English. 

Wol. Noble lady, 

I am sorry my integrity should breed 
(And service to his majesty and you) 
So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant. 
We come not by the way of accusation. 
To taint that honour every good tongue blesses; 
Nor to betray you any way to sorrow; 
You have too much, guod lady: but to know 
How you stand minded in the weighty dif- 
ference 
Between the king and you ; and to deliver. 
Like free and honest men, our just opinions, 
And comforts to your cause. 

Cam. Most hononrM madam, 

My lord of York, — out of his noble nature, 
Zeal, and obedience, he stiil bore your grace ; 
Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure 
Roth of ills truth and hiin, (which was too 
Offers, as 1 do, in a sij;u or peace, [far,)— 

His sei vice and his counsel. 

<i>. Kath. 1 o betray me. [Aside. 

My lords, I thank you both for your good wills. 
Ye speak like honest men, (pray God, ye prove 
But how to make you suddenly an answer, [so \) 
In such a point of weight, so near mine honour, 
(More near my life,l fear,) with my weak wit. 
And to such men of gravity and learning. 
In truth, I know not. I was set at work 
Among my maids ; full little, God knows, look- 
Either for such men, or such business. [ing 
For her sake that I have been, (for 1 feel 
The last fit of my greatness,) good your graces. 
Let me have time, and counsel, for my cause; 
Alas! 1 am a woman, friendless, hopeless. 

Wol. Madam, you wrong the king's love 
with these fears ; 
Your hopt 8 and friends are infinite. 

q. Kath. In England, 

But little for my profit: Can yo^^ think, lords, 
That any Englishman dare give me counsel? 
Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' 
pleasure, [honest,) 

(Thouirii he be grown *o desperate to be 
And live a suoject? Nay, forsooth, n)y friends. 
They that must weigh • out my afflictions. 
They that my tr ust must grow to, live not here ; 
They are, as all my other comforts, fai- hence, 

n mine own country, lords. 

Cam, 1 would your grace 



Would leave yourgrief«,afid take my counsel-' 
Q. Kath. How sir? 

Cam. Put yonr main cause into the king** 
protection ; 
He's loving, and most gracious ; 'twill be mucb 
Botl; for your honour better, and your cause ; 
For, if the trial of the lav/ o'ertake you. 
You'll part away disgraced. 

Wol. He tells you rightly, 

Q. Kath. Ye tell me what ye wish for both^ 
my ruin : 
Is this your christian couosel? out upon ye I 
Heaven is above all yet; there sits a Judge, 
ihat no king can corrupt. 
Cam. Your rage mistakes u*. 

Q. Kath. The more shame for ye ; holy meft 
I thought >e. 
Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues : 
But cardinal sins, and hollow hearts, I fear ye : 
Mend them for shame, my lords. Is thisyouf 

conift)rt? 
The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady? 
A woman lost among ye, langh'd at, scorn'd t 
I will not wish ye half my miseries, 
I have more charity : But say, I warn'd ye;. 
Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lesl 

at once 
The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye. 

Wot. Madam, this is a mere dislraciion , 
You turn the good we offer into envy. 

q. Kath. Ye turn me into nothing: Woe 
upon ye, [me- 

And all such false professors! Would ye have 
(If you have any justice, any pity ; 
If ye be any thing buJ churchmen's habits) 
j Put my sick cause into his hands that hales me? 
I Alas ! he has banish'd me his bed already ; 
His love, too, long ago : I am old, my lords, 
! And all the fello.^ ship I hold now with him 
I Is only my obedience. W hat can happen 
i To me, above this wretchedness? all your 
I Make me a curse like this. [studies 

Cam. Y'our fears are worse. 

Q. Kath. Have I lived thus long— (let me 
speak myself, [one? 

Since virtue finds no friends,) — a wife, a tru« 
A woman (I dare say, without vain-glory) 
Never yet brandefl with suspicion? 
Have 1 with all my full affections 
Still met the king? loved liim next heavea? 

obey'd him? 
Been, our of fondness, superstitious to him f? 
Almost forgot my prayers to content him? 
And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords. 
Bring me a constant woman to her husband, 
One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his 

ple.isure ; 
And to that woman, when she has done most. 
Yet will I add an honour,— a great patience. 
Wol. Madam, you wander from the good 
we aim at. [so guiJt> , 

Q. Kath. My lord, I dare not make myself 
To give up willingly that noble title 
Your master we<i me to : nothing b«t death 
Shall e'er divorce my dignities. 

W ol. *Pray, hear vat* 



• Ootweiij^h. 



t Served him with supt'rstiiious aticuiioiu 



Scene I. J 



KING HENRY VIII. 



669 



^ Q, Kuth, 'Wonld I had never trod thii 
tlnglish earth, i 

Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it! [hearts. I 
^ e have aiiiitls' faces, but heaven knows your 
V\ hM vv ill berorne of me now, wretchedlady ? 
I am the most unhappy woman living. — 
Aias ! poor wenches, where are now your for- 
tune's? [To her IVomen. \ 
Ship« reck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity. 
No friends, no liope ; no kindred weep forme. 
Almost, no grave allowed me: — Like the lily. 
That once was mistress ot the tield, and flou- 
I'll hang my head, and perish, [rish'd, j 
Wol. If your grace j 
Could but be brought to know our ends are | 
honest, [good lady, ' 
You'd feel more comfort : why should we, ! 
Upon what cause, wrong you ? alas ! our places, 
The way of our profession is against it; 
We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them. 
For goodness' s ke, consider what you do; 
How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly 
Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this 
The hearts of princes kiss obedience, [carriage, 
So m.uch they love it ; but to stubborn spirits. 
They swell, and grow as terrible as storms. 
I know you have a gentle, noble temper, 
4 soul as even as a calm ; Pray think us 
Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and 
servants. [your virtues 
Cam. Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong 
With these weak women's fears. A noble 
A.S yours was put into you, ever casts [spirit. 
Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king 

loves you; 
Beware, you lose it not : For us, if you please 
To t»nist us in your business, we are ready 
lo use our utmost studies in your service. 
Q. Kath^ Do what ye will, my lords: And 
pray forgive me. 
If I have used* myself unmannerly; 
You know I am a woman, lacking wit 
To make a seemly answer to such persons. 
Pray do my service to his majesty : 
He has my heart yet; and shall have my 
prayers, [fathers. 

While I shall have my life. Come, reverend 
Bestow your counsels on me : she now begs. 
That little thought, when she set footing here. 
She should have bought her dignities so dear. 

\_ExeuHt. 

SCENE II. Antechamber to the King'i 
Apartment, 

Enter the Duke //Norfolk, the Duke of 

Suffolk, the Earl of Surrey, and the 

Lord Chamberlain. 

Nor. If you will now unite in yonr com- 
plaints [diual 

And force t them with a constancy, the car- 
'Cannot stand under them : If you omit 
The offer of this time, I cannot promise. 
But that you shall sustain more new disgraces. 
With these you bear already. 

Stir. I am joyful 

T) meet the least occasion, that may give me 



Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke. 
To be revenged on hico. 

Suf. Which of the peers 

Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least 
Strangely neglected ? when did he regard 
The stamp of nobleness in any person. 
Out of himself? 

Cham. My lords, you speak your pleasures 
What he deserves of you and me I know ; 
W^hat we can do to him, (though now the time 
Gives way to us,) I much fear. If youcannur^ 
Bar his access lo the king, never attempt . 
Any thing on him ; for he hath a witchcraft 
Over the king in his tongue. 

Nor. b, fear him not ; 

His spell in that is out : the king hath found 
Matter against him, that for ever mars 
The honey of his language. No, he's settled. 
Not to come off, in his displeasure, 

Sur. Sir, 

I should be glad to hear such news as this 
Once every hour. 

Nor. Believe it, this is true. 

In the divorce, his contrary proceedings 
Are all unfolded ; wherein he appears 
As I could wish mine enemy. 

Sur. How came 

His practices to light ? 

Suf. Most strangely. 

Sur. O, how, how? 

Suf. The cardinal's letter to the pope mis- 
carried, [read. 
And came to the eye o'the king : wherein was 
How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness 
To stay the judgment o'the divorce: For if 
It did take place, / do, quoth he, perceive 
My king is tangled in affection to 
A creature of the queen*. s, lady Anne Bullen, 

Sur. Has the king this i 

Suf. Believe it. 

Sur. Will this work 1 

Cham. The king in this perceives him, how 
he coasts. 
And hedges, his own way. But in this point 
All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic 
After his patient's death ; the king already 
Hath married the fair lady. 

Sur. 'Would he had ! 

Suf. May you be happy in your wish, my 
For, I profess, you have it. [lord I 

Sur. Now all my joy 

Tracei the conjunction I 

Suf. My amen to't! 

Nor. All lYien's. 

Suf, There's order given for her coronation: 
Marry, this is yet but youn? ^, and may be left 
To some ears unrecounted. — But, my lords. 
She is a gallant creature, and complete 
In mind and feature : 1 persuade me, from her 
Will fall some blessingto this land, whichshail 
In it be memorized Ij. 

Sur. But will the king 

Digest this letter of the cardinal's ? 
The lord forbid I 

Nor. Marry, amen ! 

Suf. No, no i 



Behaved. 



+ Enforce. 



X Follow. 



^ New. 



Made memorable. 



670 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act III. 



There be more wasps that buz about his nose, 
Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal 

Camptius 
Is stolen away to Rome ; hath ta'en no leave ; 
Has left the cause o'the king unhanriled ; and 
* Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal, 
To second all his plot. I do assure you 
The king cry'd, ha ! at this. 

Cham. Now God incense him, 

And let him cry ha, louder ! 

Nor. But, my lord, 

When returns Cranmer? 

Sf{f. He is retnin'd, in his opinions; which 
Have satisfied the king for his divorce. 
Together with all famous colleges 
Almost in Christendom : shortly, I believe, 
His second marriage shall be publish'd, and 
Her coronation. Katharine no more 
Shall be callM queen ; but princess dowager, 
And widow to prince Arthur. 

JVor. This same Cranmer's 

A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en muQh pain 
In the king's business. 

Suf. He has ; and we shall See him 

For it an archbishop. 

JVor. So I bear. 

Suf, 'Tis so. 

The cardinal — 

Enter Wolsey and Cromwell. 

N'or. Observe, observe, he's moody. 

WoL The packet, Cromwell, gave it you 
the king? 

Crom, To his own hand, in bis bedchamber. 

WoC. Look'd he o'the inside of the paper 1 

Crom. Presently 

He did unseal them : and the first he view*d. 
He did it with a serious mind; a heed 
"Was in his countenance : You he bade 
Attend him here this morning. 

fVoL Is he ready 

To come abroad! 

Crom. I think by this he is. 

Wol. Leave me a while. — 

[Exit Cromwell. 
It shall be to the duchess of Alen^on, 
The French king's sister : he shall marry her. 
Anne Bnllen I ^o; I'll no Anne Bullens for 

him : 
There is more in it than fair visage. — Bullen ! 
No, we'll no Bullens. — Speedily I wish 
To hear from Rome. — The marchioness of 

Nor, He's discontented. [Pembroke! 

Suf. May be, he hears the king 

Does whet his an^er to him. 

Stir. Sharp enough, 

Lord, for thy justice! 

H ul. The late queen's gentlewoman; a 
knight's daughter, 
To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's quetn! 
This candle burns not clear : *lis 1 miist snntf 
it ; [virtuous, 

Then, out it goes. — What though I know her 
/\nd well-deserving i yet I know her for 
A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to 
Our cause, th.tt »<he should lie i'lhe bosom of 
Our hard ruled king. Again, there is sprung up 



I An heretic, an arch one, Cranmer; one 
: Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king, 
And is his oracle. 

Nor. He is vex'd at something. 

Suf. I would 'twere something that wouli 
The master-cord of his heart ! [fret the string. 
Enter the King, reading a Schedule * j un * 

LOVKLL. 

Suf. The king, the king. 

K. Hen. What piles of wealth hath he a* 

cumulated [hou» 

To his own portion ! and what expense by tho 

Seems to flow from him ! How, i'the name or 

thrift, 
Does he rake this together ! — Now, n)y lords ; 
Saw you the cardinal? 

Nor. My lord, we have [motio-. 

Stood here observing him : Some strange coi*- 
Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts ; 
Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, 
Then, lays his finger on his temple; straight^ 
Springs out into fast gaitt ; then, stops agai*:.. 
Strikes his breast hard ; and anon, he casts 
His eye against the moon: in most stran »•. 
We have seen him set himself. [posiur ►' 

K. Hen. It may well b*^ 

There is a mutiny in his mind. This mornini' 
Papers of state he sent me to peruse. 
As I required ; And, wot J you, what I found 
There; on my conscience, put unwittingly'? 
Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing, — 
The several parcels of his plate, his treasure, 
Rich stutfs, and ornaments of household ; whiw 
I find at such proud rate, that it out-speaks 
Possession of a subject 

Nor. It's heaven's will ; 

Some spirit put this paper in the packet. 
To bless your eye withal. 

K. Hen. If we did think 

His contemplation were above the earth, 
And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still 
Dwell in his musings : but, I am afraid. 
His thinkings are below the moon, not worth 
His serious considering. 

{He takes his seat^ and whispers 
LovELL, who goes to Wolsey. 

IVol. Heaven forgive me! 

Ever God bless your highness ! 

K. Hen. Good my lord. 

You are full of heavenly stuff, and bear tb«. 

inventory 
Of your best graces in your mind ; the whic'» 
You were now running o'er ; you have scarce 

time 
To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span, 
To keep your earthly audit : Sure, in that 
I deem you an ill husband; and am glad 
To have you therein my companion. 

IVoL Sir, 

For holy offices I have a time ; a time 
To think upon the part of business, which 
I bear i'the state; and nature does require 
Her times of preservation, which, ptrforce, 
I her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal. 
Must give my tendance Jo. 

A', lien. ' Voii havp said well. 



• Au inventory. 



t Step?. 



t Kuow 



Scene II.] 



KING HENRY VIII. 



671 



l^^ul. And ever may your highness voke 
together. 
As I will lend you cause, my doing well 
With my well saying! 

K, Hen. 'Tis well said again ; 

And Mis a kind of good deed lo say well : 
And yet words are no deeds. My father loved 

you : 
He said he did ; and with his deed did crown 
His word upon you. Since I had my office, 
I have kept you next my heart; have not alone 
EmployM you where high profits might come 

home, 
But pared my present havings, to bestow 
My bounties upon yon. 

IVol. What should this mean? 

Siir. The lord increase this business ! [Aside. 

K. Hen. Have I not made you 

The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell 
me, [true : j 

If what I now pronounce, you have found 
And, if you may confess it, say withal. 
If you are bound to us, or no. What say you? 

\Vol. My sovereign, I confess, your royal 
graces, [could 

Showei 'd on me daily, have been more than 
My studied purposes requite, which went 
Beyond all man's endeavours : my endeavours 
Have ever come too short of my desires. 
Yet, filed with my abilities : Mine own ends 
Have been mine so, that evermore they 

pointed 
To the good of your mo?t sacred pers-on, and 
The profit of the state. For your great graces 
Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I 
Can nothing render but allegiant thanks; 
My prayers to heaven for you ; my loyalty, 
M'hicli ever has, and ever shall be growing. 
Till death, that wi.iter, kill it. 

K. Hen. Fairly answered; 

A loyal and obedient subject is 
Therein illustrated : Ihe honour of it 
Does pay the act of it ; as, i'the contrary. 
The foulness is the punishment. I presume 
That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you, 
My heart dropp'd love, my power rain*d 

honour, more 
On you than any ; so your hand, and heart. 
Your I rain, and every function of your power. 
Should, notwithstanding that your bond of 
As 'twere in love's particular, be more [duty. 
To me, your friend, than any. 

VV'ol. 1 do profess, 

That for your highness' good I ever labour'd 
More than mine own; that am, have, and will 
be, [to you. 

Though all the world should crack their duty 
And throw it from their soul : though peril's 
did [and 

Abound, as thick as thought could make them. 
Appear in forms more horrid ; yet my duty. 
As doth a rock airainst the chidit.'g flood, 
JShould the approach of this wild xiver break. 
And stand unshaken yoiu's. \ 

K. Hen. Tis nobly spoken: j 

Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, ' 



For you have seen him open't. — Read o'er 

this ; [Giving him papers. 

And, after, this : and then to breakfast, with 
What appetite you have. 

[Ki'it King, frotvning upon Cardinal 

Wolsey: the Nobler throng after 

him, smiling, and whispering. 

Wol. What should this mean < [it ? 

What sudden anger's this ? how have I reap'd 

He parted frowning from me, as if ruin 

Leap'd from his eyes : So looks the chafed lion 

Upon the daring huntsman that has gali'd him ; 

Then makes him nothing. I must read this 

paper ; 
I fear, the story of his anger. — *Tis so ; 
This paper has undone me : — 'Tis the account 
Of all that world of wealth I have drawn to- 
gether [dom. 
For mine own ends ; indeed, to gain the pope- 
And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence. 
Fit for a fool to fall by 1 What cross devil 
Made me put this main secret in the packet 
I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this? 
No new device to beat this from his brains? 
I know 'twill stir him strongly : Yet I know 
A w.iy, if it take right, in spite of fortune 
Will bring me otf again. What's this — To the 

Pope ? 
The letter, as I live, with all the business 
I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell ! 
I have touch'd the highest point of all my 

greatness ; 
And, from thit full meridian of my glory, 
I haste now to my setting : I shall f;iil 
Like a i rigtit exhalation in the evening, 
And no man see nie more. 
Reenter tne Dukes (>/' Norfolk and Suf- 
folk, the Earl (^Surrey, and the Lord 
Chamberlain. 
Nor. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal, 

who cominanfis you 
To render uj) the great seal presently 
Into our hands ; and to conhne >ourself 
To Asher house *, my lord of Winchester's, 
Till you hear further from his highness. 

Viol. Stay, [not carry 

Where's your commission, lords? words can- 
Authority so weighty. 

fsuf. Who ddre cross them, [pressly? 

Bearing the king's will from his mouth ex- 

VVoi» Till I hnd more than will, or words, 

to do it, 
(I mean, your malice,) know, officious lords, 
I dare, and must deny it. Now 1 feel 
Of what coarse metal ye are moulded, — envy. 
IIow eagerly ye follow my disgiaces, 
As if it ftd ye ! and bow sleek and wanton 
\e appear in every thing may bring my ruin 1 
Follow your envious courses, men of malice ; 
You have christian warrant for them, and, no 

doubt, 
In time will find their fit rewards. That seal. 
You ask with such a violence, the king, 
(Mine, an<l your master,) with his own hand 

gave me : 
Bade me en oy it, with the place and honours. 



• Esher in Surrey. 



672 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act 111 



During my life; and, to conhi m iiis 'froixlness, 
Tied it by letters patent : Now, who'll take it? 

Sur. The king, that gave it. 

WoL It must be himself then. 

\ur. Thou art a proud traitor, priest. 

l^ol. Proud lord, thou liest ; 

Within these forty hours Surrey durst better 
Have burnt that tongue, than said so. 

Sur, Thy ambition, 

Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land 
Of noble Buckingham, my fatlier-in-law: 
The heads ot all thy brother cardinals, 
(With thee, and ail thy beit parts bound to- 
gether,) [policy ! 
Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your 
You sent me deputy for Ireland ; 
Far from his succour, from the king, from all 
That might have mercy on the fault thou gavest 

him ; 
Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity, 
Absolved him with an axe. 

H ol. This, and all else 

This talking lord can lay upon my credit, 
I answer, is most false. The duke by law 
Found his deserts : how innocent I was 
From any private malice in his end. 
His noble jury and foul cause can witness. 
If I loved many words, lord, I should tell you, 
You have as little honesty as honour; 
That I, in the way of loyalty and truth 
Toward the king, my ever royal master. 
Dare n.ale* a sounder man than Surrey can be. 
And all that love his follies. 

Sur. By my soul. 

Your long coat, priest, protects you ; then 
shoidd'st feel [lords. 

My sword i'the life-blood of thee else. — My 
Can ye endure to hear this arrogance? 
4nd from this fellow ? If we live thus tamely. 
To be thus jaded + by a piece of scarlet. 
Farewell nobility ; let his grace go forward. 
And dare us with his cap, like larks j. 

^i'oL All goodness 

Is poison to thy stomach. 

Sur. Y"es, that goodness 

Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one. 
Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion ; 
The goodness of your intercepted packets, 
You writ to the pope, against the king: your 

goodness, 
Since y<»u provoke me, shall be most notori- 
ous : — 
My lord of Norfolk, — as you are truly noble. 
As you respect the common good, the state 
Of our despised nobility, our issues, 
Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen, — 
Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles 
Collected troni his life: — I'll fctartle you 
Worse than tl^e scaring bell, when the brown 

wench 
Lay kissing in your arms, Itrd cardinal. 

WoL How much, methinks, I could despise 
this man. 
But that I am bound in charity against itl 



Nor. 1 ho.^e articles, my lord, are in tb 
king's hand : 
But, thus much, they are foul ones. 

I'i'ol. So much fairer 

And spotless, shall mine innocence arise. 
When the king knows my truth. 

Sur, This cannot save you i 

I thank my memory, I yet remember 
Some of these articles ; and out they shall. 
Now, if you can blush, and cry guilty, cardinal, 
You'll show a littie honesty 

Wol. Speak on, sir : 

I dare your worst objections : if I blush. 
It is, to see a nobleman want manners. 

Sur. I'd rather wan** those, than my hean 

Have at you. [ledge 

First, that, without the king's assent, or know 

You wrought to be a legate; by which power 

You maini'd the jurisdiction of all bishops. 

Nor. Then, that in all you writ to Rome 
or else 
To foreign princes. Ego et Rex mens 
Was still inscribed; in which you brought th« 
To be your servant. [king 

Suf. Then, that, without the knowledge 
Either of king or council, when you went 
Ambassador to the emperor, you made bolA 
To carry into Flanders the great seal. 

Sur. Item, you sent a large commission 
To Gregory de Cassalis, to conclude, [ante 
Without the king's will, or the state's allow 
A league between his highness and Ferrara. 

Stif. That, out of mere ambition, you hav« 
caused 
Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the ki»g*s coin. 

Sur. Then, that you have sent innumerable 
substance, [science,, 

(By what means got, I leave to your own con 
To furnish Rome, and to prepare the waj s 
You have for dignities ; to the mere^ undoing 
Of all the kingdom. Many more there are ; 
Which, since they are of you, and odious, 
I will not taint my mouth with. 

Cham. O my lord 

Pre.-s not a falling man too far ; 'tis virtue : 
His faults lie open to the laws ; let them^ 
Not yon, correct him. My heart weeeps to st-^ 
So little of his great self. [him 

Sur. I forgive him. 

Suf Lord cardinal, the king's further plea- 
sure is, — 
Because all those things you have done of laie 
By your power legatine || within this kingdom. 
Fall into the compass of Apratrntnire^f , — 
That therefore such a writ be sued against you ; 
To forfeit all your goods, lauds, tenements. 
Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be [cl.arge. 
Out of the king's protection : — This is my 

Nor. And so we'll leave you to your n)edi- 

tations [swir. 

How to live better. For your stubborn an- 

Abont the giving back the great seal to us, 

The king shall know it, and, no doubt, shall 

thank you. 



• Equal. t Ridden. t A cardioars hat is *carlet, and the method of daring lark? i 

by 'iiiall mirrors on scarlet cloth. 5 Absolute. U As the Pope's legate 

IT A writ incurring a penalty. 



//-] 



KING HENRY VIII. 



673 



So fare you well, ray little go xl lord cardinal. 
[Kveunt ail but Wolsey. 
' Wol.So farewell to ihe little good you bear me. 
Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness ! 
This is the state of man ; Today he puts forth 
The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms. 
And bears his blushing honours thick upon him: 
The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost ; 
And, — when he thinks, good easy man, full 
H's i^reatness is a ripening, nips bis root, [surely 
And then he falls as I do. I have ventured. 
Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders. 
This many summers in a sea of glory ; 
But far beyond my depth : my high-blown 
pride [me. 

At letigth broke under me; and now has left 
Weary, and old with service, to the mercy 
Of a rude stream, that must forever hide me. 
Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye : 
1 feel my heart new opened : O, how wretched 
Is that poor man, that hangs on princes* fa- 
vours ! 
There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to. 
That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, 
More pangs and fears than wars or women 
And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, [have ; 
I>ever to hope again ! — 

Eti^er Cromwell, amazedly. 
yVhy, how now, Cromwell ? 

from. 1 have no power to speak, sir. 

Wol. What, amazed 

At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder, 
A great man should decline I Nay, an you weep, 
I am fallen indeed. 

Crom. How does your grace ? 

Wo/. Why, well ; 

Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. 
1 know myself now ; attd I feel within me 
A peace above all earthly dignities, 
A still and quiet conscience. The king has 
cured me, [shoulders 

I humbly thank his grace ; and from these 
These ruined pillars, out of pity, taken 
A load would sink a navy, too much honour: 
O 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden. 
Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. 

Crom. I am glad, your grace has made that 
right use of it. [thinks, 

Wol. i hope Ihave: I am able now, rae- 
(Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,) 
To endure more miseries, and greater far. 
Thai, my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. 
Vv'hat news abroad? 

('rom. The heaviest, and the worst. 

Is your displeasure with the king. 

\V\:l. God bless him 1 

Crom. The next is, that sir Thomas More is 
Lord-chancellor in your place. [chosen 

WoL. Thai's somewhat sudden : 

But he*!« a learned man. May he continue 
Ivont? in his highness' favour, and do justice 
For truth's sake, and his conscience ; that his 
bones, [blessings, 

When he has run his course, and sleeps in 
May have a tomb of orphan's tears* wept on 
Vvhatriiore? ['em! 



Crom. That Cratinit r is rcturn'd with wel- 
Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury . [come, 
WoL That's news indeed. 
Crom, Last, that the lady Anne, 

Whom the king hath in secrecy long married. 
This day was viewed in open, as his queen. 
Going to chapel ; and the voice is now 
Only about her coronation. 

WoL There was the weight that pull'd me 
down. O Cromwell, 
The king has gone beyond me, all ray glories 
In that one woman I have lost for ever: 
No sun shall ever usher forth mine honours, 
Or gild again the noble troops that waited 
Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, 

Cromwell ; 
I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now 
To be thy lord and master : Seek the king ; 
That sun, I pray, may never set 1 I have told 
him [thee ; 

What, and how true thou art : he will advance 
Some little memory of me will stir him 
(I know his noble nature) not to let [well. 

Thy hopeful service perish too : Ciood Crom- 
Neglect him not ; make use t now, and provide 
For thine own future safety. 

Crojn. O my lord, 

Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego 
So good, so noble, and so true a master? 
Bear witness, all that have not hearts of iron. 
With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord. 
The king shall have my service ; but ray pray- 
For ever, and for ever, shall be yours. [ers 
WoL. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear 
In all my miseries ; but thou hast forced me. 
Out of thy honest truth, to play the woman. 
Let's dry our eyes ; and thus far hear me, 

Cromwell ; 
And,— when I am forgotten', as I shall be. 
And sleep in dull cold marble, where no men- 
tion 
Of me more must be heard of,— say, I taught 

thee. 
Say, W olsey , — that once trod the ways of glorj-. 
And sounded all the depths and shoals of ho- 
nour, — [in ; 
Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise 
A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. 
Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. 
Croii.well, I charge theo, fling away ambition ; 
By that sin fell the angels, how can man then. 
The image of his Maker, hope to win by't? 
Love thyself last : cherish those hearts that 

hate ttiee ; 
Corruption wins not more than honesty. 
Still in thy right hand carry gentle pefice, [not : 
To silenie envious tongues. Be just, and fear 
Let all the ends thou aim'statbelhy country's. 
Thy God's, :md truth's; then if thou fali'st, O 

Cromwell, 
Thou fali'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king; 
And — . — Pr'ythee, lead me in : 
There take an inventory of all I have. 
To the last penny : 'tis the king's : my robe. 
And my intt grity to heaven, is all [well, 

I dare now call mine own. O Cromwell, Crom- 



• The chancellor is the guardian of orpli; 



3 M 



674 



SHAKSP£AR£. 



[Act fK 



Had I but served my God with h;ilf the zeal 
I served my king, he would not in mine age 
Have left me naked to mine enemies. 
Crom. Good sir, have patience. 



I Wol. So 1 have. Farewe'i 

The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do 

dwell. {Lxeunt. 



:\ 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. A Street in Westminster. 
Enter Two Gentlemen, meeting. 

1 Geiit. YoQ are well met once again. 

2 Gent. And so are yon. 

1 Gent. You come to take your stand here, 

and behold 
The lady Anne pass from her coronation? 

2 Gent, 'lis all my business. At our last 

encounter, 
The duke of Buckingham came from his trial. 

1 Gent. 'Tis very true : but that time offer'd 
This, general joy. [sorrow ; 

2 Gent. *Tis well : The citizens, 

I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds ; 
As, let them have their rights, they are ever for- 
In celebration of this day with shows, [ward 
Pageants, and sights of honour. 

1 Gent. Never greater, 
Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir, [tains, 

2 Gent. May 1 be bold to ask what that con- 
That paper in your hand? 

1 Gent. Yes ; 'tis tbe list 
Of those, that claim their offices thb day. 
By custom of the coronation. 

The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims 
To be high steward ; next, the duke of Norfolk, 
He to be earl marshal ; you may read the rest. 

2 Gent. 1 thank you, sir ; had I not known 

those customs, 

I should have been beholden to your paper. 

But, I beseech you, what's become of Katha- 
rine, 

The princess dowager! how goes her business? 

1 Gent . That 1 can tell you too. The arch- 

bishop 
Of Canterbury, accompanied wilh other 
Learned and reverend fathers of his order, 
Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off 
From Ampihill, where the princess lay ; to 

which 
She oft was cited by them, but appear'd not: 
And, to be short, for not appearance, and 
The king's late scruple, by the main assent 
Of all these learned men, she was divorced, 
And the late marriage* made of none etfect : 
Since which, she was removed to Kimbolton, 
Where she remains now, sick. 

2 Gent. Alas, good lady !— 

{Trumpets. 
The trumpets sound : stand close, the queen 
is coming. 

THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION. 

A lively Jiourish of Trumj/ets ; then enter 

I. Two Judges. 

•i. lard Chancellor, with the purse and 
rnoce before him. 



i. Choristers singing. [MueIc 

4. Maijor of Lonaon hearing the mace. 
Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and 
on his head, a gilt copper crown. 

5. Marquis Dorset, bearing a sceptre of 
gold, on his head a demi-coronal of gold. 
fVith hifn, the earl of Surreij, beajr>ng 
the rod of silver wlfh the dove, croWnt d 
with an earVs coronet. Collars of SS. 

6. Duke of Sujjoik, in his robe of estate, his 
coronet on his htad, bearing a long 
ivhite wand, as high steward. JVithhim, 
the duke of Norfolk, with the rod of 
tnarshalshiy, a coronet on his head. 
Collars of SS. 

7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque- 
ports; under if, the Queen in her robe ; 
in her hair richly adorned wth pearl, 
crowned. On each side of her, the 
bishops of London and Winchester. 

8. The old duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal 
of gold, wrought with flowers, bearing 
the Queen*^ train. 

9. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain 
circlets of gold tvithoutfiowcrs. 

2 Gent. A royal train, believe me. — These 
Who's that that bears the sceptre? [I know ;— 

1 Gent. Marquis Dorset : 
And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod. 

2 Gent* A bold brave gentleman : And ftjat 
The duke of Suflfolk. [should be 

1 Gent. 'Tis the same ; high-steward. 

2 Gent. And that my lord of Norfolk I 

1 Gent. Yea. 

2 Gent. Heaven bU-ss thee ! 
{Looking on th^ Queen. 

Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on.— 
Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel ; 
Our king has all the Indies in his arms. 
And more, and richer, when he strains that 
I cannot blame his conscience. [lady : 

1 Gent. They, that bear 
The cloth of honour over her, are four barons 
Of the Cinque-ports. [all are near her. 

2 Gent. Those men are happy ; and so ar« 
I take it, she that carries up the train, 
Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk. 

1 Gent. It is; and all the lest are *;oun- 
tesses. [stars, indeed ; 

2 Gt7it. Their coronets say so. These a»e 
And. sonielimes, falling ones. 

1 Gent. No more of that. 

{Exit Procession, with a great flourish 

of Trumpets. 

Enter a third Gentleman. 

God save you. sir! Where have yon been 

broiling? \.^ fi'^i^r 

s Gent. Amone the crowd i'the abbey; where 



• The marriage lately considerod as valid. 



I 



Scene J.] 



KING HENRY VIII. 



675 



Could not be wedged in more ; and I am 
Willi the mere raukness of their joy. [stifled 

2 Gent. You saw 
The ceremony 1 

3 Gent, That I did. 

i Gent, How was it? 

.; (rent. Well worth the seeing. 

2 Gent. Good sir, speak it to us. 

3 Ge?it. As well as I am able. The rich 
I stream 

Of lords, and ladies, having brought the queen 
lo a prepared place in the choir, fell off 
A distance from her ; while her grace sat down 
To rest a while, some half an hour, or so. 
In a rich chair of state, opposing freely 
The beauty of her person lo the people. 
Relieve me, sir, she is the goodliest woman 
That ever lay by man : which when the people 
H>id the full view of, such a noise arose 
As the shrouds make at sea in a stitf tempest, 
As loud, and to as many tunes : hats, cloaks, 
(Doublets, I ihiuk,) tiew up ; and had their 

faces [joy 

Been loose, this day they had been lost. Such 
I never saw before. Great-bellied women. 
That had not half a week to go, like rams 
In the old time of war, would shake the press, 
And make them reel before them. No man 

living [woven 

Could say. This is my zvife, there; all were 
So strangely in one piece. 

2 Gent. But, 'pray, what follow'd ? 

3 Gent. At length her grace rose, and with 

modest paces [saintlike, 

Came lo the altar ; where she kneel'd, and. 
Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pra>'d de- 
voutly, 
Then rose again, and bowM her to the people : 
When by the archbishop of Canterbury 
She had all the royal makings of a queen; 
As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown, 
The rod, and bird of peace, and all such em- 
blems 
Laid nobly on her : which perform'd, the choir. 
With all the choicest music of the kingdom. 
Together sung Te Deum. So she parted. 
And with the same full state paced back again 
io York-place, where the feast is held. 

1 Gent. Sir, you 
Must no more call it York-place, that is past : 
For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost ; 

f 'lis now the king's and call'd—Whitehali. 
3 Ge7it. I know it ; 

Bnt 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name 
li fresh about me. 

2 Gent. What two reverend bishops 
Were those that went on each side of the queen 1 
. 3 Gent. Slokesly and Gardiner ; the one of 

Winchester, 
jNewly preferred from the king's secretary,) 
Ihe other, London. 
2 Gent. He of Winchester 



Is held no great good lover of the arch bishop'ai. 
The virtuous Cranmer. 

3 Gent. All the land knows that: 

However, yet there's no great breach; when 

it comes, [him. 

Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from 

2 Gent. Who may that be, 1 pray you l 

3 Gent. Thomas Cromwell ; 
A man in much esteem with the king, and truly 
A worthy friend. — 1 he king 

Has made him master o'the jewel-house. 
And one already of the privy-council. 

2 Gent, He will deserve more. 

3 Gent. Yes, without all donbt. 
Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which 
Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests ; 
Something I can command. As 1 walk thither, 
I'll tell ye more. 

Both. Ycu may command us, sir. 

^Exeunt. 

SCENE II*. Kimbolton. 
Enter Katharine, Doivager, sick ; led be- 
tween Griffith and Patience. 

Grif. How does your grace ? 

Kath. O, Grirtith, sick to death : 

My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth. 
Willing to leave their burden : Reach a chair ; 
So, — now, methinks, 1 feel a little ease. 
Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou ledd'st 

me. 
That the great child of honour, cardinal Wolsey, 
Was dead ? 

Grif. Yes, madam ; but, I think, your grace. 
Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't. 

Kath. Pr'ythee, good Griffith, tell me how 
he died : 
If well, he stepp'd before me, happily t. 
For my example. 

Grif. Well, the voice goes, madam : 

For after the stout earl Northumberland 
Arrested him at York, and brought him forward 
(As a man sorely tainted,) to his answer. 
He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill. 
He could not sit his mule. 

Kath. Alas ! poor man ! 

Grif. At last, viith easy roads j, he came to 

Leicester, [abbot, 

Lodged in the abbey ; where the reverend 

VV^ith all his convent, honourably received him; 

To whom he gave these words, — O father 

abboty 
An oldman, brokejiivith the storms ofstatey 
is come to lay his weary bones among ye ; 
Give him a little earth for charity .' 
So went to bed : where eagerly his sickness 
Pursued him still ; and, three nights after this, 
About the hour of eight, (which he himself 
Foretold should be hisla.^t,) full of repentance 
Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows. 
He gave his hoaonrs to the world again. 
His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. 



'^ * This scene is above any other part of Shakspeare's tragedies, and perhaps above any scene 
of any other poet, tender and pathetic, without gods, or furies, or poisons, or precipices, with- 
out the help of romantic circumstances, without improbable sallies of poetical lamentation 
and without any throes of tumultuous misery. — Johnson. 

t Haply. I By short stages. 



676 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act jr 



Kath, So may he rest; his faults lie gently 
on him ! [him. 

Yet thus r.ir, Griffith, give me leave to speak 
An'i vet wiih ch irity, — He was a man 
Of an nnboniuled stomach *, ever ranking 
Himself with princes; cue, that by suggestion 
Tied all the kingdom : simony was tair play ; 
His own opinion \Tas his law : I'the presence f 
He would say untiuihs; and be ever double, 
Both ill his words and meaning : He was never^ 
But where he meant to ruin, pitiful : 
His promises were, as he then wag, mighty; 
But ids performance, as he is now, nothing. 
i)i his own body he was ill, and gave 
The clergy ill example. 

Grif. Noble madam, 

Men's evil manners live in brass ; their virtues 
We write in water. May it please your high- 
To hear me speak his good now 1 [ness 

Kath. Yes, good Griffith ; 

I were malicious else. 

GriJ. This cardinal. 

Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly 
Was ftshion'd tot much honour. From his 

cradle, 
He was a scholar, and a ripe, and good one ; 
Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading : 
Lofty, and sour, to them that loved him net ; 
But, to those men that sought him, sweet as 

summer. 
And though he were unsatisfied in getting, 
(Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, 
He was most princely : Ever witness for i.im 
Those twin? of learning, that he raised in you, 
Ipswich, and Oxford ! one§ of which fell with 
Unwilling to outlive the good that did it ; [him. 
The other, though unfinished, yet so famous^ 
So excellent in art, and i}till so rising, 
That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. 
His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him ; 
for then, and not till then, he felt himself. 
And found the blessedness of being little : 
And, to add greater honours to liis age 
Than man could give him, lie died, fearing God. 
Kath. After my death I wish no other herald, 
!No other speaker of my living actions, 
To keep mine honour from corruption. 
But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. 
Whom I most hated living, thou lust made me, 
With thy religious truth, and modesty, 
Kow in his ashes honour : Peace be with him ! 
Patience, be near me still ; and set me lower : 
I have not long to trouble thee. — Good Griffith, 
* Cause the musicians play me that sad note 
I named my knell, whilst I sit meditating 
Un that celestial harmony I go to. 
Sid and solemn music. 
Grif- She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit 
down quiet, [tience. 

For fear we wake her; — Softly, gentle Ta- 
The Vision. Enter, solemnly triyying one 
njtcr afiothrry six Person ges, clad in 
rvhite rolxs, wearing on their heads gnr- 
Innds of bays, and golden vizards on their 
faces ; branches of buys, or palm, in their 
hands. They first congee unto her, then 



dance; and, at certain changes, the first 
two hold a spare garland over her head, 
at which, the other four make reverend 
court'.sits; then the two that held the 
garland, deliver the same to the other 
next two, who observe the same order in 
their changes, and holding i he garland 
over her head: which done, tuey deiiter 
the same garland to the last two, who 
likewise observe the same order: at ichich, 
(as it were by inspiration,) she makes i?t 
her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth 
up her hands to heaven : and so in their 
dancing they vanish, carrying the garland 
with them. The music continues, 
Kath. Spirits of peace, where are ye? Arc 
ye all gone ? 

And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye? 
Grif Madam, we are here. 
Kath. It is not you I call for : 

Saw ye none enter, since 1 slept? 
Grif. Is one, madam. 

Kath. No? Saw you not, even now, a 
blessed troop 

Invite me' to a banquet ; whose bright 'aces 

Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun ? 

They promised me eternal happiness; 

And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I fee' 

I am not worthy yet to wear : I shall 

Assuredly. [dreams 

Grif. I am most joyful, madam, such good 

Possess your fancy. 
Kaih. Bid the music leave, 

They are harsh and heavy to me. 

\Music ceases, 
Pat. Do you note. 

How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden? 

How long her face is drawn ? How pale she 
look?. 

And of an earthy cold? Mark you her eyes? 
Grif. She is going, wench ; pray, pray. 
Pat, Heaven comlort her I 

Enter a Messenger. 
Mess. An't like your grace, — 
Kath. You are a saucy fellow: 

Deserve we no more reverence ? 
Grif You are to blame, 

Knowing she will not lose her wonted great- 

To use io rude behaviour : go to, kneel, [ness. 

Mess. I humbly do entreat your highness* 

pardon; [ing 

My haste made me unmannerly : There is stay- , 

A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you. 
Kath. Admit him entrance, Griffith : But 

Let me ne'er see again. [this fellow 

[Exeunt Griffith and Messenger. 
Re-enter Gk\tv\tu, with Capuci i s. 
If my sight fail not. 

You should be lord ambassador from the em* 
peror. 

My royal nephew, and your name Capncius. 
Cap. Madam, the same, your servant. 
Kath, O my lord 

The times, and titles, now are alter'd strangel 

With me, since tirst you knew me. But, I pra 

What is your pleasure with me ? [you 



• Pride. 



+ Of the king. 



j Formed for. 



§ Ipfwich 



:en€ II*] 



KING HENRY Vlll. 



677 



Cap, Noble lady, 

First, mine own service to your grace ; the 
The king's request that I would visit you ; [next. 
Who grieves much for your weakness, and by 
Sends you his princely commendations, [me 
And heartily entreats you t/ikc good comfort. 

Kath, O my good lord, that comfort comes 
Tis like a pardon after execution : [too late ; 
That gentle physic, given in time, had cured 
me ; [prayers. 

But now I am past all comforts here, but 
How does his highness t 
. Cap, Madam, in good health. 

Kath. So may he ever do ! and ever flouris-h, 
When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor 

name , 

Banish'd the kingdom ! — Patience, is that let- 
I caused you write, yet sent away ? [ter, 

Pat, No, madam. 

[Giving it to Kathaki^e. 

Kath, Sir, I most humbly pray you to de- 
This to my lord the king. [liver 

Ccfp. Most willing, madam. 

Kath. In which I have commended to his 
goodness 
The model * of onr chaste loves, his yonng 
daughter t: — [her! — 

The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on 
Beseeching him to give her virtuous bree<iing; 
(She is young, and of a noble modest nature ; 
I hope she will deserve well ;) and a little 
To love her for her mother's sake, that loved 
him, [litioa 

Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor pe- 
ls, that his noble grace would have some pity 
Upon my wretched women, that so long. 
Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully : 
Of which there is not one, I dare avow, | 



(And now I should not lie,) but will deserve. 
For virtue, and true beauty of the soul. 
For honesty, and decent carriage, 
A right good husband, let him be J a noble ; 
And, sure, those men are happy that shall have 

them. 
The last is, for my men : — they are the poorest. 
But poverty could never draw them from 

me; — [them. 

That they may have their wages duly paid 
And something over to remember me by ; 
If heaven had pleased to have given me longer 
And able means, we had not pearled thus, [life. 
These are the whole contents : — And, good my 
By that you love the dearest in this world , [lord, 
As you wish christian peace to souls departed. 
Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the 
To do me this last right. [king 

Cap, By heaven, I will; 

Or let me lose the fashion of a man I 

Kath. I thank yob , honest lord. Remember 
In all humility unto nis highness : [me 

Say, his long trouble now is passing 
Out of this world : tell him, in death I bless'd 

him, [well. 

For so I will. — Mine eyes grow dim.— Fare- 
My lord, — Griffith, farewell. — Nay, Patience, 
You must not leave me yet. I must to bed ; 
Call in more women. — When I am dead, good 

wench. 
Let me be used with honour ; strew me over 
With maiden flowers, that all the world may 

know 
I was a chaste wife to my grave : embalm me. 
Then lay me forth : although unqueen'd, yet 
A. queen, and daughter to a king, inter me. [like 

I can no more. 

[Exeuntf leading Katharine. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. A Gallery in the Palace, 

j^wfer Gardiner, bishop of WlTichesteVy a 
Page with a torch before him, met by Sir 
Thomas Lovell. 

Gar, It's one o'clock, boy, is't not ? 

Boy, It hath strnck. 

Gar. These should be hours for necessities. 
Not for delights ; times to repair our nature 
With comforting repose, and not for us 
To waste these times. — Good hour of night, sir 
Whither so late ? [Thomas ! 

ZjOv. Came you from the king, my lord ? 

Gar. I did, sir Thomas ; and left him at pri- 
With the duke of Suttolk. [mero § 

JLov, I must to him too. 

Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave. 

Gar. Not yet, sir Thomas Lovell. What's 
the matter? 
It seems you are in haste : an if there be 
No great otfence belongs to't, give your friend 
Some touciijl of your late business: Affairs that 
walk 



(As they say spirits do,) at midnight, have 
In them a wilder nature, than the business 
That seeks despatch by day. 

Lov. My lord, I love yon ; 

And durst commend a secret to your ear 
Much weightier than this work. The queen'i 

in labour. 
They say, in great extremity ; and fear'd. 
She'll with the labour end. 

Gar, The fruit she goes with, 

I pray for heartily ; that it may find 
Good time, and live : but for the stock, sir 
I wish it grubb'd up now. [Thomas, 

JLov. Methinks, I could 

Cry the amen; and yet my conscience says 
She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does 
Deserve our better wishes. 

Gar. But, sir, sir, — 

Hear me, sir Thomas : You are a gentleman 
Of mine own way ; I know you wise,reliiiiou8; 
And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well, — 
'Twill not, sir Thomas Lovell.take'tof me,[she. 
Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and 



Image. 



f Afterwards Queen Mary- 
^ A game at caids. 



t Even if le should be. 
H Hint. 

fi M 



67S 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Ait r 



Sleep in their graves. 

IjOV. Now, sir, you speak of two 

The most remark'd i'the kiasjdom. As for 
Ciomwell,— [ter 

Beside (hat of tlie jewel-house, he's made mas- 
O'liie rolls, and the king's secretary : further, 
sir, [uienis. 

Stands in the gap and trade of more prefer- 
Uith which the time will load him : The arch- 
bishop [speak 
Is the kiiiii's hand and tongue ; and who dare 
On-v- sylidbie against him? 

Gar. Yee, yes, sir Thomas, 

Tliere are that dare ; and 1 myself have ven- 
tured [day, 
To sptak my mind of him : and, indeed, this 
Sji,(l may tell it yon,) 1 think 1 have 
Inrenscd* the lords o'the council, that he is 
(For so I know he is, they know he is,) 
1 most arch l.ereiic, a pestilence [moved, 
That does infect the iand : with which they 
Have broken t with the king; who hath so far 
Given ear to our complaint, (of his great grace 
And princely care; foreseeing those fell mis- 
chiefs [manded. 
Our reasons liid before him,) he hath com- 
To-morrovv morning to the council-board 
He be conventedj. He's a rank weed, sir 

Thomas, 
And we must root him out. From your aflfairs 
I hinder you too long : good night, sir Thcmas. 

Lov. Many good nights, my lord ; I rest 
your servant. 

[tixeunt Gardiner and Page. 
As hoY eIjL. is goiitg out, enter the King,and 
the Duke oj Suffolk. 

K, Hen. Charles, I will play no more to- 
night ; 
My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me, 

Suf. Sir, I did never win of you before. 

K. Ben. But little, Charles ; 
Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play. — 
Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news? 

Lov. 1 could not personally deliver to her 
What you commanded me, but by her woman 
I sent your message ; who return'd her thanks 
In the greatest humbleness, and desired your 
Most heartily to pray for her. [highness 

K. Hen. What say'st thou ? ha! 

To pray for her 1 what, is she crying out I 

Lov, So said her woman ; and that her &uf- 
Almost each pang a death, [ferance made 

K. Hen. Alas, good lady 1 

Suf. Cod safely quit her of her burden, and 
"With gentle travail, to the gladding of 
Your highness vviih an heir ! 

K. Hen. 'Tis midnight, Charles, 

Pr'ythee, to bed ; and in thy praywrs remember 
The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone; 
For I must think of that, which company 
Will not be friendly to. 

Suf. I wish your highnesB 

quiet night, and my good mistress will 
emember in my prayers. 

K» Hen, Charles, good night. 

[Exit Suffolk. 



Enter Sir Anthony Dbnny. 
Well, sir, what follows ? 

Den. Sir, I have brought my lord the arch | 
As you commanded me, [bishop 

K, Hen. Ha ! Canterbury ? 

Den. Ay, my good lord. 

K, Hen. Tis true : Where is be, Denny ? 

Den. He attewds your highness* pleasure. 

K. Hen. Bring him to as 

[Eiit Dlnny. ^ 

Lov. This is about that which the bishop 
spake ; 
I am happily come hither. [Aside. 

Re-enter Deshy, ivith Cranmer. i 

AT. Hen. Avoid the gallery. 

[Lov ELL seems to. stay. 
Ha I — I have said. — Be ijone. 
What! — {tJxeunt Lovell and Denny. 

(■ran. I am fearful : — Wherefore frowns he 
Tis his aspect of terror. All's not wt-ll. [thus? 

K. Hen. How now, my lord? You do de- 
Wherefore I. sent for you. [sire to know 

Cran. It is my duty 

To attend your highness' pleasure. 

K. Hen. 'Pray you, arise. 

My good and gracious lord of Canterbury. 
Come, you and I must walk a turn together ; 
I have news to tell you : Come, come, give rne 

your hand. 
Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak, 
And am right sorry to repeat what follows : 
I have, and most unwillingly, of late, 
Heaid many grievous, I do say, my lord. 
Grievous complaints of you ; which, being con 

sider'd. 
Have moved us and our council, that you shall 
This morning come before us ; where, I know^ 
You cannot with such freedom puree yourself. 
But that, till further trial, in those charj^es 
Which will require your answer,you must take 
Your patience to you, and be well contented 
To make your house our Tower : You a bro- 
ther of us §, 
It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness 
Would come against you. 

Cran. I hujnbly thank your highness ; 

And am right glad to catch this good occasion 
Most throughly to be wiunow'd, where my 
And corn shall tly asunder : for, 1 know, [chaff 
There's none stands under more calumnious 

toni^ues, 
Than I myself, poor man. 

K. Hen. Stand up, tiood Canterbury 

Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted [up ; 
In us, thy friend : Give me thy hand, stand 
i*r*ythee, let's walk. Now. by my holy dame, 
What manner of man are you? My lord, I 

iook'd 
You would have given me your petition, that 
I should have ta'en some pains to bring to 
gether [yoa 

Yourself and your accusers ; and to have heard 
Without indnrance further. 

Cran. Most dread liege. 

The good I stand on is my truth, and honesty 
If they shall fail, I with mine enemies. 



Set vQ 



♦ Told their minda. 



\ Sommoned. 



$ One of the council. 



Sane I.] 



KING HENRY Vlll. 



67^ 



WiJl triuiiph o'er my person ; which I weigh* I 

not. 
Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing ' 
What can be said against me. 

A. Ben. Know you not how 

Vour state stands i'the worid, with the whole 
Your enemies [world '? 

Ave many, and not smaU ; their practices 
I^i list bear the same proportion; and not evert 
The justice and the truth o'the question carries 
The due o'the verdict with it : At what ease 
Might CO) rupt minds procure knaves as corrupt 
To swe.ir against you? sach things have been 
done. 
. You are potently opposed ; and with a malice 
Of as great size. Vv een; you of belter luck, 
I mean, in perjured witness, than yonr master, 
. Whose minister you are, whiles here he lived 
Upon this naui^hty earth ? Go lo, go to 
You take a precipice for no leap of danger. 
And woo your own destruction. 
, Cran. God, and your majesty, 

Protect mine innocence, or I fall into 
The trap is laid for me ! 

K. Hen. Be of good cheer ; [to. 

They shall no more prevail, than we give way 
Keep comfort to you ; and this monnng see 
You do appear before them ; if they shall 

chance, 
In charging you with matters, to coinmit you, 
The best persuasions to the contrary 
Fail not to use, and with what veheinency 
The occasion shall instruct you : if entreaties 
Will render you no remedy, this ring 
Deliver them, and your appeal to ns 
There make before them. — Look, the good 
man weeps ! [mother ! 

He's honest, on mine honour. God's blest 
I swear, he is true-hearted ; and a soul 
None better in my kingdom. — Get you gone, 
And do as 1 have bid you. — {Exit Cran mer.] 

He has strangled 
His language in his tears. 

Enter an old Lady. 

Gent. [Within.l Comeback; What mean 
you? [I bring 

Lady. Pll not come back : the tidings that 
Will make my boldness manners. — Now, good 

angels 
I^ly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person 
Under their blessed wings! 

K. Hen. Now, by thy looks 

I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd? 
Say ay ; and of a boy. 

Lady. Ay, ay, my liege ; 

And of a lovely boy : The God of heaven 
l?oth now and ever bless her!— 'tis a girl. 
Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen 
Desires your visitation, and to be 
Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you. 
As cherry is to cherry. 

K. Hen, Lovell,— 

Enter LoviiLL. 

Lov. Sir, 

A. Hen, Give her an hundred marks. Pll 
to the queen. [Exit King. 



Lady. An hundred marks! By this light, 
Pll have more: 
An ordinary groom is for such payment} 
I \\\\\ have more, or scold it out o{ liira 
Said I for this, the girl is like to him I 
1 will have more, or else unsay 'I; and now 
While it is hot, I'll put it to the issue. 

[E2eunt, 

SCENE II. Lobby before the Council- 

Chamber, 

Enter CraxNMer; Servants, Door-kee'per, 

4c. attending. 

Crun. I hope I am not too late ; and yet tb« 

gentleman, [me 

That was sent to me from the council, pray'd 

To make great haste. All fast? what means 

this?— Hoa! 
Who waits there? — Sure, you know me? 

D. Keep. Yes, my lord ; 

But yet I cannot help you. 

Cran. Why? [callM for. 

D. Keejp. Y^our grace must wait, till you be 

Enter Doctor Butts. 
Cran. So. 

Bultx. This is a piece of malice. I am glad, 
I came this way so happily : The king 
Shall understand it presently. {E.iit Butts. 

Cran. {Ayide.'\ *Tis Butts, 

The king's physician ; As he past along. 
How eariiesily he cast his eyes upon nie ! 
Pray heaven, he sound not my disgrace ! For 

certain. 
This is of purpose laid, by some that hate me, 
(God turn their hearts! 1 never sought their 
malice,) [make me 

To quench mine honour : they would shame to 
Wait else at door ; a fellow counsellor, 
Among boys, grooms, and lackeys. But their 

pleasures 
Must be fulfill'd, and I attend with patience. 
Enter at a window above, the King and 
Butts. 
Butts, Pll show your grace the strangest 

sight — 
K. Hen. What's that, Butts? 

Butts. I think your highness saw this mai- 
K. Hen. Body o'me, where is it? [a day 
Butts. There, my lord : 

The high promotion of his grace of Canter- 
bury ; [vaiits, 
Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursui- 
Pages, and footboys. 

K. Hen. Ha ! 'Tis he indeed : 

Is this the honour they do one another? 
'Tis well there's one above them >et. 1 had 

thought 
They had parted so much honesty among them, 
(At least, good manners,) as not thus to sulfer 
A man of his place, and so near our favour, 
To dance attendance on their lordships* plea- 
sures, 
And at the door too, like a post with packets. 
By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery : 
Let them alone, and draw the curtain close , 
We shall hear more anon. — lExeunU 



• Value. 



t Always. 



X ThiDk. 



GSO 



SlIAKSPEARE. 



[Act 



THE COUNCIL CHAMBtR. 

Enter the Lord Chancellor, ^Ae Duke q/* Suf- 
folk, E^vloJ SuRKEY, Lord Chamberlain, 
Gkr INLR, and Cromwell. The Chan 
c».'llor p/uces himself at the upper end of 
the table on the left hand ; a seat being 
left void above him, as for the Archbishop 
tf Canterbury, The rest seat themselves 
in order on each side. Cromwell at the 
loner end, as secretary, 
Chan. Speak to the business, Liaster secre- 
Why are we raet in council? [tary : 

Cro?n. i* lease your honours, 

The chief cause concerns his grace of Canter- 
Gar. Has he had knowledge of it? [bury. 
Croni. Yes. 

Nor. Who waits there? 

D. Keep, Without, my noble lords? 
Gar. Yes. 

D. Keep. My lord archbishop; 

And has done half an hour, to know your plea- 
Chav, Let him coiue in. [sures. 

X). Ketp. Your grace may enter now. 

[Cranmer approaches the Cou7icil-table. 
Chan. My good lord archbishop, I am very 
To sit here at this present, and behold [sorry 
That chair stand empty : But we all are men, 
lii our own natures tVriil ; and capable 
Of our tlesh, few are angels: out of which 
frailty, [teach us, 

And want of wisdom, yon, that best should 
Have niisdemean'd yourself, and not a little. 
Toward the king tirst, then his laws, in filling 
The whole realm, by your teaching, and your 

chaplains, 
(iPor so we a' e inform'd,) with new opinions, 
iJivers, and dangerous; wliich are heresies. 
And, not reform'd, may prove pernicious. 

Gar. Which reformation must be sudden too. 

My noble lords : for those that tame wild 

horses, [gentle; 

Pace theni not in their hands to make them 

But etoj^ their mouths with stubborn bits, and 

spur thern, 
Till they obey the manage. If we suffer 
(Out of otir easiness, aiid childish pity 
To one man's honour) this contagions sickness. 
Farewell all physic: And what follows then? 
Commofioiis, uproars, with a general taint 
Or the wliole state : as, of late days, our neigh- 
Thc upper Gcrniany can dearly witness, [bour«. 
Yet freshly pitied in our memories. 

Cran. My good lords, hitheito, in all the 
progress 
Both of my lite and office, I have labonr'd. 
And with no little study, tliat my leacliing 
And the strong course of my authority, 
Might go one uay, and safely ; and the end 
Was ever to do well: nor is there living 
(1 speak it with a 5»ingle heart*, my lords) 
A man that more deiests, more stir.-^ against, 
Both in his privrtte conscience, and his place, 
Defacers of a public peace, than I do. 
*Pray heaven, the king may never find a heart 
With le88 allegiance in it! Men that make 



Knvy, and crooked malice noutishment, 
Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordship* 
That, in this case of justice, my accusers, 
Be what they will, may stand forth face to face. 
And freely urge against me. 

Si/f. Nay, my lord. 

That cannot be ; yon are a counsellor, 
And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse yon. 

Gar. My lord, because we have business of 
more moment, [pleasure. 

We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' 
And our consent, for better trial of you, 
From hence you be committed to the lower; 
W here, being but a private man again, 
You shall know many dare accuse you boldly, i 
More than, I fear, you are provided for. 

Cran. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, F 
thank you, [pass. 

You are aUvays my good friend ; if your will 
I shall both find your lordship judge and juror. 
You are so merciful : I see your end, 
'Tis my undoing : Love, and meekness, lord. 
Become a churchman better than ambition; 
Win straying souls with modesty again. 
Cast none away. That I shall clear myself. 
Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience, 
I make as little doubt, as you do conscience. 
In doing daily wrongs. 1 could say more. 
But reverence to jour calling makes me mo- 
dest. 

Gar. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary, 
Thai's the plain truth; your painted gloss d^v 
covejs, [nesu 

To men that understand you, words and weak 

Croni. My lord of Winchester, you are a 
little. 
By your good favour, too sharp ; m?n so nobk^ 
However faulty, yet should find respect 
For what they have been: 'tis a cruelly 
To load a falling man. 

Gar. Good master secretary, 

I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst 
Of all this table, say so. 

Croni. Why, my lord? 

Gar. Do not I know you for a favourer 
Of this new sect? ye are not sound. 

Crvm. Not sound t 

Gar. Not sound, I say. 

Crom. 'Would you were half so honest ! 
Men's prayers then would seek you, not their 
fears. 

Gar. 1 shall remember this bold language. 

Crom. Do. 

Remember your bold life too. 

Chan. This is too mueh ; 

Forbear, for shame, my lords. 

Gar. i have done. 

Croin. And I. 

Chan. Then thus for yon, my lord,-^It stauda 
agreed, 
I take it, by all voices, that forthwith 
You be convey 'd to the Tower a prisoner; 
There to remain, till the king's further plea- 
sure 
Be known unto us : Are yoa all agreed, lordat 

All. We are. 



• *' In sin;,'leness of heart." Acts ii. 46. 



V<.f7t€ II,} 



KING HENRY VIII. 



681 



Crftn. Is there no other way of mercy, 
But I must needs to the Tower, my lords / 

Gar. What other 

>Vould you expect? You are strangely trouble- 
Lei some o' the guard be ready there, [some! 
Enter Guard. 

Cran, For me? 

Must I go like a traitor thither ? 

(rur. Receive him. 

And see hi-n safe i* the Tower. 

Craii. I^t<^y, good my lords, 

I have a little yet to say. Look there, my 

lor>ls; 
By virtue of that ring, 1 take my cause 
Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it 
- To a most noble judge, the king my master. 

Chain. This is the king's ring. 

STir. 'Tis no counterfeit. 

Suf. 'Tis the right ring, by heaven : I told 
ye all, [rolling. 

When we first put this dangerous stone a 
'Twould fall upon ourselves. 

AW. Do you think, my lords. 

The king will suffer but the little finger 
Of this man to be vex'd? 

Cham. 'Tis now too certain : 

How nmch more is his life in value with him 1 
Would 1 were fairly out on't. 

Crom. My mind gave me. 

In seeking tales and informations 
Against this man, (whose honesty the devil 
And ills disciples only envy at,) [at ye. 

Ye blew the fire that burns ye : Now have 
Enter the King, frow/ii/tg 07i them; takes 
his seat.. 

Gar. Dread sovereign, how inucli are we 
bound to heaven 
hi daily thanks, that gave us such a prince ; 
Not only good and wise, but most religious: 
One thaf, in all obedience, makes the cliurch 
The chief aim of his honour ; and, to strengthen 
That holy duty, out of dear respect, 
His royal self in judgment comes to hear 
The cause betwixt her and this great otfender. 

AT. Hen. You were ever good at sudden 
commendations. 
Bishop of Winchester. But know,! come not 
To hear such flattery now, and in my pre- 
sence; 
They are too thin and base to hide offences. 
To me you cannot reach ; you play the spaniel, 
And think with wagging of your tongue to 

win me ; 
But whatso'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure, 
'I'hou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody. — 
Good man, [To Cranmer.] sit down. Now 

let me see the proudest 
He that dares most, but wag his finger at thee : 
By all that's holy, he had better starve, 
Thnn but once think his place becomes -thee 

Snr. May it please your grace, — [not. 

IC. H' n. No, sir, it does not please me. 
I had thought I had had men of some under- 

statuling 
And wisdom, of my council; but I find none. 
Was it discretion, lords, to let thig man. 



i his good man, (few of you deserve that 

title,) 
This lionest man, wait like a lousy footboy 
At chamber door? and one as great as yon 

are? [mission 

Why, what a shame was this ? Did my corn- 
Bid ye so far forget yourselves? 1 gave ye 
Power, as he was a counsellor, to try him, 
!Not as a groom ; 1 here's some of ye, I see. 
More out of malice thaa integrity. 
Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean ; 
Which ye shall never have, while I live. 

Chan. Thus far, 

My most dread sovereign, may it like your 

grace [posed 

To let my tongue excuse all. What was pur- 
Concerning his imprisonment, was rather 
(If there be faith in mtn) meant for his trial. 
And fair purgation to the world, than malice, 
I am sure, in me. 

K. Hen. Well, well, my lords, respect him ; 
Take him, and use him well, he's worthy 

of it. 
I will say thus much for him, If a prince 
May be beholden to a subject, I 
Ain, for his love and service, so to him. 
Make me no more ado, but all embrace him ; 
Be friends, for shame, my lords. — My lord of 

Canterbury, 
I have a suit which you must not deny me; 
That is, a fair young maid that yet wants 

baptism. 
You must be godfather, and answer for her. 
Cran. The greatest monarch now alive may 

glory 
In such an honour; How may I deserve it, 
That am a poor and humble subject to you? 
K. Hen. Come, come, my lord,you*d spare 

your spoons* ; you shall have 
Two noble partners with you ; the old duchess 

of Norfolk, [you? 

And lady marquis Dorset; Will these please 
Once more, my lord of Winchester, 1 charge 
Embrace, and love this man. [y<><i. 

Gar. With a true heart. 

And brother-love, I do it. 

Cran, And let heaven 

Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. 
K. Hen. Good man, those joyful tears show 

thy true heart. 
The common voice, I see, is verified 
Of thee, which says thus. Do my lord of 

Canterbury [erer. — 

A shrewd turn, and he*s your fritnd Jar 
Come, lords, we trifle time away ; I long 
I'o have this young one made a christian. 
As I have made ye one, lords, one remain ; 
So I grow stronger, you more honour gain. 

{Eieunt, 

SCENE III. The Palace Yard. 
Noise and tumult ivithin. Enter Porter 
and his Man. 
Port. You'll leave yonr noise anon, ye ras- 
cals: Do you take the court for Paris-ga'denjl 
ye rude slaves, leave > our gaping j. 



• It was an ancient cistom for sponsors to present spoons to ineir god-children, 
t The bear-garden on ihe bank side. * Roaritig. 



6S2 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act k 



[Vf'ithin.] Good master porter, 1 belong to 
the larder. 

Port. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, 
vou rogue : Is this a place to roar in? — Fetch 
me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones; 
these are but switches to them. — I'll scratch 
your heads: You must be seeing christenings? 
Do you look for ale and cakes here, you rude 
rascals? 

Man. Pray, sir, be patient-,, 'tis as much 
impossible [cannons,) 

(Unless we sweep them from the door with 
To scatter them, as 'lis to make them sleep 
On May-day morning; which will never be: 
We may as well push against Paul's,as stir them. 

Port. How got they in, and be hang'd ? [in ? 

Man. Alas, 1 know not ; How gels the tide 
As much as one soimd cudgel of four foot 
(You see the poor remainder) could distribute, 
I made no sp^re, sir. 

Fori. You did nothing, sir. 

Man. I am not Samson, nor sir Guy, nor 
Colbrand*,to mow them down before me: but, 
if I spared any that had a head to hit, either 
young or old, he or she, cuckold or cuckold- 
maker, let me never hope to see a cliine again; 
and that 1 would not for a cow, God save her. 

[Within,'] Do yon hear, master Porter? 

Port. I shall be with you presently, good 
master puppy. — Keep the door close, sirrah. 

Man. What would you have me do? 

Port. What should you do, but knock them 
down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to 
muster in? or have we some strange Indian 
with the great tool come to court, the wonien 
80 besiege us? Bless me, what a fry of forni- 
cation is at door I On my christian conscience, 
this one christening will beget a thousand ; here 
will be father, godfather, and all together. 

Man. The spoons will be the bigger, sir. 
There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he 
should be a brazier by his face, for,o' my con- 
science, twenty of the doij-days now reign in's 
nose; all that stand a bout him are under the line, 
they need no other penance : That fire-drake did 
I hit three times on the head, and three times 
was his nose discharged against me; he stands 
there like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There 
"Was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, 
that railed upon me till her pink'd porringerf 
fell off her head, for kindling such a combus- 
tion in the state. I miss'd the meteor J once, 
and hit that won) an, who cried out, c/w/^.v.' when 
1 might see from far pon>e forty truncheoneers 
draw to her succour, which were the hope of 
the Strand, where she was quartered. They fell 
on; 1 niacin goo<l my place ; at length they came 
to the brooinsiaft with me, 1 defied them still ; 
■when Buddenly a (lie of boys behind them, loose 
shot, delivered such a 6h<>\\er of pebbles, that 
I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let them 
win the work: The devil was amongst them, 
I think, snu'ly. 

Pur. These are the youths that thunder at a 
la> -house, and fight for bitten apples; that no 



audience, but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, c 
the Limbs of Limehouse,their dear brothers,ar« 
able to endure. 1 have some of them in Limho 
Pat rum j, and there they are like to dance 
these three days ; besides the running banquet 
of two beadles ||, that is to come. 

Enter the Lord Chamberlain. 
Cham^ Mercy o* me, what a multitude are 

here! 
They grow still too, from all parts they ar« 

coming. 
As if we kept a fair here ! W^here are thes* 

porters, 
These lazy knaves ! — Ye have made a fine hana, 

fellows. 
There's a trim rabble let in : Are all these 
Your faithful friends o'the suburbs? We shall 

have [ladies. 

Great store of room, no doubt, left for the 
When they pass back from the christening. 

Port. An't please your honour, 

We are but men ; and what so many may do. 
Not being torn a pieces, we have done; 
An army cannot rule them. 

Chain. As I live. 

If the king blame me for't, Pll lay ye all 
By the heels, and suddenly ; and on your heads 
Clap round fines, for neglect: You are lazy 

knaves; 
And here ye lie baiting of bumbards*!, when 
Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets 

sound ; 
They are come already from the christening: 
Go, break among the press, and find a way out 
To let the troop pass fairly ; or Pll find 
A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two 

months. 
Port. Make way there for the princess. 
Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or 
Pll make your head ake. 

Port. You i' the camblet, get up o' the rail ; 
Pll pick •* you o'er the pale's else. 

\Eyeunt. 

SCENE IV. The Palace +t. 

Enter Trumpets,soundtng ; then two Alder- 
men, Lord Mayor, Garter, Gran mf.r, Duke 
of Norfolk, with his Marshal's Staj}\ 
Duke 0/' Suffolk, ^«o Noblemen bearing 
great standing bowls jor (he ch-'iytinit.g 
gifts ; the?} four Noblemen bearing a cu' 
nopy, under which the Duchess o/ Nor- 
FOLK, godmother, bearing tht child richly 
habited in a mavtii , ^c. Train borne by a 
Lady; then follows the Marchioness «/ 
Dors ei , the other godmother, and Ladies 
The Troop pass once about the stcgt , atid 
Garter speaks, 
Gart. Heaven, from thy endless goodness 

send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, 

the hitih and mighty princess of England, Eli 

zabeth. 

Flourish. Enter King, avd Train. 
Cran. [Kneeling], And to your royal grace 
and the good queen. 



• Guy of Warwick, nor Colbrand the Danish giant. + Pink'd cap- 

X The brazier. $ Place of confinemeni. |1 A desert of whipjing. 

% Jilack leather vesseU to hold beer. •* Pitch. n At Greenwich 



Scene /r.] 



KING HENRY VIII. 



683 



My Dobie partners, and niyaelf, thus pray : — 
.\.ll comfori, joy, in this most gracious lady, 
Heaven ever lai'l up to make parents lja[)py, 
May hourly tail upon ye! [bishop; 

K. Hen. Thank you, good lord aich- 

VVhat is her name? 

Cran. Elizabeth. 

K. Hen, Stand up, lord. — 

{The King kisses the Child. 

With this kiss take my blessin^ : God protect 

Into whose hands I give thy life. [thee, 

Cran. Amen. 

K, Hen, My noble gossips, ye have been 
too prodigal: 
1 thank ye heartily; so shall this lady, 
When she has so much English. 

Cran. Let me speak, sir, 

For heaven now bids me ; and the woi (Is I utter 
Let none think flattery, for they'll find them 
truth. [heri) 

This royal infant, (heaven still move about 
Thouiih in her cradle, yet now promises 
Upon this land a thous.md thous^nid blessings. 
Which time shal 1 bring to ripeness: She shall be 
(But few now living can behold that goodness) 
A pattern to all princes living with her, 
And all that shall succeed: bheba was never 
Moie covetous of wisdom, and fair virtue. 
Than this pure soul shall be : all princely graces 
'I hat mould up such a mighty piece as this is. 
With all the virtues that attend the good, [her ; 
Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse 
Holy and heavenly thoughts stiil counsel her; 
She shall be loved, and feared: Her own shall 

bless her : 
Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, 
And hang their heads with sorrow: Good 

grows with her: 
In her days, every man shall eat in safety, 
lender his own vine, what he plants; and sing 
The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours : 
God shall betruly known ; and those about her 
From her shall read the f)erfect ways of ho- 
nour, [blood. 
And by those claim their greatness, not by 
[Nor* shall this peace sleep with her: But as 
whea 



The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phcenijt. 

Her ashes new create another heir. 

As great in admiration as herself; 

So shall she leave her blessedness to one, 

(When heaven shall call her from this cloud of 

darkness,) 
Who, fri.m the sacred ashes of her honour. 
Shall star-like rise, as iireat in fame as she was, 
And so stand fix'd : Peace, plenty, love, truth, 

terror. 
That were the servants to this chosen infant, 
Shall tlien be his, and like a vine grow to him ; 
Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, 
His honour, and the greatness of his name 
Shall be, and make new nations: He shall 

flourish. 
And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches 

To all the plains about him : Our children's 

Shall see this, and bless heaven. [children 
K. Hen. Thoa speakest wonders. 

Cran. She shall be, to the happiness of 

England, 
An aged princess ; many days shall see her. 
And yet no day without a deed to crown it. 
Would I had known no more ! but she must 

die, [gi»» 

Sh« must, the saints must have her; yet a vir- 
A most unspotted lily shall she pass [her. 

To the ground, and all the world shall mourn 
K. Hen, O lord archbishop, [fore 

Thou hast made me now a man ; never, be- 
This happy child, did I get any thing: 
This oracle of comfort has so pleased me. 
That, when I am in heaven, 1 shall desire 
To see what this child does, and praise ray 

Maker.— 
I thank ye all,— To yon, my good lord mayor. 
And your good brethren, 1 am much beholden; 
I have received much honour by your pre- 

senee, [way, lords ;— * 

And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the 
Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank 

ye, [think 

She will be sick else. This day, no raau 
He has business at his house ; for all shall stay, 
, This little one shall make it holiday. [Exeunt. 



EPILOGUE. 



Tis ten to one, this play can never please 
All that are here: Somecometo take their ease, 
And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear, 
We have frighted with our trumpets ; so, 'tis 

clear 
Ttiey'U say, 'tis nought : others, to hear the city 
Abused extremely, and tocry,— ?/i"^'.> nitty ! 
Which we have not done neither: that, I fear, 



All the expected good we are like to hear 
For this play at this time, is only in 
The merciful construction of good women 
For such a one we showed them; If they 

smile, 
And say, 'twill do, I know, within a while, 
All the best men are ours; for 'tis ill hap. 
If they hold, when their ladies bid them clap. 



The play of Henry the Eighth is one of those which still keeps possession of the stage, 
by the splendour of its pageantry. The coronation, about forty years ago, drew the people 
together in multitudes for a great part of the winter. ^ et pomp is not the only merit of this 
|^'l:iy. The meek sorrows and virtuous distress of Katharine have furnished vome scenes, which 
njay be justly numbered among the greatest efforts of tragedy. Bot the genius of Shakspeare 
comes in and goes out with Katharine. Kv^ry other part may be easily cojxeived and easily 
written. — Johns )S. 

This and tlie following seventeen lines were prohaMy written by Ben Jouson, after th 
accession of K. James. 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 



^cr^ott^ r^prc^enteD* 



Priam, King of Troy, 
Hector, '\ 

Thoilus, / 

Paris, > his sons, 

Deiphobus, V 
Hellnus, J 

Calch\s, a Trojan priest, taking part 

with the Greeks. 
Pakdarus, Uncle to Cressida, 
Margarelon, a bastard son of Priam, 

Agamemnon, the Grecian General. 
Men EL A us, his brother. 
Achilles, "» 

Ajax, >€h-ecian Commanders, 

Ulysses, ^ 



DEs, > Grecian Commandera, 

CLUS, J 

deformed and scurrilaus 



Set 



Nestor, 

DlOME 

Patroc 
Thersites, a 

Grecian, 
Alexander, servant to Cressida. 
Servant to Troilus ; Servant to Paris; 

vaiit to Diomedes, 

Helen, wife to Menelaus, 
Andromache, wife To Hector, 
Cassandra, daughter to Prlamj a Pr» 

yhefess. 
Cressida, daughter to Calchas, 

Trojan and Gretk Soldiers, and Attendants 



Scene 



-Troy, and the Grecian Camp be- 
fore it. 



PROLOGUE. 



In Troy, there lies the scene. From isles of 

Greece 
The princes orgulous*, their high blood chafed, 
Have to the port of Athens sent their ships. 
Fraught with the ministers and instruments 
Of cruel war: Sixty and nine, that wore 
Their crownets regal, from the Athenian bay 
Put forth toward Phrygia : and their vow is 

made, [mures 

To ransack Troy ; within whose strong im- 
Tlie ravishM Helen, Menelaus' queen, 
With wanton Paris sleeps: And that*s the 
To Tenedos they come : [quarrel. 

And the deep-drawing barks do there disgorge 
Their warlike fraughtagef: Now on Dardan 

plains 
The fresh and yet unbruised Greeks do pitch 
Their brave pavilions : Priam's six-gated city 



Dardan, and Tymbria, Uias, Chetas, Trojan,. 
And Antenorides, with massy staples. 
And corresponsive and fulfilling bolts, 
Sperrt up the sona of Troy'. 
Now expectation, tickling skittish spirits. 
On one und other side, Trojan and Greek, 
Sets all on hazard : — And hither am I come 
A prologue arm'd, — but not in conlidence 
Of author*s pen, or actor's voice; but sailed 
In like conditions as our argument, — 
To tell you, fair beholders, tliat our play 
Leaps o'er the vaont j and lirsllings of tho9» 

broils, 
'Ginning in the middie; starting thence away 
To what may be digested in a play. 
Like, or find fault ; do as your pleasures are ; 
Now good, or bad, 'tis but the chance of wat- 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. Troy. Before Priam's Pa- 
lace. 

Enter Troilus armed, and Pandarus. 

Tro. Call here my varlet|l, I'll unarm again: 
Why should I war without the walls ok Troy, 
That find such cruel battle here within ? 
Each Trojan, that is inasler of his heart, 
Let him to field ; Troilus, alas! hath none. 

Pan. Will this geerU ne'er be inenilcd ? 

Tro. The Greeks are strong, and skilful to 
their strength, [valiant ; 

Pierce to their skill, and to their tierceness 
But 1 zxa weaker than a woman's tear. 



Tamer than sleep, fonder •• than Ignorance ; 
Less valiant than the virgin in the night, 
And skill-less as unpractised infancy. 

Pan. Well, I have told yon enough of »hi!»; 
for my part, I'll not meddle nor make no iu»- 
ther. He that will have a cake otK of the 
wh^at, niuhi tarry the {iiinding. 

Tro. Have 1 not tarried { 

Pan. Ay, the grinding; but you must tariy 
the bolLir.:;. 

Tro. Have I not tarried ? 

Pan. Ay, the bolting ; but you must tarry 
the leavening. 

Tro. Still have I tarried. 



• Proud, disdainful. * Fr. ight. I Shut. 

\ A servant to a kui;;lu. % H:ibit. 



Avannt. what went before^ 



Scene I ] 



TR0.LU5S AND CRESSiDA. 



6-83 



Pan. Ay, lo the leavening : but here's yet 
n the word — hereafter, the kneading, the 
making of the cake, the heating of the oven, 
and the baking ; nay, yon must stay the cool- 
ing too, or you may chance to burn your lips. 

Tro. Patience herself what goddess e'er she 
be, 
Doth lesser blench* at sufferance than 1 do. 
At Priam's royal table do I sit ; 
And when fair Cressid comes into my thoughts, 

So, traitor! when she comes! When is 

she thence? 

Pan. Well, she looked yesternight fairer 
ihan ever I saw her look, or any woman else. 

Tro. 1 was about to tell thee, — When my 
heart, 
As wedged with a sigh, would rivet in twain ; 
Lest Hector or my father should peiceive me, 
I have (as when the sun doth light a storm) 
Buried this sigh in wrinkle of a smile: [ness. 
But sorrow, that is couched in seeming glad 
Is like that mirth fate turns to sudden sadness. 

Pan. An her hair were not somewhat darker 
than Helen's, (well, go to,) there were no 
more comparison between the viomen — But, 
for my part, she is my kinswoman ; I would 
not, as they term it, praise her — But I would 
somebody had heard her talk yesterday, as I 
did. I will not dispraise your sister Cassan- 
dra's wit ; but — 

Tro. O Pandarus I I tell thee, Pandarus, — 
When 1 do tell thee. There my hopes lie 

drowned, 
Keply not in how many fathoms deep 
They lie indreuched. I tell thee, I am mad 
In Cressid's love : Thou auswer'st, She is t air ; 
Pourest in the open ulcer of my heart [voice ; 
Her eyes, her hair, her cheek, her gait, her 
Handiest in thy discourse, O, that her hand. 
In whose comparison ail whites are ink. 
Writing their own reproach ; To whose soft 

seizure 
The cygnet's down is harsh, and spirit of sense 
Hard as the palm of ploughmen I ibis thou 
tell'st me, [her ; 

A? true thou tell'st me, when I say — I love 
But saying thus, instead of oil and balm. 
Thou layest in every gash that love hath given 
The knife that made it. [me 

Pan. I speak no more than truth. 

Tro. Thou dost not speak so much. 

Pan. 'Faith, I'll not meddle in*t. Let her 
be as she is : if she be fair, 'tis the better for 
her; an she be not, she has the mends in her 
own hands. 

Tro. Good Pandarus! How now, Panda- 
rus ? 

Pan. I have had my labour for my travel ; 
ill thought on of her, and ill-thought on of you : 
gone between and between, but small thanks 
for my labour. 

Tro. What, art thou angry, Pandarus ? what, 
with me ? 

Pan. Because she is kin to me, therefore, 
she's not so fair as Helen : an she were not kin 
to me, she would be as fair on Friday, as Hel- 



} len is on Sunday. But what care I? I care 
not, un she were a black-a-moor ; 'tis all one 
to me. 

Tro. Say I she is not fair ? 

Pan. I do not care whether you do or no. 
She's a fool to stay behind her father ; let her 
lo the Greeks ; and so I'll tell her the next 
time I see her : for my part, I'll meddle nor 
make no more in the matter. 

Tro. Pandarus, — 

Pan. Not I. 

Tro. Sweet Pandarus, — 

Pan. Pray yon speak no more to me ; i 
will leave all as I found it, and there an end. 
[^x/Y Pandarus. An Alarum, 

Tro. Peace, you ungracious clamours! peace, 
rude sounds ! [tuir. 

Fools on both sides! Helen must needs be 
When with your blood you daily paint her 
I cannot fight upon this argument-; [thus. 

It is too starved a subject for my sword. 
But Pandarus — niods, how do you plague me \ 
I cannot come to Cressid, but by Pandar; 
And he's as tetchy to be woo'd to woo. 
As she is stubborn-chaste against all suit. 
Tell me, Apollo, for tiiy Daphne's love. 
What Cressid is, what Pandar, and what we'? 
Her bed is India; there she lies, a pearl : 
Between our Ilium, and where she resides. 
Let it be call'd the wild and wandering flood; 
Ourself, the merchant; and this sailing Pandar, 
Our doubtful hope, our convoy, and our bark. 
Alarum. Enter ^s eas. 

JEne. How now, prince Troilus? wherefore 
not afield i [swer sorts j, 

Tro. Because not there ; This woman's au- 
For womanish it is to be from thence. 
What news, iEneas, from the field to-day? 

JEne. That Paris is returned home, and hurt. 

Tro. By whom, ^neas? 

JEne. Troilns, by Menelans. 

Tro. Let Paris bleed : 'tis but a scar to scorn : 
J'aris is gored with Menelans' horn. \^Alarum. 

jEiie. Hark I what good sport is out of lowu 

to-day ! [may. — 

Tro. Better at home, \f would Imiglit were 

But to the sport abroad ;— Are you bound 

jEne. In all swift haste. [thither? 

Tro, Come, go we then together. 

{Exeunt, 

SCENE II. The same. A Street. 
Enter Cressida and Alexander. 

Cres, Who were those went by ? 

Alex. Queen Hecuba, and Helen. 

Cres. And whither go they ? 

Alex. U p to the eastern tower. 

Whose height commands as subject all the vale. 
To see the battle. Hector, whose patience 
Is as a virtue fix'd, to-day was moved : 
He chid Andromache, and struck his armourer; 
And, like as there were husbandry in war. 
Before the sun rose, he was harness'd litiht, 
And to the field goes he; where every tlower 
Did, as a prophet, weep what it fore«aw 
In Hector's wrath. 



Shrink. 



t Split. 



t Suits. 
3N 



GS6 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Ace I 



(Yes. What was his cause of anger? 

Alex. The noise goes this : There is among 
the Greeks 
A lord of Trojan blood, nephew to Hector ; 
They call hini, Ajax. 

Ores. Good ; And what of him 1 

Alex, They say he is a very manj^er se*, 
And stands alone. 

Ores. So do all men ; unless they are drunk, 
sick, or have no legs. 

Aiex. Ihis man, lady, hath robbed many 
beasts of their particular additions + ; he is as 
valiant as the lion, churlish as the bear, slow as 
the elephant : a man into whom nature hath so 
c.'owiied humours, that his vaiour is crushed j 
into folly, his folly sauced with discretion : 
tiiere is no man hath a virtue that he hath not 
a glimpse of; nor any man an attaint, but he 
tarries soine stain of it : he is melancholy with- 
out caiise, and merry against the hairj: He 
hath the joints of every thing; but every thing 
so out of joint, that he is a gouty Briarens, 
many hands and no use ; or purblind Argus, all 
eyes and no sight. 

Cres. But how should this man, that makes 
me smile, make Hector angry ? 

Alex. J hey say he yesterday coped Hector 
n the battle, and struck him down ; the dis- 
dain and shame whereof hath ever since kept 
Hector fasting and waking. 

Kilter Pandarus. 

Cres. Who comes here? 

Alex. Madam, your uncle Pandarus. 

Cres. Flector's a eallant man 

Alex. As may be in the world, lady. 

Pan. What's that? what's that ? 

Cres. Good morrow, uncle Pandarus. 

Pan. Good morrow, cousin Cressid : What 
do you talk of? — Good morrow, Alexander. — 
How do you, cousin? Wlien were you at 
Ilium? 

Cres. This morning, uncle. 

Pan. What were you talking of, when I 
came? Was Hector armed, and gone, ere ye 
came to Ilium ? Helen was not up, was she ? 

Cres. Hector was gone ; but Helen was not 
up. 

Pan. E'en so ; Hector was stirring early. 

Cres. That were we talking of, and of his 
anger. 

Pan. Was he angry? 

Crt's. So he says here. 

Pan. True, he was so; I know the cause 
Coo ; he'll lay about him to-day, I can tell them 
iliat: and there is Troilus will not come far 
f -hind him ; let them take heed of Troilus; I 
t M) tell them that too. 

Cres. Wl.at, i« he angry too ? 

Pan. Who, Troilus? Troilus is the better 
man of the two. 

('res. O, Jupiter! there's no comparison. 

Pan, What, not between Iroilus and Hec- 
tor? D" you know a man if yon see him? 

Cres. Ay ; if ever I saw him before, and 
kiiitw him. ' 



Pan. Well; I say Troilus isTroilos. 

Cres. Then you say as 1 say ; for I am 
sure he is noi. Hector. 

Pan. JSo, nor Hector is not Troilus, in 
some degree. 

Cres. »i is just to each of them ; he is himself. 

Pan, ilimself ? Alas, poor Troilus 1 I would 
he were, 

Cres. So he is. 

Pan. 'Condition, 1 had gone barefoot 

to India. 

Cres. He is not Hector. 

Pan. Himself ? no, he's not himself. — 
Would 'a were himself! Well, the gods are 
above ; Time must 'friend or end : Well, 
Troilus, well, — I would my heart were in her 
body I — No, Hector is not a better man than 
Troilus. 

Cres. Excuse me. 

Pan. He is elder. 

Cres. Pardon me, pardon mc. 

Pan. The other's not come to't ; you shall 
tell me another tale, when the other's come 
to't. Hector shall not have his wit this year. 

Cres, He shall not need it, if he have his 
own. 

Pan. Nor his qualities ; 

Cres. No matter. 

Pan. Nor his beauty. 

Cres. 'Twould not become him, his own'a 
better. 

Pan. You have no judgment, niece : Helen 
herself swore the other day, that Troilus, for 
a brown favour, (for so 'tis, I must confess,) — 
Not brown neither. 

Cres, No, but brown. 

Pan, 'Faith, to say truth, brown and not 
brown. 

Cres. To say the truth, true and not true. 

Pan. She praised his complexion above 
Paris. 

(Jres. Why, Paris hath colour enough. 

Pan, So he has. 

Cres, Then, Troilus should have too much : 
if she praised him above, his complexion is 
higher than his ; he having colour enough, and 
the other higher, is too flaming a praise for a 
good complexion. 1 had as lief Helen's golden 
tongue had commended Troilus for a copper 
nose. 

Pan, I swear to you, I think Helen loves 
him better than Paris. 

Cres, Then she's a merry Greek, indeed. 

Pan. Nay, 1 am sure she does. She came 
to him the other day into a compassed || win- 
dow, — and, you know, he has not past three 
or four hairs on his chin. 

Cres. Indeed, a tapsterV, arithmetic may 
soon bring his particulars therein to a total. 

Pan. Why, he is very youn.; : and yet will 
he, within three pound]| lift as much as his 
brother Hector. 

Cres. Is he so young a man, and so old 
lifter^? 

Pan, But, to prove to you that Helen lovei 



By himself. 



f Characters. 

U How. 



IF lUiet. 



§ Grain* 



Scene II.] 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 



687 



hitu ; — she came, and puts me her white hand 
to his cloveu chin, 

Cres. Juno have mercy ! — How came it 
cloven? 

Pan. Why, you know, *tis dimpled : I 
think his smiling becomes him better than 
any man in all t'hrygia. 

Cres. 0,he smiles valiantly. 

Pan. Does he not? 

Cres, O yes, an 'twere a cloud in autumn. 

Pan. Why, go to then : — But to prove to 
you that Helen loves Truilus, 

Cres. Troilus will stand to the proof, if you'll 
prove it so. 

Fan. Troilus ? why, he esteems her no more 
than I esteem an addle egg. 

Cres. If you love an addle egg as well as 
you love an idle head, you would eat chickens 
i'the shell. 

Pan. I cannot choose but laugh, to think 
liow she tickled his chin; — Indeed, she has a 
marvellous white hand, I must needs confess. 

Cres. Without the rack. 

Pan. And she takes upon her to spy a white 
hair on his chin. 

Cres. Alas, poor chin ! many a wart is 
richer. 

Pan. But, there was such laughing ;— 
Queen Hecuba laughed, that her eyes ran o'er. 

rres. With mill-stones*. 

Pan. And Cassandra laughed. 

Cres. But there was a more temperate fire 
ander the pot of her eyes ; — Did her eyes run 
o'er too? 

Pan. And Hector laughed. 

Cres. At what was alfthis laughing? 

Pan. Marry, at the white hair that Helen 
spied on Troilus* chin. 

Cres. An'f bad been a green hair, I should 
iiave laughed too. 

Pan. i hey laughed not so much at the hair, 
4S at his pretty answer. 

Cres. What was his answer? 

Pan, Quoth she. Here's but one and fifty 
hairs on your chin^ and 07ie of them is tvliite. 

Cres, This is her question. 

Pan. That's true; make no question of that. 
One and fifty hairs, quoth he, and one tuhite : 
That white hair is my father, and all the 
rest are his sons. Jupiter ! quoth she, which 
of these hairs is Paris my husband ? The 
forked one, quoth he ; pluck it out, and give 
it him. But, there was such laughing ! ai.d 
Helen so blushed, and Paris so chafed, and all 
the rest so laughed, that it passed f. 

Cres. So let it now ; for it has been a great 
while going by. 

Pan. Well, cousin, I told you a thing yes- 
terday ; think on't. 

Cres. So I do. 

Pan. I'll be 8worn, 'tis true ; he will weep 
you, an 'twere j a man born in April. 

Cres. And I'll spring up in his tears, an 
,tw«;re a nettle against May. 

[A Retreat sounded. 



Pan. Hark, they are coming from the field : 
Shall we stand up here, and see thein, as they 
pass toward Ilium? good niece, do; sweet 
niece Cressida. 

Cres. At your pleasure. 

Pan. Here, here, here's an excellent place; 
here we may see most bravely ; I'll tell you 
them all by their names, as they pass by ; but 
mark Troilus above the rest. 

^NEAS passes over the stage, 

Cres. Speak not so loud. ^ 

Pan. That's ^neas ; Is not that a brave 
man? he's one of the flowers of Troy, 1 can 
tell you ; But mark Troilus ; you shall see 
anon. 

Cres, Who's that? 

Antknor passes over. 

Pan. That's Antenor ; he has a shrewd wit, 
I can tell you : and he's a man good enough : 
he's o«e o'the soundest judgments in Troy, 
whosoever, and a proper man of person : — 
When comes Troilus! — I'll show you iroilus 
anon; it he see me, you shall see him nod at 

Cres, Will he give you the nod § ; [me. 

Pan. You shall see. 

Cres, If he do, the rich shall have more. 
Hector passes over. 

Pan. That's Hector, that, that, look you, 
that ; There's a fellow !— Go thy way. Hector ! 
— There's a brave man, niece. — O brave Hec- 
tor! — Look, how he looks! there's a counte 
nance : Is't not a brave man? 

Cres. O, a brave man ! 

Pa7i. Is 'a not? It does a man's heart 
good — Look you what hacks are on his hel- 
met ? look you yonder, do you see ? look you 
there J. There's no jesting: there's laying on ; 
take't olf who will, as they say : there be 
hacks ! 

Cres. Be those with swords? 
Paris passes over. 

Pan, Swords? any thing, he cares not : an 
the devil come to him, it's all one : By god's 
lid, it does one's heart good : — Yonder coines 
Paris, yonder comes Paris : look ye yonde** 
niece ; Is't not a gallant man too, is't not i — 
Why, this is brave now. — Who said he came 
hurt home to-day i he's not hurt : why this will 
do Helen's heart good now. Ha ! would 1 could 
see Troilus now !— you shall see Troilus anon. 

Cres, Who's that? 

Hklenus passes over. 

Pan. That's Helenus, — I marvel where 
Troilus is! — That's Helenus; — I think he went 
not forth to-day :— That's Helenus. 

Cres. Can Helenus fight, uncle? 

Pan. Helenus? no; — yes, he'll fight indif- 
ferent well: — I marvel where Troilus is!~ 
Hark ! do you not hear the people cry, Troi- 
lus? — Helenu? is a priest. 

Cres. What sneaking fellow comes yonder? 
Troilus passes over. 

Pan. Where? yonder? that's Deiphobus: 
'Tis Troilus! there's a man, niece! — Hem! — 
brave Troilus! the prince of chivalry! 



' A pioverbial sayii.g. t Went beyond bounds. J As if 'iwere. 

J A term in the game at cards called Noddy, 



ess 



SIIAKSPE4RE. 



[Act /, 



Ores. Pe::ce, for sh.iiue, pt;;ict; 

Pjn. Mark him: note him ; — O brave Troi- 
l»s! — look we!l upon iiini, niece; look >on, 
how his sword is bloodied, and his helm* 
more hack'd than lIecloi*s; And how he 
looks, and how he uoes! — admirable youth! 
hf ne'er saw tjiree aid twenty. Go thy way, 
Troilus, go thy way ; lia(! 1 a sister were a' 
grace, or a (iaiu^hler a goddess, Im' should tnke 
his choice. O admirable man! Paris? — Paris 
is dirt to him; and, 1 warrant, Helen, to 
change, would give an eye to boot. 

Forces pass oier the stage. 

Cres. Here come more. 

P(in. Asses, tools, dolls! chaff and bran, 
chart and bran! porridge after meat! 1 could 
live and die i' the eyes of J roilns. Ne'er look, 
ne'er look: the eagles are gone; crows and 
daws, ciows and daws! 1 had rather be such 
a man as Troilus than Agamemnon and all 
Greece. 

Cres. There is among the Greeks, Achilles; 
a better man than Troilus. 

Pan. Achilles} a drayman, a porter, a very 
camel. 

Ores. Well, well. 

Pun. Well, well? — Why, have you any 
discretion? have you any eyes? Do you know 
what a man is? Is not birth, beauty, good 
shape, discourse, manhood, learning, gentle- 
ness, virtue, youth, liberality, and such like, 
the spice and salt that season a man? 

Cres. Ay, a minced man : and then to be 
b>iked with no date t in the pie, — for then the 
man's date is out. 

Pan. You are such a woman ! one knows 
not at what ward X you lie. 

Cres. I pon my back, to defend my belly; 
npon my wit, to detenrl my wiles; upon my 
feecrecy, lo detend mine honesty ; my mask, to 
ileiend my beauty; and you, to defend all 
these : and at all these wards I lie, at a thou- 
sand watches. 

Pan. iSay one of your watches. 

Cres. Nay, I'll watch you for that; and 
that's one of the chiefest of them too : if I 
cannot ward what I would not have hit, I can 
Wiitch you for telling how 1 took the blow; 
unit ss it swell past hiding, and then it is past 
watching. 

Pan. You are such another! 

Enter Troilus* Boy. 

Boy. Sir, ray lord would instantly speak 
with you. 

Pun. Where? 

Boy, At >our own house ; there he unarms 
him. 

Pun. Good boy, tell him I come : {Exit Boy. 
I doubt, he be hurt. — Fare ye well, good niece. 

Cres, Adieu, uncle. 

Pan. I'll be with you, niece, by and by. 

Cres. To bring, uncle, 

Pan. Ay, a token fr«)m Troilus. 

Cres. B> the same token — you are a bawd. 
[Evit Pandarus. 



! Words, vows, griefs, tears, and love's full sa. 
He otfers in another's enterprise: [critice, 
Hut more in 1 roilus thousand fold I S' e 
I Than in the glass of Panriar's praise may be ; 
( Yet hold 1 otf. \\ omen are angels, wooing: 
Things won are done, joy's soul lies in the 
doing: [not this, — 

That she beloved knows nought, that knows 
Men prize the thing ungain'd more than it is : 
That she was never yet, that ever knew 
Love got so sweet, as when desire did sue: 
Therefore this maxim out of lo\e 1 teach, — 
Achievement iscommand; ungain'd, beseech : 
Then though my heart's content firm love dot)' 

bear, 
Nothing of that shall from mine eyes appear 

[Eiit 

SCENE III. The Grecian Cufnp. Be/on 

Agamemnon's lent. 
Trumpets. Enter Agamemnon, Nestor, 
Ulysses, Menelacs, and Othe^. 
Agam, Princes, [cheeks? 

What grief hath set the jaundice on your 
The ample proposition, that hope makes 
In all designs begun on earth below. 
Fails in the promised largeness : checks and 

disasters 
Grow in the veins of actions highest rear'd ; 
As knots, by the conflux of meeting sap. 
Infect the sound pine, and divert his grain 
Tortive and errant § from his course of growth. 
Nor, princes, is it matter new to us, 
That we come short of our suppose so far, 
That, after seven years' siege, yet Troy walla 

stand ; 
Sith II every action that hath gone before, 
Whereof we have record, trial did draw 
Bias and thwart, not answering the aim, 
And that unbodied figure of the thought 
That gav'st surmised shape. Why then, you 

princes, [works; 

Do you with cheeks abashM behold our 
And think them shames, which are, indeed, 

nought else 
But the protractive trials of great Jove, 
To find persistive constancy in men ? 
The fineness of which metal is not found 
In fortune's love: for then, the bold and 

coward. 
The wise and fool, the artist and unread. 
The hard and soft, seem all atfinedU and kin ; 
But, in the wind and tempest of her frown, 
Distinction, with a broad and powerful fan. 
Puffing at all, winnows the light away ; 
And what hath mass, or matter, by itself 
Lies, rich in virtue, and unmiugled. 
Ne.st. With due observance of thy godlike 

seat**, 
Great Agamemnon, Nestor shall apply 
'J'hy latest words. In the reproof of chance 
Lies the true proof of men: The sea being 

smooth. 
How many shallow bauble boats dare sail 
Upon her patient breast, making their way 

Helmet, t Dates were an ingredient in ancient pastry of almoBt every kind. % 0«aird 
J Twistefl and rambling. || Since. t Joined by allinity. ♦• The throne. 



SlceTte III.] 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 



689 



vVith those of nobler bulk, 
}>iit let the rultinn Boreas once enrage 
The gentle Thetis*, and, anon, behold 
The strong-ribb'd bark through liquid moun- 
tains cut, 
Bounding between the two moist elements, 
Like I'erseus' horse : where's then the saucy 

boat, 
Whose weak untimber'd sides but even now 
Co-rivallM greitness? either to harbour fled. 
Or made a toast for Neptune. Even so 
Doth valour's show, and valour's worth, di- 
vide, [brightness. 
In storms of fortune : For, in her ray and 
The herd hath more annoyance by the brizet. 
Than by the tiger : but when the splitting wind 
Makes flexible the knees of knotted oaks, 
And flies fled under shade, Why, then, the 

thing of courage, 
As roused with rage, with rage doth sympathize. 
And with an accent tnrn'd in self-same key, 
Returns to chiding fortune. 

(jlyss. Agamemnon, — 

Thou great commander, herve and bone of 

Greece, 
Heart of our numbers, soul and only spirit. 
In whom the tempers and the minds of all 
Should be shut up, — hear what Ulysses speaks. 
Besides the applause and approbation 
The which, — most mighty for thy place and 
sway, — [To Agamemnon. 

And thou most reverend for thy stretch'd-out 
life, — [To Nestor. 

I give to both your speeches,— which were 

such, 
As Agamemnon and the hand of Greece 
Should hold up high in brass.; and such 

again, 
As venerable Nestor, hatchM in silver. 
Should with a bond of air (strong as the 
axletree [ish ears 

On which heaven rides) knit all the Greek- 
To his experienced tongue,— yet let it please 

toth,— 
Thou great, — and wise, — to hear Ulysses speak. 
Again. Speak, prince of Ithaca; and be't of 
less expect J 
That matter needless, of importless burden. 
Divide thy lips; then we are confident. 
When rank 'J'hersites opes his mHSfirt"jaws, 
We sliaii hear music, wit, and oracle. 

Ulys.s. Troy, yet upon his basis, had been 
down, [master. 

And the great Hector's sword had lack'd a 
But for these instances. 

The speciality of rule 5 hath been neglected : 
And, look, how many Grecian tents do stand 
Hollow upon this plain, so many hollow fac- 
tions. 
When Ihnt the general is not like the hive. 
To whom the foragers shall all repair. 
What honey is expected? Degree being 

vizarded il, 
The unworthiest shows as fairly in the mask. 



The heavens themselves, tiie planets, and this 

centre. 
Observe d-gree, priority, and place, 
Insisture^, course, proportion, season, form. 
Office, and custom, in all line of order : 
And theref<.)re is the glorious planet, Sol, 
In ivoble eminence enthroned and sphered 
Amidst the other ; whose med'cinable eye 
Corrects the ill aspects of planets evil, 
And posts, like the commandment of a king. 
Sans** check, to good and bad : but when the 
In evil mixture, to disorder wander, [planets. 
What plagues, and what portents ! what mu- 
tiny ; 
What raging of the sea ; shaking of earth ; 
Commotion in the winds; frights, changes, hor- 
Divert and crack, rend an<i deracinate t+ [rors 
The unity and married calm of states [shaked 
Quite from their fixture? O, when degree i& 
Which is the ladder of all high designs, [nifi*^s. 
The enterprise is sick ! How could commu- 
Degrees in schools,aud brotherhoodsjj in cities. 
Peaceful commerce from dividable^^ shores. 
The primogenitive and due of birth. 
Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels. 
But by degree, stand in authentic place? 
Take but degree away, untune that string, 
And, hark, what discord follows! each thing 

meets 
In merejlll oppugnancy : The bounded waters 
Should lift their bosoms higher than the shores, 
And make a sop of all this solid globe : 
Strength should be lord of imbecility, 
And the rnde son should strike his father dead : 
Force should be right; or, raiher, ri^ht and 

wrong 
(Between whose endless jar justice resides) 
Should lose their names, and so should justice 
Then everything includes itself in power, [too. 
Power into will, will into appetite; 
And appetite, an universal wolf, 
So doubly seconded with will and power. 
Must make perforce an univers<^.l prey. 
And, last, eat up himself. Great Agamemnon, 
This chaos, when degree is .suflfocate. 
Follows the choking. 
And this neglection of degree it is 
That by a pace goes backward, with a purpose 
It hath to climb. The general's disdain'd 
By him one step below; he, by the next; 
That next, by him beneath : so every step, 
Exampled by the first pace that is sick 
Of his superior, grows to an envious fever 
Of pale and bloodless emulation : 
And 'tis this fever that keeps Troy on foot. 
Not her own sinews. To end a tale of length, 
Troy in our weakness stands, not in her 
strength, [ver'd 

Nest. Most wisely hath Ulysses here disco- 
The fever whereof all our power^His sick. 

Agarn, The nature of the sickness found. 
What is the remedy l [Ulysses, 

Vlyss. The great Achilles, — whom opinion 
crowns 



* The danghter of Neptune. + The gad-fly, that stings cattle. % Expectation. 

§ Rights of authority. H Masked. % Constancy. ** Without. 

tt Force up by the roots. jj Corporations, companies. $§ Divided. |l|| Absolute. 

%% Army, force. 3 N 3 



690 



SHAKSPEARE. 



'J Ik- <h)ew and the forehami of our host, — 
HaNin;^ his ear full of his airy fame, 
G^ows dainiy of his worth, and in his tent 
Lies mockinii onr de-signs: With hira, Patro- 
Upon a lazy bed the livelong day [clus, 

Breaks scurril jests; 

Aiid with ridiculous and awkward action 
(Which, slanderer, he imitation calls) [non, 
He pageants* us. Sometime, great Agamem- 
Thy topless f deputation he puts on ; 
And, like a strutting player, whose conceit 
-Lies in his hamstring, and doth think it rich 
lo hear the wooden dialogue and sound 
'Tw ixt his sti etch'd footing and the scaflfoldagej, 
Such to-he-pitied and o'er-wrested § seeining 
He acts thy greatness in : and when he speaks, 
'lis like a chime a niending ; with terms un- 
squaredjl, [dropp'd. 

Which, from the tongue of roaring Typhon 
Would seem hyperboles. At this fusty stuff. 
The large Achilles, on his press'd bed lolling, 
From his deep chest laughs out a loud applause ; 
Cries — Excellent ! — *lis Agamemnon just. — 
Now ylay me Nestor ; — herriy and stroke thy 
As he, heivg drest to some oration, {beard, 
Thai's done; — as near as the extremest ends 
Of p rallels ; as like as Vulcan and his wife : 
Yet good Achilles still cries, Excellent I 
*Tis Nestor right ! Now play him rue, Patro- 
Ar?niffg to an.su tr in a fight alarm, [clus. 
And then, forsooth, the faint defects of age 
AJust be the scene of mirth ; to cough, and spit. 
And with a palsy-fumbling on his gorget. 
Shake in and out the rivet : — and at this sport. 
Sir Valour dies; cries, O.' — enougli, I'atroclus ; 
Or give me ribs of steel! 1 shall split all 
In pleasure of my spleen. And in this 

fashion, 
All onr abilities, gifts, natures, shapes, 
Severals and generals of grate exact. 
Achievements, plots, orders, preventions, 
Excitements to the field, or speech for truce. 
Success, or loss, what is, or is not, serves 
As stuttfor these two to make paradoxes. 

Nest. And in the imitation of these twain 
(\\ hom, as L lyssts says, opinion crowns 
With an imperial voice,) many are infect. 
Ajax is grown self-will'd; an<i bears hia head 
In such a reign, in full as proud a place 
As broad Achilles ; keeps his tent like him ; 
Makes factious feasts; rails on our stale of war, 
Bold as an oracle : and sets Thersites [mint,) 
(A slave, whose gall coins slanders like a 
To niatch us in comp;irisons with dirt; 
To weaken and disci edit our exposure, 
How rank soever rounded in with danger. 

Liys^. 'i'hey tax our policy, and call it cow- 
ardice ; 
Count wisdom as no member of the war; 
I orostall prescience, and esteem no act 
But thai ot hand ; the still and mental parts, — 
That do contrive how many hands shall strike. 
\V hen f.iness calls them on; and know, by 

measure 
Of their observant toil, the enemies' weight, — 



[Act I 



W hy, th»« hath not a finger's dignity : 
They call this — bed-work, mappery,closet-war 
So that the ram that batters down the wall. 
For the great swing and rudeness of h's poise 
They place before his hand that madt tne en- 
gine ; 
Or those that, with the fineness of their souls. 
By reason guide his execution. [horse 

Nest. Let this be granted, and Achillei' 
Makes many Thetis' sons. [Trumpet sounds. 

Agam. What trumpet? look, Menelaus. 
Enter ^Eneas. 

Men. From Troy. 

Agatn, What would you 'fore oar tent 1 

xEne. Is this 

Great Agamemnon's tent, I pray ? 

Agam. Even this. 

jEne. May one, that is a herald, and a 
Do a fair message to his kingly ears? [prince, 

Agam. With surety stronger than Achilles' 

arm [voice 

'Fore all the Greekish heads, which with one 

Call Agamemnon head and general. [may 

JEne. Fair leave, and large security. How 
A stranger to those most imperial looks 
Know them from eyes of other mortals? 

Agam. How 

Mne. Ay ; 
I ask, that I might waken reverence, 
And bid the cheek be ready with a blush 
Modest as morning when she coldly eyes 
The youthful Phoebus : 
Which is that god in office, guiding men? 
Which is the high and mighty Agamemnon ? 

Agam. This Irojan scorns us ; or the mec 
Are ceremonious courtiers. [of Troy 

jEne. Courtiers as free, asdebonair,unarm'd 
As bending angels; that's their fame in peace: 
But when they would seem soldiers, they have 
galls, [Jove's accord. 

Good arms, strong joints, true swords; and* 
Nothing so full of heart. But peace, iT.neas, 
Peace, Irojan ; lay thy finger on thy lips! 
The worthiness of praise distains his worth. 
If that the praised himself bring the praise 

forth : 
Rut what the repining enemy commends. 
That breath fame follows; that praise, sole 
pure, transcends. [iF.neas! 

Agam. Sir, you of Troy, call you yourself 

jEne. Ay, Greek, that is my nanie. 

Agam. W hat's your affair, I prjy yon? 

A^ne. Sir,pardon ;'tisfor Agamemnon'sears- 

Agam. He hears nought privately, that 
conies (rom Troy. 

jEne. Nor I from Troy come not to whis- 
per him : 
T bring a trumpet to awake hi? ear ; 
To set his sense on the attentive bent. 
And then to speak. 

Attain. Speak frankly IT as thewind; 

It is not Agamemnon's sleeping hour : 
That thou shall know, Trojan, he is awake. 
He iclls thee so himself. 

uEnc. Trumpet, blow loud. 



In caodcrn language, takes us off. 
\ Beyond the truth. 



f Supreme. 
II Unadapted. 



; The galleries of the theatre 
i; Freely. 



Sif^e UL\ 



TaOILUS AND CRESSIDA. 



691 



£cii(l thy brass voice through all these lazy 

tents ; — 
And every Greek of mettle, let him know 
AVhaiTroy uiediis fairly shall bespoke aloud. 
[Trumpet sounds. 
We have, great Agamemnon, here in Troy 
A prince caUed Hector, (Priam is his father,) 
Who in this dull and long-continued truce 
Is rusty grown ; he bade me take a trumpet. 
And to this purpose speak. Kings, princes, 

lords I 
If there be one, among the fairest of Greece, 
Tliiit holds his honour higher than his ease ; 
That seeks his praise more than he fears his 
peri 1 ; [fear ; 

That knows his valour, and knows not his 
That loves his mistress more than in confes- 
sion, 
(With truant vows to her own lips he loves,) 
And dare ;tvow her beauty and her worth, 
In other arms than hers,— tohitn this challenge. 
Hictor, in view of Trojans and of Greeks, 
Shall m ike it good, or do his best to do it. 
He hath a lady, wiser, fairer, truer, 
Thnn ever Greek did compass in his arras; 
And will to-morrow with his trumpet call, 
Mivi way between your tents and walls of Troy, 
To rouse a Grecian that is true in love : 
If any come, Hector shall honour him ; 
If none, he'll say in Troy, when he retires, 
The Grecian dames are sun- burned, and not 

worth 
The splinter of a lance. Even so much. 
Agam. This shall be told our lovers, lord 
iEneas. 
If none of them have soul in such a kind, 
Welefttliem all at home: But we are soldiers; 
And may tiiat soldier a mere recreant prove, 
That means not, hath not, or is not in love ! 
If then one is, or hath, or means to be, 
That one meets Hector; if none else, I am he. 
Nest. Tell him of Nestor, one that was a 
man [now; 

When Hector's grandsire sucked : he is old 
But, if there be not in our Grecian host 
One nobleman, that hath one spark of fire 
To answer for his love, tell him from me, — 
I'll hide my silver beard in a gold beaver, 
And in my vantbrace* put this wither'd brawn ; 
And, meeting him, will tell him. That my lady 
Was fairer than his grandanie, and as chaste 
As may be in the world : His youth in flood, 
I'll prove this truth with my three drops of 
blood. [youth i 

JEne. Now heavens forbid such scarcity of 
L lyss. Amen. [hand ; 

A<rjm. Fair lord ^Eneas, let me touch your 
To our p ivilion shall I lead you, sir. 
Achilles shall have word of this intent; 
So shall each lord of Greece, from tent to tent : 
Yourself shall feast with us before you go. 
And find the welcome of a noble foe. 

[Exeunt aU but Ui^ysses and Nestor. 

Ulijss. Nestor, 

ISest, What says Ulysses 1 



Ulyss. I have a young conception in my 
brain ; 
Be you my time to bring it to some shape. 
Nest. What is't? 
L'lifss. This 'tis : 
Blunt wedges rive hard knots : The seeded 
That hath to this maturity blown up [pride 
In rank Achilles, must or now be cropped. 
Or, shedding, breed a nursery of like evil. 
To overbulk us all. 

Nest. Well, and how ? 

Ulyss. This challenge that the gallant Hec- 
tor sends, 
However it is spread in general name. 
Relates in purpose only to Achilles. 
Ne-^t. The purpose is perspicuous even as 
substance, 
Whose gro-sness little diaracters sum up ; 
And, in the publication, make no strain t. 
But that Achiiles, were his brain as barren 
As banks of Libya, — though, Apollo knows, 
'Tis dry enough, — will with great speed cf 

judgment. 
Ay, with celerity, find Hector's purpose 
Pointing on him. [you ? 

Ulyss. And wake him to the answer, think 
Nest. Yes, 

It is most meet ; Whom may you else oppose. 
That can from Hector bring those honours ott. 
If not Achilles? Though't be a sportful combat 
Yet in the trial much opinion dwells ; 
For here the Trojans taste our dear'st repute 
With their fin'st palate: And trust to me. 
Our imputation shall be oddly poised [Ulyssei- 
In this wild action : for the success. 
Although particular, shall give a scantling t 
Of good or bad unto the general ; 
And in such indexes, although small pricks § 
To their subsequent volumes, there is seen 
The baby figure of the giant mass 
Of things to come at large. It is supposed. 
He that meets Hectorissues from ourchoice : 
And choice, being mutual act of all our souls. 
Makes merit her election ; and doth boil. 
As 'twere from forth us all, a man distilled 
Out of our virtues ; who miscarrying, [part. 
What heart receives from hence a conquering 
To steel a strong opinion to themselves? 
Which entertained, limbs are his instruments, 
In no less working, than are swords and bows 
Directive by the limbs. 

Ulyss. Give pardon to my speech ; — 
Therefore 'tis meet, Achilles meet not Hector. 
Let us, like merchants, show our foulest wares. 
And think, perchance, they'll sell ; if not. 
The lustre of the better shall exceed, 
By showing the worse first. Do not consent. 
That ever Hector and Achilles meet ; 
For both our honour and our shame, in this. 
Are dogg'd with two strange followers. 

Nest. I see them not with my old eyes ; what 

are they ? [Hector 

Ulyss. What glory our Achilles shares from 

Were he not proud, we all should share with 

But he already is too insolent ; [him ; 



• An armour for the arm 



4 Difficulty. 



'1 iMO ni III. T i/iiiicillljr . 

^ Small points compared with the volumes. 



X Size, measure 



692 



SHAKSPKARE. 



[Act 1 1 



And we were better parch in Afric sun, 
Than in the pride and salt scorn of his eyes, 
{Should he 'scape Hector fair : If he were foii'd, 
Why, then we difl our main opinion * crush 
In taint of our bc-st man. No, make a lottery ; 
And, by device, let blockish Ajax draw 
The sort + to fight with Hector : Among our- 
selves, 
Give him allowance for the better man. 
For that will physic the great Myrmidon, [fall 
Who broils in loud applause; and make him 
His crest, that prouder than blue Iris bends. 
If the dull brainless Ajax come safe off, 



We'll dress him up in voices : If he fail, 
"Vet go we under our opinion I siill 
Thai we have bettei men. But, hit ormisn, 
Our project's life thi^ shape of sense assumef 
Ajax,employed,plucks down Achilles' piuuio. 

Ne^t. Ulysses, 
Now I begin to relish thy advice ; 
And 1 will give a taste of it forthwith 
To Agamemnon : go we to him straight. 
Two curs shall tame each other ; Pride alone 
Must tarre§ the mastiffs on, as 'twere tht»*f 
bone. \^Rx:eun$, 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. Another part of the Grecian 

Camp. 

Enter Ajax and Thersites. 

Ajax, Thersites, 

Ther. Agamemnon— how if he had boils? 
full, all over, generally ? 

Ajax. Thersites, 

Ther. And those boilsdid ran? — Say so, — 
did not the general run then? were not that a 
botchy core ? 

Ajax. Dog, 

Ther. Then would come some matter from 
him ; I see none now. 

Ajax.Thoxx bitch-wolf's son, canst thon not 
hear? Feel then. [Strikes him. 

Ther. Ihe plague of Greece upon thee, thou 
mongrel beef-witted lord ! 

Ajax. Speak then, thou iinsalted leaven, 
Bpeak : I will beat thee into handsomeness. 

Ther. I shall sooner rail thee into wit and 
holiness; but, I think, thy horse will sooner 
con an oration, than thou learn a prayer w ith- 
out book. Thou canst strike, canst thou ? a red 
murrain o'thy jade's tricks ! 

Ajax. Toads-stool, learn me the proclama- 
tion. 

Ther. Dost thou think I have no sense, thou 
Urikest me thus? 

Ajax. The proclamation, — 

Ther. Thou art proclaimed a fool, I think. 

Ajax. Do not, porcupine, do not ; my fingers 
Itch. 

Ther. I would thou didst itch from head to 
foot, and I had the scratching of thee; I would 
make thee the loathsomest scab in Greece. 
When thon art forth in the incursions, thou 
Birike-st as slow as another. 

Ajax. I say, the proclamation, 

Ther. Thou grnniblestanrlrailestevery hour 
on Achilles; and thou art as full of envy at his 
greatness, as ( erberusisat Proserpina's beauty, 
ay, that thou barkest at him. 

Ajax. Mistress Thersites I 

TIk r. 'J hon shouldesl strike him. 

Ajax. Cobloaf! 

Til' r. He would pnn|| thee into shivers with 
his fist, as a sailor breaks a biscuit. 

Ajax. You whoreson cur! [Beating him. 



Ther. Do, do. 

Ajax. Thon stool for a witch ! 

Ther. Ay, do, do ; thou sodden-witted lord ! 
thou hast no more brain than I have in minr 
elbows; an assinegoU may tutor thee: 'Jhou 
scurvy valiant ass! thou art here put to thrasb 
Trojans ; and thou art bought and sold amonj* 
those of any wit, like a Barbarian slave. V* 
thou use ** to beat me, I will begin at thy heet, 
and tell what thou art by inches, thou thing o" 
no bowels, thou ! 

Ajax. You dog! 

Ther. You scurvy lord I 

Ajax. You cur! [Beating him. 

Ther. Mars his idiot ! do, rudeness ; do, ea 
mel ; do, do. 

Enter Achilles and Patroclus. 

Achil. Why, how now, Ajax? wherefore do 
yoo thus? 
How now, Thersites? what's the matter, man t^ 

ThfT. You see him there, do you? 

Achil. Ay; what's the matter? 

Ther. Nay, look upon him- 

Achil. So 1 do; What's the matter? 

Titer. Nay, but regard him well. 

Aclul. Well, why I do so. 

Ther. But yet you look not well upon him « 
for, whosoever you take him to be, he is Ajax. 

Achil. I know thut, fool. 

Ther. Ay, but that fool knows not himself. 

Ajax. Therefore I beat thee. 

I'her. Lo. lo, lo, lo, what modicums of wif 
he utters! his evasions have ears thus long. 1 
have bobbed his brain, more than he has heal 
my bones: I will buy nine sparrows for a penny, 
and his pia mater -fi is not worth the ninth p;u t 
of a sparrow. This lord. Achilles, Ajax, — who 
wears his wit in his belly, and his guts in his 
head, — I'll toll vou what I say of him. 

^c/til. What? p 

Ther. 1 say, this Ajax 

Achil. Nay, good Ajax. 

[Ajax oj/ers to strike him, Achilles 
in/erposes. 

Ther. Has not so much wit 

Achil. Nay, I must hold you. 

Ther. As will stop the eye of Helen's needle 
for whom he comes to tight. 



• Estimation or character. + Lot. t Character. $ Provoke. |1 Pound. 

A 88, a cant term for a foolisii fellow. Continue, ft The nuinbrane that protects the brain 



Scene /.] 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 



693 



Achil. Peace, fool! 

T/ur. I would have peace and quietness, 
but iho fool will noi: he there; that he; look 
you there. 

AJ X. O thou damned cnri 1 shall 

Aclul. Will you set your wit to a fool's? 

Tlier. Mo, 1 warrant you ; for a fool's will 
shame it. 

Patr. Good words, Thersitcs. 

Acliil. What's the quarrel \ 

Ajax. I bade the vile owl, go learn me the 
tenour of the proclamation, and he rails upon 
me. 

Ther. I serve thee not 

Ajax, Well, go to, go to. 

I'li'V. I serve here voluntary*. 

Achil. \ our last service was sufferaiice 'twas 
not voluntary; no man is btaten voluntary; 
Ajax wai here the voluntary, and you as under 
an impress. 

T/ier. Even so? — a great deal of your wit, 
too, lies in your sinews, or else there be liars. 
Hfctor siiall have a great catch, if he knock 
out either or your biaiiis ; a' were as good crack 
a fusiy nut with no kernel. 

Ac/iiL What, with me too, Thersites? 

Ther. Thtre's Ulysses, and old Nestor, — 
whose wit was mouldy ere your grandsires 
had nails on their toes, — yoke you like draught 
oxen, and make you plough up the wars. 

Achil. What, what? 

Tner. Yes, good sooth; To Achilles! to 
Ajax! to! 

Ajax. I shall cut out your tongue. 

I'her. 'Tis no matter; 1 shall speak as much 
ts ihou, afterwards. 

Patr. No more words, Thersites; peace. 

l^iier. I will hold my peace when Achilles' 
Orach f bids me, shall 1 ? 

Achil. There's for you, Patroclus. 

Ther. I will see you hanged, like clotpoles, 
«re I come any more to your tents ; I will keep 
A'here there is wit stirring, and leave the fac- 
tion of fools. \Exit. 

Patr. A good riddance. [all our host : 

Achil. Marry, this, sir, is proclaimed through 
That Hector, by the first hour of the sun, 
Will, with a trumpet, 'twixt our tents and Troy, 
To-morrow morning call some knight to arms, 
'J hat hath a stomach ; and such a one, that dare 
Maintain— 1 know not what; 'tis trash; Fare- 
well. 

Ajax. Farewell. Who shall answer him? 

Achil. I know not, it is put to lottery ; other- 
He knew his man. [wise, 

Ajax. O, meaning you: — I'll go learn more 
of it. {Exeunt. 

SCENE II. Troy. A Room in Priam's 

Palace. 
Enter Priam, Hector, Troilus, Paris, 
and Hblenus. 
Prl. After so many hours, lives, speeches 
spent, 
Thus once again says Nestor from the Greeks ; 
Deliver Helen, and all itamage else — 



As honour, loss of tiinCf tiave', expense, 
Wounrfs, friends, and what else dear that is 

consu7ind 
In hot digestion of this cormorant 7var, — 
Shall be struck ojf : — Hector, what say you 
to't? [than 1, 

Hect. ThooL-h no man lesser fears the Greeks 
As far as toucheth my particular, yet, 
Dread Piiam, 

There is no lady of more softer bowels, 
More spungy to suck in the sense of fear. 
More ready to cry out — Who knows what 

follows? 
Than Hector is : The wound of peace is surety, 
Surety secure; but modest doubt is call'd 
J'he beacon of the wise, the tent that searches 
To the bottom of the worst. Let Helen go : 
Since the hrst sword was drawn about this 

question, [<lismesj. 

Every tithe soul, 'mongst many thousand 
Hath been as dear as Helen ; I mean of ourg ; 
If we have lost so many tenths of ours, 
To guard a thing not ours; not worth to us. 
Had it oar name, the value of one ten ; 
What merit's in that reason, which denies 
The yielding of her up? 

Tro, Fie, fie, my brother! 

Weigh you the worth and honour of a king, 
So great as our dread father, in a scale [sum 
Of common ounces? will you with counters 
The past-proportion of his infinite? 
And buckle-in a waist most fathomless. 
With spans and inches so diminutive 
As fears and reasons? fie, for godly shame! 
Hel. No marvel, though you bite so sharp 

at reasons, [father 

You are so empty of them. Should not our 
Bear the great sway of his affairs with reasons. 
Because your speech hath none, that telb him 

so? [ther priest, 

Tro. You are for dr«ams and slumbers, bro- 

You fur your gloves with reason. Here are 

your reasons : 
You know an enemy intends you harm ; 
You know a sword employ'd is perilous, 
And reason flies the object of all harm : 
Who marvels then, when Heleuus beholds 
A Grecian and his sword, if he do set 
The very wintrs of reason to his heels; 
And fly like chidden Mercury from Jove, 
Or like a star dis-orb'd?— Nay, if we talk of 

reason, [honour 

Let's shut our gates, and sleep: Manhood and 
Should have hare-hearts, would they but fat 

their thoughts 
With thiscramm'd reason : reason and respect) 
Make livers pale, and lustibood deject. 

Hect. Brother, she is not worth what she 
The holding. [dolh rost 

Tro. What is aught, but as 'tis valued I 

Hect. But valuii dwells not in particular 
It holds his estimate and dignity [will ; 

As well wherein 'tis precious of itself 
As in the prizer: 'tis mad idolatry. 
To make the service greater than the pod ; 
And the will dotes, that is ntiribuiive 



k yluiit.irily. 



t Bit-h, houud. 



+ Tenths. 



$ Cauliuiu 



694 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act a 



To what infectiously itself affects, 
Without some image of the atiected merit. 

Tro. I take to-f1ay a wife, and my election 
Is led on in the conduct of my will ; 
My will cnkindlfd by mine eyes and ears, 
Two traded pilots 'twixt the dangerous shores 
Of will and judgment: How may I avoid. 
Although my will distaste what it elected, 
The wife 1 chose? there can be no evasion 
To blench* from this, and to stand firm by 

honour; 
We turn not back the silks npon the merchant, 
W^hen we have soil'd them ; nor the remainder 

viands 
"VVe do not throw in nnrespective sieve +, 
Because we now are full. It was thought meet 
Paris should do some vengeance on the Greeks: 
Your breath with full consent bellied his sails ; 
The seas and winds (old wranglers) took a truce, 
And did him service : he touch'd the ports de- 
sired ; [captive, 
And, for an old auntj, whom the Greeks held 
He brought a Grecian queen, whose youth and 
freshness [ing. 
Wrinkles Apollo's, and makes pale the morn- 
Why keep we her ? the Grecians keep our aunt : 
Is she worth keeping? why, she is a pearl. 
Whose price hath launch'd above a thousand 
And turn'd crown'd kings to merchants, [ships, 
If you'll avouch, 'twas wisdom Paris went, 
(As you must needs, for you all cry'd— Go, go,) 
If you'll confess, he brought home noble prize, 
(As you must needs, for you all clapp'd your 

hands, 
And cry'd — Inestimable!) why do you now 
The issue of your proper wasdoms rate ; 
And do a deed that fortune never did. 
Beggar the estimation which you prized 
Richer than sea and land ? O theft most base; 
That we have stolen what we do fear to keep! 
But, thieves, unworthy of a thing so stolen. 
That in their country did them that disgrace. 
We fear to warrant in our native place I 

Cas. [M^ithi?i.] Cry, Trojans, cry! 

Pri. What noise? what shriek is this ? 

Tro. 'Tis our mad sister, I do know her 

Cas. [Within.'] Cry, Trojans I [voice. 

Hect. It is Cassandra. 

Filter Cassandra, rflt^m^. 

Cas. Cry, Trojans, cry! lend me ten thou- 
sand eyes. 
And I will fill them with prophetic fears. 

Hect. Peace, sister, peace. [elders, 

Cas. Virgins and boys, mid-flge and vrrinkled 
Soft infancy, that nothing canst but cry, 
Add to my clamours ! let us pay betimes 
A moiety of that mass of moan to come. 
Cry, Trojans, cry ! practise your eyes with tears! 
Troy must not be, nor goodly Ilion stand ; 
Our firebrand brother, Paris, burns us all. 
Cry, Trojans, cry ! a Helen, and a woe : 
Cry, cry! Troy burns, or else let Helen go. 

[Exit. 

Hect. Now, youthful Troilus, do not these 
Of divination in our sister work [high str;jiiis 



Some touches of remorse ? or is your blood 
So nifidly hot, that no discourse of reason, 
Nor fear of bad success in a bad cause. 
Can qualify the same? 

Tro, Why, brother, Hector, 

We may not think the justness of each act 
Such and no other than event doih form it ; 
Nor once deject the courage of our minds. 
Because Cassandra's mad : her brain-sick rap 

tures 
Cannot distaste $ the goodness of a quarrel. 
Which hath our several honours all engaged 
To make it tjraciousjj. For my private part, 
I am no more touch'd than all Priam's sons : [u» 
And Jove forbid, there shall be none amongst 
Such things as might offend the weakest spleei 
To fight for and maintain ! [levity 

Pur. Else might the world convinced of 
As well my nndertakings, as your counsels: 
But I attest the gods, your full consent 
Gave wings to ray propension.and cut ofif 
All fears attending on so dire a project. 
For what, alas, can these my single arms ? 
What propugnation ** is in one man's valour ; 
To stand the push and enmity of those 
This quarrel would excite? Yet, I protest, 
Were I alone to pass the difficulties, 
And had as ample power as I have will, 
Paris should ne'er retract whit he hath done. 
Nor faint in the pursuit. 

Pri. Paris, you speak 

Like one besotted on your sweet delights : 
You have the honey still, but these the gall ; 
So to be valiant is no praise at all. 

Par. Sir, I propose not merely to myself 
The pleasure such a beauty brings with it; 
But I would have the soil of her fair ripe 
Wiped off, in honourable keeping her. 
What treason were it to the ransack'd queen. 
Disgrace to your great worths, and shame to 
Now to deliver her possession up, [me. 

On term^ of base compulsion ? Can it be. 
That so degenerate a strain as this, [somsT 
Should once set footing in your generous bo- 
Thcre's not the meanest spirit on our party. 
Without a heart to dare, or sword to draw. 
When Helen is defended ; nor none so noble. 
Whose life were ill bestow'd.or death unfamed 
Where Helen is the subject : then, 1 say, 
Well may we fight for her, whom, we knov7 
The world's largespaces cannot parallel, [well 

Hect. Paris, and Troilus, you have both saiiJ 
well: 
And on the cause and question now in hand 
Have glozed -K, — but superficially; not much 
Unlike young men, whom Aristotle thought 
Unfit to hear moral philosophy ; 
The reasons, you allege, do more conduce 
To the hot pas?ion of distemper'd blood. 
Than to make up a free determination [venge 
^Twixt right and wrong; For pleasure, and re 
Have ears more deaf than adders to the voice 
Of any true decision. Nature craves. 
All dues be rentler'd to their owners ; Now 
What nearer debt in all humanity. 



• Shrink, or fly off. 
to a worse itate. I 



t Basket. 
To set it olt. 



* Pri im's sister, Hesione. 
% Convict. ** Defence. 



$ Corrupt, chansr 
■ft Commented 



Scene //.I 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 



695 



I'han wife is to the husband? If this law 
Of nature be corrupted through affection ; 
And that great ininds, ot* partial indulgence 
To their benumbed wills, resist the same; 
There is a law in each well-orderM nation, 
To curb those raging appetites that are 
Most disobedient and refractory. 
If Helen then be wife to Sparta's king, — 
As it is known she is, — these moral laws 
~ Of nature, and oi nations, speak aloud 
To have her back return'd : Thus to persist 
In doing wrong, extenuates not wrong, [nion 
But makes it much more heavy. Hector's opi- 
Is this, in way of truth : yet, ne'ei theless, 
My spritely brethren, I propendt to you 
In resolution to keep Helen still ; 
For 'tis a cause that hath no mean dependance 
"Upon our joint and several dignities, [design: 

Tro. Why, there you touch'd the life of our 
Were it not glory that we more affected 
Than the performance of our heaving spleens, 
I would not wish a drop of J'rojan blood 
Spent more in her defence. But, worthy Hec- 
She is a theme of honour and renown ; [tor, 
A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds ; 
\V hose present courage may beat down our foes. 
And fame, in time to come, canonize us: 
For, I presume, brave Hector, would not lose 
So rich advantage of a promised glory, 
As smiles upon the forehead of this action. 
For the wide world's revenue. 

Hect. I am yours, 

You valiant offspring of great Priamus. — 
I have a roistingi challenge sent amongst 
The dull and factious nobles of the Greeks, 
Win strike amazement to their drowsy spirits: 
I was advertised, their great general slept. 
Whilst emulation § in the army crept; 
This, I presume, will wake him. {Exeunt. 
SCENE III. The Grecian Camp. Before 
Achilles' Tent. 
Enter Tu-EwsiiEs. 

Ther. How now, Thersites? what, lost in 
♦he labyrinth of thy fury ? Shall the elep<iant 
Ajax carry it thus? he beats me, and I rail at 
him: O worthy satisfaction! 'would it were 
Otherwise; that I could beat him, whilst he 
railed at me: 'Sfoot, I'll learn to conjure and 
raise devils, but I'll see some issue of my spite- 
ful execrations. Then there's Achilles,— a raje 
engineer. If Troy be not taken till these two 
undermine it, the walls will stand till they fall 
of themselves. O thou great thunder-darter of 
Olympus, forget that th>»u art Jove the king of 



Gods;and, Mercury, lose allthe serpentine craft here! 
of thy Ca(lureu.s\\; if ye take not that little 
little less-than-little wit from them thnt they 
have 'which short-armed ignorance itself knows 
is so abundant scarce, it will not in circnniven- 
lion deliver a fiy from a spider, wiihont draw- 
ix\i. their massy irons, and cutting the web. 
^.fter this, the vengeance on tiie whole camp! 
f, rather, the bjue-aeh! for that, methinks, 



is the curse dependant on those that war for a 

placket. I have said my prayers ; and, devil 

Envy, say Amen. What, ho! my lord Achilles I 

Eater Patroclus. 

Pair. A\'ho's there rihersites? Good Ther- 
sites, come in and rail. 

Ther. If 1 could have remembered a gilt 
counterfeit, thou wonldest not have slipped 
out of my contemplation : but it is no matter; 
Thyself upon thyself! The common curse of 
niankin(i, folly and ignorance, be thine in great 
revenue ! heaven bless thee from a tutor, and 
discipline come not near thee ! Let thy bloodlT 
be thy direction till thy death ! then if she, that 
lays ihee out, says — thou art a fair corse. 111 
be sworn and sworn upon't, she never shrouded 
any butlazars**. Amen.— Where's Achilles'? 

Patr. What, art thou devout \ wast thou in 
prayer? 

Tlier. Ay ; the heavens hear me ! 
Enter Achilles. 

Ach'il. Who's there ? 

Patr. Thersites, my lord. 

Achil. Where, where? — Art thou come, 
W hy, my cheese, my digestion, why hast thou 
notserved thyself into my table so many meals'? 
Come ; what's Agamenmon? 

Thir. Thy commander, Achilles; — Then tell 
me, Patroclus, what's Achilles? 

Patr. 'Ihy lord, Thersites ; Then tell me, I 
pray thee, w liat's thyself? 

Ther. Thy knower, Patroclus ; Then tell me, 
Patroclus, what art thou? 

Patr. Thou mayest tell, that knowest, 

AcklL O, tell, tell. 

Ther. I'll decline the whole question. Aga. 
memnon commands Achilles ; Achilles is my 
lord ; I am Patroclus' knower ; and Patroclus 
is a fool. 

Patr. You rascal ! 

Tiier. Peace, fool ; I have not done. 

Achil. He is a privileged man. — Proceed, 
Thersites. 

Ther. Agamemnon is a fool ; Achilles is a 
fool ; Thersites is a fool^ and, as aforesaid, 
Patroclus is a fool. 

Achil. Derive this; come. 

Ther. Agamemnon is a fool to offer to com- 
mand Achilles ; Achilles is a fool to be com- 
manded of Agamemnon ; Thersites is a fool to 
serve such a fool; and Patroclus is a fool 
positive. 

Patr. Why am I a fool? 

Ther. Make that demand of (he prover. — It 
suffices me, thou art. Look you, who comes 



Enter Agamemnon, Ulysses, Nestor, 
DioMEDFs, ani A.jax. 

Achil. Patroclus, I'll sfieak with nobody : — 
Come in with me, 1 hersiles. [/fa if. 

Ther. Here is such patchery, such jugc,ling, 
and SM. h knavery ! all the argnnient is, a 
cuckold, and a whore ; A good quarrel, to 
draw eamlouatr factions, and bleed to death, 



Through. t Incline to, as a question of honour. 

The wand of Mercury which is wreathed with serpents. 
•• Leprous persons. 



t Blustering. ^ F.nvy. 

•I Passions, natural propensiiiea, 
ft Envious. 



696 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act It 



poji. Now the dry serpigo* on llie subject! 
aufl war, and lechery, confound all 1 IKiU, 

Again. Where is Achilles i 

Fair. Within his tent ; but ill-disposed, my 
lord. [here. 

Agam. Let it be known to him, that we are 
He shentt our messmgers; and we lay by 
Our appertainmenis|, visiting of him : 
Let iiini be told so ; lest, perchance, he think 
We dare not move the question of our place. 
Or know not what we are. 

J^atr, I shall say so to him. 

Ulyss. We saw him at the opening of his 
He is not sick. [tent; 

Ajax. Yes, lion-sick, sick of proud heart : 
you may call it nieUncholy, if you will favour 
the man ; but, by my head,, 'tis pride : But 
why, why? let him show us'a cause. — A word, 
my lord. [Takes Agamemnon aside. 

Nest. What moves Ajax thus to bay at him 1 

Ulyss. Achilles hath inveigled his fool from 

Nest. Who? Thersites . [him. 

Ulyss. He. 

Nest. Then will Ajax lack matter, if he 
have lost his acgumentj. 

Ulyss. No, you see, he is his argument, that 
has his argument ; Achilles. 

Ne^t. All the better ; their fraction is more 
our wish, than their faction: But it was a 
strong composure a fool could disunite. 

Ulyss. '1 he amity, that wisdom knits not, 
folly may easily untie. Here comes Fatioclus. 
He-enter Patuoclus. 

Nest. No Achilles with him. 

Ulyss. The elephant hath joints, but none 
for oourtesy : his legs are legs for necessity, 
not for flexure. 

Patr. Achilles bids me say— he is much 
sorry. 
If any thing more than your sport and pleasure 
Did move your greatness, and this noble state. 
To call upon him ; he hopes, it is no other. 
But, for your health and your digestion sake, 
An after-dinner's breath ||. 

Again, Hear you, Patroclus; — 

We are loo well acquainted with these answers : 
But his evasion, wing'd thus swift with scorn. 
Cannot oulfly our apprehensions. 
Much attribute he hath ; and much the reason 
Why we ascribe it to him : jet all his virtues, — 
Not virtuously on his own part beheld, — 
Do, in our eyes, bei^in to lose their gloss; 
"Vea, like fair fruit in an unwholesome dish. 
Are like lo rot untasted. do and tell him. 
We come to speak with him : And you shall 

not sin, 
If you do say — we think him over-proud. 
And tindcr-honest ; in self-assumption greater. 
Than in the note of judgment; and worthier 
than himself, [on ; 

Here tendU the savage strangeness** he puts 
Disguise the holy strength of their conunand, 
And underwrite t+ in an observing kind 

♦ Tetter, scab, 1 Rebuked, rated. 

% Subject. |{ Exercise. II Attend. 

JJ Fits of lunacy. 



His humorous predominancie ; yea, watch 
His pettish lunesj:]:, his ebbs, his flows, as if 
Ihe passage and whole carriage of this action 
Rode on this tide. Go, tell him this ; and add. 
That, if he overbold his price so much, 
We'll none of him ; but let him, like an engine 
Not port;ible, lie under this rejort — 
Bring action hither, this cannot go to war : 
A stirring dwarf we do allowance %^ give 
Before a sleeping gi.int; — Tell him so. 

Patr. 1 shall ; and bring his answer pre» 
sently. [Exit, 

Agam. In second voice we'll not be satisfied, 

We come to speak with him. — L'lysses, enter, 

[Eait Ulysses, 

Ajax. W'hat is he more than another? 

Agcivi. No more than what he thinks he is 

Ajax. Is he so much ? Do you not think, h« 
thinks himself a better man than 1 am? 

Again. No questioiu 

Ajax. Will you subscribe his thought, and 
say — he is ? 

Again. No, noble Ajax; you are as strong, 
as valiant, as wise, no less noble, much mor« 
gentle, and altogether more tractable. 

Ajax. Why should a man be proud? How 
doth pride grow? 1 know not what pride is. 

Agam. \ our mind's ftie clearer, Ajax, and 
your virtues the fairer. He that is proud, eats 
up himself t pride is his own glass, his owe 
trumpet, his own chionicle; and whatever 
praises itself but in the deed, devours the deed 
in the praise. 

Ajax. 1 do hate a proud man, as 1 hate the 
engend'ering of loads. 

Nest. And yet he loves himself: Is it nof 
strange? [Aside ^ 

Be-enter Ulysses. 

Ulyss. Achilles will not to the field t»- 

Agatn. W hat's his excuse ? [morrow 

Ulyss. He doth rely on none 

But carries on the stream of his dispose, 
W ithout observaiice oi- respect of any. 
In will peculiai and in self-a<lmission. [quest 

Agam. Why will he not, upon our fair r«k 
Untent his person, and share the air with us? 

Ulyss. Things small as nothing, for request'* 
sake only, [greatness 

He makes important: Possefs'd he is with 
And speaks not to bin. self, but with a pride 
That quarrels at seif-brt'ath : imagined worth 
Holds in his blood suth swoln and hot dis- 
course, 
That, 'twixt his mental and his active parts, 
Kiugtlom'd Achilles in commotion rages. 
And batters down himself : What should I 

say ? [of 

He is so plaguy proud, that the death tokens 
Cry — j\o recoiery. 

Again. liCt Ajax go to him. — 

Dear lord, go yo>i aifd greet him in his tent ; 
*lis said, he holds you well ; and will be let^ 
At your recjuest, a litile from hiujself. 

Ulyss. O Agamemnon, let it not be so! 

t Appendage of rank or dignity. 
•* Sh\nes8. ft Subscribe, obey. 

$^ Approbation. 



Scene 111.^ 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 



697 



We'll consecrate the steps that Ajax makes 
When they go from Acniiles : Shall the proud 

lord. 
That bastes his arrogance with his own seam* ; 
And never suffers matter of the world 
Knter his thoughts, save such as do revolve 
And ruminate himself, — shall he be worshipp'd 
Of that we hold an idol more than he? 
No, this thrice worthy and right valiant lord 
Must not so stale his palm, nobly acquired ; 
Nor, by my will, assubjugate his merit. 
As amply titled as Achilles is, 
By going to Achilles : 
That were to enlard his fat-already pride ; 
And add more coals to Cancer t, when he 
"With entertaining great Hyperion f. [bmns 
This lord go to him! Jupiter forbid ; 
And say in thunder — Achilles, go to /ii?n. 
Nest. O, this is well ; he rubs the vein of 
him. [Aside. 

Dio. And how his silence drinks up this ap- 
plause ! [Aside. 
Ajax. If 1 go to him, with my arm'd fist I'll 
Over the face. [pash % him 
Agam. O, no, you shall not go. 
Ajax. An he be proud with me, TU pheeze§ 
Let me go to him. [his pride : 
Ulyss. Not for the worth that hangs upon 
our quarrel. 

Ajax. A paltry, insolent fellow, 

Nest, How he describes 

Himself? [Aside. 

Ajax. Can he not be ?0f labia 
Ulyss. The raven 

Chides blackness. [Aside. 

Ajax. I will let his humours blood. 
Again. He'll be physician, that should be the 
patient. [Aside. 

Ajax. An all men. 
Were o'my mind, — 

Ulyss. Wit would be out of fashion. [Aside. 
Ajax. He should not bear it so, [it 1 
He should eat swords first : Shall pride carry 
Nest. An 'twould, you'd carry half. [Aside. 
Ulyss. He'd have ten shares. [Aside. 
Ajax. I'll knead him, I will make him sup- 
ple : [him with praises : 

Nest. He's not yet thorough warm : force jj 

Pour in, pour in ; his ambition is dry. [Aside. 

Ulyss. My lord, you feed too much on this 

dislike. [To Agaaiemnon. 



Nest. O noble general, do not do so. 
Dio. You must prepare to, tight without 
Achilles. [him harm. 

Ulyss. Why, 'tis this naming of him does 
Here is a man — But 'tis before his face ; 
I will be silent. 

J\est, Wherefore should you sot 

He is not emulous ^, as Achilles is. 

Ulyss. Know the whole world, he is as va- 
liant, [thus with us I 
Ajax. A whoreson dog, that shall palter** 
I would, he were a Trojanl 
Nest. What a vice 

Were it in Ajax now 

Ulyss. If he were proud 1 

Dio. Or covetous of praise? 
Ulyss. Ay, or surly borne 1 

Dio. Or strange, or self-affected ? 
Ulyss. J'hank the heavens, lord, thou art 
of sweet composure; [suck: 

Praise him that gut thee, she that gave thee 
Famed be thy tutor, and thy parts of nature 
Thrice-famed, beyond all erudition ; 
But he that disciplined thy arms to fight. 
Let Mars divide eternity in twain, 
x4nd give him half: and, for thy vigour. 
Bull-bearing Milo his addition tf yield 
To sinewy Ajax. I will not praise thy wisdom. 
Which, like a bourn jj, a pale, a shore, confines 
Thy spacious and dilated parts : Here's Nestor, 
Instructed by the antiquary times. 
He must, he is, he cannot but be wise; — 
But pardon, father Nestor, wore your days 
As green as Ajax', and your brain so ternper'd. 
You should not have the eminence of him. 
But be as Ajax. 
Ajax. Shall I call you father? 

Nest. Ay, my good son. 
Dio. Be ruled by him, lord Ajax. 

Ulysf. There is no tar»jiug here; the hart 
Achilles 
Keeps thicket. Please it our great general 
To call together all his state of war ; 
Fresh kins^s are come to Troy : To-inorrow, 
We must with all our main of power stand fast : 
And here's a lord, — come knights from east to 

west, 

And cull their flower, Ajax shall cope the best. 

Agam. Go we to council. Let Achillessleep: 

Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks 

draw deep. [Exeunt. 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. Troy. A Room in Priam's 
Palace, 

Enter Pandarus and a Servant. 

Pan, Friend! yon! pray you, a word ; Do 
not you follow the young lord Paris? 
Serv. Ay, sir, when he goes before me. 
Pan, You do depend upon him, I mean ? 
Serv, Sir, I do depend upon the lord. 



Pan, You do depend upon a noble gentle- 
man ; I must needs praise him. 

Serv. The lord be praised ! 

Pa7i. You know me, do you not? 

Serv, 'Faith, sir, superficially. 

Pan. Friend, know me better; I am the 
lord Pandarus. 

Serv. I hope, I shall know your honour 
better. 



Fat. t The sign in the zodiac into which the sun enters June 21. " And Cancer reddens 
with the solar blaze." — Thomson. % Strike. § Comb or curry, 

y Stuff. U Envious. ♦* Trifle. ft Titles. ll Stream, rivule 

.3 O 



698 



SHAKSPE..R1:. 



/// 



Pan. 1 (So desire it. 

tServ, You are in tlie state of grace. 

[Music within. 

Pan. Grace! not so, friend; honour and 

lordship are my lilies : — What music is this? | 

.S'eriK I do but partly know, sir ; it is music 

in parts. 

Pa7i. Know you the musicians? 
Serv. Whi^'^y, sir. 
Pa7t. Who play they to? 
Serv. To the hearers, sir. 
Pan. At wl\ose pleasure, friend? 
Serv. At mine, sir, and theirs that love 
music. 

Pan. Command, I mean,friind. 
Sen: Who shall 1 comm^^nd, sir? 
Pan. Friend, we understand not one an- 
other; I am too courtly, and thou art too cun- 
ning . At whose request do these men play? 

Serv. Thai's to't, indeed, sir: Marry, sir, 
at the request of Paris my lord, who is there 
in person; with him, the mortal Venus, the 
heart-blood of beauty, love's invisible soul, — 
Pan. Who, my cousin Cressida? 
Serv. No, sir, Helen? Could you not find 
out that by her attributes? 

Pan. It should seem, fellow, that thou hast 
not seen the lady Ciessida. I come to speak 
•with Paris from the prince Troilus : I will 
make a complimentai assault upon him, for 
my busmcss seeths*. 

Serv. boddtn business! there's a stewed 
phrase, indeed. 

Enter Pah is a7id Helen, attended. 
Pan. Fair be to you, my lord, and to all 
this fair company! fair desires, in all fair 
measure, fairly guide ihem ! especiilly to you, 
fair queen! fair thoughts be >our fair pil.'ow! 
Helen. Dear lord, you are full of fair words. 
Pan. You speak your fair pleasure, sweet 
queen. — 
Fair prince, here is good broken music. 

Par. You have broke it, cousin : and, by 
my life, you shall make it whole again ; you 
shall piece it out with a piece of yuur per- 
formance : Nell, he is full of harmony. 
Pan. Truly, lady, no. 

Helen. O, sir, 

Pan. Rude, in sooth ; in good sooth, very 
rude. 

Pur. Well said, my lordl well, you say so 
in hist. 

Pan. I have business to my lord, dear 
queen : — 
My lord, will yon vouchsafe me a word? 

Hilen. Nay, this shall not hedge us out: 
we'll hear you sing, certainly. 

Pan. Well, sweet queen, you are pleasant 
with tiie. — But (marry) ihu.n, my lord, — My 
df ir lord, and most esteemed friend, your 
oidther Troilus — 

Helen. My lord, Pandarus; boney-sweet 
ii.rd,— 

Pan. Go to, sweet queen, go to: — com- 
itiends himself most aftectionaiely to you. 
Helen, You shall not bob us out of our me- 



lody ; If you do, our melancholy upon your 
head ! 

Pan. Sweet queen, sweet queen; that's a 
sweet queen, i'faith. 

Helen. And to make a sweet lady sad, is a 
sour otience. 

Pan. Nay, that shall not serve your turn ; 
that shall it not, in truth, la. Nay, I care not 
for such words; no, no. — And, my lord, he 
desires you, that if the king call for him at 
supper, you will make his excuse. 

Helen. My lord Pandarus. — 

Pan. What says my sweet queen, — my 
very very sweet queen ? 

Par, What exploit's in hand? where sups 
he to-night? 

Helen. Nay, but my lord, — 

Pan. What says my sweet queen?— My 
cousin will fall out with you. You must not 
know where he sups. 

Par. Pll lay my life, with my disposer 
Cressida. 

Pan. No, no, no such matter, you are widej ; 
come, your disposer is sick. 

Par. W ell, Pll make excuse. 

Pan. Ay, good my lord.— Why should you 
say — Cressida? no, your poor disposer's sick. 

Par. 1 spy. 

Pan. You spy ! what do you spy? — Come, 
give me an instrument. — Now, sweet queen. 

Helen. Why, this is kindly done. 

Pa7i. My niece is horribly in love with a 
thing you have, sweet queen. 

Helen. She shall have it, my lord, if it be 
not my lord Paris. 

Pun. He! no, she'll none of him ; they two 
are twain. 

Helen. Falling in, after falling out, may 
make ihem three. 

Puji. Come, come, Pll hear no more of this ; 
Pll sing yon a song now. 

Helen. Ay,ay, pr'yihee now. By my troth, 
sweet lord, thou hast a fine forehead. 

Pan. Ay, you may, yon may. 

Helen. Let thy song be love : thio love will 
undo us all. O, Cupid, Cupid, Cupid! 

Pa7i. Love! ay, that it shall, i'faith. 

Par. Ay, good now, love, love, nothing 
but love. 

Pan. In good troth, it begins so : 

LovCy love, 9iothing but love, still more/ 

Par, oh, luvb's botv 

Shoots buck and doe : 

The shaft confounds. 

Not that it wounds 
But tickles still the sore. 

These lovers cry — Oh! oh ! they die ! 

Yet that which seems the tvoufid to ktU^ 
Doth turn oh! ok! to ha ! ha ' he! 

So dying lore lives still: 
Oh ! oh ! a while, but ha ! ha ! ha ' 
Oh ! oh ! groans out J'or ha ! ha ! ha ! 

Hey ho ! 



Boils. 



1 Parts of a song. 



X Wide of your mark. 



ene J.] 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 



699 



Helen. In love, i'faith, to the very lip of 

the nose. 

P(/7\ He eats nothing but doves, love ; and 
Ihat breeds hot blood, and hot blood begets hot 
thonghis, and hot thoughts beget hot deeds, 
and hot deeds is love. 

Fan. Is this the feneration of love? hot 
blood, hot thoughts, and hot deed* ?— Why, 
they are vipers : Is love a generation of vipers i 
♦Sweet lord, who's a-fieid to-day? 

P'/r. Hector, Dpiphobus,Helenus, Antenor, 
and all the gallantry of Troy : I would fain 
liave armed to night, but my Nell would not 
tiave it so. How chance my brother Troilus 
went not? 

Helen. He hangs the Jip at something; — 
^'ou know all, lord Pandarus. 

Pan. Not I,lvoney sweet queen. — I long to 
lieaf how they sped to-day. — You'll remember 
yonr brother's excuse? 

Fur. To a hair. 

Pan. Farewell, sweet queen. 

Helen. Commend me to your niece. 

Pun. I will, sweet queen. {Exit. 

[A Retreat sounded. 

Par. They are come from field : let us to 
Priam's hall, [woo you 

To irreet the warriors. Sweet Helen, I must 
lo help unarm our Hector: his stubborn 
buckles, [touch'd. 

With these yonr white enchanting fingers 
Shall more obey, than tothe edge of steel. 
Or force of Greekish sinews; you shall do more 
Than all the island kings, disarm great Hectpr. 

Helen. 'Twill make us proud to be his ser- 
vant, Paris: 
Yea, what he shall receive of us in duty, 
CJive ns more palm in beauty than we have ; 
Yea, overshines ourself. 

Par. Sweet, above thought I love thee, 

lEveunt. 
SCENE II. The same. Pandarus' Orc/tcrrf. 
Enter Pandarus and a Servant, meeting. 

Pan. How now? where's thy master? at 
tiiy cousin Cressida's? 

Serv. No, sir ; he stays for you to conduct 
iiim thither. 

£'/?fer Troilus. 

Pan. O, here he comes, — How now, how 
now? 

Tro. Sirrah, walk off. [Exit Servant. 

Pan. Have you seen my cousin? 
T/o. No, Pandarus: I stalk about herdoor, 
like a strange soul upon the Stygian banks 
Staying for wattage. O, be thou my Charon, 
And give me swift transportance to those fields. 
Where I may wallow in the lily bneds 
Proposed for the deserver ! O gentle Pandarus, 
From Cupid's shoulder pluck his painted wings, 
And fly with me to CressidI 

Pan. Walk here i*the orchard, I'll bring 
fcer straight. [AUi-f Pandarus. 

Tro. I am giddy ; expectation whirls me 
The imaginary relish is so sweet [round. 

That it enchants my sense ; What will it be, I 



When that the watery palate tastes indeed 
I Love's thrice-reputed nectar? death, I fear me ; 

Swooning destruction ; or some joy too tine, 
I Too subtle-potent,tuned too sharp in sweetness, 
I For the capacity of my ruder powers: 
j I fear it much ; and I do fear besides. 
That I shall lose distinction in my joys ; 
As doth a battle, when they charge on heaps 
The enemy flying. 

Re-enter Pandarus. 

Pan. She's making her ready, she'll come 
straight: you must be witty now. She doe;* 
so blush, and fetches her ^^iud so short, as if 
she were frajed with a sprite: I'll fetch her. 
It is the prettiest villain : — she fetches her 
breath as short as a new-ta'en sparrow, 

[Exit PA^DARl.'s- 

Tro. Evan such a passion doth embrace my 
bosom : 
My heart beats thicker than a feverous pulse; 
And ail my powers do their bestowing lose. 
Like vassalage at unawares encount'ring 
The eye of majesty. 

Enter Pandarus and Cressida. 

Pan. Come, come, what need you blush! 
shame's a baby. — Here she is now : swear the 
oaths now to her, that you have sworn to me. 
— What, are you gone again? you must be 
watched ere you be made tame, must you / 
Come your ways, come your ways ; an you 
draw backward, we'll put you i'the fills*. — 
Why do you not speak to her? — Come, draw 
this curtain, and let's see your picture. Alas 
the day, how loath you are to offend daylight! 
an 'twere dark, you'd close sooner. So, so; 
rub on, and kiss the mistress t. How now, a 
kiss in fee-farm! build there, carpenter; the 
air is sweet. Nay, you shall fight your heart* 
out, ere I part you. The falcon as the tercel;, 
for all the ducks i'the river : go to, go to. 

Tro. You have bereft me of all words, lady. 

Pan. Words pay no debts, give her deeds : 
but she'll bereave you of the deeds to. if she call 
your activity in question. What, billing again? 
Here's — In witness whereof the 'parties in- 
terckangeably — Come in, come in ; I'll go get 
a fire. [Exit Pandarus. 

Cres. Will you walk in, my lord ? 

Tro. O Cressida, how often have I wisbet' 
me thus? 

Cres. Wished my lord?— The gods grant! 
— O my lord ! 

Tro. What should they grant ? what makea 
this pretty abruption 1 What too curious dreg 
espies my sweet lady in the fountain of our 
love? 

('res. More dregs than water, if my feara 
have eyes. 

Tro. Fears make devils cherubins ; they 
never see truly. 

Cres. Blind fear, that seeing reason leads 
finds safer footing than blind reason stunibliti-^; 
without fear : To fear the worst, oft cures the 
worst. 

Tro. O, let my lady apprehend no fear: in 



Shafts of a carriage. t The allusion is to bowling; what is now called the iack wan 

fo-merly termed the mistrtw. ; Ttie lerceJ is ihe in-de anti ihe fa-lcou the iVuKtie hawk 



700 



SIIAKSPEARE 



[All Jit 



nil Cupid's pageant there is presented no nion- 
kier. 

Cres. Nor nothing monstrous neither? 

Tro. Nothinti:, but our undertakings; when 
we vow to weep »e.\s, live in tire, eat rocks, 
lame tigers ; thinking it harder lor our mistress 
to devise imposition eno<igh, than for us to 
undergo anj diliiyulty imposed, lliis is- the 
inonstruosity in love, lady, — that the will is 
infinite, and tlie execution confined ; that the de- 
sire is bountlless, and the act a slave to limit. 

Cre^. They say, all lovers swear more per- 
formance than they are able, and yet reserve 
an ibility tliat they never perform ; vowing 
more than the perfection or ten, and discharg- 
ing less ihan the tenth part of one. 1 hey that 
have the voice of lions, and the act of hares, 
are tliey not monsters I 

Tf 0. Are there such? such are not we: 
Praise us as we are tasted, allow us a-s we 
prove ; *)iir head shall go bare, till merit crown 
it : no perfection in reversion shall have a 
praise in present: we will not name desert, 
before his hirth ; and, being born, his addition* 
shall be humble. Few words to fair faith : 
Tioilus shaJl be such to Cressid, as what envy 
can pay worst, sljall be a mo<k for his truth ; 
and what truth can speak truest, not truer than 
3 roil us. 

Cres. Will you walk in, my lord? 
Be-enter Panda rus. 

Fan. What, blushing still? have yoM not 
done talking yet? 

Cfe.s: Well, uncle, what folly 1 commit, I 
dedicate to you. 

Puit. 1 thank you for that ; if my lord get a 
boy of you, you'll give him me : Be true to 
my lord : if he flinch, chide me for it. 

Tro. You know now your hostages; your 
uncle's word, and my firm faith. 

J^an. ><ay, I'll uive my word for her too; 
onr kindred, though they be long ere they are 
wooed, they are constant, being won : they 
are buis, I can tell you; they'll stick where 
they are thrown. [me heart: — 

Cies. Boldness comes tome now, and brings 
Prince 1 roilus, 1 have loved you night and day 
For many weary months. 

Tro. W hy was my Cressid then so hard to 
win ? [my lord, 

Cres. Hard to seem won ; but I was won. 
With the first glance that ever — l*ardon me ; — 
If 1 confess much, you will play the tyrant. 
I love you now ; but not, till now, so much 
But 1 might master it : — in faith, I lie ; [grown 
Wy thoughts were like unbridled children, 
Too headstrong for their mother : See we f.)ol8 ! 
Why have I blabb'd ? who shall be true to us 
When we are so unsecret to ourselves ? 
But though I loved you well, I woo'd you not; 
And jet. good faith, 1 wish'd myself a man ; 
Or that we women had men's piivilege 
Of speakinii first. Sweet, bid me hold my 

tongue ; 
For, ill this raptare, T shall surely speak 
The thing I shall repent. See, see, your silence, 



Cunning in duinbne*», from my weakness draw* 
My very soul of counsel : Stop my mouih. 

Tro. And shall, albeit sweet music issues 

Pan. Pretty, i'faith. [thence. 

Cres. My lord, I do beseech you, pardon me; 
'Twas not my purpose, thus to beg a kiss : 
I am asham'd ; — O heavens 1 what have I done? 
For this time will I take my leave, my lord. 

Tro. Your leave, sweet Cressid? 

Pan. Leave ! an you take leave till to- 
morrow morning, 

Cres, i ray yon, content yon. 

Tro. What ottends you, lady? 

Cres. Sir, mine own company. 

Tro. You cannot shun 

Yourself. 

Cres. Let me go and try : 
I have a kind of self resides with you ; 
But an nnkind self, that itself will leave. 
To be another's fool. I would be gone : 
Where is my wit ? I know not what I speak. 

Tro. Well know they what they speak, that 
speak so wisely. [craft than h)ve ; 

Cres, Perchance, my lord, i show more 
And fell so roundly to a large confession, 
To angle for your thoughts : But yon are wise; 
Or else you love not ; For to be wise, Jtnd love. 
Exceeds man's might ; that dwells with gods 
above. [woman, 

Tro. O, that I thought it could be in a 
(As, if it can, 1 will presume in yon,) 
To feed for ayet her lamp and flames of love ; 
To keep her constancy in plight and youth, 
Ouljiving beauty's outward, with a mind 
That doth renew swifter than blood decays! 
Or, that persuasion could but thus convince me. 
That my integrity and truth to you 
Might be affronted j with the match and weight 
Of such a winnow'd purity in love ; 
How were I then uplifted ! but, alas, 
I am as true as truth's simplicity. 
And simpler than the infancy of truth 

Cres, In that I'll war with you. 

Tro. O virtuous fight. 

When right with right wars who shall be most 

right ! 
True swains in love shall, in the world to c^me. 
Approve their truths by Tioilus : when their 

rhymes. 
Full of protest, of oath, and big compare $, 
Want similes, truth tired with iteration, — 
As true as steel, as plantage to the moon. 
As sun to day, as turtle to her mate, 
As iron to adamant, as earth to the centre, — 
Yet, af!cr all comparisons of truth, 
As truth's authentic author to be cited. 
As true as Troiius shall crown upjl the verse. 
And sanctify the numbers. 

Cres. Prophet may you be 

If I be false, or swerve a hair from truth. 
When time is old and hath forgot itself, 
When wateKlrops have worn the stones -> 
And blinrl ohlivion swallow'd cities up, [T\oy 
And mighty states characterless are grated 
Jo dusty nothing; yet let memory, 
From false to false, among fabe maids in love 



/ Titles. f Ever. i Met with and equalled. t Compari!.<m. U Conchid. it. 



Scene I/.] 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 



701 



(J pbraid ray falsehood ! when they have said — 

as false 
As air, as water, wind, or sandy earth. 
As fox to lamb, as wolf to heifer's calf, 
Paril to the hind, or stepdanie to her son ; 
Yea, let them say, to stick the heart of false- 
As false as Cressid. [hood, 

Pa/f. Go to, a bargain made : seal it, seal 
it; I'll be the witness. — Here I hold your 
hand ; here, my cousin's. If ever you prove 
false one to another, since I have taken such 
pams to bring you together, let all pitiftil goers- 
between be called to the world's end after my 
name, call ihem all — Pandars ; let all constant 
men be Iroilnses all false women Cressids, and 
ail brokers-between Pandars! say, amen. 
~ Tro. Amen. 

Cre.s. Amen. 

Pan. Amen. Whereupon I will show you 
a chambei and a bed, which bed, because it 
shnll not speak of your pretty encounters, press 
it to death : away. 

And Cupid grant all tongue-tied maidens here, 
Bed, chamber, Paridar, to provide this geer ! 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE III. 7%e Grecian Camp. 
Enter Ag\ MEMS ofif Ulysses, Diomedes, 
Nestor, Ajax, Menelaus, a?id Calchas. 
Cal. Now, princes, for the service I have 
done you. 
The advantage of the time prompts me aloud 
To call for recompense. Appear it to your 
mind, [Jove 

That, through the sight T bear in things, to 
I have abandoned Troy, left my possession. 
Incurred a traitor's name ; exposed myself. 
From certain and possessed conveniences. 
To doubtful fortunes; sequestering from me 
all [tion. 

That time, acquaintance, custom, and condi- 
Made tame and most familiar to my nature ; 
And here, to do you service, am become 
As new into the world, strange, unacquainted : 
1 do beseech you, as in way of taste. 
To give me now a little benefit. 
Out of those many registered in promise. 
Which, yoti say, live to come in my behalf. 
Again. What wouldst thou of us, Trojan ? 
make demand. [tenor, 

Cnl. You have a Trojan prisoner, called An- 
Yesterday took; Troy holds him very dear. 
Ott have you, (often have you thanks, there- 
fore.) 
Desired my Cressid in right great exchange. 
Whom Troy hath still denied : But this Ante- 
I know, is such a wrest* in their affairs, [nor, 
Th'U their nf gotiations all must slack, 
\\ anting his manage ; and they will almost 
(live us a pi ince of blood, a son of Priam, 
in cliange of him: let him be sent, great 
princes, [sence 

And he shall buy my daughter; and her pre- 
Shall quite strike ott all service I have done, 
in most accepted pain. 
Agam, Let Diomedes bear him. 



And bring us Cressid hither; Calchas ehali 

have 
What he requests of us. — Good Diomed, 
Furnish you fairly for this interchange : 
Withal, bring word— if Hector will to-morrow 
Beanswer'd in his challenge: Ajax is ready. 
Vio. This shall I undertake ; and 'lis a bur- 
Which I am proud to bear. [den 

Exeunt Diomedes and Calchas. 
Enter Achilles and Patroclus, before 
their Teitt. 
Ulyss. Achilles stands i'the entrance of his 
tent :— 
Please it our general to pass strangely f by him. 
As if he were forgot ; and, princes all. 
Lay negligent and loose regard upon him : 
I will come last : *Tis like, he'll question me, 
Whysach unplausive eyes are bent, why turn'd 
If so, I have derision med'cinabie, [on him ; 
To use between our strangeness and his pride, 
W hich his own will shall have desire to drink ; 
It may do good : pride hath no other glass 
To show itself, but pride; lor supple knees 
Feed arrogance, and are the proud man's fees. 
Agam. We'll execute your purpose, and 
put on 
A form of strangeness as we pass along; — 
So do each lord ; and either greet him not. 
Or else disdainfully, which shall shake him 

more 
Than if not looked on. I will lead the way. 
Achil. What, comes the general to speak 
with me? H ''oy* 

Yon know my mind, I'll fight no more 'gainst 
Agam. What says Achilles? would he ought 
with us? [general? 

Nest, Would you, my lord, aught with the 
Achil. No, 

Nest. Nothing, my lord. 
Agam. J he better. 

{Exeunt Agamemnon and Nestor. 
Achil. Good day, good day. 

Men. How do you ? how do yon ? 

[Exit Menelaus. 
Achil. What, does the cuckold scorn me t 
Ajax. How now, Patroclus ? 
Achil, Good morrow, Ajax. 

Ajax. Ha ? 

Achil. Good morrow. 
Ajax. Ay, and good next day tou. 

[Exit XiKX. 
Achil. What mean these fellows? Know 
they not Achilles? [used to bend, 

Patr. They pass by strangely : they were 
To send their smiles before them to Achilles ; 
To come as humbly, as they used to creep 
To holy altars. 

Achil. What, am I poor of late ? 

'Tis certain, greatness, once fallen out with 
fortune, [dined is. 

Must fall out with men too : What the de- 
He shall as soon read in the eyes of others. 
As feel in his own fall : for men, like butter- 
flies, [mer; 
Show not their mealy wings, but to the sum- 
And not a man, for being simply man, 



• An instrument for tuning harps, &c. 



Shyly. 
S O 3 



708 



^HAKSPEAUK. 



[Act ill 



liatii any honour ; but honour for those ho- 
nours [vour, 
That are without him, as place, riches, fa- 
Prizes of accident as oft as merit : [ers, 
"Which when they fall, as being slippery stand- 
The love tliat lean'd on them as slippery too, 
Do one pluck down another, and together 
Die ill the fall. But 'lis not so with me : 
Fortune and I are friends ; I do enjoy 
At ample point all that I did possess, [out 
Save these men's looks ; who do, methinks, find 
Something not worth iii me such rich beholding 
As they have often given. Here is Ulysses; 
I'll interrupt his reading. — 
How now, Ulysses? 

Ulyss, Now, great Thetis' son 1 

Achil. What are you reading f 

Ulyss. A strange fellow here 

"V^'i ites me,That man — how deariyever parted*. 
How much in having, or without, or in, — 
Cannot make boast to have that which he hath, 
Nor fee4s not what he owes, but by reflection; 
As when his virtues shining upon others 
Heat them, and they retort that heat again 
To the first giver. 

AcldU This is not strange, Ulysses. 

The beauty that is borne here in the face 
The bearer knows not, but commends itself 
To others' eyes : nor doih the eye itself 
(That mf)st pure spirit of sense,) behold itself. 
Not going from itself; but eye to eye opposed 
Salutes each other with each other's form. 
For speculation turns not to itself, 
Till it hath travelled, and is married there [all. 
Where it may see itself: this is not strange at 

Ulyss^ I do not strain at the position, 
It is familiar ; but at the author's drift : 
W ho, in his circumstance +, expressly proves — 
That no man is the lord ot any thing, 
(Though in and of him there be much con- 
sisting,) 
Till he communicate his parts to others : 
Nor doth he of himself know them for aught 
Till he behold them formed in the applause 
Where they are extended; which, like an arch, 

reverberates 
The voice again ; or like a gate of steel 
Fronting the sun, receives and renders back 
His figure and his heat. I was much rapt in 
And apprehended here immediately [this ; 
The unknown Ajax. 

Heavens, what a man is there ! a very horse ; 
That has he knows not what. Nature, what 

things there are. 
Most abject in regard, and dear in use f 
What things again most dear in the esteem. 
And poor in worth! Now shall we see to- 
morrow. 
An art liiat very chance doth threw upon him, 
Aj;t:< renowned. O heavens, what some men 
Whi.e some men leave to do I [do ! 

How some men creep in skittish fortune's hall, 
V/hiles others play the idiots in her eyes 1 
How one niaii eats into another's pride. 
While pride is fasting in his wantonnees! [ready 
lo bee these Grecian lords! — why, even al- 



They clao the lubber Ajax on the shoulder ; 
As if his foot were on brave Hector's breast. 
And great Troy shrinking. 

Acliil. I do believe it : for they passed by me 
As misers do by beggars : neither gave to me 
Good word, nor look: What, are my deeds 

forgot '{ [back, 

Ulyss, Time hath, my lord, a wallet at his 
Whei ein he puts alms for oblivion, 
A great-sized monster of ingratitudes: 
Those scraps are good deeds past: which are 

devoured 
As fast as they are made, forgot as soon 
As done : Perseverance, dear my lord. 
Keeps honour bright : To have done, is to 
Unite out of fashion, like a rusty mail [hang 
In monumental mockery. Take the instant 

way; 
For honour travels in a strait so narrow, 
Where one but goes abreast : keep then the 
For emulation hath a thousand sons, [path ; 
That one by one pursue : If you give way. 
Or hedge aside from the direct forthright. 
Like to an enter'd tide, they all rush by. 
And leave you hindmost; — 
Or, like a gallant horse fallen in first rank. 
Lie there for pavement to the abject rear, 
O'er-run and trampled on: Then what they do 

in present, [yours : 

Though less than yours in past, must o'ertop 
For time is like a fashionable host, 
That slightly shakes his parting guest by the 

hand; [fly, 

And with his arras out-stretch'd, as he would 
Grasps in the comer : Welcome ever smiles. 
And farewell goes out sighing. O let not vir- 
Remuneration for the thing it was ; [tue seek 
For beauty, wit. 

High birth, vigour of bone, desert in service, 
Love, friendship, charity, are subjects all 
To envious and calumniating time. 
One touch of nature makes the whole world 

kin, — [gawds ;, 

That all, with one consent, praise new-born 
Though they are made and moulded of things 
And give to dust, that is a little gilt, [p^tst; 
More laud than gilt o'er-dusted. 
The present eye praises the present object : 
Then marvel not, thou great and cdmpkte man 
That all the Greeks begin to worship Ajax; 
Since things in motion sooner catch the eye. 
Than what not stirs. The cry went once on 

thee, 
And still it might ; and yet it may again. 
If thou wouldst not entomb thyself alive, 
And case thy reputation in thy tent; 
Whose glorious deeds, but in these fields of 

late, [themselves^ 

Made emulous missions § 'mongst the gods 
And drave great Mars to faction. 

AchiL Of this my privacy 

I have strong reasons. 

Ulyss. But 'gainst your privacy 

The reasons are more potent and heroical: 
'Tis known, Achilles, that you are in love 
With one of Prianj's daughters ||. 



Excellently endowed. t Detail of argument. t New fashioned toys, 

j The descent of the deities to combat on either side. || Polyxona. 



S'cene lU.] 



TROILUS Ax\D CIIESSJDA. 



703 



Achil. Ha! known? 

Uiyss. Is that a wonder ? 
The providence that's in a watchfal state. 
Knows almost every grain of Plulus* gold ; 
Finds bottom in the uncomprehensive deeps ; 
Keeps place with thought, and almost, like 

the p;ods, 
Does thoughts unveil in their dumb cradles, 
rhere is a mystery (with whom relation 
Durst never meddle) in the soul of state ; 
IVhich hatli an operation more divine, 
Than breath, or pen can give expressure to : 
All the commerce that you have had with Troy, 
A.S perfectly is ours, as yeur's, my lord; 
And better would it fit Achilles much, 
To throw down Hector, than Polyxena : 
Bat it must grieve young Pyrrhus now at 

home, [trump ; 

When Fame shall in our islands sound her 
And all the Greekish girls shall tripping sing, — 
Great Hector's sister did Achilles tvln; 
But our great, Jjax bravely beat down him. 
Farewell, my lord : I as your lover* speak ; 
The fool slides o*er the ice that you should 

break. [hxit. 

Patr. To this effect, Achilles,have I moved 

you : 
A woman impudent and mannish grown 
Is ijot more loathed that an effeminate man 
III time of action. I stand condemn'd for this ; 
They think, my little stomach to the war, 
And your great love to me, restrains you thus : 
Sweet, rouse yourself; and the weak wanton 

Cupid 
Shall from your neck unloose his amorous fold. 
And, like a dew-drop from the lion's mane, 
Be shook to air. 

Avhil. Shall Ajax fight with Hector? 

,Patr. Ay; and, perhaps, receive much 

honour by him. 
Achil. I see, my reputation is at stake ; 
My fame is shrewdly gored. 

Patr, O, then beware ; 

Those wounds heal ill, that men do give them- 
Omission to do what is necessary [selves : 

Seals a commission to a blank of danger ; 
And danger, like an ague, subtly taints 
Even tlien when we sit idly in the sun. 
Achil. Go call Ther&ites hither, sweet Pa- 

troclus : 
Pll send the fool to Ajax, and desire him 
To invite the Trojan lords, after the combat. 
To see us here unarm'd : I have a woman's 

longing, 
An appetite that I am sick withal. 
To see great Hector in his weeds of peace ; 
To talk with him, and to beli^old his visage, 
j Kven to my full view. A labour saved! 
I /i'/i^fr Thersites. 

iTher. A wonder 1 
Achil, What? 
Ther. Ajax goes up and dov/u the field, 
^1 asking for himsilf. 
Achil. How so? 

Ther, He must nght singly to-morrow with 
Hector ; and is so prophetically proud of an 



heroical cudgelling, that he raves in saying 
nothing. 

Achil, How can that be? 

Ther* Why, he stalks up and down like a 
peacock, a stride, and a stand : ruminates, 
like an hostess, that hath no arithmetic but her 
brain to set down her reckoning : bites his lip 
with a politic regard, as who should say- 
there were wit in this head, an 'twould out; 
and so there is ; but it lies as coldly in him as 
fire in a flint which will not show with 
knocking. The man's undone for ever ; for 
if Hector break not his neck i' the combat, 
he'll break it himself in vain-glory. He knows 
not me: I said. Good morrow, Ajax; and he 
replies. Thanks, Agamemnon. What think 
you of this man, that takes me for the gene- 
ral ? He is grown a very land-fish, language- 
less, a monster. A plague of opinion ! a man 
may wear it on both sides, like a leather 
jerkin. 

Ach'l, Thou must be my ambassador to 
him, Thersites. 

7 her. Who, I? why, he'll answer nobody; 
he professes not answering; speaking is for 
beggars ; he wears his tongue in his arms. I 
will put on his presence ; let Patrocles make 
demands to me, you fchall see the pageant of 
Ajax. 

Achil, To him, Palroclus : Tell him— I 
h'.imbly desire the valiant Ajax, to invite the 
most valorous Hector to come unarmed to 
my tent; ana to procure safe conduct for his 
person, of the magnanimous, and most illus- 
trious, six-or-seven-times-honoured captain- 
general of the Grecian army, Agamemnon. 
Do this. 

Patr. Jove bless great Ajax. 

Ther. Humph/ 

Patr. I come from the worthy Achilles, — 

Ther. Hal 

Patr. Who most hnmbly desires you, to 
invite Hector to his tent ! 

Thir. Humph! 

Patr. And to procure safe conduct from 
Agamemnon. 

^Ther. Agamemnon? 

Patr, Ay, my lord. 

Tlier, Ha! 

Patr. What say yon to't? 

Ther. God be wi'*you, with all my heart, 

Patr. Your answer, sir. 

Ther, If to-morrow be a fair day, by eleven 
o'clock it will go one way or other ; how- 
soever, he shall pay for me ere he has me. 

Patr, Your answer, sir. 

Ther. Fare you well, with all my heart. 

Achil, Why, but he is not in this tune, 
is he ? 

Ther, No, but he's out o'tune thus. What 
music will be in him when Hector has 
knocked out his brains, I know not : But, I 
am sure, none ; unless the fiddler Apollo get 
his sinews to make catlings t on. 

Achil. Come, thou shalt bear a letter to hina 
straight. 



• Friend. 



t Lute-strings made of catgut. 



704 



SHAIiSPEARE. 



[Act If 



Titer. 'Would the fountain of your mind 
were clear Jigain, that I nii-^ht -watrr an asg at 
it ! I had rather be a lick io a sheep, thaa i 
such a valiant ignorance^ ^ 

{Exit. 



Thcr. Let me bear another to his horse ; 
for that's the more capalile* creature, [stirr'd ; 

AckiL. My mind is troubled, like a fountain 
A.ud I myself see not the bottom of it. 

{Exeunt Achilles and Patroclus. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. Troy. A Street, 

Enter, at Ofie side, jEneas and Servant, 
with a Torch ; at the other, Paris, Dei- 
PHOBUS, Antenor, Diomedes, and 
Others, with torches. 

Par. See, hoi who's that there? 

Dei. 'Tis the lord ^neas. 

yiwe. Is the prince there in person ? 
Had 1 so t^ood occasion to lie long, [business 
As you, prince Paris, nothing but heavenly 
Should rob my bed-mate of my company. 

Dio. Ttiat's my mind too. — Good morrow, 
lord .^neas. 

Par. A valiant Greek, ^neas ; take his hand : 
Witness the process <»f your sp^-ech, wherein 
You told— how Piomed, a whole week by 
Did haunt you in the field. [ days, 

yEne. Health to you, valiant sir, 

During all questiont of the gentle truce ; 
But when I meet you arm'd, as black defiance, 
As heart can think, or courage execute. 

Dio. The one and other Diomed embraces. 
Our bloods are now in calm ; and, so long, 

health: 
But when contention and occasion meet. 
By Jove, I'll play the hunter for thy life. 
With all my force, pursuit, and policy. 

Mne. And thou shalt hunt a lion, that will 
fly [ness. 

With his face backward. In humane gentle- 
Welcome to Troy ! now, by Anchises' life, 
Welcome, indeed ! By Venus' hand I swear, 
No man alive can love, in such a sort, 
The thing he means to kill more excellently. 

Dio. W e sympathize : — Jove, let vEneas live, 
If to my swoi d his fate be not the glory, 
A thousand complete courses of the sun! 
But in mine emulous honour, let him die, 
"With every joint a wound ; and that to-morrow! 

jEne. We know each other well. 

Dio. We do ; and long to know each other 
worse. [ing, 

Par. This is the most despiteful gentle greet- 
The noblest hateful love, that e'er I haard of. — 
What business, lord, so early ? 

jEne. I was sent for to the king; but why, 
1 know not. [bring this Greek 

Par. His purpose meets you ; 'Twas to 
To Caloha*' house; and there to render him. 
For the enfreed Antenor, the fair Cressid : 
Let's have your company ; or, if you please, 
Haste there before us : 1 constantly do think, 
(Or, rather, call my thought a certain know- 
ledge,) 
My brother Troilus lodges there to-night ; 
Rouse him, and give himnoteof our approach, 

• Intelligent. 



With the whole quality wherefore: I fear. 
We shall be much unwelcome. 

jEne. That I assure yon ; 

Troilus had rather Troy were borne to Greece, 
Than Cressid borne from Troy. 

Par. There is no help ; 

The bitter disposition of the time 
Will have it so. On, lord ; we'll follow you. 

jEne. Good morrow, ail. [Exit. 

Par. And tell me, noble Diomed ; 'faith, 
tell me true. 
Even in the soul of sound good-fellovrship, — 
Who, in your thoughts, merits fair Helen best, 
Myself, or Menelaus 1 

Dio. Both alike ! 

?Ie merits well to have her, that doth seek her 
(Not making any scruple of her soilure,) 
With such a hell of pain, and world of charge^ 
And you as well to keep her, that defend her 
(Not painting the taste of her dishonour,) 
With such a costly loss of wealth and friends < 
He, like a puling cuckold, would drink up 
'J he lees and dregs of a flat tamed piece ; 
You, like a lecher, out of whorish loins 
Are pleased to breed out your inheritors : 
Both merits poised, each weighs nor less not 
But he as he, the heavier for a whore, [more j 

Par. You are too bitter to your country- 
woman. [Paris, — ' 

Dio. She's bitter to her country : Hear me. 
For every false drop in her bawdy veins 
A Grecian's life hath sunk ; for every scrsple 
Of her contaminated carrion weight, [speak^ 
A Trojan hath been slain : since she coul I 
She hath not given so n-any good words breath, 
As for her Greeks and Trojans sufter'd death. 

Par. Fair Diomed, you do as chapmen do. 
Dispraise the thing that you desire to buy : 
But we in silence hold this virtue well, — 
We'll not commend what we intend to sell. 
Here lies our way. [EHxiunt, 

SCENE II. The same. Court before the 

House o/'Pandarus. 

Enter Tro\\.vs and Cressida. 

Tro. Dear, trouble not yourself; the morn 
is cold. [uncle down ; 

Ores. Then, sweet my lord, I'll call mine 
He shall unbolt the gf.tes. 

Tro. Trouble him not ; 

To bed, to bed : Sleep kill those pretty eyes. 
And tiive as soft attachment to thy senses 
As infants', empty of all thought 

(Ves. Good morrow then- 

Tro. 'Pr'ythee now, to bed. 

Ores. Are yon aweary of met 

Tro. O Cressida I but that the busy day, 

t Conversation. 



Scene J I.] 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 



705 



' Waked by the lark, hath rotised the ribald * 
crows, [longer, 

And dreaming night will hide our joys no 
I would not from thee. 

(Jres. ]Sight hath been too brief. 

TVo. Beshrew the witch! with venomous 

wights she stays, 

As tediously as hell ; but flies the grasp of love. 

With wings more momentary-swift than 

You will catch cold, and curse me. [thought. 

Cres. Pr'ythee, tarry ; — 

You men will never tarry. 

foolish Cressid ! — I might have still held off, 
.And then you would have tarried. Hark ! 

there's one up. 
Pa7i. [f'Fithin.] What, are all the doors open 
here? 
.Tro. It is your uncle. 

Enter Pandarus. 
Cres. A pestilence on him I now will he be 

1 shall have such a life, [mocking : 

Pan. How now, how now? how go maiden- 
heads?— Here, you maidl where'a ray cousin 
Cressid? 

Cres. Go hang yourself, you naughty mock- 
ing uncle ! [too. 
You brino; me to dot, and then you flout me 

Pa7i. Todowiiat? to do what? — let her say 
.^hat : what have I brought you to do ? 

Cres. Come, come ; beshrew J your heart ! 
Nor suffer others. [you'll ne'er be good, 

Pan. Ha, ha ! Alas, poor wretch ! a poor 
capocchia^l — hast not slept to-night? would 
he not, a naughty man, let it sleep? a bugbear 
take him! [Knocking. 

Cres. Did I not tell you? — 'would he were 
knock'd o'the head ! — 
Who's that at door? good uncle, go and see. — 
My lord, come you again into my chamber: 
You smile, and mock me, as if I meant 

Tro. Ha, ha! [naughtily. 

Cres. Come, you are deceived, I think of no 

such thing — [Knocking. 

How earnestly they knock ! — pray you, come 

in ; 
I would not for half Troy have you seen here. 
[Exeunt Troilus and Cressida. 

Pan. [Going to the door.] Who's there? 
wtiat's the matter ? will you beat down the 
door ? How now? what's the matter? 
Enter ^neas. 

JEne. Good morrow, lord, good morrow. 

Pan. Who's there ? my lord ^neas ? By 
my troth, I knew you not: what news with 
yon so early ? 

JEfie. Is not prince Troilus here? 

Pan. Here! what should he do here? 

^ne. Come, he is here, my lord, do not 
deny him ; 
ft doth import him much to speak with me. 

Pan.. Is he here, say you ? 'tis more than I 
know, [late : 

ril be swoni : — For my own part, I came in 
What shculil be do here ? 

.-ju/ie. Who ! — nay, then : — I 



Come, come, you'll do him wrong ere you are 

'ware : 
You'll be so true to him, to be false to him : 
Do not you know of him, yet go fetch him 
Go. [hither ; 

As Pandarus is going out, enter Troilvs. 

Tro. How now? what's the matter ? [you^ 

jEne. My lord, I scarce have leisure to salute 
My matter is so rashjl: There is at hand 
Paris your brother, and Deiphobus, 
The Grecian Diomed, and our Antenor 
Deliver'd to us ; and for him forthwith. 
Ere the first sacrifice, within this hour. 
We must give up to Diomedes' hand 
The lady Cressida. 

Tro. Is it so concluded ? 

jEne. By Priam, and the general state of 
Troy; 
They are at hand, and ready to effect it. 

Tro. How my achievements mock me 1 
I will go meet them : and, my lord ^Eneas, 
We met by chance ; you did not find me here. 

^ne. Good, good, my lord ; the secrets of 

Have not more gift in taciturnity. [nature 

[Exeunt Troilus and ^neas. 

Pan. Is't possible? no sooner got, but lost? 
The devil take Antenor ! the young prince will 
go mad. A plague upon Antenor, I would 
they had broke's neck ! 

Enter Cressida. 

Cres. How now? What is the matter? Who 

Pan. Ah, ah ! [was here? 

Cres. Why sigh you so profoundly ? w here's 
my lord g^one ? 
Tell me, sweet uncle, what's the matter? 

Pa7u 'Would 1 were as deep under the earth 
as I am above ! 

Cres. O the gods ! — what's the matter ? 

Pan. Pr'ythee, get thee inj 'Would thou 
had'st ne'er been born ! I knew thou wouldst 
be his death : — O poor gentleman ! — A plague 
upon Antenor ! 

Cres. Good uncle, I beseech you on my 
knees, I beseech you, what's the matter? 

Pan. Thou must be gone, wench, thou must 
be gone ; thou art changed for Antenor : thoa 
must to thy father, and begone from Troilus ; 
'twill be his death ; 'twill be his bane ; he can- 
not bear it. 

Cres. O you immortal gods ! — I will not go. 

Pan. Thou must. [father ; 

Cres. I will not, uncle : I have forgot my 
I know no touch If of consanguinity ; 
No kin, no love, no blood, no soul so near me. 
As the sweet Troilus.— O you gods divine! 
Make Cressid's name the very crown of false 
hood, [death 

If ever she leave Troilus ! Thne, force, and 
Do to this body what extremes >ou can ; 
But the strong' base and building of my love 
Is as the very centre of the earth. 
Drawing all things to it. — I'll go in, and weep ; 

Pan. Do, do. 

Cres. Tear my bright hair, and scratch mv 
praised cheeks. 



* L«"Wd, noisy. + To do is here used in a wanton sense. % Tf" betide- 

1 Italian acrd tor poor fool I | Hat^ty. ^I Sen^e or feeling ui i elaiioJislnp. 



JL^_ 



706 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV 



Crack my clear voice with sobs, and break my 

heart [Troy. 

With sounding Troilas. I will not go fi om 

[E3:eunt, 
SCENE 111. The same. Before Pandarus' 

House* 
Enter Paris, Troilus, i^wEAS, Dripho- 
Bus, Antenor, and Diomedes. 
Par. It is great morning ; and the hour pre- 
Of her delivery to this valiant Greek [fix'd 
Comes fa^t npon : — Good my brother Troilns, 
Tell you the lady what she is to do. 
And haste her to the purpose. 

T'ro. Walk in to her house ; 

I'll bring her to the Grecian presently ; 
And to his hand when I deliver her. 
Think it an altar ; and thy brother Troihis 
A priest, there offering to it his own heart. 

{Exit, 
Par. I know what 'tis to love ? 
And would, as I shall pity, I could help ! — 
Please you, walk in, my lords. {Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. The same. A Room in Pan- 
darus* House. 
Enter Pandarus and Cressida. 

Pan. Be moderate, be moderate. 

Cres. Why tell you me of moderation? 
The grief is fine, full, perfect, that I taste. 
And violenteth in a sense as strong [it ? 

As that which causeth it : How can I moderate 
If I could temporize with my affection. 
Or brew it to a weak and colder palate, 
The like allayment could I give my grief : 
Aly love admits no qualifying dross : 
No more my grief, in such a precious los.s. 
Enter Troilus. 

Pan. Here, here, here he comes.— Ah sweet 
ducks ! 

Cres. O Troilus ! Troilus ! [Emhracing him. 

Pan. What a pair of spectacles is here ! 
Let me embrace too : O heart, — as the goodly 
saying is, 

O heart, O heaiy heart. 

Why sigh* St thou wit /tout breaking? 
where he answers again. 

Because thou canst not ease thy smart. 
By friendship , nor by speaking. 
There never was a truer rhyme. Let us cast 
away nothing, for we may live to have need of 
such a verse ; we see it, we see it. — How now, 
lambs? [purity, 

Tro. Crossid, I love thee in so strain'd a 
That the blest gods — as angry with my fancy, 
More bright in ze.d than the devotion which 
Cold lips blow to their deities, — take thee from 

Cres. Have the gods envy ? [me. 

Pan. Ay, ay, ay, ay ; 'tis too plain a case. 

Cres. And is it true, that I must go from 

'^ro. A hateful truth. [Troy ? 

r^res. What, and from Troilus loo ? 

Tro, From Troy, and Troilus. 

Cres. Is it possible? 

Tro. And suddenly ; where \¥.]nry of chance 
Pots back leave-taking, justles roughly by 



All time of pause, rudely beguiles our lips 
Of all rejoindure, forcibly prevents , 

Our lock'd embrasures, strangles our dear vows 
ICvr.n in the birth of our own labourioi; breath : , 
We two, that with so many thousand sighs 
Did buy each other, must poorly sell ourselves 
With the rude brevity and discharge of one. 
Injurious time now, with a robber's haste. 
Crams his rich thievery up, he know s not how : 
As many farewells as be stars in heaven. 
With distinct breath and consign'd * kisses to 
He fumbles up into a loose adieu ; [them. 

And scants us with a single fan\ish*d kiss, | 

Distasted with the salt of broken + tears. 

^ne. [Within.] My lord ! is the lady ready t 

Tro. Hark 1 you are call'd : Som« say lb 
Genius so 
Cries, Come! to him that instantly must ri:e. — 
Bid them have patience ; she shall come anon. 

Pan. Where are my tears? rain, to lay thia 

wind, or my heart will be blown np by the r )otI 

[Exit Pandarus. 

Cres. I must then to the Greeks ? 

Tro* No remedy. 

Cres. A woeful Cressld 'mongst the merry 
Wlien shall we see again ? [Greeks 1 

Tro. Hear me, my love : Be thou but true 
of heart, [deem % is this % 

Cres. I true! how now? what wicked 

Tro. Nay, we must use expostulation kindly. 
For it is parting from us : 
I speak not, be thcu true, as fearing thee; 
For I will throw my glove to death himself, 
That there's no maculation§ in thy heart : 
But be thou true, say I, to fashion in 
My sequent II protestation; be thou true. 
And I will fee thee. [dangers 

Cres. 0,you shall be exposed, my lord, to 
As infinite as imminent! but, Pll be true. 

Tro. And I'll grow friend with danger. 
Wear this sleeve. [yon? 

Cres. And you this glove. When shall I see 

Tro. I will corrupt the Grecian sentinels. 
To give thee nightly visitation. 
But yet, be true / 

Cres. O heavens! — he true again? 

Tro. Hear why I speak it, love ; 
The Grecian youths are full of quality 1^; 
They're loving, well composed, with gifts o' 

nature flowing, 
And swelling o'er with arts and exercise; 
How novelty may move, and parts witli person 
Alas, a kind of godly jealousy 
(Which, I beseech yon, call a virtuous sin) 
Makes me afeard. 

Cres. O heavens! you love me not 

Tro. Die I a villain, then I 
In this I do not call your faith in question. 
So mainly as my merit : I cannot sing. 
Nor heel the high lavolt**, nor sweeten talk. 
Nor play at subtle games: fair virtues all, 
To which the Grecians are most prompt fine 

pregnant: 
But I can tell, that in each grace of these' 
There lurks a still and dumb-discoursive (levi\ 



.Sealed. 1 Interrupted. t Surmise. $ Spot. 

^i Highly accomplished. ♦♦ A dance. 



II Following. 



..cene IV.] 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 



707 



That tempts most cunningly: but be not 

Ores. Do you think I will? [tempted. 

Tro. No. 
But something may be done that we will not : 
And sometimes we are devils to ourselve?. 
When we will tempt the frailty of our powers, 
Presuming on their changeful potency. 

^Sne. [IVithvi.] Nay, my good lord, 

Tro, Come, kiss ; and let us part. 

Par. [Within.] Brother Troilus! 

7'ro. Good brother, come you hither ; 

And bring ^neas, and tiie Grecian, with you. 

('res. My lord, will you be true? 

Tro. Who I? alas, it is my vice, my fault: 
While others lish with craft for great opinion, 
I with great truth catch mere simplicity; 
W^hiist some ^^ith cunning gild their copper 

crowns, 
With truth and plainness I do wear mine bare. 
Fear not niy truth; ti:e moral of my wit 
Is — plain and true, — there's all the reach of it. 

Enter JEsEAS, Paris, Antenor, Dei- 
PHOBus, and Diomedes. 
Welcome, sir Uiomed! here is the lady, 
W^hich for Antenor we deliver you. 
At the port *, lord, Pll give her to ihy hand ; 
And, by the way, possess t thee what she is. 
Entreat her fair; and, by my soul, fair Greek, 
If e'er thou stand at mercy of my sword. 
Name Cressid, and thy life shall be as safe 
As Priam is in Ilion. 

Dio. Fair lady Cressid, [pects ; 

So please you, save the thanks this prince ex- 
The lustre in your eye, heaven in your cheek. 
Pleads your fair usage; and to Diomed 
You shall be mistrejs, and command him 
wholly. [ously, 

Tro. Grecian, thou dost not use me courie- 
To shame the zeal of my petition to thee, 
In praising: her : I tell thee, lord of Greece, 
She is at far high-soaring o'er thy praises, 
As thou unworthy to be call'd her servant. 
Icharg^e thee, use her well, even for my charge; 
For, by the dreadful Pluto, if thou dost not. 
Though the great bulk Achilles be thy guard, 
I'll cut thy throat. 

Vio. O, be not moved, prince Troilus : 

Let me be privileged by my place, and message, 
I'o be a speaker free ; when I am hence, 
I U answer to my lust j: And know you, lord, 
I II nothing do on charge : To her own worth 
Siie shall be prized ; but that you say — be't so, 
I'll speak it in my spirit and honour, — no. 

Tro. Come, to the port.— I'll tell thee, Dio- 
med, [head. — 
This brave shall oft make thee to hide thy 
Lady, give me your hand; and, as we walk. 
To our own selves bend we our needful talk. 
[Exeujit Troilus, Cressiua, aiid 
DiOMEu. [Trumpet heard. 

Par. Hark! Hector's trumpet. 

^ne. How have we spent this morning ! 
The prince must think me tardy and remiss, 
'"'hat swore to ride before him to the field. 

Par. *Tis Troilus^ fault : Come come, to field 
with hira. 



Dei. Let us make ready straight. [ty , 

JElne. Yea, with a bridegroom'? fresh alacri- 
Let us address to tend on Hector's heels : 
The glory of our Troy doth this day lie 
On his fair worth and single chivalry. 

SCENE V. 7%£,' Grecian Camy. Lists set out. 
Enter AsAX armed; Agamemnon, Achil 

LEs, Patroclus, Menelaus, Ulysses, 

Nestor, and Others. 

Agam. Here ait thou in appointment § fresb 
and fair, 
Anticipating time with starting courag.e. 
Give with thy trumpet a loud note to Troy, 
Thou dreadful Ajax; that the appalled air 
May pierce the head of the great combatant. 
And hale him hither. 

Ajax. Thou trumpet, there's my purse. 

Now crack thy lungs, and split thy brazen pipe ; 
Blow, villain, till thy sphered bias cht^ek 
Out-swell the colic of putf 'd Aquilon : [blood ; 
Come, stretch thy chest, and let thy eyes spout 
Thou blow'st for Hector. [Trumpet sounds. 

Ulyss. Mo trumpet answers. 

Achil. 'Tis but early days. 

Agam. Is not yon Diomed, with Calchas* 
daughter? 

Ulyss. Tis he, I ken the manner of his gait 
He rises on the toe : that spirit of his 
la aspiration lifts him from the earth. 
Enter Diomed, with Cressiua. 

Agam. Is this the lady Cressid? 

Dio. Even she. 

Agam. Most dearly welcome to the Greeks, 
sweet lady. [kiss. 

Nest. Our general doth salute you with a 

Ulyss. Yet is the kindness but particular ; 
'Twere better she were kiss'd in general. 

Nest. And very courtly counsel: I'll begin. 
So much for Nestor. [fair lady : 

Achil. Pll take that winter from your lips, 
Achilles bids you welcome. 

Men. I had good argument for kissing once. 

Pair. But that's no argument for kissing 
For thus popp'd Paris in his hardiment ; [now : 
And parted thus you and your argument. 

Ulyss. O deadly gall, and theme of all our 
scorns! 
For which we lose our hea<ls, to gild his horns. 

Patr. the first was Menelaus' kiss;— this, 
Patroclus kisses you. [mine : 

AJe7i. O, this is trim! 

Patr. Paris, and I, kiss evermore for hiui. 

Men. I'll have my kiss, sir : — Lady, by your 
leave. 

Cres. In kissing, do you render, or receive? 

Patr. Both take, and give. 

Cres. I'll make my match to live, 

The kiss you take is belter than you give ; 
Therefore no kiss. [for one. 

M€7i. I'll give yon boot, Pll give you three 

Cres. You're an odd man; give even, or 
give none. 

McQi. An odd man, lady ? every man is odd. 

Cre.s* No, Paris is not; for, you know, 'lis 
That you are odd, and he is even with you. [true. 



Gate. 



■\ Inform. 



I rieaaure, wm. 



Preparation. 



708 



SHAKSPEARK. 



[Act IV 



Men. You fillip nie o' the head. 

Cres. No, I'll be sworn. 

XJl fss. It were no match, your nail against 
Ma> I, swei I lady, btg a kiss of you? [his horn. 

('re . You may. 

(jly.ssm I do desire it. 

Cre.s, Why, be^ then 

Llyss. Why then, for Venus' sake, give.me 
When Helen is a niaid again, and his. [a kise, 

Crea. 1 am your debtor, claim it when 'tis 
due. [yoU" 

Ulyss. Never's my day, and then a kiss of 

Dio. Lady, a word; — I'll bring you to your 
father. \Yi\oyiEVi leatis out Cressida. 

Nest. A woman of quick sense. 

Ulyss. Fie, fie upon her! 

There's hnijiiage in her eye, her cheek, her lip. 
Nay, her fom speaks; her wanton spirits look 
At "Very joint and motive * of her body, [out 
O, these etuouiitereis, so glib of tougue, 
J hai give a coasting welcome ere it comes. 
And wide nniUsp the tahlt^s of their tnoaghts 
To every ticklish reader! set them dovvu 
Tor sluttish spoils of opportunitj , 
And daughters of the game. [Trumpet within. 

ALL The Trojans* trumpet. 

Again. Yonder comes the troop. 

Enter Hector, arniKi ; ^^nkas, Troilus, 
and other Trojans, iritli Attendants. 

jEne. Hail, all the state of Greece! what 
shall be done [purpose 

To him that victory commands? Or do you 
A victor shall beknovvn? will yon, the knights 
Shall to the edge of all extremity 
Puisne each otlier. or shall they be divided 
By any voice or order of the field? 
Hector bade ask. 

Agam. Which way would Hector have it? 

jEne. Ho cares not, he'll obey conditions. 

Achil. 'i is done like Hector ; but securely 
done, 
A little proudly, and great deal misprizing 
The knight opposed. 

JEiit. If not Achilles, sir. 

What is your name? 

Achil. If not Achilles, nothing. 

jlSne. Therefore Achilles : But, whate'er, 
know this, — 
In the extremity of great and little, 
Valour and pri :e excel themselves in Hector; 
Tiie one almost as infinite as all. 
The other blank as nothing. Weigh him well, 
And that which looks like pride is courtesy. 
This Ajax is half made of Hector's blood: 
In love whereof, half Hector stays at home ; 
Half heart, half liand, half Hector comes to 
seek [Greek. 

This blended knight, half Trojan, ana half 

Achil. A maiden battle thenl — (), I perceive 
you. 

Re-enter Diomed. 

Agam. Here is sir biomed : — Go, gentle 
knight. 
Stand by our Ajax: as you and lord iEneat 



Consent upon the order of their tight. 
So be it; either to the uttermost, 
Or else a breath t; the combatants being kin. 
Half stints j their strife befoie their strokes 
beuin. 
[Ajax <tnd Hector enter the lists. 

Ulyss. They are opposed already. 

Agam. What Trojan is that same tha-f looks 
so heavy? [kmghl ; 

Ulyss. The youngest son of Priam, a true 
Not yet mature, yet matchless ; firm of word ; 
S peaking in deeds, and deedless 5; in his tongue ; 
Not soon provoked, nor, being provoked, soou 

calm'd : 
His heart and hand both open, and both free , 
For what he has he gives, what tiuuks he 

shews; 
Yet uives he not till judgment guide his lounty. 
Nor <lignifie& an impair li thought with breath; 
Manly as Hector, but more daugeious; 
For Heetor, in his blaze of wrath, subscri'bes^ 
To lender objects , but he, in heat or action. 
Is more vindicative than jeaU^us love : 
They call him Troilus; and on him erect 
A second hope, as fairly l)uiit as Hector. 
Thus says ^neas ; one that knout the youth 
Even to liis inches, and, willi private soul, 
Did in great llion thus translate** him lo me. 
[Alarum. Hei tor artd Aiss. flight, 

Agam. They are in action. 

Nest, Now, Ajax, hold ihine own ! 

Tro. Hecto.r, tUou sleep'st ; 

Awake thee. [Ajax I 

Agam. His blows are well disposed :— there, 

Dio. You must no more. [7'r«////'< t^ cease* 

jEne. Princes, enough, so please you. 

Ajax. I am not warm yet, let U3 fight again 

Dio. As Hector pleases. 

Hect, Why, then, will I no more :— 

Thou art, great lord, my father's sister's son, 
A consin-german to great Priam's seed : 
The obligation of our blood forbids 
A gory tt emulation 'twixt us twain : 
Were thy com mixtion Greek and Trojan so. 
That thou couldst say — Tliis hand is Gre 

cian all. 
And this is Trojan; the smews of this leg 
All Greek, and this all Troy ; my mother's 
blood [ter j$ 

Runs 071 the dexter tl cheek, and this sinis- 
BoundS'ln my father's ; by Jovemu!tJpolent, 
Thou shouldst not bear from mo a GreekisU 

member 
Wherein my sword had not impressure m de 
Of our rank feud : But the just gods gainsay 
That any drop thou borrow'st from thy mother, 
My sacred aunt, should by my mortal sword 
Be drain'd ! Let me embrace thee, Ajax : 
By him that thunders, thou hast lusty arms ; 
Hector would have them fall upon hiin thus: 
Cousin, all honour to thee I 

jijax. 1 thank thee. Hector: 

Thou art too gentle, and too free a man ; 
1 came to kill thee, cousin, and bear heuc€ 



• Motion. t Breathing, exercise t Stops. ^ No boaster. 

Unsuitable to his character. If fields, ?iv»'8 way. •* Expiaif lua ciiai 

n Bloody +: Right. j) Leli. 



^ceiw r.] 



TROILUS A]\D CRESSIDA. 



709 



A great addition* earned in thy de ith. 

Htct. Not Neoptoieuiusfso nurable [Oyes 
(On whose bright crest Fame M'ith her loud'st 
Cries, Tais is he,) could promise to himself 
A thought of added honour torn from Hector. 

JE?ie. There is expectance here fiom both 
^Vhat further you will do. [the sides, 

Hect, We'll answer it ; 

The issue is erabracement : — Ajax, faiewell. 

AJax. If I might in entreaties tind success, 
(As seld J I have the chance,) 1 would desire 
My famous cousin to our Grecian tents. 

Dio. 'Tis Agamemnon's wish : and great 
Achilles 
Doth long to see unarm'd the valiant Hector. 

Hect. yEiieas, call my brother Troilus to 
And signify this loving interview [me : 

To the expecters of our Trojan part ; [cousin; 
Desire them home, — (^ive me thy hand, my 
I will go eat with thee, and see j'our knights. 

AJax. Great Agamemnon comes to meet us 
here. [by name ; 

Hect. The worthiest of them tell me name 
But for Achilles, my own searching eyes 
Shall find him by his large and portly size. 

Agam. Worthy of arms ! as v»eicoiiie as to 
That would be rid of such an enemy ; [oue 
But that's no welcome : Understand niore 
clear, [wiih husks 

What's past, and what's to come, is strew'd 
And formless ruin of oblivion ; 
but in this extant moment, laith and troth, 
Stiain'd purely from all holiow bias-drawing. 
Bids thee, with most divine integrity, 
Vi'oiu heart of very heart, great Hector, wel- 
come, [meranon. 

Hect. I thank thee, most imperious $ Aga- 

Agam. My well-famed lord of Troy, no less 
to you. [7'oiRoiLUS. 

^len. Let me confirm my princely brother's 
greeting : — 
You brace of warlike brothers, welcome hi- 

Hect. Whom must we answer ? [ther. 

Men. The noble Menelaus. 

Hect. O you, my lord? by Mars his gaunt- 
let, thanks! 
Mock not, that i affect the untraded|| oath ; 
Your quondam^ wife swears still by Venus' 
giove : [t.) you. 

She's well, but bade me not commend her 

Men. Name her not now, sir ; she s a deadly 
theme. 

Hect. O pardon ; I offend. [oft. 

Nest. 1 have, thou gallant 'JVojau, seen thee 
Labouring for destiny, make cruel way 
Through ranks of Greekish youth : and I have 

seen thee. 
As hot as Perseus, spur thy Phrygian steed. 
Despising many forteilB and subduements, 
When thou hast hung thy advanced sword 

i' the air, 
Kot leiting it decline on the declined** ; 
Tliat Lhave said to some my standers-by, 
Ao, Juyi'er is yonder, dealing life! 
And I have seen thee pause,aud take thy breath, 



Title. 



+ Achilles. 
M Heretofore. 



j Seldom. 
*• Fallen. 



When that a ring of Greeks have hemm'd thee 

in. 
Like an Olympian wrestling : This have I seen; 
But this thy countenance, still lock'd rn steel, 
I never saw till now. 1 knew thy grandsireff. 
And once fought with him: he was a soldier 

good ; 
^ot, by great Mars, the captain of us all. 
Never like thee : Let an old man embrace thee; 
And, worthy warrior, welcome to our tents. 

jEne. 'Tis the old Nestor. 

Hect. Let me embrace thee, good old chro- 
nicle, [time : — 
That hast so long walk'd hand in hand with 
Most reverend Nestor, I am glad to clasp thee. 

Nest. 1 would, ray arms could match thee 
in contention. 
As they contend with thee in courtesy. 

Hect. I would they could. 

Nest. Hal 
By this white beard, I'd fight with thee to* 
morrow. [time — 

Well, welcome, welcome! I have seen the 

Ulyss. I wonder now how yonder city stands. 
When we have here her base and pillar by us. 

Hect. I know your favour, lord Llysse* well. 
Ah, sir, there's many a Greek and J rojandead, 
Since first I saw yourself and Uiomed 
In Uion, on your Greekish embassy, [ensue: 

Ulyss. Sir, I foretold you then what would 
My prophecy is but half his journey yet; 
i'or yonder walls, that perUy front your town. 
Yon towers, whose wanton tops uo buss the 
Must kiss their own feet. [clouds, 

Hect. I mast not believe you : 

There they stand yet ; and modestly 1 think. 
The fall of every Phrygian stone will cost 
A drop of Grecian blood : The end crowns all ; 
And that old cominon arbitrator, time. 
Will one day end it. 

Ulyss. So to him we leave it. 

Most tentle, and most valiant Hector, wei- 
After the general, I beseech you next [come : 
To feast with me, and see me at my tent. 

Achil. I shall forestall thee, lord Ulysses, 
thou! — 
Now, Hector, I have fed mine e} es on thee ; 
i have with exact view perused thee, Hector, 
Aad quoted;; joint by joint. 

Hect. Is this Achilles ? 

Aciiil. I am Achilles. 

Hect. Stand fair, I pray thee : let me look 

Achll. Behold thy fill. [on thee. 

Hect. ^ay, 1 have done already. 

Achil. Thou art too brief; I will the second 
time, 
As I would buy thee, view thee limb by lirab. 

Hect. O, like a book of sport thou'it read 
me o'er ; 
But there's more in me than thou understand'st. 
Why dost thou so oppress me with thine eye ? 

Actul. Tell me, you heavens, in which part 
of his body [there? 

Shall 1 destroy him? whether there, there, or 
That I may give the local wound a name; 

^ Imperial. || Singular, not commoa. 

ft Laomedon. Xl ObserVfd. 

3 P 



710 



SilAKSPKARfi. 



[Act V 



-And lufike distinct the very breach whereotit 
He> toi's iire^t spirit flew: Answer me, ht-a- 
^Pi»>J [proud man. 

Hut. It would discredit the blos'd gods, 
T.. dus-Mi siuh a qiitstion : Stand again : 
TiiinkSi ilM.ii to iMiih my iite so pkHsanlly, 
\s lo punoiiiinatf* in nice conjecture, 
U lure ihoH wiU hit me dead? 

AcliiL. 1 tell thee, vea. 

hevt. Wert liion an oracle to tell me so, 
I'd n>i bt lit- vv ihee. Henceforth guard thee 

\\ ed . 
hoi I'll n».t kill ihve there, nor there, nor there; 
1 HI h\ llie t«,rsje thai stiihied t Mars his helm, 
I'd kill W.vv e eiy where, >ea, o'er and o'er. — 
You \MSisi (-recnns, par., on me this brag, 
His i solen'-e drav\s tolly tioni my lips; 
Hni I'll en-'ei^vtiur deetis to match these words. 
Or \\\A^ > never 

-IJ 'U. Do not chafe ihee, cousin ; — 

And >of , Achilles, let these threats a. one. 
Till .ic ident or purpose, briiit; ynu to'i : 
^oii in.iy have every day enough of Hector, 
If >«'!. hav, stomach;; the geneVal slate, 1 fear. 
Can scarce entieal you to be odd with him 

Htci. i \)VA\ y».u, let us see > on in the field ; 
>^ e liave had peiting . wars, since > ou refused 
The ^jrecian^* cause. 

Aciiii. Dost thou entreat me, Hector? 

Tomorrow, do 1 meet thee, tell as death; 
Tu-uight, aU friends. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. The Grecian Camp. Before 

Achilles' Ttiit. 

Enter Achilles and Patroclus. 

Achil, I'll he u his blood with Greekish wine 
to-night, 
Which with m> scimitar 1*11 cool to-morrow. — 
Patroclus. let us fea;-t him lo the height. 

Pair. Here comes Thersites. 
J^JntfV Thersi I ES. 

Arhil. How now. thou core of envy ? 

Thou trusty batch of nature, what's the news? 

Titer. V/hy.thon picture of what thou seem- 
est, and idol of idiot-worshippers, here's a let- 
ter for thee. 

Atkil. From whence, fragment? 

Titer. Why, thou fidl dish of fool, from Troy. 

Patr. Wito keep> the tent now I 

Tier. The surgeon's box, or the patient's 
wound. 

Patr. Well said, Adversity** I and what 
need these tncks? 

Tlier. I'r'y thee be silent, boy ; I profit not 
by thy talk: thou art thought to be Achilles' 
male varif'. 

Putr. V!ale varlet, you rogue! what's that? 

Tiier. Why, his masculine whore. Now 
the rotten dise .s«s of the south, the guts-griping, 
ruptures, caiairhs, loads o'gravel i'lhe back, 
leiliargies, cold palsies, raw eyes, dirt-rotten 



livers, wheezing lungs, bladders full of impoa- 
hume, sciaticas, lime-kilns i'the palm, ir.cuf 
able bone-ach, and the rivelled fee-simple of 
the tetter, lake and take again such prepo 
terous discoveries! 

Patr. Why thou damnable box of envy 
thou, what meanest thou to curse thus? 

Tlier. Do 1 curse thee? 

Patr. Why, no, you ruinous butt; yoi 
whoreson indistinguishable cur, no. 

Tner. No? why art thou then exasperate, 
thou idle immaterial skein of sleivett silk, thou 
green sarcenet flap for a sore eye, thou tassel 
of a prodigal's purse, thou? Ah, howthepoor 
world is pestered with such waler-flies; dimi- 
nutives of nature! 

Putr. Out, ealM 

Tlier. Fmch egg! [quite 

Achil. My sweet Patroclus, I am thwarted 
From my ureat purpose in to-morrow's battle. 
Here is a letter from qtieen Hecnha ; 
A token from her d:tiighter, my fair love; 
Both taxing me, and gaging me to keep 
An oath that 1 have sworn. 1 will not break it: 
Fill, Greeks; fail, fame; honour.or iio, or stay. 

My major vow lies here, this I'll obey. 

Come, come, Thersites, lielp to trim my tent. 
This night in banqueting must all be spent. 
Away, Patroclus. 

{Exeujit Achilles and pATROCLtra. 



Meet. Thy hand upon that match. 

Again. Fir.«5t, all you peers of Greece, go lo 
my tent ; 
There in the full convive j] we : afterwards, 
As Hector's leisure and your bounties shall 
Concur together, severally entreat him. — 
Beat loud the tabourinesf , let the trumpets 

blow. 
That this great soldier may his welcome know. 
{Exeunt (ill 62/^1'roilus and Llysses. 

Tro. My lord Ulysses, tell me, I beseech 
you. 
In what place of the field doth Cakhas keep? 

Vlysn. At Menelaus' tent, niost princely i 
Troilns: 1 

1 here Dionied doth feast with him to-night; 
Who neither looks upon the heaven, nor earth. 
But gives all gaze and bent of amorous view 
On the fair Cressid. [much, 

Ti 01. Shall I, sweet lord, be bound to you so 
After we part from Agamemnon's tent. 
To bring me thither? 

6/7yAv. You shall command me, sir. 

As gentle tell me, of what honour was 
This Cressida in Troy ? Had the no lover there 
That wails her absence? [scars, 

Tru. O, sir, to such as boasting show their 
A mock is due. Will you walk on, my lord? 
She was beloved, she loved ; she is, and doth: 
But still, sweet love is food for fortune's tootlu 

{Exeunt m 



• Forenam**. + Stithy, is a imith's shop. t Inclination. $ Petty. |! Feast* 

S Small dronfM. •• Contrariety. tf Coarse, utT*ronght 



Itcene I._ 



TROILUS AND CRESSID4. 



711 



T/ier. With too much blood, and too little 
bruin, these two may run mad ; but if with too 
much brain, and too little blood, they do, I'll 
be a curer of madmen. Here's Agamemnon, — 
an honest fellow enough, and one that loves 
quails* ; but he has not so much brain as ear- 
wax : And the goodly transformation of Jupiter 
there, his brother, the bull, — the primitive sta- 
tut>, and oblique memorial of cuckolds t; a 
thrifty shoeing-horn in a chain, hanging at his 
brother's leg, — to what form, but that he is, 
should wit larded with malice, and malice 
forced t with wit, turn him to? To an ass, were 
nothing : he is both ass and ox : to an ox were 
nothing ; he is both ox and ass. To be a dog, a 
mule, a cat, a fitchew^, a toad, a lizard, an 
owl, a puttock, or a herring without a roe, I 
would not care : but to be Menelaus, — I would 
conspire against destiny. Ask me not what I 
would be, if I were not Thersites ; for I care 
not to be the louse of a lazar|l, so 1 w^ere not 
Menelaus. — Hey-day ! spirits and fires ! 
iCiiter Hector, Troilus, Ajax, Agamem- 
non, Ulysses, Nestor, Menelaus, and 

DioMED, icith Lights. 

Agum. We go wrong, we go wrong. 

Ajax. No, yonder 'tis ; 

There, where we see the lights. 

Hect. 1 trouble you. 

Ajax. No, not a whit. 

VLijss. Here conies himself to guide you. 
Enter Achillas. 

Achil. Welcome, brave Hector ; welcome, 
princes ail. [good night. 

Agam, So now, fair prince of Troy, I bid 
Ajax commands the guard to tend on you. 

Hfct. Thanks, and good night, to the Greeks' 

Men. Good night, my lord. [general. 

Hect. Good night, sweet Menelaus. 

Taer. Sweet draughtlT: Sweet, quoth 'a! 
sweet sink, sweet sewer. 

Achi . Good night, 
And welcome, both to those that go, or tarry. 

Again. Good night. 

[Exeunt Agamemnon and Menelaus. 

Ach'l. Old Nestor tarries ; and you too, Dio- 
Keep Hector company an hour or two. [med, 

Dio. I cannot, lord ; I have important busi- 
ness, [Hector. 
The tide whereof is now. — Good night, great 

Hect. Give m« your hand. 

Ulyss. Follow his torch, he goes 

To Calchas' tent; I'll keep you company. 

[Aside to Troilus. 

Tro. Sweet sir, you honour me. 

Hect. And so good night. 

{Exit DiOMED ; Ulysses and Troilus 
folloiving. 

Achil. Come, come, enter my tent. 

[Exeunt Achilles, Hector, Ajajc, and 
Nestor. 

Ther. That same Diomed's a false-hearted 
rogue, a most unjust knave ; 1 will no more 
trust him when he leers, than I will a serpent 
when he hisses : he will spend his mouth, and 



promise, like Brablerlhe hound ; but when he 
performs, astronomers foretell it ; it is prodi- 
gious**, there will come some change ; thesnn 
borrows of the moon, wh^n Diomed keeps his 
word, I will rather leave to see Hector, than 
not to dog him : they say, he keeps a Trojan 
drab, and uses the traitor Calchas' tent : I'll 
after. — Nothing but lechery I all incontinent 
varlets! [Exit, 

SCENE II. Tliesame. Before Csi\ch as* Tent. 
Enter Diomedes. 

Hio. What are you up here, ho? speak. 

CaL [TVithin.] Who calls ? 

Dio, Diomed. — Calchas, I think. — Where's 
your daughter? 

Cat. Within.] She corres to you. 
S//?erTROiLUsa/ia?ULYssEs,a^ a distance; 
after ^/<ew Thersites. 

Ulyss. Stand where the torch may not dis- 
cover us. 

Enter Cressida. 

Tro. Cressid come forth to him ! 

Dio. How now, my charge? 

Cres. Now, my sweet guardian ! — Hark ! a 
word with yon. [Whispers. 

Tro. Yea, so familiar ! 

Ulyss. She will sing any man at first sicjht. 

Ther. And any man may sing her, if he can 
take her cliff H; she's noted. 

Dio. Will you remember? 

Cres. Remember? yes. 

Dio. Nay, but do then ; 

And let your mind be coupled with your words. 

Tro. What should she remember? 

Uliiss. List! [more to folly. 

Cres. Sweet honey Greek, tempt me no 

Ther. Roguery I 

.Dio. Nay, then. — 

Cres. I'll tell you what : 

JDio. Pho ! pho ! come, tell a piu : You are 
forsv/orn. — I have me dv? 

Cres. In faith, I cannot: What would you 

Ther. A juggling trick, to be — secret I3 open. 

Dio. What did you swear you would bestow 
on me? [oath ; 

Cres. I pr'ythee, do not hold me to mine 
Bid me do any thing but that, sweet Greek. 

Dio. Good night. 

Tro. Hold, patience! 

Ulyss. How now, Trojan ? 

Cres. Diomed, 

Dio. No, no, good night : I'll be your fool 

Tro. Thy better must. [no more. 

Cres. Hark ! one word in your ear, 

Tro. pbgue and madness ! 

Ulyss. You are moved, prince ; let us de- 
part, I pray you. 
Lest your displeasure should enlarge itself 
To wrathful terms : this place is dauL'erous ; 
The time light deadly; 1 beseech yon, go. 

Tro. Behold, I pray you ! 

Ulyss. Now, good my lord, go off: 

You flow to great destruction ; come, my lord. 

Tro. I pr'ythee, stay. 

Ulyss. You have not patience ; come. 



♦ Harlots. 



t Menelaus. 
% Privy. 



X StnfTcd. ^ Polecat. H A diseased beggar, 

•• Portentous ominous. ft Kev. 



712 



SHAKSPEARE. 



,A V, 



Tro. I pray you, stay ; by hell, and all hell's 
I will not speak a word. [torments, 

J}to, And so, good night. 

(res. Nay, but you part in anger. 
Tro. I>oth that grieve thee ? 

witherM truth ! 

Ul,^ss. Why, how now, lord ? - 

Tro. By Jove, 

1 will be patient. 

Cres. Guardia-n! — why, Greek! 

Z>lo. Pho, pho I adieu ; you palter*. 

Ores. In faith, I do not; come hither once 
again. fwill you ^ol 

Ulp'^s. You shake, my lord, at something; 
Yon will break out. 

Tro. She strokes his cheek ! 

Ulys.s. Come, come. 

Tro. Nay, stay ; by Jove, 1 will not speak 
a vvord : 
There is between my will and all offences 
A guard of patience : — stay a little while. 

Tiier. How the devil luxury, with his fat 
rump, and potaloe finger, tickles these loge- 
tlier! Fry, lechery, fry ! 

Dio. But will you then? [else. 

Cres. In faith, I will, la; never trust me 

Dlo. Cive me some token for the surety of it. 

Cres. I'll fetch you one. [^Exit. 

XJlijSS. You have sworn patience. 

Tro. Fear n)e not, my lord ; 

T will not be myself, nor have cogniiiont 
Of what 1 feel ; 1 am all patience. 
He-enter Cressida. 

Ther. Now the pledge; now, now, now! 

Cres. Here, Diomed, keep this sleeve, 

Tro. O beauty ! where's thy faith % 

Ulyss. My lord, 

Tro. I will be patient; outwardly I will. 

Cres. You look upon that sleeve ; i3eho'.d it 

well. — [again. 

He loved me— O false wench !— Giv't me 

Dio. Who was't? 

Cres. No matter, now 1 hav't again. 
I will not me<t with you to-morrow night: 
1 pr'yliiee, Diomed, visit me no more. 

Ther. Now she sharpens ; — Well said, whet- 

Dio. I shall have it. [stone. 

Cres. What this? 

Dio. Ay that. 

Cre^-, O, all you Gods I — O pretty pretty 
J, ledge ! 
Thy master now lies thinking in his bed 
Of thee, and me; and siglis, and takes my 
And gives memorial dninty kisses to it, [glove. 
As I kiss iliee.— Nay, do not snatch it from me ; 
He that t. ikes that nuist take my heart w iihal. 

J)io. I had your heart before, this follows it. 

Tro. 1 (lid swear pati-nce. [you shall not; 

Crrs. You shall n(»t have it,l>iomcd ; 'faith 
Pll give you something else. 

Dio. 1 will have this ; Whose was it? 

Cres. 'lis no matter. 

Dio, Come, tell me who«e it was. [you will. 

Cres. 'TwHs one's that loved me belter than 
But, now you have i(, take it. 



Dio. Whose was it t 

Cres, By all Diana's waiting-women yon- 
And by heiself, I will not tell you whose, [derj 

Dio. To-morrow will I wear it on my helm; 
And grieve his spirit that dares not challenge it. 

Tro. Wert thou the devil, and wor'st it on 
It should be challenged. [thy horn, 

Cres. Well, well, 'tis done, 'tis past,- -And 
I will not keep my word. [yet it is not ; 

Dio. Why then, farewell ; 

Thou never shalt mock Diomed again. 

Cres, You shall not go : — One cannot sppak 
But it straight starts you. [a word, 

Dio. 1 do not like this fooling. 

Ther. Nor I, by Pluto : but that that like* 
not you, pleases me best. 

Dio. What, shall I come? the hour? 

Cres. Ay, come : — O Jove! — 

Do come : — I shall be plagued. 

Dio. Farewell till then. 

Cres. Good night. I pr'ythee, come. — 

\_Exit DiOMEDES. 

Troilus, farewell ! one eye yet looks on thee ; 
But with my heart the other eye doth see. 
Ah ! poor our sex ! this fault in us I find. 
The error of our eye directs our mind : 
What error leads, must err ; O then conclude, 
Minds, sway'd by eyes, are full of turpitude. 
{Exit Cressida. 

Ther. A proof of strength she could riot 

publish more, [whore. 

Unless she said, My mind is now turn'd 

Ulyss. All's done, my lord. 

7Yo. It is. 

Ulyss. Why stay we then ? 

Tro. To make a recordation § to my soul 
Of every syllable that here was spoke. 
But, if I tell how^ these two did co-act 
Shall I not lie in publishing a truth ? 
Si h II yet there is a credence II in my heart. 
An esperance** so obstinately strong, 
That doth invert the attest ft of eyes and ears ; 
As if those org ins had deceptions functions. 
Created only to calumniate. 
Was Cressid here? 

Ulyss. I cannot conjure, Trojan. 

Tro. She was not sure. 

Ulyss. Most sure she was. 

Tro. Why, my negation jj hath no taste o. 
madness. [but now. 

Ulyss. Nor mine, my lord : Cressid was here 

Tro. Let it not be believed for womanhood^^i 
Think, we had mothers . do rot give advantage 
To stubborn critics ||1| — apt, without a theme. 
For deprivation,— to square the general sex 
ByCressid'srule: rather think this not Cressid. 

Ulyss. What hath she done, prince,that can 
soil our mothers? [she. 

Tro. Nothing at all, unless that this were 

77it r. Will he swagger himself out on's own 
eves? [sida: 

Tro. This she? no, this is Diomed's Cres- 
If beauty have a soid, this is not she ; 
iCsoids iiuide vows, if vows t)e sanctimony, 
I f sanctimony be the gods'-lelight. 



Shuffle. i Knowledge. + The stars. <S lie tp, em bra nee. fl Since. ^ Belief 
••Hope. tt IcsiiniODN. J; Denial. 55 For the sake of. jUJ Cynics. 



^cene IL] 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 



713 



|[ If there be rule ill unity itself. 
I This was not she. O madness of discourse, 
\\ That cause sets up with and against itself ! 
Ij Bi-fold authority ! where reason can revolt 
!| Without perdition, and loss assume all i eason 
"Without revolt ; this is, and is not, Cressirt 1 
j Within my soul there doth commence a fight 
I Of this stran;^e nature, that a thing inseparate 
' Divides more wider than the sky and earth ; 
And yet the spacio'is breadth of this division 
Admits no orifice for a point, as subtle 
As is Ara'.hne*s broken woof, to enter. 
Instance.O instance! strong as Pluto's gates; 
Cressid is mine, tied with the bonds of heaven : 
Instance, () instance ! strong as heaven itself; 
The bonds of heaven are slipp'd, dissolved, 

and loosed ; 
And with another knot, five-finger-tied, 
, The fractions of her faith, orts of her love. 
The fragments, scraps, the bits, and greasy re- 

liques 
Of her o'er-eaten faith, are bound to Diomed. 

Ulyss. May worthjTroilus be half attached 
With that which here his passion doth express? 
Tro. Ay, Greek ; and that shall be divulged 
In characters as red as Mars his heart [well 
Inflamed with Venus: never did young man 
With so eternal and so fixed a soul, [fancy* 
Hark, Greek ; — As much as I do Cressid love. 
So much by weight hate I her Diomed : 
That sleeve is mine, that he'li bear on his helm; 
Were it a casque f composed by Vulcan's skill, 
My sword should bite it: not the dreadful 
Which shipmen do the hurricano call [spout, 
Constringedj in mass by the almighty sun. 
Shall dizzy with more clamour Neptune's ear 
In his descent, than shall my prompted sword 
Falling on Diomed. 

The}\ He'll tickle it for his concupy §. 
Tro. O Cressid ! O false Cressid ! false, false, 
false ! 
Let all untruths stand by thy stained name. 
And they'll seem glorious. 

Uly^s, O, contain yourself; 

Your passion draws ears hither. 
Enter jEneas. 
JEne. I have been seeking you this hour, my 
Hector, by this, is arming him in Troy ; [lord : 
Ajax, your guard, stays to conduct you home. 
Tro. Have with you, prince : — My courte- 
ous lord, adieu : 
Farewell, revolted fair ! — and, Diomed, 
Stand fast, and wear a castle on thy head! 
Ulyss. I'll bring you to the gates. 
Tro. Accept distracted thanks. 
[Kveuvt 1 ROiLus, tEneas, a«d Ulysses. 
Tfier. 'Would, I could meet that rogue Dio- 
med! I would croak like a raven; I would 
bode, 1 would bode. Patroclus will give me 
any thing for the intelligence of this whore: 
the parrot will not do more for an almond, 
than he for a commodious drab. Lechery, 
IcvJiery ; still, wars and lechery ; nothing else 
holds fashion : A burning devil take them ! 



SCENE III. Troy. Before Priam's Palace, 
Enter Hector and Andromache. 
And. When was my lord so much ungently 
temper'd, 
To stop his ears against admonishment 1 
Unarm, unarm, and do not fight to-day. 

Hect. You train me to offend you ; get you 

By all the everlasting gods, I'll go. [in : 

And. My dreams will, sure, prove ominous 

Hect. No more, I say. [to the day. 

Enter Cassandra. 
Can. Where is my brother Hector ? 

And. Here, sister; armed, and bloody in 
intent : 
Consort with me in loud and dear petition, 
pursue we him on knees; for I have dream'd 
Of bloody turbulence, and this whole night 
Hath nothing been but shapes and forms ot 
Cas. O, it is true. [slaughter. 

Hect. Ho ! bid my trumpet sound * 

Cas. No notes of sally, for the heavens 
sweet brother. [me swear. 

Hect. Begone, I say : the gods have heard 
Cas. The gods are deaf to hot and peevish \ 
vows ; 
They are polluted offerings, more abhorred 
Than spottert livers in the sacrifice. 

And. O ! be persuaded : Do not count it 
To hurt by being just : it is as lawful, [holy 
For we would give much, to use violent thefts. 
And rob in the behalr of charity. 

Cas. It is the purpose that makes strong the 
vow; 
But vows, to every purpose, must not hold : 
Unarm, sweet Hector. 

Hect. Hold you still, I say ; 

Mine honour keeps the weather of my fate : 
Life every man holds dear ; but the dear man 
Holds honour far more precious dear^ than life. 

Enter Troilus. 
How now, young man 1 mean'st thou to fight 
to-day? 
And. Cassandra, call my father to persuade. 
\Exit Cassandra. 
Hect. iS'o, 'faith, young Troilus ; doff** thy 
harness, youth, 
I am to-day i'the vein of chivalry : 
Let grow thy sinev\s till their knots be strong. 
And tempt not yet the brushes of the war. 
Unarm thee, go; and doubt thou not, brave 

boy, 
I'll stand, to-day, for thee, and me, and Troy. 
Tro. Brother, you have a vice of mercy in 
Which better fits a lion, than a man. -[you. 
Hect. What vice is that, good Troilus ? chi< e 
me for it. [cians fall, 

Tro. When many times the captive Gre- 
Even in the fan and wind of your fair sword. 
You bid them rise, and live. 
Hect, O, 'tis fair play. 
Tro. Fool's play, by heaven. Hector. 

Hect. How now \ how now ? 
Tro. For the love of all the rods. 

Let's leave the hermit pity with our mother ; 



Love. 



t Helmet. 



X Compressed. 
% Valuable. 



^ Concupiscence. 
*• Put off. 

3 P 3 



n Foolish. 



714 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r 



And when we have our armours buckled on, 
The venom'd vengeance ride upon our 
swords; [ruiht. 

Spur theni to ruthful * work, rein them from 
Hect, Fie, savage, fie I 
Tro. Hector, then 'lis wars. 

Hect. Troilus, T would not have yoyt^ fight 
Tro. Who should withhold me? [to-day. 
Kot fate, obedience, nor the hand of Mars, 
Beckoning with fiery truncheon my retire ; 
]Vot Friamus and tiecuba on knees. 
Their eyes o'ergalled with recourse of tears ; 
>iorjou, my brother, with your true sword 

drawn, 
Opposed to hinder me, should stop my way. 
But by my ruin. 

Re-enter Cassandra, with Priam. 
Cas. Lay hold upon him, Priam, hold him 
fast: 
He is thy crutch ; now if thou lose thy stay. 
Thou on him leaning, and all Troy on thee. 
Fall all together. 

Pri. Come, Hector, come, go back : 

Thy wife hath dreamed ; thy mother hath had 

visions ; 
Cassandra doth foresee; and I myself 
Am like a prophet suddenly enrapt, 
To tell thee — that this day is ominous : 
Therefn-re, come back. 

Hect. iEneas is a-field ; 

And I do stand engaged to many Greeks, 
Even in the faith of valour, to appear 
This morning to them. 

Pri. But thou shalt not go. 

Hict. I must not break my faith. 
You know me dutiful ; therefore, dear sir. 
Let me not shame respect ; but give me leave 
To take that course by your consent and voice, 
Which you do here forbid me, royal Piiam. 
Cas. O Priam, yield not to him. 
And. Do not, dear father. 

Hect. Andromache, I am offended with you : 
Upon the love you bear me, get you in. 

{Exit Andromache. 

Tro. This foolish, dreaming, superstitious 

Makes all these bodements. [girl 

Cas. O farewell, dear Hector. 

Look, how thou dicst ! look, how thy eye 

turns pale! 
Look,hovt thy wounds do bleed at many vents ! 
Hark, how Troy roars ! how Hecuba criesoiil ! 
How yH)or Andromache shrills her dolours 

forth ! 
Behold, destruction, frenzy, and amazement. 
Like witless antics, one another meet. 
And all cry — Hector! Hector's dead! O Hec- 
7ro. Away! — Away! [tor! 

Cas. Farewell. — Yet, soft : — Hector, I take 
my leave: 
Thou dost thyself and all our Troy deceive. 

[Exit. 
Hect. You are amazed, my liege, at her ex- 
claim ; [tight ; 
Co in. and cheer the town: we'll fortli and 
Do deeds woith praise, and tell you them at 
liigiu. 

* Rueful, woful. 



Pri. Farewell : the gods with safety staod 

about thee! 
{ExeiDit severally Priam and Hector^ 
Alarums. 
Tro. They are at it; hark! Proud Diomed, 
believe, 
I come to lose my arm, or win my sleeve. 
^^ Troilus is going out, enter, from the 
other side. Pan darus. 
Pan, Do you hear, my lord? do yoa hear? 
Tro. What now? 

Pan. Here's a letter from yon' poor girl. 
Tro. Let me read. 

Pun. A whoreson ptisic, a whoreson ras- 
cally ptisic so troubles me, and the foolish 
fortune of this girl; and what one thing, what 
another, that I shall leave you one o'these 
days : And I have a rheum in mine eyes too; 
and such an ache in my bones, that, unless a 
man were cursed, 1 cannot tell what to think 
on't. — What says she there? 
Tro. Words words, mere words, no mat- 
ter from the heart ; [Tearing the letter. 
The effect doth operate another way. — 
Go, wind, to wind, there turn and change to- 
gether. — 
My love with words and errors still she feeds; 
But edifies another with her deeds. 

[Exeunt severally. 

SCENE IV. Betueenlroy and the Grecian 

Camp. 

Alarums : Excursions. Enter Th ers ites. 

Ther. Now they are clapper-clawing one 
another; Pll go look on. That dissembling 
abominable varlet, Diomed, has got that same 
scurvy doting foolish young knave's sleeve of 
Troy there, in his helm : 1 would fain see 
them meet; that that same young Trojan ass, 
that loves the whore there, might send that 
Greekish whoremasterly villain, with the 
sleeve, back to the dissembling luxurious drab, 
on a sleeveless errand. O' the other side, tlie 
policy of those crafty swearing rascals, — that 
stale old mouse-eaten dry cheese. Nestor; and 
that same dogfox, Llysses,— is not proved 
worth a black-berry: They set me up, in po- 
licy, that mongrel cur, Ajax, against that dog 
of as bad a kind, Achilles; and now is the cur 
Ajax prouder than the cur Achilles, and wisl 
not arm to-day: whereup«)n the (»reciaiis be 
gin to proclaim barbarisiu, and policy growj 
into an ill opinion. Sv)ft! here come sleeve, 
and t'other. 

Enter Diomedes, Trui'LV sfollcwing. 

Tro. Fly not; for shouldst thou take the 
river Styx, 
I would swim after. 

Dio. Thou (^ost miscall retire : 

I do not fly ; but advantageous care 
Withdrew me from the odds of multitude: 
Have at thee! 

TUer. Hold thy whore, Grecian ! now fot 
thy wliore, Trojan I— now the sleeve, now tli 
sleeve I 
[ELCunt Troilus a7id iJio-ynLniLs, fighting, 

t Mercy. 



I 



Sce^e IF.] 



TROILUS AIMD CRESSIDA. 



715 



Enter Hector. 

Hect. What art thou, Greekt art thou for 
Arttliou of blood, and honour? [Hector's match? 

Titer. No, no: — I am a rascal; a scurvy 
railinj knave; a very tilthy rogue. 

Hect. 1 do believe thee;— live. [Exit, 

Ther. God-a-mercy, that thon wilt believe 
me; but a plague break thy neck, for frighting 
me ! What's btconie of the wenching rogues ? 
I think they have swallowed one another : 
1 would laugh at that miracle. Yet, in a sort, 
lechery eats itself. I'll seek ihem. [Exit. 

SCENE V. The saine. 

Enter Diomeues and a Servant. 
Dio. Go, go, my servant, take thou Troilus* 
Present the fair steed to my lady Cressid: [horse; 
Ftllow, com i end my service to her beauty; 
Tell her,l have chastised the amorous Trojan, 
4nd am her knight by proof. 
^erv. " I go, my lord. 

[Exit Servant. 
Enter Ac a m em no n . 
Agam. Renew, renew ! The fierce Polyda- 
mns 
Hath beat down Menon: bastard Margarelon 
H;Uh Doreus prisoner: 

And stands colossus-wise, waving his beam*, 
Upon the pashed+ corses of the kings 
Epistrophus and Cedius: Polixenes is .slain; 
Amphimachus, and Thoas, dendly hurt; 
Fatroclns ta'en, orslain ; and Palamedes 
Sore hurt and bruised: the dreadful Sagittary 
Appals our numbers ; haste we, Diomed, 
To reinforcement, or we perish all. 
Enter Nestor. 
Nest. Go, bear Fatroclns' body to Achilles ; 
And bid the snail paced Ajax arm for shame. 
There is a thousand Hectors in the field : 
Now here he fights on Galathe his horse, 
And there lacks work; anon, he's there afoot, 
And there they fly, or die, like scaled stullsj 
Before the belching whale ; then is he yonder, 
And there the strawy Greeks, ripe for his edge, 
Fall down before him, like the mower's swath: 
Here, there, and every where, he leaves, and 
Dexterity so obeying appetite, [takes ; 

That what he will, he does ; and does so much. 
That proof is call'il impossibility. 
Enter Ulysses. 
Ulysr,. O, corn-age, courat|;e, princes ! great 
Achilles [geance; 

Is arming, weeping, cursing, vowing ven- 
Patroclus* wounds have roused his drowsy 
Together with his man led Myrmidons, [blood, 
That noseless, handless, hack*d and chipp'd, 

come to hiai. 
Crying on Hector. Ajax hath lost a friend. 
And foams at mouth, and he is arm'd and at it. 
Roaring for Troilus ; who hath done to-day 
Mad and fantastic execution ; 
Engaging and redeeming of himself. 
With such a careless force, and forceless care, 
As if that luck, in very spite of cunning. 
Bade him win all. 



Enter Ajax. 
Ajax. Troilus! thou coward Troilus! [Exit 
Dity. Ay, there, there, 

Nest. So, so, we draw together. 

Enter Achili.es. 

Achil. Where is this Hectort 

Come, come,thou boy-queller^,sh()w thy face; 

Know what it is to meet Achilles angry. 

Hector ! where's Hector ? 1 will none but 

Hector, [Exeunt* 

SCEN E VI. Another part of the Field. 

Enter Ajax. 
Ajax. Troilus, thou coward Troilus, show 
thy head ! 

Enter Diomedes. 
Dio. Tioilus, I say ! whore's Troilus? 
Ajax. What wouldst thoul 

Vio. I would correct him. 
Ajax. Were I ihe general, thou shonldst 
have my office, [Troilus! 

Ere that correction :— Troilus, I say! what, 
Enter Troills, 
Tro. O, traitor, Diomed!— turn thy fals€ 
face, thou traitor, 
And pay thy life thou owest me for my horse/ 
Dio. Ha! art thou there? [med.. 

Ajax. 1*11 fight with him alone: stand, Dio 
Dio. He is my prize, I will not look uponji 
Tro. Come both, you cogging H Greeks- 
have at you both. [Exeicnt,Jighting 
Enter Hector. 
Hect. Yea, Troilus? O, well fought, m5 
youngest brother ! 

Enter Achilles. 
Achil. Now do I see thee : Ha! — Have a/ 
Hect. Pause, if thou wilt. [thee. Hector 
Achil. I do disdain thy courtesy, prout 
Be happy, that my arms are out of use : [Trojan. 
My rest and negligence befriend thee now. 
But thou anonshait hear of me again ; 
Till when, go seek thy fortune. [Exit, 

Hect. Fare thee well : — 

I would have been much more a fresher mm. 
Had I expected thee. — How now, my brother! 
Re'tnier Tu oi lls. 
Tro. Ajax hath ta'en y5!^n»as ; sh:d! it be? 
No, by thetlame of yonder iilorlous heaven, 
He shall not carry** him ; I'll be taken too, 
Or bring him off: — Fate, he ir me what I say 
I reck tt not though I end my life to-day.[jEli7f« 
Enter one in svnipfuou.s Armour. 
Hect. Stand, stand, thou Greek ; thou art a 
goodly mark : — 
No ? wilt thou not ?— I like thy armour well ; 
I'll fi-ushj; it, and unlock the rivets all, 
But 111 be master of it :— Wilt thou not, beast, 

abide? 
Why then, fly ou, I'll hunt thee for thy hide. 

[ Exeu?it 

SCEN E VII. The same. 

E'lter Achilles, f/77/i Myrmidons. 
Achil. Come here about me, you my Myr 
midons ; 



♦ Lance. f Erwised, crushed. % ^Nhoaioffish. i Killer. 

^ot be a looker-on. % Lying. •* Prevail over. tfCare. I! Horrt 



/\6 



SIIAKSPKARE. 



l^ct V 



Mark what 1 say. — Attend ine v\liere I wheel : 
Strike not a stroke, bat keep yourselves in 

breath ; 
And when I have the bloody Hectar found, 
Empale him with your weapor>a round about ; 
In fellest manner execute* your arms. 
Follow me, sirs, and my proceedings eye : 
It is decreed — Hector the great must die. - 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE VIII. The same. 

Enter MENELAUSflnrfPARis y fighting : then 
Thersites. 

The?'. The cuckold, and the cuckold maker, 
are at it. Now, bull! now, dog! 'Loo, Paris, 
*loo I now my doubled-henned sparrow! *loo, 
Paris, 'loo ! The bull has the game: — 'ware 
horns, ho! [Kieuz/tVARis and Menelaus. 
Enter Margakelon. 

3T(tr. Turn, slave, and fight. 

Ther. What art thou ? 

Mar. A bastard son of Priam's. 

Ther. I am a bastard too ; I love bastards ; 
I am a bastard be§ot, bastard instructed, bas- 
tard in mind, ba?tard in valour, in every thing 
illegitimate One bear will not bite another, 
and wherefore should one bastard 1 Take 
heed, the quarrel's mo?t ominous to us: if the 
son of a whore fight for a whore, he tempts 
judgment. Farewell, bastard. 

Mar. The devil take thee, coward! [Exeunt. 

SCENE IX. Another part of the Field. 

Enter Hector. 
Fleet. Most putrefied core, so fair without. 
Thy goodly armour thus hath cost thy life. 
Now is my day's work done ; I'il take good 
breath : [death ! 

Rest, svvord ; thou hast thy fill of blood and 
[Puts off his helmet^ and hangs his 
shield behind him. 
Enter Achillfs r^/wd Myrmidons. 
Achil. Look, Hector, how the sun begins to 
set ; 
How ugly night comes breathing at his heels: 
Even with the vail and dark'ning of the sun, 
To cloee the day up, Hector's lifels done. [Greek. 
Hcc. \ am unarm'd ; forego this vantage +, 
Achil. Strike, fellows, strike; this is the 
man 1 seek. [Hector falls. 

So Ilion, fall thou next ! now, Troy, sink 

dowi- ; 
Here lies thy heart, thy sinews, and thy bone. 
On Myrmidons; and cry you all amain, 
Achilles hath the mighty Hector slain. 

[A Retreat soundc-d. 
Hark I a retreat upon otir Grecian part. 

Myr. The Trojan trumpets sound the like, 

my lord, [the earth. 

Achil. The dragon w ing of night o'erspreads 

And, stickler! like, the armies soparat«s. 

My half-snpp'd sword, that frankly^ would 

have fed, 
Pleased with this dainty bit, thus goes to bed. 
[Sheathes his suvrd. 



Coriie, tie his body to my horse's tail ; 
Along the field, I will the Trojau trail. 

[Exeunt 

SCENE X. The same. 

Enter Agamemnon, Ajax, Menelaus, 
Nestor, Diomedes, awd Others, mar cit- 
ing. Shouts within. 

Agam. Hark! hark! what ghontisthat? 
N(St. Peace, drums, 

[Within.] Achilles! 

Achilles! Hector's slain! Achilles! 

Dlo. The bruit jj is—Hector's slain, and by 

Achilles. 
Ajax. If it be so, yet bragless let it be ; 
Great Hector was as good a man as he. 

Agam. March patiently along : — Let one be 
To pray Achilles see us at our tent. — [sent. 
If in his death the gods have us befriended. 
Great Troy is ours, and our sharp wars are 
ended. [Exeunt , marchiifg 

SCEIS E XI. Another part of the Field. 
Enter JEne AS and Trojdns. 

JEne. Stand, ho! yet are we masters of the 
field: 
Never go home ; here starve we out the night. 
Enter T roil us. 
Tro. Hector is slain. 

All. Hector? — the gods forbid. 

Tro. He's dead ; and at the murderer's 
horse's tail, [field. — 

In beastly sort, drags'd through the shameful 
Frown on, you heavens, effect your rage w ith 
speed I [Troy ! 

Sit, gods, upon yonr thrones, and smile at 
I say, at once let your brief plagues be mercy 
And linger not our sure destructions on! 
jE7ie. My lord, you do discomfort all the 
host. [so : 

Tro. You understand me not, that tell me 
I do not speak of flight, of fear, of death ; 
But dare all imminence, that gods and men, 
Address their dangers in. Hector is gone ! 
Who shall tell Priam so, or Hecuba? 
Let him, that will a screech-owl ayelF be call'd. 
Go in to Troy, and say there— Hector's dead : 
There is a word will Friam turn to stone; 
Make wells and >iiobes of the maids and wive.*. 
Cold statues of the youth ; and, in a word. 
Scare Troy out of itself. But, march, away • 
Hector is dead ; there is no more to say. 
Stay yet; — jou vile abominable tents, 
Thus proiully pight ♦* upon our Phrygian 
Let Titan rise as early as he dare, [piiins, 
I'll through and through you! — And thou^ 

gnat-sized coward! 
No space of earth shall .*under our two hate*; 
I'll haunt thee like a wicked conscience still, 
Thatmoulde'.h goblins swilt as frenzy thwnnlns, 
1 Strike a Svuft march to Troy I — with comlon 
I go: 

.Hope of revenge ^ball hide our inward woe. 
f {Exeunt ^^^nlas and Trojans 



• Employ. 

^ Fattening. 



t Take not this advantage. 
U Noise, rumour. 



J An arbitrator at athletic gMines, 
Ever. •• l^itched, tixtit. 



Scent Xf.] 



TROILUS AND CRESSIDA. 



717 



As Troilus is going out, enter Jrom the 

other side, Pandarus. 

Pan. Bui hear you, hear you ! [shame 

Tro. Hence, broker lackey ! ignomy * and 

Pursue thy lite, and live ayef with tby name ! 

[Exit Troii.vs. 

Pan. A goodly med'cine tor my aching 

bones! — O world! world ! world! thus is the 

pool agent despised! O traitois and bawds, 

how earnestly are you set a' work, and how ill 

requited! Why should our endeavour be so 

loved, and the performance so loathed? what 

. verse for it I what instance S'or it 1 — Let me 

•ee: — 

Full merrily the humble-bee doth sing, 
Till he hath lost his honey, and his sting : 



And being once subdued in armed tail, 
Sweet honey and sweet note together fail. 

Good traders in the flesh, set this in yonr 

painted cloihsj. 
As many as be here of pander's hall. 
Your eyes, half out, weep out at Pandar*8.fall; 
Or, if >ou cannot weep, yet give some gro ins 
Though not for me, yet for your aching bones, 
Brethren, and sisters, of the hold-door trade. 
Some two months hence my will shall here b« 

made : 
It should be now, but that my fear is this, — 
Some galled goose of Winchester would hiss ; 
Till then I'll sweat, and seek about for eases , 
And, at that time, bequeath you my diseases. 

[Exit, 



• Ignominy. + Ever, 

X Canvass hangings for rooms, painted with emblems ai«d mottos. 



This play is more correctly written than most of Shakspeare's compositions, but it is not 
one of those in which either the extent of his views or elevation of his fancy is fully displayed. 
As the story abounded with materials, he has exerted little invention; but he has diversified 
his characters with great variety, and preserved them with great exactness. His vicious cha- 
racters disgust, but cannot corrupt, for both Cressida and Pandarus are detested and con- 
temned. The comic characters seem to have been the favourites of the writer ; they are of the 
superficial kind, and exhibit more of manners, than nature; but they are copiously filled and 
powerfully impressed. Shakspeare has in his story followed, for the greater part, the old 
book of Caxton, which was then very popular; but the character of Thersitea, of which it 
makes no mention, is a proof that this play was written after Chapman fead published hi. 
versioa of Homer.— JoH^soN. 



TIMON OF ATHENS 



iperjion^ represented). 



TiMON, a noble Athenian, 

l'cu'l'lus, \ ^^^^^> andjlatterers of 
Semfromus, 3 Jimon. 

Ventidius, one ofTbnon's false friends, 
A PK. VI ANT us, a c liur lis k philosopher, 
Alcieiades, (in Athenian general. 
Flavi is, sUward to Timon. 
Fi.AMiNiL s, Lucilius,Servilius, Timon's 

ser cants, 
Caphis, I'hilotus, Titus, Lucius, Hor- 
TENS I us, servants to Timon's Cre- 
ditors, 



Two Servants of Varro, and the Servant oj 

Isidore. Two ojTiinon*s Creditors, 
Cupid aiLd Maskers. Three Strangers. 
Poet, I'ainter, Jeweller, and MercbajQt. 
An old Athenun. A Page. A Fool. 



r mistresses to Alcibiades. 



PhR YNIA, 
riMANDRA, 

Other Lords, Senators^ Officers^ Soldiers 
Thieves f and Attendants, 



ScenCt - 



-Athens; and the Woods ad- 
joining. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. Athens. A Hall in Timon'a 
House. 

Enter Poet, Painter, Jeweller, Merchant, awd 
Others^ at several Doors, 

Poet. Good day, sir. 

P(tin, I am glad you are well. 

Poet. 1 have not seen you long ; how goes 

Pain. It wears, sir, as it grows, [the world ? 

Poet. Ay, thdt's well known : 

But what particular rarity 1 wliat strange. 
Which manifold record not matches? bee, 
Magic of bounty ! all these spirits thy power 
Hath conjured to attend. 1 know the mer- 
chant, [ler. 

Pain. I know them both ; t'other's a jewei- 

Mer. O, 'tis a worthy lord ! 

Jew. Nay, that's most fix'd. 

Mer, A most incomparable man; breathed*, 
as It wore. 
To an uuiirable and continuatet goodness: 
He passes +. 

.Jeic. I have a jewel here. 

Mer. O, pray, let's see't : For the lord 
Timon, sir ? [for that 

Jew. If he will touch the estimate; but. 

Poet. Wh* n we for rtcompense have 
praised the vile, 
Jt stains t he glory in that happy verse 
li'/iich aptly sings the good. 

Mer, 'Tis a good form. 

[Tjookiiiii (it the Jiwel. 

Jew, And rich : here is a water, look yoc. 

P,/in. You are rapt, sir, in some work, home 
To the great lord. [dedication 

• Inured by constant practice. t For continual, 

t i- e.. Exceeds, goes beyond conimon bounds. § As soon as my book has been 

preiu'Oted to Timon. || ;'. ^., The contest of art with nature. 

% My (le«i},'ii does n t stop it any ij.ni.culit I'ii.jracfer. 
\ 



Poet. A thing slipped idly from me. 

Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes [flint 

From whence 'tis nourished. Ihe fire i'tha 
Shows not, till it be struck ; our gentle flame 
Provokes itself, and, like tlie current, flies 
Each bound it chates. What have you there? 

Pain. A picture, pir. — And when comes 
your book forth ? 

Pott. Upon the heels of my presentment^. 
Let's see your piece. [sir. 

Pain. Tis a good piece. 

Poet. So 'tis : this comes off well and ex- 

Pain. Indifferent. [cedent. 

Poet. Admirable: How this grace 

Speaks his own standing! what a mental 

power 
This eye shoots forth! how big imagination 
Moves ill this lip! to the dumbness of tlie geg- 
<Jne niighi mterpret. [ture 

Piiin. It is a pretty mocking of the life. 
Here is a touch ; is't good 1 

Po t. I'll say of it. 

It tutor's nature: artificial strife j] 
Lives in these touches, livelier than life. 

Enter certain Senators, unl pass over. 

Pain. How this lord's follow'd ! 

Poi t. The senators of Athens : — Happy 

Pain. Look more ! [men! 

Poet. \ ou see this confluence, this great 
flood of visitors. 
I have, in this rougli work, shaped out a man, 
Whom this beneath world doth embrace and 

hug 
With amplest entertainment: My free drift. 
H'dts not particulai lyli, but moves itself 



Scene J.] 



TTMOJV OF ATHENS. 



719 



In a wide sea of wax : no levell'd malice 
Infects one comma in the course I hold : 
But flies an easj;le Right, bold, and forth on, 
Leaving no tract behind. 
Pain. How shall I understand you? 

Poet. I'll unbolt* to you. 

You see how all conditions, how all minds 
tAs well of glib and slippery cieatures, as 
Of grave and au&tere quality) tender down 
Vheir services to lord Tiraon : his lai ge fortune, 
Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, 
Subdues and properties to his love and tend- 
ance [flatterer t 
. All sorts of hearts ; yea, from the glass-faced 
To Apeniantus, that few things loves better 
Than to abhor himself; even he diops down 
The knee before him, and returns in peace 
.Most rich in Timon's nod. 

Pain, 1 saw them speak together. 

Poet. Sir, 1 have upon a high and pUasant 

hill, [mount 

Feign'd Fortune to be throned : The base o'the 

. Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures, 

That labour on the bosom of this sphere 

To propagate their states j : amongst them all, 

"Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fix'd. 

One do 1 personateoflord Timon's frame, [her: 

Whom Fortune with her ivory hand wafts to 

AVhose present grace to present slaves and 

Translntes his rivals. [servants 

Pain, 'Tis conceived to scope. 

This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, me- 

thinks. 
With one man beckon'd from the rest below, 
Bowing his head against the stetpy mount 
To climb his happiness, would be well ex- 
In our condition. [press'd 

Poet. Nay, sir, but hear me on : 

All those which were his fellows but ot late, 
(Some better than his value,) on the moment 
Follow iiis strides, his lobbies fill with tend- 
Rain sacrificial whisperings j in his ear, [ance, 
Make sacred even his stirrup, and through 
Drink Ij the free air. [him 

Pain, Ay, marry, what of these? 

Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and 

change of mood, [ants. 

Spurns down her late beloved, all his depend- 

Which labourM after him to the mountain's top. 

Even on their knees and hands, let him slip 

down, 
Not one accompanying his declining foot. 

Pain. 'Tis common : 
A thousand moral paintings I can show [tune 
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of tor- 
More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well. 
To show lord Timon, that mean eyesH have 
The foot above the head. [seen 

Trumpets sound. Enter Timon, attended ; 

the Servant o/'Ventidius talking ivitii 

him. 

Tim, Imprison*d :s he, say you? 

Ven. Serv. Ay, my good lord : five talents 
is his debt; 



His means most short, his creditors rao8» 

strait : 
Your honourable letter he desires [him. 

To those have shut him up ; which failing to 
Periods his comfort. 

Tim. Noble Ventidius ! Well ; 

I am not of that feather, to shake oif [him 

My friend when he must need me. I do know 
A gentleman, that well deserves a help, 
Which he shall have : I'll pay the debt, and 
free him. 

Ven. Serv. Your lordship ever binds him. 

Tim, Commend me to him: 1 will send his 
ransome ; 
And, being enfranchised, bid him come to me : 
'Tis not enough to help the feeble U|), 
But to support him after.— Fare you well. 

Ven. Serv, All happiness to your honour! 

{Exit, 
Enter an old Athenian. 

Old Ath, Lord Timon, hear me speak. 

Tim. Fieely, y:ood father. 

Old Ath. Thou hast a servant named Luci- 

Tim. I have so: What of him? [lius. 

Old Ath. Most noble Timon, call the maa 
before thee. 

Tim. Attends he here, or no ? — Lucilius ! 
Enter Lucilius. 

Luc. Here, at your lordship's service. 

Old Ath. This fellow here, lord Timon, this 
thy creature. 
By night frequents my liouse. I am a man 
That from my lirst have been inclined to thrift 
And my estate deserves a heir more raised. 
Than one which holds a trencher. 

Tim. Well; what further ? 

Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no 
kin else, 
On whom I may confer what I have got : 
The maid is fair, o' the youngest tor a bride. 
And I have bred her at my dearest cost. 
In qualities of the best, i his m in of thine 
Attempts her love; I pr'ythee, noble lord. 
Join with me to forbid him her resort ; 
Myself have spoke in vain. 

Tim. The man ishone«t. 

Old. Ath. Therefore he will be, i imon; 
His honesty rewards him in itself. 
It must not bear my daughter. 

Tim. Does she love him 1 

Old Ath. She is young and apt : 
Our own precedent passions do instruct us 
What levity 's in youth. 

Tim. [To Lucilius.] Love you the maid? 

Enc. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of 
it. [missing, 

Old Ath. If in her marriage my consent be 
I call the gods to witness, I will ciioose 
Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world 
And dispossess her all. 

Tim. How shall she be endowed. 

If she be mated with an equal husband \ 

Old Ath. Three talents, on the present; in 
future, all. 



* Open, explain. t One who shows by reflection the looks of his patron. 

) To advance their conditions of lite. <> Whispering* t>fcjricioUs. *eivjli:y. 1; Inhale. 

\ i.e., Inierior s^iocLHura. 



/20 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[A^t J 



Tim, This genllenian of mine hath served 
me long ; 
To build his tortnne, T will strain a little. 
For 'lis a bond in men. Give him thy 

daughter : 
What you bestow, in hitn I'll counterpoise, 
And make him weigh with her. 

Old Ath. Most noble lord, 

Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. 
Tim. My hand to thee ; mine honour on 
my promise. [may 

Luc. Humbly lihank your lordship: ^ever 
Th it state or fortune fall into my keeping. 
Which is not owed to you 1 

[Exeunt Luc 1 LUIS and old Athenian. 

Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live 

yonr lordship ! [anon : 

Tim. I thank you ; you shall hear from me 

Go not away. — What have you there, my 

friend l [seech 

Pain. A piece of painting, which I do be- 

Your lordship to accept. 

Tim. Painting is welcome. 

The painting is almost the natural man ; 
For since dishonour traffics with man's nature, 
He is but outside : These pencill'd figures are 
Even such as they give out *. 1 like your work ; 
And you shall find 1 like it : wait attendance 
Till you hear further from me. 

Pain. The gods preserve you ! 

Tim. Well fare you, gentlemen : Give me 
your hand ; 
We must needs dine together. — Sir, your jewel 
Hath sntfer'd under praise. 
Jeiv. What, my lord? dispraise? 

Tim. A mere satiety of commendations. 
If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoli'd. 
It would unclew f me quite. 

JiW. My lord, 'tis rated 

As those which sell would give : But you well 

know. 
Things of like value, differing in the owners. 
Are prized by their masters: believe't, dear 
You mend the jewel by wearing it. [lord, 
Tim. Well mock'd. 

Mer. No, my good lord ; he speaks the 
comiDon tongue, 
Which all men speak with him. 

Tun. Look, who comes here. Will you be 
chid ? 

Enter ApEMANTus, 
Jew. We will bear, with your lordship. 
Ml r. He'll spare none. 

Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Ape- 

mantus ! 
Aptm. lill 1 be gentle, stay for thy good 
mon ow ; 
When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves 
honest. [know'st them not. 

T'7n. W hy dost thou call them knaves? thou 
Ayem. Are they not Athenians t 
Tim. Yes. 

Ajnrn. Then I repent not. 
Jew, You know me, Apemantns. 



Ay cm. Thou knowest I do; I call'd tl>ee 
by thy name. 

Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantns. 

Ayem. Of nothing so much, as that 1 am 
not like Timon. 

Tim. Whither art gomg? 

Ayem. To knock out an honest Athenian's 
brains. 

Tim. That's a deed thou'lt die for. 

A%,em. Kight, if doing nothing be death by 
the law. [tus? 

Tim. How likest thou this picture, Apeman- 

Apem. The best, for the innocence. 

Tim. Wrought he not well that painted it ? 

Apem. He wrought belter, that made the 
painter; and yet he's but a filthy piece of 
work. 

Pain, You are a dog. 

Apem. Thy mother's of my generation; 
What's she, if I be a dog? 

Tim. Wilt dine with me, Apemantns 1 

Ay em. No; I eat not lords. 

Tinu An thou should'st.thou'dst anger ladies. 

Apem. O, they eat lords ; so they come by 
great bellies. 

Tim. That's a lascivious apprehension. 

Apem.. So thou apprehend'st it : Take it 
for thy labour. 

Tim. How dost thou like this jewel, Ape- 
mantus 1 

Apem. Not so well as plain dealing j, which 
will not cost a man a doit. 

Tim. What dost thou think 'tis worth ? 

Apem. Not worth my thinking.— How now, 
poet? 

Poet. How now, philosopher? 

Apem. Thou iiest. 

Poet. Art not one? 

Apem. Yes. 

Poet. Then I lie not. 

Apem. Art not a poet? 

Poet. Yes. 

Apem. Then thou Iiest: look in thy last 
work, where thou hast feign'd him a worthy 
fellow. 

Poet. That's not feign'd, he is so. 

Apem, Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to 
pay thee for thy labour : He that loves to be 
flatter'd, is worthy o'the flatterer. Heavens, 
that I were a lord ! 

Tim. What wouldst do then, Apemantus? 

Apem. Even as Apemantus dees now, hate 
a lord with my heart. 

Tim. What, thyself? 

Ayem. Ay. 

Tim. Wherefore? 

Aptm. That I had no angry wit to be a 
lord. — Art nut thou a merchant? 

Mer. Ay, Apemantus. 

Apem. Iraffic confound thee, if the gods 
will not ! 

Mer. If traffic do it, the gods do it. 

Apem. Tratiic's thy god, and thy god coB 
found thee I 



• Pictures have no hypocrisy; they are what they profess to be. 

+ To unclew a man is,io draw out the whole mass of his fortunes. 

X Alluding to the proverb : plain-dealing is a jewel, but they who use it heggam. 



Sce7te I,] 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



721 



Tnmipets sound. Enter a Servant. 
Ti7n. What trumpet's that? 
Serv. *Tis Alcibiades, and 

Some twenty horse, allof companion&hip. 
Tim. Pray, entertain them ; give them guide 
to us. — [Elxeant some Attendants. 

You must needs dine with me : — Go not you 
hence, [done, 

Till I have thankM yon ; and, when dinner's 
Show me this piece. — I am joyful of your 
sii^hts. — 
Enter Alcibiades, with his Company. 
Most welcome, sir! {They salute. 

Apem. So, so; there! 

Aches contract and starve your supple joints! 
That there should be small love tnougst these 
sweet knaves, [out 

And all this court'gy ! The strain of man's bred 
Into baboon and monkey *. [feed 

Alcib. Sir, you have saved my longing, and I 
Most hungrily on your sight. 

Tim. Right welcome, sir ; 

Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time 
In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. 
[Exeunt all but Apemantus. 
Enter two Lords. 
1 Lord. What time a day is't, Apemantus 1 
Apem. Time to be honest. 

1 Lord. Tliat time serves still, [omitt'st it. 
Apem. The most accursed tlioii, that still 

2 Eord. Thou art going to lord Timon's feast. 
Apem. Ay; to see meat fill knaves, and wine 

heat fdolb. 
2 Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well, 
Aj)em. Thou art a fool, to bid me farewell 
2 Lord. Why, Apemantus ? [twice. 

Apem. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, 
for 1 mean to give thee none. 

1 Lord. Hang thyself. 

Apem. No, 1 will do nothing at thy bidding ; 
make thy requests to thy friend. 

2 Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I'll 
spurn thee hence. 

Apem. I will fly, like a dog, the heels of 
the ass. [Exit. 

1 Lord. He's opposite to humanity. Come, 

shall we in, 
And taste lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes 
The very heart of kindness. [?old, 

2 Lord. He pours it out; Plutus, the god of 
Is but his steward: no meedt, but he repays 
Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him, 

But breeds the giver a return exceeding 
All use of quiitancel. 

1 Lord. The noblest mind he carries 
That ever govern'd man. [we in ? 

2 Lord. Long may he live in fortunes ! Shall 
1 Lord. Pll keep you company. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. The same. A Room of State 

in Timon's House. 
Hautboys playing loud music. A great 
banquet served in i Flavius arid others 



attending; then enter Tiuoj:iy Aigibi 
AUEs, Lucius, LucuLLUs, Sempkonius, 
and other Athenian Senators, with Ven- 
Tiuius, and Attendants. Then comes 
dropping after all, Apemantus, discoiC- 
tentedty. ^ 

Ven. Most honour'd Timon, 't tath pleased 
the gods remember 
My father's age, and call him to long peace. 
He is gone happy, and has left me rich : 
Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound 
To your free heart, I do return those talents, 
Doubled, with thanks, and service, from whose 
I derived liberty. [help 

Tim. O, by no means. 

Honest Ventidius: you mistake my love; 
I gave it freely ever ; and there's none 
Cau truly say he gives if he receives : [dare 
If our betters play at that game, we must not 
To imitate them ; Faults that are rich are fair. 

Ven. A noble spirit. 

[They all stand ceremoniously looking 
on TiMON. 

Tim. Nay, my lords, ceremony 

Was but devised at first, to set a gloss 
On faint deeds, hollow welcomes. 
Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown ; 
But where there is true friendship, there needs 
none. [tunes. 

Pray, sit ; more welcome are ye to my for- 
Than my fortunes to me. [They sit. 

1 Lord. My lord, we always have con- 
fess'd it. [you not ? 

Apem. Ho, ho, confessed it ? hang'd it, have 

Tim. O, .Apemantus ! — you are welcome. 

Apem. No, 

You shall not make me welcome r 
1 come to have thee thrust me out of doors. 

Tim. Fie, thou art a churl ; you have got a 
humour there 
Does not become a man, 'tis much to blame: 
They say, my lords, that iru Juror brevis est^. 
But yond' man'« ever angry. 
Go, let him have a table by himself; 
For he does neither affect company. 
Nor is he fit for it, indeed. [Tim«.»n ; 

Apem. let me stay at thine own peril, 
I come to observe ; 1 give thee w arning on't. 

'/V/w. I take no heed of thee; thou art ;in 
Athenian; therefore welcome : I myself would 
have no power : pr'ythee, let my meat make 
thee silent. 

Apem. I scorn thy meat ; 'twould choke 
me, for I should ber 

Ne'er flatter thee.— O you gods ! what a i um 
Of men eat Timon, and he sees them not ! 
It grieves me, to see so many dip their meat 
In one man's blood ; and ail the madness is, 
He cheers them up too \\. 
1 wonder men dare trust themselves with men : 
Melhinks they should invite thein \\iihout 
knives ; 

* Man is degenerated ; his strain or linea2;e is worn down into a monkey. t Meed here 

means desert. % ?. e.. All the customary returns made in discharge of ob!iiraii(.ii». 

§ Anger is a short madness. || The allusion is to a pack of hounds trained 'o 

pursuit, by being gratified with the blood of an animal which they kill ; and the wonder Is, 
that the animal, on which ihcy are feeding, cheeis ihcm to the chase. 



722 



SHAKSTEARE. 



^4rf r. 



GiK)(i for their meat, and safer for their livts. 
Tlu'te's muoh exaujple for't ; the fellow that 
^ita next him now, parts bread with him, and 

plc^lges 
The breatJt of him in a divided draught, 
Is the readiest man to kill him ; it has been 
If I [proved. 

Were a huge man, I should fear to drink at 
meals ; [notes : 

Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous 
Great men should drink with harness* on their 
throats. [i^o round. 

Tim. My lord, in heartt; and let the health 
2 Lord, Let it flow this way, my good lord. 
Apem. Flow this way! 

A brave fellow ! — he keeps his tides well. 
Timon, [look ill. 

Those healths will make thee and thy state 
Here's that which is too weak to be a sinner, 
Hoiiesi water, which ne'er left man i'the mire ; 
This, and my food, are equals ; there's no odds. 
Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods. 
Apkmantus's Grace. 
Immortal gods, I crave no yelf; 
J pray for no maUybut myself: 
Grant 1 may never prove sofondl. 
To trust man on his oath or bond; 
Or a harlot, for her weeping ; 
Or a dog, that seems a sleeping ; 
Or a keeper with my freedom ; 
Or my friends, if I should need *em. 
A men. So fall to't : 
Rich men sin, and I eat root. 

{Eats and drinks. 
Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus! 
Tim. Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in 
the field now. 

Atcib, My heart is ever at your service, my 
lord. 

Tim. You had rather be at a breakfast of 
enemies, than a dinner of friends. 

Alclb. .So they were bloeding-new, my lord, 
there's no meat like them ; 1 could wish my 
best friend at stich a feast. 

Apem. 'Would all those flatterers were thine 
enemies then ; that then thou mi^ht'st kill 
'em, and bid me to *em. 

1 Lord. Miglit we but have that happiness, 
my lord, that you wouhl once use our hearts, 
whereby we might express some part of our 
seals, we shuuld think ourselves for ever per- 
fect :i. 

Tim. O, no doubt, my good friends, but the 
gods themselves have provided i\\,\X I sh ill have 
much help from you : How had you been my 
friends else? why have you that charitable [| 
lille from thousands, did you not chiefly be- 
long to my ht-art i 1 have told more of you to 
myself, than you can with modesty speik in 
your own beh df ; and thus far I conhrm you. 
O, \ on g(»(ls, iliink 1, what need we have any 
friends, if we should never have need of them? 
they were tlie most needless creatures living, 
»houM we ne'er have use for them: and woultl 
nno'.t rraetnble sweet instruments hung up in 
cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. 



Why, I have oiten wished myself poorer, that 
I might come nearer to you. \V e are born 
to do benefits: and what better or properer 
can we call our own, than the riches of our 
friends? O, what a precious comfort 'tis, to 
have so many, like brothers. commanding one 
another's fortunes ! O joy, e'eu made awny ere 
it can be born ! Mine eyes cannot hold out 
water, methinks: to forget their faults, 1 drink 
to you. 

Apem. Thou weepest to make them drink, 
Timon. [eyes, 

2 Lord. Joy had the like conception in oar 
And, at that instant, like a babe sprung up. 

Apem. Ho, hoi 1 laugh to think that babe 
a bastard. [me nmch^. 

3 Lord. I promise you, my lord, you moved 
Apem. Much IF! [Tx/cket sounded, 
Tim. What means that trump ? — How now? 

Enter a Servant. 
Serv. Please you, my lord, there are certain 
ladies most desirous of admittance. 
Tim Ladies? what are their wills? 
Serv. There comes with them a forerunner, 
my lord, which bears that office, to signify 
their pleasures. 

Tim. I pray, let them be admitted. 

Enter Cupid. 
Cup. Hai4 to thee, worthy Timon ; and to all 
That of his bounties taste! — Ihe five best senses 
Acknowledge thee their patron; and come 

freely 
To gratulate thy plenteous bosom: The ear. 
Taste, touch, smell, all pleased from thy table 

rise ; 
They only now come but to feast thine eyes. 
Tim. They are welcome all ; let them have 
kind admittance : 
Music, make their welcome. {Exit Cupid. 
1 Lord. You see, my lord, how ample you 
are beloved. 
Music. Re-enter Cupid, ttnfh a masque of 
Ladies as Amazons, with lutes in their 
haiidsy dancing, and playing. 
Apem. Hey day, what a sweep of vanity 
comes this way I 
They dance ! ihey are mad women. 
Like madness is the glory of this life. 
As this pomp shows to a liitie oil and root. 
We make i)urselve3fools, to disport ourselves » 
An I spend our flatteries, to drink those men. 
Upon whose age we void it up again, 
With poisonous spite and envy. Who lives 

that's not 
Depraved, or depraves? who dies, that hears 
Not one spurn to their graves of their friends 
tjift ? [no\? 

I should fear those that dance before mc 
Wonld one day stamp upon me. It has been 

done ; 
Men shut their doors against a setting sun. 
{The Loidi rise from table, with much ador 
ing (>/ Timon; and, to shoiv their lo es 
C'lcli singles out an Amazon, and all 
dance, men with women, a lofty strain ot 
two to the hautboys, and cease. 



• Armour. <♦ With sincerity, t Foolish. ^ i. «., Arrived at the perfection of hnppinesa 
H Endearing. V Much, was formerly an expression of contemptuous admiraiioa. 



Scene //. 



TIMON OF ATHEAS. 



723 



Tim. You hiive done our pleasures njuch 
iirace, fair ladies. 
Set a fair fasliion on our entertainment, 
Wluch was noi halt so beautiful and kind ; 
You tiave added worth unto't, and lively lustre, 
A.iid entertained nie with mine own device ; 
1 am to thank you for it. [best. 

1 Laity. My lord, you take us even at the 

A pern. 'Fiith, for the worst is filthy; and 
would not hold taking,. I doubt me. 

Tim. Ladies, there is an idle banquet 
Attends you: Please you to dispose your- 
selvfs. 

All Lad. Most thankfully, my lord. 

[Exeunt Cupid and Ladies. 

Tim. Flavins, 

Flav. My lord. 

Trm. The little c;isket bring me hither. 

Flav. ^ es, my lord. — More jewels yet 1 
There is no crossing him in his hurnour ; 

[Aside. 

Else I should tell him,— Well, —i'f ail h, I 

should, [could. 

When all's spent, he'd be crossed *then, an he 

*Tis pity, bounty had not eyes behind ; 

That man might ne'er be wretched for his 

mind f. 

[Exit, and returns with the casket. 

1 JjOrd. Where be our men? 

Serv. Here, my lord, in readiness. 

•2 Lord. Our horses 

Tun, O my friends, I have one word 

To say to you : — Look yon, my good lord, I 
Entreat you, honour me so much, as to [must 
Advance this jewel : 
Accept, ajul wear it, kind my lord. 

1 Lord. I am so far already in your gifts, — 
All, !So are we all. 

Enter a Servant. 
Serv. My lord, there are certain nobles of 
the senate 
Newly alii>hted, and come to visit you. 
Tim. They are fairly welcome. 
Flav. I beseech your honour. 

Vouchsafe me a word; it does concern you 
near. [thee : 

Tim. Near? why then another time I'll hear 

I pr'ythee, let us be provided 
To show them entertainment. 

Flav, I scarce know how. [Aside, 

Enter another Servant. 

2 Serv. May it please your honour, the lord 

Lucius, 
Out of his free love, hath presented to you 
Four milk-white horses, trapped in silver. 
Tim. I shall accept them fairly : let the pre- 
sents 

Enter a third Servant. 
Be worthily entertain'd.— How now, what 
news ? 

3 Serv, Please you, my lord, that honour 
able gentleman, lord Lucullus, entreats your 
company to-morrow to hunt with him; and 

• Shakspeare plays on the word crossed : alluding to the piece of silver money called across, 
t For his nobleness of soul. J i. e.. Could dispense them on every side with an ungrudging 
distribution, like that with which I could deal out cards. $ *»e , All happiness to you. 

II Offering salutations. 



has sent your honour two brace of grey- 
hounds. 

Tim. I'll hunt with him; And let them be 
Isot without fair reward. [received, 

Flav. [\side.^ What will this come to ? 
He commands us to provide, and give great 
And all out of an empty cotter. — [gifts, 

Nor will he know his purse ; or yield me this. 
To show him what a beggar his heart is. 
Being of no power to make his wishes good ; 
His promises fly so beyond his state. 
That what he speaks is all in debt, he owes 
For every word ; he is so kind, that he now 
Pays interest for't ; his lands put to their 

books. 
Well, 'would I were gently put out of office. 
Before I were forced out! 
Happier is he that has no friend to feed. 
Than such as do even enemies exceed, 
I bleed Inwardly for my lord. [Exit, 

Tim. You do yourselves 

Much wrong, you bate too much of your own 

merits : — 
Here, my lord, a trifle of our love. 

2 Lord. With more than common thanks I 

will receive it, 

3 Lord. O, he is the very soul of bounty ! 
Tim. And now 1 remember me, my lord, 

you gave 
Good words the otlier day of a bay courser 
I rode on : it is yours, because you liked it. 

2 Lord. I beseech you, pardon me, my 
lord, in that. [know, no man 

Tim. You may take my word, my lord ; i 
Can justly praise, but what he does atfect : 
I weiuh niy friend's affection with mine own ; 
I'll tell you true. Pll call on you. 

All Lords. None so vi'elcome. 

Tijn. I take all and your several visitations 
So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give; 
Methinks, I could deal % kingdoms to my 
And ne'er be weary, — Alcibiades, [friends. 
Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich. 
It comes in charity to tlue : for all thy living 
Is 'nioiigst, the dead; and all the lands thou 
Lie in a pitch'd field. [hast 

Alcih. Ay, defiled land, my lord. 

1 Lord. We are so virtuously bound, 

Tim. And so 

Am I to you. 

2 Lord. So infinitely endear'd,- 

Tim. All to you$.— Liiihts, more lights. 

1 Lord. The best of happiness. 

Honour, and fortunes, keep with you, lord 

Tim. Ready for his friends. [Timon ! 

[Exeunt Alcibiades, Lords, d^c, 

Apem. What a coil's here ? 

Serving of becks]], and jutting out of bums! 
I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums 
That are given for 'em. Friendship's full of 

dregs : 
Methinks, false hearts should never have sound 



724 



SHAKSPKARE. 



[Act I 



li 



Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on 
court'sics. [sullen, 

Tim. Now, Apemautus, if thou wert not 
Pd be good to thee. 

Ajjetn. No, I'll nothing: for. 

If 1 should be bribed too, there would be none 
left [sin the faster. 

To rail upon thee ; and then thou wou4d8t 
Tliou givest so long, 1 imon, 1 fear me, thou 
Wilt give away thyself in pajicr * shortly : 



What need these feasts, pomps, and vain glo. 

Titn. Nay, (riest 

An you begin to rail on society once, 
I am sworn, not to give regard to you. 
Farewell; and come with better music, [txit, 

Apem. So ; — 

Thou'lt not hear me now,— thou shalt not 

then, I'll lock [should be 

Thy heaven f from thee. O, that men's ears 

To counsel deaf, but not to flattery I lEj:it. 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. 



T7ie some. A Room in 
nator's House, 



Se- 



Enter a Senator, with rpayers in his hand. 

Sen, And late, five thousand to Varro ; and 
to Isidore 
He owes nine thousand ; besides my former 
sum, [motion 

Which makes it five and twenty. — Still in 
Of raging waste? It cannot hold ; it will not. 
If I want gold, steal but a beggar's dog. 
And give it Timou, why, the dog coins gold : 
If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty 
more [mon. 

Better than he, why, give my horse to Ti- 
Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me straight 
And able horses: No porter at his gate ; 
But rather one that smiles, and still invites 
All that pass by. It cannot hold ; no reason 
Can found his state in safety. Caphis, hoi 
C a phis, I say I 

Enter Caphis. 

Caph. Here, sir? What is your pleasure? 

Se7i. Get on your cloak, and haste you to 
lord Timon ; 
Importune him for my monies ; be not ceased j 
With slight denial ; nor then silenced, when — 
Commenil me to your mastir—AuA the cap 
Plays in the right-hand, thus : — but tell him, 

sirrah. 
My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn 
Out of mine own ; his days and times are past, 
And my reliances on his fracted dates 
Have omit my credit: I love, and honour him; 
IJut must not break my back to heal his finger: 
Imme<liate are my needs; and my relief 
Must not be tobs'd and turn'd to me in words, 
But find supply immedi.'le. Get you gone : 
Put on a n»oist imp(»rlunate aspect, 
A visage of demand ; for, I do fear. 
When every feather sticks in his own wing, 
Lonl Timon will be left a naked gull. 
Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone. 

Caph. I go, sir. [>^>". 

Sett. I go, sir ? — take the bonds along with 
And have the dales in compt. 

Cfi] h. I will, sir. 

Sen. Go. 

[Exeunt. 



SCENE II. The some, A Ball in Timon'r 
House, 

Enter Fl a ▼ i u s, with many bills in his hand. 

Flat', No care, no stop ! so senseless of ex- 
pense, [it, 
That he will neither know how to maintain 
Nor cease his flow of riot : Takes no account 
How things go from him ; nor resumes no care 
Of what is to continue ; Never mind 
Was to be so unwise, to be so kind. [feel : 
What shall be done? He will not hear, liiT 
I must be round with him now he comc» from 
Fie, fie, fie, fie ! [hunting. 
Enter Caphis, and the Servants of Isidore 
and Varro. 

Caph. Good even §, Varro : What, 

You come for money ? 

Var, Sen', Is't not your business too ? 

Caph. It is ; — And yours too, Isidore ? 

Isid. Scrv. It is so. 

Caph. 'Would we were all discharged ! 

Var. Serv. 1 fear it. 

Caph. Here comes the lord. 
Enter Tiisio-St Alcibiades, <?wrf Lords, <Sc. 

Tim. So soon as dinner's done, we'll forth 

again I!, [will? 

My Alcibiades.— With me? What's your 

Caph. My lord, here is a note of certain 

Tim. Dues ? Whence are you 1 [dues. 

Caph, Of Athens here, my lord 

Tim. Go to my steward. [me otf 

Caph, Please it your lordship, he hath put 
To the succession of new days this month : 
My master is awaked by great occasion. 
To call upon his own ; and humbly prays you 
That with your other noble parts you'll suit. 
In giving him his right. 

Tim. Mine honest friend, 

I pr*ylhee but repair to me next morning. 

Caph. Nay, good my lord, 

Tim.. Contain thyself, good friend 

Var. Serv. OneVarro's servant. my good lord. 

Isid. Serv. From Isidore; 
He humbly prays your speedy payment, 

Caph. If you did know, my lord, my mas 
ter's wants, [lord, six weeks, 

Var, Serv, 'Twaa due on forfeiture, my 
And past, 



• ?. e., Re ruined by his securities entered into. t By his heaven, he means uood advice ; 
the only thing by which he could be saved. % Stopped. $ Good even wa^ the uinirw 

salutation from noon. || i. e., To huuliug ; in our author's time, it was the cuttom l». huu 

as well after dinner as before. r 



$cene JI.] 



TIMON OF ATHENS, 



725 



Is id, Sfrv, Your steward puts me off, my 
lord; 
And I am sent expressly to yonr lordship. 

7'iy//. Give me hreatli : 

I do besct'ch >t>u, !i,ood my lords, keep oi 

[iiie,,^/; AlcibialEs u,.a Loras. 

I'll wait upon you instaniiy. — Come hither, 

pray \<>iu [Y'o Fla vius. 

How goes the world, that I am tlius encouu- 

ter'd 
With cl.iniorous demands of date-broke bonds, 
Aiul tlie dt leiition of long since-due debts, 
Against my honour I 

Fiur. Please you, gentlemen, 

The time is Mna?;reeabie to ihis business: 
Your iniportunicy cease, till after dinner; 
T!)at 1 may make his lordship undei stand 
Wherefore }ou are not paid. 

Tim. Do so, my friends : 

See them well entertain'd. [t^xif Timon. 

Fiuu, I pray, draw near 

{Edit Flavils 
Enter Apemantos and a Fool. 

Cayh. Stay, stay, here con.es the fool with 
Apemantus; le;'s have some sport with 'em. 

Var. Serv, Han.'; him, he'll abuse us. 

hid. Sen , a plague upon hi:n, dog ! 

Var. Sen: How dost, tool? 

Aj,eni. Dost dialogue with thy shadow? 

Var. Strv. I speak not to thee. 

A'pem. No ; 'tis to thyself, — Come away. 
[7b t!.e Fool. 

Isid, Serr. {To Var. Serv.] There's the 
fool hangs on your back already. 

Ay em. No, thou siaud'st single, thou an 
not on him yet. 

Caph. Where's the fool now? 

Aj-em. He last asked the question. — Poor 
rogues, and usurers* men! bawds between gold 
and want ! 

All Serv. What are we, Apemantus? 

Apt VI. Asses. 

All Serv. Why? 

Apem. That you ask me what you are, and 
do not know yourselves. — Speak to 'em, 
fool. 

Fool. How do you, gentlemen ? 

All Serv. Gramercies, good fool: How 
does your mistiess ? 

Fool. She's e'en setting on water to scald 
8uch chickens as you are. 'Would we could 
tee you at Corinth. 

Apem. Good I gramercy. 

Enter Page. 

Fool. Look you, here comes my mistress* 
page. 

Page- \To the Fool.] Why, how now, 
captain? what do you in this wise company? 
—How dost *hou, Apemantus? 

Apem. 'Would 1 had a rod in my mouth, 
that I migiit answer thee protitably. 

Page. Pr'ythee, Apemantus, read me the 
superscription of these letters \ 1 kt.ovv not 
which is which. 

Apem. Canst not read? 

Page. No. 

A'pem. There will little learning die then, 
that day thoti an hanged. This U to lord 



Timon; this to Alcibiades, Go; thoa wast 
bom a bastard, and thou'lt die a bawd. 

Page. Ihou Wnst wheipe i a fio^ ; Jind thou 
shall famish, a doi;'s death. Answer not, 1 am 
gone. {i.a.%t Page. 

Apem. Even so thou out-runn'si grace. Fool, 
I will go with J on to lord Tinion's. 

Fool. W ill > ou leave me there ? 

Apem. If Timon stay at hi-me. — You three 
serve three usurers? 

All. Serv. Ay; 'wo'dd they served us ! 

AjK m. So would I,- -as good a trick as ever 
hangman served thief. 

Fool. Are you tiiree usurers' men? 

All Serv. Ay, fool. 

Fool. I think, no usurer hut has a fool to his 
servant : My mistress is one, anri 1 am her fool. 
When men come to borrow oi' 3 our masters, 
tliey approach sadly, and go awa\ merry ; but 
tiiey enter my mistiess' house merrily, and go 
away sadly : The reason of ihis i 

i ar. Sen . I could render one. 

Apem. Do it then, that we may account thee 
a whoreinasfer, and a knave; which notwiih- 
standiUij, thou shall b«* no less esteemed. 

Var. Serv. What is a w hoi emaster, fool ? 

Fool. A fool in good clothes, and something 
like thee. * lis a spirit : sometime, it appeais 
like a lord; somttime, like a lawyer; some- 
time, like a philosopher, with two stones more 
than his artificial one: He is very often like 
a knight; and, generally in all shapes, that 
man goes up and down in, from fourscore to 
thirteen, this spirit walks in. 

Vtir, Strv, Thou art not altogether a 
fool. 

Fool. Nor thou altogether a wise man : as 
much foolery as. I have, so much wit thoa 
lackfSt. 

Apem. That answer might have become 
Apemantus. 

All Serv. Aside, aside ; here comes lord 
Timon. 

Re-enter Timon and Flatius. 

Apem. Come with me, fool, come. 

Fool. I do not alvvajs follow lover, elder 
brother, and woman ; sometime, the phihso* 
pher. [El emit Apemantus and Fool. 

Flav. 'Pray you, walk near ; Pll speak with 
you anon. [Exeunt Serv. 

Tim. You make memarvel : Wherefore, ere 
this time, 
Had you not fully laid my state before me; 
That 1 might so have rated my expense. 
As I had leave of means? 

Flav. You would not hear me. 

At many leisures I proposed. 

Tmi. Go to : 

Perchance, some single vantages you took. 
When my indisposition put you back ; 
And that unapiness marie you minister. 
Thus to excuse yourself. 

Flav. O my good lord! 

At many times I brought in my accounts, [oS, 
Laid them before you ; you would throw thein 
And say, you found them in mine honesty. 
When, for some triflliig present, yon have bid 
me 

8 3 



725 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act II. 



Helurn so much^, 1 have shook my head, and 
wept ; [you 

Yea, 'gainst the authority of manners, pray'd 
'io hold your hand more close: 1 did endme 
"Not seldom, nor no slight checks; when 1 have 
Prompted you, in the ebb of your estate. 
And jour great flew of debts. iVJy dtar-loved 
lord, [lime. 

Though you hear now, (too late!) yet now's a 
The greatest of your having lacks a half 
To pay jour present debts. 

I'ii.'i, Let all my land be sold. 

Flav. 'Tis all engaged, some forfeited and 
gone ; 
And what remains will hardly stop the mouth 
Of present dues : the future comes apace : 
V\ hat shall defend the interim? and at length 
How goes our reckcning? 

Tim. To Lacedaemon did my land extend. 

Flav. O my good lord, the world is but a 
"Were it all yours to give it in a breath, [wordt ; 
How quickly were it gone? 

Ti)7i. You tell me true. 

Flav. If yon suspect my husbandry, or false- 
Call me hefore the exactest auditors, [hood, 
And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me. 
When all our offices; have been oppress'd [wept 
With riotous feeders ; when our vaults have 
Wit hdrunken spilth of wine ; when every room 
Hath blazed with lights, and bray'd with min- 
l have retired me to a wasteful cock^, [strelsy ; 
And set mine eyes at flow. 

Tnn. Pr'ythee, no more. 

Flav. Heavens, have I said, the bounty of 

this lord ! [sants 

How many prodigal bi(s have slaves and pea- 

This night euglutted! Who is not Timon's? 

What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is 

lord Timon's? 
G»reat Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon? 
Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this 

praise, 
The breath is gone w^hereof this praise is made : 
Fenst-won, fast-lost; one cloud of winter show- 
These flies are couch'd. [ers, 

Tim. Come, sermon me no further : 

No villanoua bounty yet hath pass'd my heart; 
Unwisely, not ignobly, hav*» 1 given. [lack. 
Why dost thou weep ? Canst thou the conscience 
To think I shall lack friends ? Secure thy heart ; 
If I would broach the vessel* of my love. 
And try the argumentlj of hearts by borrowin^j, 
Men, and men's fortunes, could I frankly use, 
Ak I can bid thee speak. 

Flav. Assurance bless your thoughts 1 

Tim. And, in some sort, these wants of mine 
are crown'dH, 
That I account them blessings; for by these 
Shall I try friends : You shall perceive, how 
vou 



Mistake ray fortunes ; I am wealthy in my 

friends. 
Within there, hoi — Flaminius! Servilius! 
Writer Flaminius, Servilius, and other 
* Servants. 

Sen. My lord, my lord, — [lord Lucius; — 

Tim. I will despatch you severally. — You, to 
To lord Lucnllus you; I hunted with his 
Honour to day ; — You, to Sempronius ; [say. 
Commend me to their loves; and, I am proud. 
That my occasions have found time to use them 
Toward a supply of money : let the request 
Be tifty talents. 

Flam. As you have said, my lord. 

Flat. Lord Lucius, and Lord Lucullus? 
humph! [Asine, 

Tim, Go you, sir, [To another Serv.] to the 

senators, 

(Of whom, even to the state's best health, I have 

Deserved this hearing,) bid 'em send o'the iiv- 

A thousand talents to me. [stant 

Flav. I have been bold 

For that I knew it the most general way) 
To them to use your signet, and your name; 
But they do shake their heads, and 1 am here 
No richer in return. 

T/m. Is*t true? can it be? 

Flav. They answer, in a joint and corporate 
voice, [not 

That now they are at fall**, want treasure, can- 
Do what they would; are sorry — you are ho- 
nourable, — [not— but 
But yet they could have wish'd— they kno-w 
Something hath been amiss — a noble nature 
May catch a wrench — would all were well — 

'tis pity 

And so, iniendingtt other serious matters. 
After distasteful looks, and these hard frac- 
tious;!, 
Withct-rtain half-caps§§,and cold-moving nods, 
They froze nie into silence. 

Tim. You gods, reward them ! — 

I pr'ythee, man, look cheerly ; These old fel 

lows 
Have their ingratitude in them hereditary: 
Their blood is caked, 'tis cold, it seldom flows ; 
'Tis lack of kindly warmth they are not kind ; 
And n:itiirr, as it grows again toward earth. 
Is fasliiou'd for the journey, dull and heavy.— 
Go to Vtiai'lius,— [Toa Serv.] 'Pr'ythee,'[7\? 

Fi,A vius,l be not sad, 
Thou arttrne,and honest; ingeniouslyl,!' I speak 
No blame belongs to thee: — [7b Serv.] Ven 

tidius lately 
Buried his father; by whose death he stepp'<l 
Into a great estate: when he was poor, 
Imprison'd, and in scarcity of friends, [me; 
I clear'd him with five talents ; Greet him from 
Bid him stippose, some good necessity [ber'd 
Touches his friend, which craves to be remem- 



• He does not mean, so great a sum, but a certain sum. t i. c, As the world itself may be 

comprised in a word, you might give it away in a breath. % The apartments allotted to 

culinary offices, «&c. $ A pipe with a turning stopple running to waste. || If I would, 

''says Timon,) by borrowing try of what men's hearts are composed, whatthey have in them, &c. 
^ Dignified, made respectable. •* i.e.. At an ebb. ^ Intending, had anciently the 

same meaning as attending. \X Broken hint?, abrupt remarks. 5$ A halt-cap is a 

tap slightly moved, not put off. |}|l For ingenuously. 



Scene JJ.] 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



727 



With tl)ose five talents :— that had,— [TIoFla.] 

give it these tVllows 
To whom 'tis instant due. Ne'er speak, or 

think, [sink. 

That Tiinon's fortunes 'inong his friends can 



Flav. I would I conld not think it ; That 
tht)iig.iil is bounty's foe ; 
Being free * itself, it thinks all others so. 

[jEieunt, 



ACT III. 



'Scene I. The same. ^ /Zoom iw Lucullus's 
House. 
Vi^x^i^ivi awaiting. Enter a Servant to him, 
Serv, I have told my lord of you, he is 
coming down to you. 
Flam. I thank you, sir. 

Enter Lucullus. 
Serv. Here's my lord. 
Lucul. [Aside.] Oneof lord Timon's men? 
a gift, I warrant. Why, this hits right; I 
dreamt of a silver bason and ewer tonight. 
Flaminins, honest Fiaminiiis; you are very re- 
spectivelyt welcome, sir. — Fill me some wine. 
[Kiit Servant.] And how does that honourable 
complete, free-hearted gentleman of Athens, 
thy very bountiful good lord and master? 
Flam. His health is well, sir. 
Lucul. I am right glad that his health is 
well, sir: And what hast thou there under thy 
cloak, pretty Flaminius? 

Flam. 'Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir; 

which, in my lord's behalf, I come to entreat 

>your honour to supply; who, having great and 

instant occasion to use tifty talents, hath sent 

to your lordship to furnish him ; nothing doubt- 

,4Dg your present assistance therein. 

Lucul. La, la, la, la, — nothing doubting, 
•ftayshe? alas, good lord! a noble gentleman 'tis, 
• if he would not keep so good a house. Many 
a time and often I have dined with him, and 
told him on't ; and come again to supper to him, 
of purpose to have him spend less : and yet he 
would embrace no counsel, take no warning by 
my coming. Every man has his fault, and 
honesty j is his; I have told him on't, but I 
could never get him from it. 

Re-enter Servant, with wine. 
Serv. Ple-ase your lordship, here is the wine. 
Lucul. Flaminius, I have noted thee always 
wii^e. Here's to thee. 

Fla?}i. Your lordship speaks your pleasure. 
Lucul. 1 have observed thee always for a 
towardly prompt spirit, — give thee thy due, — 
and one that knows what belongs to reason : 
and canst use the time well, if the time use thee 
well : good pai ts in ttiee.— Get you gone, sirrah. 
[7'o the Servant, ivhogoeM ovf.] — Draw nearer, 
honest Flaminius. Thy lord's a bountiful gen- 
tleman : but thou art wise; and thou knowesi 
well enough, alt'noilgh thoii comest to me, that 
^ this is no time to lend money ; especiallv upon 
lare friendships without security." Here's three 
-oiidar.f^s for thee ; good boy, wink at me, and 
jay, thou saw'st me nut. Fare thee well. 



Flam. Is't possible, the world should so 
much ditfer; [ness. 

And we alive that lived $? Fly, damned base- 
To him that worships thee. 

[Tnr owing the money away. 

Lucul. Ha! Now I see, thou art a fool, and 
fit for thy master. [Bhit Lucul«,us. 

Flam. May these add to the number that may 
Let molten coin be thy damnation, [scald thee I 
Thou disease of a friend, and not himself! 
Has friendship such a faint and milky heart. 
It turns in less than two nights? O you gods, 
I feel my master's passion ||! This slave 
Unto his honour, has my lord's meat in him: 
Why should it thrive, and turn to nutriment. 
When he is turn'd to poison? 
O, may diseases only work upim't! [of nature 
And, when he is sick to death, let not that part 
Which my lord paid for, be of any power 
To expel sickness, but prolong his hour IT! 

[Exit. 

SCENE II. The same. A public place. 
Enter Lucius, with three Strangers. 
Luc. Who, the lord limon? he is my very 
good friend, and an honourable gentleman. 

1 Stran. We know** him for no less, though 
we are but strangers to him. But I can tell you 
one thing, my lord, and which 1 hear from com- 
mon rumours; now lord Timon's happy hours 
are done ft and past, and his estate shrinks from 
him. 

Luc. Fie, no, do not believe it ; be cannot 
want for money. 

2 Stran. But believe you this, my lord, that, 
not long ago, one of his men was with the lord 
Lucullus, to borrow so ujany talents ; nay, 
urged extremely for't, and showed what ne- 
cessity belonged to't, and vet was denied. 

Luc. How? 

2 Stran. I tell you, denied, my lord. 

Luc. What a strange case was that! now, 
before the gods, I am ashamed on't. Denied 
that honouriible man ? there was very little ho- 
nour showed in't. For my own part, I must 
needs confess, 1 have received some small kind- 
nesses from him, as money, plate, jewels, and 
such-like trifles, nothing comparing t«» his; yet, 
had he mistook him, and sent to me, 1 shouUl 
ne'er have denied his occasion so many talents . 
Enttr S K R V 1 L Mj s. 

Ser. See. by good hap, yonder's my lord ; 
I have sweait to see his honour.— ~iVtv hon'-'ured 
1 rd, — [T^oXuciq^ 

Luc, Serviliusj ypn are kindly met, sip 



• Liberal, not parsimonious. f For rpspectftljy. \ Ho««'Sty here peans liberality. 
^ i. €., And we whp were alive then, alive now. || Suftering \ '* By his bloody cross and 

passion." Liturgy. U i, £>., His life. •* Ackuowledj^-. t1 Consumed. 



72S 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act III. 



Fare thee well : — Commend me to thy honour- 
able-virtuous lord, my very exquisite friend. 

Ser. May it please your honour, my lord 
hath sent 

Luc. Ha! what has he sent? I am so much 
endeared to ihat lord ; he's ever sendiiiL;: How 
shall I ihrink hiin,thinkest thou? And what has 
he sent now ? 

Ser. lie has only sent his present occasion 
now, my lord; requesting your lordship to 
supply his instant use with so many talents. 

Luc. I know his lordship is but merry with 
me; He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents. 

Ser. But in the mean time he wants less, my 
If hi* occasion were not virtuous*, [lord. 

I should not ur^e it half so faithfully. 

Luc. Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius? 

Ser. Upon my soul, 'tis true, sir. 

Luc. What a wicked beast was F, to disfnr- 
nish myself against such a good lime, when I 
mi'^ht have shown myself honourable! how un- 
luckily it happened, that I should purchase the 
day before for a little part, and undo a great 
deal of honour! — Servilius, now before the 
goils, I am not able to do*t ; the more beast, 1 
say : — 1 was sending to use lord Timon myself, 
these gentlemen can witness; but I would not, 
for the wealth of Athens, I had done it now. 
Commend me bountifully to his good lordship; 
and I hope his honour will conceive the fairest 
of me, because I have no power to be kind : 
And tell him this from me, 1 count it one of my 
greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure 
such an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, 
will you befriend me so far, as to use mine own 
words to him ? 

Ser. Yes, sir, I shall. 

Luc. I will look you out a good turn, Ser- 
vilius. — [Exii Skrvilils. 
True, as you said, Timon is shrunk, indeed ; 
And he, that's once denied, will hardly speed. 
[Erie Loci us. 

1 Stran. Do you observe this, Hostilius? 

2 Stran. Ay, too well. 
1 Stran. Why this 

Is the world's soul ; and just of the same piece 
Is eveiy flatterer's spirit. Who can call him 
His friend, that dips in the same dish J for, in 
My knowing, Timon hath been this lord's fa- 
And kept his credit with his purse; [ther, 
Supported his estate; nay, Tinion's money 
Has paid his men their wages : He ne'er drinks. 
But Timon's silver treads upon his lip; 
And yet, (O, see the monstronsness of man. 
When he looks out in an ungrateful shape!) 
He does deny him, in respect of his, 
What charitable men afford to beggars. 

3 Stran. Religion groans at it. 

1 Stran. For mine own part, 

I never tasted Timon in my life. 
Nor came any of his bounties over me. 
To mark me tor Ids friend ; yet, I protest. 
For Id's rii^ht noble mind, illustrious virtue, 
And honourable carriage. 
Had his necessity made use of me. 



I would have put my wealth into donation f, 
And the best half should have return'd to him. 
So much I love his heart: But, I perceive. 
Men must learn now with pity to dispense : 
For policy sits above conscience. [Kceunt, 

SCENE III. The same. A Room in 

Sempronius's House. 
Enter Sempronius, and a Servant of 

Timon's. 
Sem. Must he needs trouble me in't? 
Humph! 'Bove all others? 
He might have tried lord Lucius, or LucuUus 
And now Ventidius is wealthy too, [three 

Whom he redeem'd from prison: All these i 
Owe their estates unto him. ^ 

Serv. O my lord, 

They have all been touch'dj, and found base 
They have all denied him ! [metal ; for 

Sem. How! have they denied him? 

Has Ventidius and LucuUus denied hiin? 
And does he send to me^ Three! humph!— 
It shows but little love or judgment in him. 
Must I be his last refuge? His friends, like 
physicians, [upon met 

Thrive, give him over: Must I take the cur^ 
He has much disgraced me iu't ; I am angry 
at him, [sense for'l. 

That might have known my place: I see no 
But his occasions might have wooM me first ; 
For, in my conscience, I was the first man 
That e'er received gift from him : 
And does he think so backward ly of me now» 
That I'll requite at last? No : So it may prov* 
An argument of laughter to the rest. 
And I amongst the lords be thought a fooL 
I had rather than the worth of thrice the sum, 
He had sent to me first, but for my mind's 
sake ; [now return, 

I had such a courage $ to do him good. But 
And with their faint reply this answer join; 
Who bates mine honour, shall not know my 
coin. [Exit, 

Serv. Excellent ! Your lordship's a goodly vil- 
lain. The devil knew not what he did, when he 
made man politic ; he crossed himself by't : and 
I cannot think, but, in the end, the villanies of 
man will set him clear. How fairJy this lord 
strives to appear foul ! takes virtuous copies to 
be wicked; like those that, under hot ardent 
zeal, would set whole realms on fire. 
i)f such a nature is his politic love. 
This was my lord's best hope ; now all are fled. 
Save the gods only : Now his friends are dead. 
Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their 

wards 
Many a bounteous year, must be employ'd 
Now to guard sure their master. 
And this is all a liberal course allows; 
Who cannot keep his wealth, must keep his 
house ||. [Exit, 

SCENE IV. The same. A Hall in Timon's 

House. 
Enter ttvo Servants of Varro, and the Ser- 
vant ^J/" Lucius, ?neeting Titus», Hortkn- 



• " If he did not want it for a good use." t This means, to put his wealth down in accoant 
M a donation. J Tried. 5 Ardour, eager desire, j] i. p,. Keep within doors for fear of duns. 



Scene IV.] 



TIMOiV OF ATHKAS. 



729 



SI us, and other Servants to Timon's Cre- 
ditors, ivaiting his coming out. 

Var. Serv. Well met; good-morrow, Titus 
arid Hortensins. 

Tit, The like to you, kind Varro. 

Hor, Lucius? 

What, do we meet together? 

IjUC, Serv, Ay, and I think 

One business does command us all; formine 
Is money. 

Tit, So is theirs and ours. 
Enter Philotus. 

Luc. Serv. And, sir, 

Phiiotus too! 

Phi. Good day at once. 

Luc. Serv. Welcome, good brother. 

What do you think the hour? 

Phi. Labouring for nine. 

Luc. Serv. So much? 

Phi. Is not my lord seen yet ? 

Luc. Serv. Not yet. 

Phi. I wonder on't; he was wont to shine 
at seven. [shorter with him : 

Luc. Serv. Ay, but the days are waxed 
You must consider that a prodigal course 
Is like the sun's* ; but not, like his, recover- 
I rear, [able. 

' Tis deepest winter in lord Timon's purse; 
That is, one may reach deep enough, and yet 
Find little. 

Phi. I am of your fear for that, [event. 

Tit. V\\ show you how to observe a strange 
Your lord sends now for money. 

Hor. Most true, he ^oes. 

Tit. And he wears jewels now of Timon's 
For which I wait tor money, [gift, 

Hor. It is against my heart. 

Luc. Serv. Mark, how strange it shows, 
Timon in this should pay more than he owes : 
And e'en as if your lord should wear rich 
And send for money for*em. [jewels, 

Hor. I am weary of this charge t, the gods 

can witness : 

I know, my lord hath spent of Timon's wealth, 

And now ingratitude makes it worse than 

stealth, [crowns: What's yours ? 

1 Var. Serv. Yes, mine's three thousand 

Luc. Serv. Five thousand mine. 

1 Vur. Serv. 'Tis much deep : and it should 
seem by the sum, 
Your master's confidence was above mine; 
Else, surely, his had equall'd. 

Enter Fi.aminius. 

Tit, One of lord Timon's men. 

Ltic. Ser. Flaminiiis ; sir, a word : 'Pray, is 
ray lord ready to come forth? 

Flam. No, indeed, he is not. 

Tit. We attend his lordship; 'pray, signify 
go much. 

Flum. I need not tell him that; he knows, 
you are too diligent. {Exit Flaaunius, 

Enter Flavius, in a cloaks viuffled, 

Luc. Serv. Hal is not that his steward 
muffled so? 
He goes away iu a cloud : call him, call him. 



Tit. Do yon hear, sir? 

1 Far. Ser. By your leave, sir, 

Fla. \\ hat do you ask of me, my friend? 

Tit. We wail for certain money here, sir. 

Fla. Ay, 

If money were as certain as your waiting, 
Twere sure enough. Why then preferr'd you 
not [eat 

Your sums and bills, when your false masters 
Of my lord's meat? Then they could smile, 

and fawn 
Upon his debts, and take down th' interest 
Into their gluttonous maws. You do yourselves 

but wrung, 
To stir me up ; let me pass quietly : 
Believe't, my lord and 1 have made an end ; 
I have no more to reckon, he to spend. 

Luc. Serv. Ay, but this answer will not 

Flav. If 'twill not, [serve. 

'Tis not so base as you; for you serve knaves. 

[E.vit. 

1 Var. Serv. How ! what does his cashier'd 

worship mutter ? 

2 Var. Serv. Mo matter what; he's poor, 
and that's revenge enough. Who can speak 
broader than he that has no house to put his 
head in? such may rail agiinst great buildings. 

Enter Sehvilius. 

Tit. O, here's Servilius ; now we shall know 
Some answei. 

Serv. If I might beseech you, gentlemen. 
To repair some other hour, I should much 
Derive from it: for, take it on my soul. 
My lord leans wondroi4sly to discontent. 
His comfortable temper has forsook him.: 
He is much out of health, and keeps his cham- 
ber, aie not sick; 

Luc. Serv. Many do keep their chambers 
And, if it be so far beyond his health, 
Methinks, he should the sooner pay his debts. 
And make a clear way to the gods. 

Ser. Good gods ! 

Tit. We cannot take this for an answer, sir- 

Flam. [f^Vithin.] Servilius, help!— my lordl 
my lord ! — 
Enter TiMON, in a rage; FLAMiNius/y^- 
lowing. 

Tim. What, are my doors opposed against 
my passage ? 
Have I been ever free, and must my house 
Be my retentive enemy, my gaol? 
The place, which i have feasted, docs it now. 
Like all mankind, show me an iron heart? 

l^uc. Serv. Put in now, 'Jitus. 

Tit. My lord, here is my bill. 

Luc. Serv. Here's mine. 

Hor. Serv. And mine, my lord. 

Both Var. Serv. And our's, my lord. 

Phi. All our bills. 

Tim. Knock me down with *eml : cleave 
me to the girdle. 

Luc. Serv. Alas! my lord, 

Tim. Cut my heart in sums* 

Tit. Mine, fifty talents. 

Tim. Tell out my blood. 



* i. e.. Like him in blaae and splendour. f Commission, employment. % Timca quib- 
bles. They present their written bills ; he catches at the word, and alludes to bills or battle-axes. 



730 



SHAKSPEAKE. 



[Act III 



Luc. Serv Five thousand crowns, my lord. 
T'un. Hve thousand drops pay that. — 
What yours?— and yours? 

1 Var. Sen: My lord, ■ 

2 Var. Serv. My lord, 

Tim. Tear me, take me, and the gods fall 
upon you! [Eiit. 

Hor. 'Faiih, I perceive our masters may 

throw their caps at tlieir money; these debts 

may well be called desperate ones, for a mad- 

»nan owes 'em. [Exeunt, 

Re-enter Timon and Flavius. 

Tim. They have e*en put my breath from 
Creditt)rs ! — devils. [me, the slaves. 

Flav. My dear lord, 

Tim. What if it siiould be so? 

Flav. My lord, 

Thn. I'll h::ve it so : — My steward! 

Flav. Here, my lord. 

Tim. So fitly ? Go, bid all my friends again, 
Lucius, Luculliis, and Semprouius ; all : 
I'll once more feast the rascals. 

Flav, O my lord. 

You only speak from your distracted soul; 
There is not so much left, to furnish out 
A moderate table. 

Tim. Be*t not in thy care ; go, 

I charge thee; invite them all : let in the tide 
Of knaves once more ; my cook and I'll pro- 
vide. [Exeunt. 

SCENE V. The same. The Senate-Bouse. 

The Senate sitting. Enter Alcibiades, 

attended. 

1 Sen. My lord, you have my voice to it ; 

the tank's 
Bloody; 'tis necessary he should die: 
Nothing; emboldens sin so much as niercy. 

2 Sen. Most true; the law shall bruise him. 
Alclb. Honour, health, and compassion to 
] Sen. Now, cap ain ? [the senate! 
Alcih. I am an humble suitor to your virtues; 

For pity is the virtue of the law. 

And none but tyrants use it cruelly. 

It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy 

Upon a friend of mine, who. in hot blood, 

Hath stepp'd into the law, which is past depth 

To those that, without heed, do plunge into it. 

He is a man, setting his fate aside*. 

Of comely virtues : 

!N<»r did he soil the fact with cowardice ; 

(An honour in him which buys out his fault,) 

But, with a noble fury, and fair spirit. 

Seeing his reputation louch'd to death, 

He did oppose his foe : 

And with such sober and unnoted passion t 

He did behave ^ his anger, ere 'twas spent. 

As if he had but proved an argument. 

I Seii. Vou undergo too strict a paradox^, 
Stiiving to make an ugly deed look fair : 
Your words havo took such pains, as if they 
labour d 



To bring manslaughter into form, set qua - 

relling 
Upon the head of valour ; which, indeed. 
Is valour niisbegot, and came into the world 
When sects and factions were newly horn ; 
He's truly valiant that can wisely sutler 
The worst that man can breathe ; and make hii 

wrongs [carelessly ; 

His outsides; wear them like his raiment. 
And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart. 
To bring it into danger. 
If wrongs be evils, and enforce us kill. 
What folly 'tis, to hazard life for ill? 

Atcib. My lord, [clear; 

1 Sen. You cannot make gross sins look 
To revenge is no valour, but to bear. 

Alcib. My lords, then, under favour, pardot* 
If I speak like a captain. — [me; 

Why do fond men expose themselves to battle^ 
And not endure all threatenings ? Sleep u pon it. 
And let the foes quietly (fut their throats. 
Without repugnancy ? but if there be 
Such valour in the l^enring, what make we 
Abroad II? why then, women are more valiant, 
That stay al home, if bearing carry it; 
And th' ass, more captain than the liun ; tiei 

felon, 
Loaden with irons, wiser than the judge. 
If wisdom be in suffering. O, my lords. 
As yon are great, be pitifully good : 
Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood t 
To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust 11 ; 
But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just **. 
To be in anger, is impiety ; 
But who is man, that is not angry? 
Weiiih but the crime with this. 

2 Sen. You breathe in vain. 

Alcib. In vain? his service dont 

At Lacedgemon, and By/.antium. 
Were a sufficient briber for his life. 

1 Sen. What's that? [service 
Alci*>. Why, I say, my lords, h*as done fai* 

And slain in fight many of your enemies : 
How full of valour did he bear himself 
In the last conflict, and made plenteous 
wounds? ['em, he 

2 Sen. He has made too much plenty with 
Is a sworn rioter : h' as a sin that often 
Drowns him, and takes his valour prisoner: 
If there were no foes, that were enough alone 
To overcome him : in that beastly fury 

He has been known to commit outraues. 
And cherish factions : *Tis inferr*d to us. 
His days are foul, and his daink dangerous. 

1 Sen. He dies. ' [war. 

Alcib. Hard fate! he might have died in 
My lords, if not for any parts in him, 
(Though his right arm might purchase his 
own time, fy^"» 

And be in debt to none,) yet, more to n)ove 
Take my deserts to his, and Join them both : 
And, for I know, your reverend ages love 



• i. e.f Putting this action of his, which was predetermined by fate, out of the question. 
♦ i.e.f Passion so subdued that no spectator could note its operation. t Manage, gov«rn. 

§ Yon imdertake a paradox too hard. || What have we to do in the field? 

^ For tggrs/c.tion. •* '* Homicide, in our own defence, by a merciful inter pretatioa 

©f the law, is considered Justifiable." 



Scene V •] 



TIMON OF ATHEJVS. 



731 



iSecurity, I'll pawn my victories, all 
My honour to you, upon his good returns. 
If by this crime he owes the law his life, 
Why, let the war receive't in valiant gore; 
For law is strict, and war is nothing more. 

1 iiCn. We are for law, he dies; urge it no 

more, [brother. 

On height of our displeasnre: Friend, or 

lie forfeits his own blood, that spills another. 

Alcib, Must it be sot it must not be. My 

I <lo beseech you, know me. [lords, 

2 StJi. How? 

Alcib, Call me to your remembrances. 
. 3*S>7/. What? [got me; 

Aicib. I cannot think, but your age has for- 

II could not else be, I should prove so base* 
To sue, and be denied such common grace: 
My wounds ache at you. 

1 Sen, Do you dare our anger? 

*Tis in few words, but spacious in effect ; 
•ArVe banish thee for ever. 

Alcib, Banish me? 

Banish yourdoiage; banish usury. 
That makes the senate ugJy. [tain thee, 

1 St7i. If, after two days* shine, Athens con- 
Attend our weigntier judgment. And, not to 

swell our spirit f, 
H-e shall be executed presently. 

{Exeunt Senators, 

Alcib. Now the gods keep you old enough; 
that you niay live 
Only in bone, that none may look on you! 
I am worse than mad : I have kept back 

their foes. 
While they have tohl their money, and let out 
Their coin upon large interest; I myself 
Rich only in large hurts ; — All those for this 1 
Is this the balsam that the usuring senate 
Pour into captains' wounds? ha! banishment? 
U comes not ill ; I hate not to be banish'd ; 
Jt is a cause worthy my spleen and fury. 
That I may strike at Athens. Pll cheer up 
My discontenle<i troops, and lay for heirts ;• 
"lis honour, with mo&t lands to be at odds ; 
Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as gods. 

^Exit. 

SCENE VI. A magnificent Room in Ti- 
mon's House. 

Music. Tables set out : Servants attending. 
Enter divers Lords, at several doors. 

1 Lord. The good time of day to you, sir. 

2 Lord. I also wish it to you. I think this 
honourable lord did but try us this ether day, 

1 Lord. Upon that were my thoughts tir- 
ing §, when we encountered : I hope it is not 
8o low with him, as he made it seem in the 
trial of his several friends. 

2 Lord. It should not be, by the persuasion 
of his new feasting. 

1 Lord, I should think so : He hath sent me 
an earnest inviting, which many my near oc- 
casions did urge me to put ott ; but he hath 



conjured me beyond them, and I must needs 

appear. 

2 Lord. In like manner was I in debt to my 
importunate business, but he would not hear 
my excuse. I am sorry, when he bent to bor- 
row of me, that my provision wvn- out. 

1 Lord. I am sick of that grief too, as I un- 
I derstand how all things go. 
I 2 Lord. Every man here's so. What would 
he have borrowed of you ? 

1 Lord, A thousand pieces. 

2 Lord, A thousand pieces I 
1 Lord. What of you ? 

3 Lord, He sent to me sir, — Here he 
comes. ** 

Enter TiMO^, and Attendants. 
Tim. With all my heart, gentlemen both :w. 
And how fare you ? 

1 Lord. Ever at the best, hearing well of 
your lordship. 

2 Lord. The swallow follows not summer 
more willing, than we your lordship. 

Tim. [Aside.] Nor more willingly leaves 
winter ; such summer-birds are men. — Gentle 
men, our dinner will not recompense this long 
stay : feast your ears with the music awhile", 
if they will fare so harshly on the trumpetV 
sound : we shall lo't presently. 

1 Lord. 1 hope, it remains not unkindly 
with your lordship, that I returned yon an 
empty messenger. 

Tim. O, sir, let it not trouble you. 

2 Lord, My noble lord, 

Tim, Ay, my good friend ! what cheer ? 

[The banquet brought in. 

2 Lord. My most honourable lord, I am 
e.*en sick of shame, that, when your lordship 
this other day sent to me, I was so unfortunate 
a beggar. 

Tim, Think not on't, sir. 

2 Lord. If you had sent but two hours 
before, — 

Tim, Let it not cumber your better »emem 
brance||. — Come, bring in all together. 

2 Lord. All covered dishes! 

1 Lord. Royal cheer, I warrant you. 

3 Lord. Doubt not that, if money, and the 
season can yield it. 

1 Lord. How do you ? what's the news? 

3 Lord. Alcibiades is banished ; Hear yoa 
of it? 

142 Lord, Alcibiades banished ! 
3 Lord. 'Tis so, be sure of it. 
i Lord. How? how? 

2 Lord. I pray you, upon what? 

Tim, My worthy friends, will yoo draw 
near? 

3 Lord. I'll tell yon more anon. Here's a 
noble feast toward. 

2 Lord. This is the old man still. 

3 Lord. Will't hold? will't hold? 

2 Lord. It does : but time will — and so— - 

3 Lord. I do conceive. 

Tim. Each man to his stool, with that spur 



• For dishonoured. f i. e.y Not to put ourselves in any tumour of rage. 

% We should now say — to lay out for henrts. i. e., ihe affections of tl-e people. 

'f To tire on a tliinj, me.tm tu be idl^ tinpio^eu k>u a, i i<-, Vut-j >^KHjii jui;mory 



732 



SHAKSPKARE. 



[Act III. 



an he would to the lip of his mistress : your 
»liet shall be in all places alike. Make not a 
city Jeast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can 
agree upon the fir.^t place: iJit, sit. The gods 
require our thanks. 

You great hen< factors, sprinkle our so- 
ciety tv'th thankfulness. For your own 
gifts, make yourseUes praised: but reserve 
still io giie, lest your deities be despised. 
Lend to eacli man enough, that one need 
not lend to anotlier : for, were your god- 
heads to borrow of men, 77ien wok Id forsake 
ttie gods. M,,ke tlie meat be beloved, more 
than the man that gite^ it. Lit no assem- 
bly of twenty be wit/wut a score of lillams : 
Jf 111 re sit twtlve women at the table, let 
a dozen (f them be — as they are. — The rest 
of your fees, O gods, — the senators of 
Athens, toge/htr with the common lag* of ^ 
people, — what is amiss in t/tem, you goas \ 
make suitable for destruction. For these i 
my present friends, — as they are to me no_ 
tiling, so 171 nothing bless them, and ta no[ 
thing they are welcome. 

Uncover, dogs, and lap. 

[Tne dishes uncovered, are full of warm 
water. 
Some speak. What does his lordship mean? 
Some other. I ktiow not. 
Tim. May yon a better feast never behold, 
You knot of nioutti-friendsl smoke, and luke- 
warm water 
is your perfection. This is Timon's last ; 
Who stuck and spangled you with flatteries. 
Washes il oti, and sprinkles in your faces 

IThr owing water in their faces. 



Your reeking villany. Live loath'd and long^ 
Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, 
Courteous destroyers, affaL^le wolves, meek 
bears, [riiest. 

You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time'* 
Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute- 
jacks;! 
Of man and beast, the infinite malady 
Crust you quite o'er;— what, dost tHou go? 
Soft, take thy physic tirst — thou too, — and 
thou ; — 
[Throws the dishes at them, and drives 
them out. 
Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none. — 
What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast^ 
Whereat a villain's not a welcome guest, [be 
Burn, house ; sink, Athens! henceforth hated 
Of Timon, man, and all linmiuity ! [i'ljuit. 
He-enter the Lords, zvith other Lords and 
Senators. 

1 Lord. How now, my lords? 

2 Lord. Know yoa the quality of Lord 
Timon's fury ? 

3 Lord. Pish ! did you see my cap? 

4 Lord. 1 have lost my gown. 

3 Lord. He's but a mad lord, and nought 
but humour sways him. He gave me a jewel 
the other day, an;l now he has beat it out ol 
my hat : — \)U\ you see my jewel ? 

4 Lord. Did you see my cap? 
2 Lord. Here 'tis. 

4 Lord. Here lies my gown. 

1 Lord. Let's make no stay. 

2 Lord, Lord Timon's mad. 

3 Lord. I feel't upon my bones. 

4 Lord. One day he gives us diamond*, 

next day stones. [Exeunt, 



ACT IV. 



SCENE 1. Tf^thout the walls of Athens. 

Enter Timon. 

Tim. Let me look back upon thee, O thou 
wall, [e^rth, 

Thnt girdlest in those wolves I — dive in the 
.A.n:i fence not Athens! Matrons, turn inconti- 
nent! 
Obedience tail in children! slaves, and fools. 
Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the 

bencii, 
And miinsier in their steads ! to general fiUhs$ 
Convert o'ttie instant green virginity! [fast; 
Do'l in your parents' eyes! bankrupts, hold 
Rather than render back, out with your knives, 
And eul your trusters' throats! bound ser- 
vants, steal ! 
Large-lianded robbers your grave masters are. 
And pill l»y law! maid, to thy master's bed ; 
riiy misirtss is o' the brothel! svm of sixte* n, 
Plujk the lined crutch from the old limping 
sire. 



With it beat out his brains ! piety, and fear. 
Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, 
Domestic awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood^ 
Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades. 
Degrees, observances, customs, and laws. 
Decline to your confounding contraries ||, 
And yet confusion live!— Plagues, incident 

to men, 
Yotir potent and infectious fevers heap 
On Athens, ripe for stroke! thou cold sciatica. 
Cripple our senators, that their limJ»s may halt 
As lamely as their manners! lust and liberty IT 
Creep in the minds and marrow of our youth ; 
That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may- 
strive, 
And drown themselves in riot! itches, blaii.s^ 
Sow all the Athenian bosoms ; ano their crop 
Be general leprosy! breath infect breath ; 
That tlieir society, as their friendship, may 
He merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from ttiee,, 
But nake'lness, thou detestable town! 
Take thou thattoo, with multiplying banns**! 



• The lowest. + Flies of a season. 

iarkt of the clock ; like those at St. Dunstan's church in Fieet-street. i Commoo a 

H ».^., Contrarifctes, whose nature it is to waste or destroy each otl»ei. 
^ For lib*Ttmi«aa. •• Aocuiuulai* a cur»«» 



Scene IJL\ 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



f iinon will to the woods ; where he shall find 
The uakiudest beast rnoie kiuder than mau- 
kind. [all) 

The goiis confound (hear me, ye good gods 
The Aihfoidiis both \viihla and out that wall! 
And grant, as Tinon grows, his h-ite may grow 
To the whole race of mankind, high and low ! 
Amen. [txit. 

SCENE II. Athens. A Room in Timon'a 

House. 
Kilter Flavi us, with two or three Servants. 

1 Sert\ Here you, master steward, where's 

our master? 
Are we undone? cast off? nothing remaining? 
FLav. Al !ck, my fellows, what should 1 say 
to yoM i 
Let me be recorded by the righteous gods, 
1 iiiii as poor as you. 

1 1 Sere. ^ Such a house broke! 

So noble a master fallen! All gone! and not 
One friend to take his fortune by the arm. 
And go along with him! 

2 Serv. As we do turn our backs 
From our companion, thrown into his grave ; 
So his familiars to his buried fortunes 

Slink all away ; leavetheir false vows with him, 
Like empty purses pick'd: and his poor self, 
A dedicued besigar to the air. 
With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty. 
Walks, like contempt, a»one. — More of our 
fellows. 

Eater other Servants. 
Flav. All broken implements of a ruin'd 
house. [livery, 

3 Serv. Yet do our hearts wear Timon's 
That see I by our faces ; we are fellows still, 
Serving alike in sorrow: Leak'd is our bark; 
And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck, 
Hearing the surges threat: we must all part 
Into this sea of air. 

Flav. Good fellows all, 

The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you. 
Wherever we shall meet, for i'imon's sake, 
Let's yet be fellows ; let's shake our heads, and 

say. 
As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes, 
We have seen better dims. Let each take 

some ; {Giving them money. 

Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word 

more: 
Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor. 

{Exeunt Servants. 
O, the fierce* wretchedness that glory brings 

us! fenipt. 

Who would not wish to be from wealili ex- 
Since riches point to misery and contempt? 
Who 'd be so inock'd with glory ! or to live 
But in a dream ot friendship? * [pounds, 

To have his pomp, and all what state com- 
But only painted, like his varnish'd friends? 
Poor honest lord, brought low by his own 

r>eart; 
CJndone by goodness ! Strange, unusual blood t. 



When man's worst sin is, he does too much 

good ! 
Who then dares to be half so kind again? 
For bounty, that makes gods, does siill mair 

men. 
\fy dearest lord, — bless*d,to be most accursed. 
Rich only to be wretched ; —thy gi eat fortunes 
Are made thy chief atiliclit)n3. Alas, kind lord! 
He's flung in r.tge from this ungratetui seat 
Of mtm^itrous friends: nor has he with him to 
Supply his life, or that which can command it. 
1*11 follow, and inquire him out: 
I'll serve his mind with my i est will ; 
vV hilst I have gold, I'll be bis stevvard still. 

{Exit, 
SCENE III. The Woods, 

Enter TiyioK. 

Tim. O blessed breeding sun, draw from the 

earth 
Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb J 
Infect the air ! i winn'd brothers of one womb. 
Whose procreation, residence, and birth. 
Scarce is dividant,— touch them with several 

fortunes ; 
The greater scorns the lesser : Not nature, 
To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great 
But by^ contempt of nature. [fortunet 

Raise me this beggar, and denude that lord ; 
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary, 
Ihe beggar native honour. 
It is the pasture lards the brother's sides. 
The want that makes him lean. Who dares, 

who dares. 
In purity of njanhood stand upright. 
And say, This mun's a Jiutterer? if one be. 
So are they all ; ft)r every grize of fortune 
Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate 
Ducks to the golden fool : all is oblique ; 
There's nothing level in our cursed natures 
But direct viilany. Therefore, be abhorr'd 
All feasts, societies, and throngs of men i 
His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains : 
Destruction fang || mankind ! — Earth, yield nie 

roots I [l^tggi"g* 

Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate 
With thy most operant prison ! Wiiat is here? 
Clold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, 

gods, [vens I 

I am no idle votarist.lF Roots, you clear hea. 
Thus much of this, will make black, white ; 

foul, fair ; [«''*', valiant. 

Wrong, right; base, noble; old, young; cow- 
Ha,you tiods : why this? What this, you gods? 

Why this [sides; 

Will lug your priests and servants from youi 
Pluck stout men's pillows from below iheit 

he ids : 
This yellow slave 

Will knit and break religions; bless the ac- 
cursed ; 
Make the hoar leprosy adored ; place thieves. 
And give them title, knee, and approbation. 
With senators on the bench : this is it. 



•flasty, precipitate, f Propensity, disposition. % i, e., The moon's, this sublunary worW 

^ But by, is here used for without. || Seize, gripe. 

^ No insincere or inconstant suppiicanL. Gold will not serve me instead of rooM. 

aR 



7S4^ 



SllAKSPEARE. 



[Avi jr 



That makes the wappen'd* widow wed agaiu ; 
Stie, wbum the spitaUliouse, and ulcerous sores 
Would cast the gorge at, this embalms and 

spices 
To the April day again +. Come, damned earth. 
Thou commou whore of mankind, that putt'st 

odds 
Among the rout of nations, I will make thee 
Do thy right nature.— [J/arc/i a/ar oJ/.]—Hd I 

a drum { — Thou'rt quick, 
But yet I'll bury thee : Thou'lt go, strong thief, 
When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand : — 
Is ay, stay thou out for earnest. 

[Aeeping some gold. 

Enter Alcibiades, with drum and fije, in 

warlike manner; Phrynia tfnrfTiMAN- 

DRA. 

Alcib, What art thoa there ? 

Speak. [thy heart, 

Tim, A beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw 
For showing me again the eyes of man ! 

Alcib, What is thy name^ Is man so 
hateful to thee. 
That art thyself a man ? [kind. 

Tim, I am misaiithropos, and hate man- 
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog. 
That I might love thee something. 

Alcib, I know thee well ; 

Bat in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange. 

Tim, I know thee too ; and more, than that 
I know thee, 
I not desire to know. Follow thy drum; 
With man's blood paint the ground, gules,gnles : 
Religious canons, civil laws are cruel ; [thine 
Then what should war be? This fell whore of 
Hath in her more destruction than thy sword, 
For all her cherubiu look. 

Pkr. Thy lips rot off! 

Tim, I will not kiss thee ; then the rot re- 
To thine own lips again. [turns 

Alcib, How came the noile Timou to this 
change 1 [give: 

Tim. As the moon does, by wanting light to 
But then renew I could not, like the moon; 
There were no suns to borrow of. 

Alcib, Noble Timon, 

What friendship may I do thee? 

TitrL. None, but to 

Maintain my opinion. 

Alcib. What is it, Timon? 

Tim. Promise me friendship, but perform 
none: If [for 

Thou wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, 
Thou art a man! if thoa dost perform, con- 
found lliee, 
irortnou'it a man I 

Alcib, 1 have heard in some sort of thy mi- 
series, [rity. 

Tim. Thou saw'st them, when I had prospo- 

Alcih. I see them now ; then was a blessed 
time. 

Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of 
harlots. 



Timau. Is this the Athenian minioL, whom 
Voiced so regardfuUy ? [ihe world 

Tim, Art thou Timaudra ? 

Timan. \es, 

Ti77i, Be a whore still ! Ahey love thee not, 
that u.se thee ; 
Give them diseases, leaving with thee their lust. 
Make uce of thy ?alt hours : seueoii the slaves 
For tubs and baths; bring dowti rose- 
cheeked youth 
To the tub-fast, and the diet*. 

Timan, Hang thee, monster ! 

Alcib. Pardon liim, swett Timandra ; for 
his wits 
Are drown'd and lost in bis calamities. — 
I have but little gold of late, brave Timon, 
The want whereot doth daily make revolt 
In my penurious band: 1 have heard, and 

grieved. 
How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth. 
Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour 
states, [them. — 

But for thy sword and fortune, trod npon 

Tim. I pr'ythee beat thy drum, and get 
thee gone. [Timon. 

Alcib. I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear 

Tim, How dost thou pity him whom thou 
I had rather be alone. [dost trouble 1 

Alcib. Why, fare thee well : 

Here's some gold for thee. 

Tim, Keep't, I cannot eat it. 

jl/ci6. When I have laid proud Athens on a 
heap, 

Tim, Warr'st thou 'gainst Athens ? 

Alcib, Ay, Timon, and Lave cause. 

Tim. The gods con-found them all i'thy con- 
quest ; and 
Thee after, when thou hast conquered ! 

Alcib, Why me, Timon t 

Tim. That, 
My killing villains, thou wast born to conquer 
My country. [on ; 

Put up thy gold; Go on, — here's gold, — go 
Be as a planetary plague, when Jove 
Will o'er some high-viced city hang his poison 
In the sick air : Let not thy sword skip one: 
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard. 
He's an usurer : Strike me the counterfeit ma- 
It is her habit only that is honest, [tron; 
Herself's a bawd : Let not the virgin's cheek. 
Make soft thy trenchant ^ sword ; for those 
milk-paps, [eyes. 
That through the wicdow-bars bore at men*« 
Are not within the leaf of pity writ, [eyes 
Set them down horrible traitors: Spare no! 

the babe. 
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their 

mercy ; 
Think it a bastard H, whom the oracle [cut 

aih doubtfully pronounced thy throat shall 
And mince it sans remorse^: Swear agains 

objects**; 
Put armour on thine ears, and on thine eyes 



Sorrowful. f i. «., Gold restores her to ad the sweetness and freshness of youth. 
J Alluding to the cure for the lues venerea then in practice. § Cutting-, 
jj An allusion to the tale of G^^dipus. ^i Without pity. 
•• * €., Against ol jects oi ohaiily ami coDipaeuioii. 



Scene 111.] 



TIMON OF ATHEI^S. 



735 



Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor 

babes. 
Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding;. 
Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay thy sol- 
diers: 
Make lari;e confusion ; and, tliy fnry spent, 
Con founded be thyself ! Speak not, be gone. 
Alcib. Hast thou gold yet? I'll take the 
Not all thy counsel. [gold thou givest me, 

Tim. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's 

curse upon thee! 
Phr, 4" Timan. Give us some gold, good 

Timon : Hast thou more 1 
Tim. Enough to make a whore foreswear 
her trade, [sluts, 

And to make whores, a bawd. Hold up, you 
Your aprons mounlant: Yon are not oathable, 
Although 1 know you'll swear, terribly swear, 
Into strong shudders, and to heavenly agues, 
The immortal gods that hear you, — spare youi 

oaths, 
I'll trust to yourconditlons* : Be whores still ; 
And he whose pious breath seeks to convert 

you. 
Be strong in whore, allure him, burn him up ; 
Let your close tire predominate his smoke. 
And Le no turncoats : Yet may your pains 
six months [roots 

Be quite contrary : And thatch your poor thin 
With burdens of the dead ; — some that were 
hang'd, [whore still; 

"No matter: — wear them, betray with them : 
Paint till a horse may mire upon your face : 
A pox of wrinkles ! [then! — 

Phr. S^Timan. Well, more gold; — What 
Belle ve't, that we'll do any thing for gold. 

Tim. Consumptions sow [shins, 

In hollow bones of man ; strike their sharp 
And mar men's spurring. Crack the lawyer's 

voice, 
That he may never more false title plead. 
Nor sound his quillets + shrilly : hoar the fla- 
That scolds against the quality of flesh, [men. 
And not believes himself : down with the nose, 
Down with it flat ; take the bridge quite away 
Of him, that his particular to foresee. 
Smells from the general weal : make curl'd- 

pate ruftians bald ; 
And" let the unscarred braggarts of the war 
Derive some pain from you : Plague all ; 
That your activity may defeat and quell 
The source of all election.— There's more gold : 
Do you damn others, and let this damn you, 
And ditches grave :|: you all I 

Phr. 4 Timan. More counsel with more 

money, bounteous Timon. 
Tim.. More whore, more mischief first; I 

have given you earnest, 
Alrih. strike up the drum towards Athens, 
Farewell, Timon ; 
thrive well, I'll vidtthee again. 
Tim. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more. 
Alcib. I never did thee harm, 
Tim. Yes, thou spokest well of me- 



Alcib. Call'st thou that harm T 

Tii7i. Men daily find it such. Get thee away. 

And take thy beagles with thee. 

Alcib, We but offend him.^ 

Strike. \^Drum beats. Exeunt Alcibi- 

ADES, PhRYNIA, TIMANDRA. 

Tin. That nature, being sick of man's un- 

kindness, ~ 
Should yet be hangry ! — Common mother, 

thou, [Digging. 

Whose womb unmeasurable, and iutinite 

breast §, 
Teems, and feeds all ; whose self-same mettle. 
Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is 

pufifM, 
Engenders the black toad, and adder blue. 
The gilded newt, and eyeless venom'd worm||. 
With all the abhorred births below crisp if 

heaven [shine ; 

Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth 
Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate. 
From forth thy plenteous bosom one poor root! 
Ensear thy fertile and conceptions womb. 
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man I 
Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and 

bears ; [face 

Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward 
Hath to the marbled mansion all above 
Never presented!— O, a root, — Dear thanks I 
Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough torn 

leas ; [draughts. 

Whereof ingratefr.-l man, with liquorish 
And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind. 
That from it all consideration slips ! 

Enter Apemantus. 
More man ? Plague! pUgue! 

Apem. \ was directed hither : Men report. 
Thou dost aftect my manners, and dost use 

them. fa dog 

Tim. 'Tis, then, because thou dost not keep 

Whom I would imitate : Consumption catch 

thee ! 
Apem. This is in thee a nature but affected ; 
A poor unmanly melancholy, sprung 
From change of fortune. Why this spade? this 

place ? 
This slave-like habit? and these looks of care? 
Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft; 
Hug their diseased perfumes**, and have forgot 
That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods. 
By putting on the cunning of a carper tf. 
Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive 
By that which has undone thee : hinge t'.y 

knee. 
And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe. 
Blow otf thy cap ; praise his most vicious 

strain. 
And call it excellent: Thou was told thus; 
Ihou gavest thine ears, like tapsters, that bid 

welcome 
To knaves and all approachers: *Tis most just 
That thou turn rascal ; hadst thou wealth again. 
Rascals should hav't. Do not assume my like- 
ness. 



* Vocations. + Subtilties. j Entomb. § Boundless surface. 

^ The serpent called the blind worm. II Bent. ** i e t Their diseased perfumed mistresses, 

tt i. €., Shame not these woods by finding fanlt. 



735 



SHAKSPEAKE. 



[Act ir 



Tim. Were I likeiliee, I'd throw aw ay my- 
stir". [like thyself ; 

Apetu. rUoa hast cast away tiiyself, being 
A madnMD so long, now a fool ; VV liat, think'st 
That the bleak air, hy boisterous chaiiiberiain, 
"Will put tiiy shirt on warm i Will these 

moss'd trees, 
That have outlived the eagle, page thy heels. 
And skip when thou point's! oat? Will the 

cold brook, 
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste, 
To cure thy o'er night's surfeit i call the crea- 
tures, — 
Whose naked natures live in all the spite 
Of wreakful heaven : whose bare unhoused 
To the conrticling elements exposed, [trunks, 
Answer mere n.iiure, — bid thein flatter thee; 
O ! thou Shalt tind 

Tim, A fool of thee : Depart. 

Apem. I love thee better now than e'er 1 did. 

Tim» I hate thee worse. 

Apem, Why 1 

Tim, Thou flatter'st misery. 

Apem, I flatter not ; but say, ihou art a cai- 

Ttm. Why dost thou seek me out ? [lilf. 

A^em. lo vex thee. 

Tim. Always a villain's office, or a fool's. 
Dost please thyself in't ? 

Apem, Ay. 

Ti?n. What! a knave too? 

Apem. If thou didst put this sour cold habit 
on 
To castigfite thy pride, 'twere well : but thou 
Dost it enforcedly ; tliou'dst courtier be again, 
Wei t thou not beggar. Willing misery 
Outlives incertain pomp, is crovvn'd before* : 
The one is filling siill, never complete ; [less. 
The other, at hiah wish : Best state, content 
Hath a distracted and nmst wretched being. 
Worse than the worst, content. 
I'hou shonldst desire to die, being miserable. 

Tim. ^ol by his breath t tliat'is more mi- 
serable. 
Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm 
With favour never clasp'd ; but bred a dog. 
Iladst thoM. like us, from our first swath j, pro- 

cet-ded 
The sweet degrees that this brief world affords 
To such as ma) the passive drugs of it 
Freely command, thou wouldst have plunged 

thyself 
In general riot ; melted down thy youth 
In different beds of lust ; and never learn'd 
The icy precepts of respect,^, but follow'd 
'1 he sugar'd game before thee. But n)y&elf. 
Who had the world as my confectionary ; 
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts 

of men 
At duty, more than I could frame employment; 
ihal number. ess upon me stuck, as leaves 
Do on the oMk, h ive with one winter's brush 
Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare 
For every storm th it blows ; — I, to bear this, 
iliat never knew but better, is some burden : 



Thy nature did commence in suflfcrance. time 
Hath made thee h.ird in't. Why shou tlst 
thou hate men ? [given I 

They never flatier'd thee : What hast thou 
if thou wilt curse, — thy father, that poor rag, 
Must be thy subject ; who, in spite, put siutf 
lo some she-beggar, and compounded thee, 
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence ! be gone ! 
If thou hadst not been born the worst of men, 
i'hou hadst been a knave, and liaiterer. 
Apem. Art thou proud yet? 

Tim. Ay, that I am not thee. 
A}>em. 1, that I was 

No prodigal. 

Tim. I, that I am one now ; 

Were ail the wealth I have shut up in thee, 
I'd give thee leave to han^^ ii. Gel thee gone. 
Ihat the whole life of Athens were in this! 
Thus would I eat it. [Luting a root. 

Apem. Here ; I will mend thy feast. 

[OJjeriiig him .'something, 
Tim. First mend my company, take away 
thyself. [lack of thine. 

Apem. So 1 shall mend mine own, by the 
Tim. *Tis not well mended so, it is but 
If not, 1 would it were. [botch'd : 

Apem. What wouldst thou have to Athens? 
Tim. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou 
wilt, 
Tell them there I have gold ; look, so I have. 
Apem, Here is no use for gold. 
Tim. The best, and truest : 

For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm. 
Apem, Where ly'st o'inghts, 1 imon ? 
T/m. Under that's above me 

\\ here feed'sl thou o'dnys, Apemantus ? 

Apem. Where my stomach finds meat ; or 
rather, where 1 eat it. 

Ti7n. 'Would poison were obedient, and 
knew my mind I 

Apem. Where wouldst thou send it? 
Tim. To sauce thy dishes. 
Apem, The middle of humanity thou never 
knewest, but the extremity of both ends : 
When thou wast in thy gilt, and thy perfuiiie, 
they mocked thee for too much curiosity || ; in 
thy rags thou knowest none, but art despised 
for the contrary. There's u medlar for thee, 
eat it. 

7'im. On what I hate I feed not. 
Apem. Dost hate a medlar { 
Tim. Ay, though it look like thee. 
Apem. An thou hadst hated meddlers sooner, 
thou shonldst have loved thyself better now. 
What man didst thou ever know unthrift, liiat 
was beloved after his means? 

Tim. Who, without those means thou talk- 
est of, didst thou ever know beloved? 
Apem. Myself. 

Tnn, I understand thee; thou hadst som 
means to keep a dog. 

Apem. What things in the world canst thcu 
nearest compare to thy flatterers? 

Tim. Women nearest ; but men, men are 



i. 6., Arrives sooner at the completion of its wishes. f By his voice, sentence. 

I From infancy. $ The cold admonitions of cautious prudence. 

'{ For too much finical (ielicacy. 



^fetit; i:i.] 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



7J7 



*he things themselves. What wouldst thon 
do with the world, Apemantas, if it lay in thy 
power? 

Apern. Give it the beasts, to be rid of the 
men, 

Tfm. Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the 
confusion of men, and remain a beast with the 
beasts { 

ApejJi. Ay, Timon. 

Tim. A beastly ambition, which the gods 
grant thee to attain to ! If thou wert the lion, 
the fox would beguile thee: if thou wert the 
lamb, the fox would eat thee : if thou wert the 
fox, the lion would suspect thee, when, perad- 
venture, thou wert accused by the ass : if thou 
wert the ass, thy dnlness would torment thee ; 
and still thou livedst but as a breakfast to the 
wolf: if thou wert the wolf,thy greediness would 
afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life 
for thy dinner: wert thou the unicorn, pride 
?.nd wrath would confound thee, and make 
thine own self the conquest of thy fury : wert 
thou a bear, thou wouldst be killed by the 
horse ; wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be 
seized by the leopard ; wert thou a leopard, 
thou wert german to the lion, and the spots of 
thy kindred were jurors on thy life: all thy 
safety were rernotion* ; and thy defence, ab- 
sence What beast couldst thou be, that wert 
not subject to a beast? and what a beast art 
thou already, that seest not thy loss in trans- 
formation '? 

Apem. If thon couldst please me with 
speaking to me, thou might'st have hit upon it 
here. The commonwealth of Athens is be- 
come a forest of beasts. 

T/m. How has the ass broke the wall, that 
thou art out of the city ? 

Apem. Yonder come a poet and a painter : 
the plague of company light upon thee I I 
will fear to catch it, and give way. When I 
know not what else to do, I'll see thee again. 

7'im. When there is nothing living but thee, 
thou shall be welcom-e. I had rather be a beg- 
gar's dog than Apemantus. 

Apem. Thou art the cap + of all the fools alive. 

Trm. Would thou wert clean enough to spit 
upon. [curse. 

Ape?n. A plague on thee, thou art too bad to 

Tim, All villaiiis that do stand by thee are 
pnie. [speak*st. 

Aienu There is no leprosy but what thou 

T/m. If I name thee. — 
I'll beat thee,— but I should infect my bands. 

Apem,. I would my tongue could rot them 

T/m. Away, thou issueof aniangy dog I [off 1 
Clioler does kill me, that thou art alive ; 
I swoon to see thee. 

A jM m. Would thou wouldst burst ! 

T/m. Away 

1 hoa tedious rogue ! I am sorry I shall lose 
A stone by thee. [Throivs a stune at him. 

Ajxm. Beast! 

Tm. Slave! 

Apem» Toad ! 



Tim. Rogue, rogue, rogue ! 

[Apemantus retreats backnard^ us going, 
1 am sick of this false world ; and will love 
But evf n the mere necessities upon it. [nought 
Then, Timon, presently prepare thy graven 
Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat 
Thy grave-stone daily : make thine epitaph, 
That death in me at others' lives may laugh. 
O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce 

[Lookifig on the gold. 
Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler 
Of Hymen's purest bed ! thou valiant Mars! 
Thou ever young, fresh, loved, and delicate 

wooer, 
Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow 
That lies on Dian's lap ! thou visible god. 
That solder'vSt close impossibilities, [tongue, 
And makest them kiss ; that speak'st wit h every 
To every purpose ! O thou touch | of hearts ! 
Think, thy slave man rebels ; and by thy virtue 
Set them into confounding odds, that beasts 
May have the world in empire 1 

Apem. Would 'twere so ; — 

But not till 1 am dead ! — I'll say thou hast 
Thou will be ihrong'd to shortly. [gold : 

Tim. Throng'd to 1 

A pem. Ay 

Tim. Thy back, I pr'ythee. 

Apem. Live, and love thy misery 

Tim. Long live so, and so die ! — I am quit. 
[Exit Apemantus 
More things like men? — Eat Timon, and abho» 
them. 

Enter Thieves. 

1 Thief. Where should he have this gold 
It is some poor fragment, some slender ort o» 
his remainder. The mere want of gold, an^ 
the falling-from of his friends, drove him intc 
this melancholy. 

2 Thief. It is noised he hath a mass of 

treasure. 

3 Thief. Let us make the assay upon him ; 
if he care not for't, he will supply us easily ; 
if he covetously reserve it, how shall 's get it T 

2 Thief True ; for he bears it not about 
him, 'tis hid. 

1 Thief Is not this he? 
Thieves. Where? 

2 Thief 'Tis his description. 
ZTiiief He; I know him. 
Thieves. Save thee, Timon. 
Tiin. Now, thieves. 
Thieves, Soldiers, not thieves. 
Tim. Both too ; and women's sons. 
Thieves. We are not thieves, but men that 

much do want. [of meat. 

Tim. Your grettect want is, you want much 

Why should you want? Behold, the earth hath 

roots ; 
Within this mile break forth a hnmVed springs 
The oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips ; 
The bounteous houst wife, nature, on each bush 
Lays her full mess before you. Want? why 

want? [water 

1 Thief. Wc cannot live on grasf on berries 



• Rcmoteucts, the being pl'iced af a distance from the lion, 
t The tof/, tiie piincii^a!. ; Fur tonchstoiu- 

a R 3 



738 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV 



As beasts, and burts, and fisists. 

Ttm. Nor on the beasts themselves, the 

birds, and fishes ; 
Yon must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con, 
That you are thieves profe-ss'd ; that you viork 

not 
Tn holiei shapes : for there is boundless theft 
In limited * professions. Rascal thieves, [grape. 
Here's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood of the 
3 ill the high fever seeth your blood to froth. 
And so 'scape hanging : trust not the physician; 
His antidotes are poiion, and he slays 
More than you rob: take wealth and lives 

together ; 
Do, villany, do, since you profess to do't, 
Like -workmen. I'll example you with 

thievery : 
The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction 
Robs the vast sea : the moon's an arrant thief. 
And her pale fire she snatches from the sun : 
The, sea's a thief, whose liquid sur?e resolves 
Tne moon into salt tears : the earth's a thief, 
"3 hat feeds and breeds by a composture t stolen 
From general excrement : each thing's a thief; 
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough 

power [away ; 

Have unchecked theft. Love not yourselves: 
Rob one another. There's more gold : Cut 

throats ; 
All that you meet are thieve? : To Athens, go, 
Break open shops ; nothing can you steal. 
But thieves do lose it : Steal not less, for this 
I give you; and gold confound you howsoever I 
Amen. [Timon retires to his Cave. 

3 Thief. He has almost charm'd me from 
my profession, by persuading me to it. 

1 Tkief. Tis in the malice of mankind that 
he thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our 
mystery. 

2 Thief, I'll believe him as an enemy, and 
give over my trade. 

1 Thief Let us first see peace in Athens : 
there is no time so miserable, but a man may 
be true. [£'rew/<^ Thieves. 

Enter Flavius. 

Flav, O you gods ! 
Is yon despised and ruinous man my lord ? 
Full of decay and failing? O monument 
And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'dl 
What an alteration of honour; Iws 
Desperate want made ! 

What viler thing upon the earth, than friends, 
W^ho can bring noblest minds to ba«est ends ! 
How rarely§ does it meet with this time's guise, 
When man was wish'(l|j to love his enemies : 
Grant, I may ever love, and rather woo 
Those that would mischief me, than those 

that do! 
He has caught me in his eye ; I will present 
My honest grief unto him ; and, as my lord, 
Still serve him v\ith my life. — My dearest 
master I 
Timon comes forward from his Cave. 

Tim. Away! what art thou? 



Flav. Have yott forgot me, %Xx \ 

Tim. Why dost ask that i 1 have forgot aM 

men ; [got thee. 

Then, if thou grant'st thou'rt rnan, I have for 

Flav. An honest poor servant of yours. 

Tim. Then 

I know thee not : 1 ne'er had honest man 
About me, I ; all that I kept were knaves, 
To serve in meat to villains. 

Flav. The gods are witness. 

Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief 
For his undone lord, than mine eyes for you. 

Tim. What, dost thou weep? Come 

nearer ; — then I love thee, 
Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st 
Flinty mankind ; whose eyes do never give 
But thorough lust and laughter. Pity's sleep- 
ing: [with weeping ! 
Strange times, that weep with laughing, not 

Flav. I beg of you to know me, good my 
lord, [lasts. 

To accept my grief, and whilst this poor wealth 
To entertain me as your steward still. 

Tim. Had 1 a steward so true, so just, and 
So comfortable? It almost turns [now 

My dangerous nature wild. Let me bel old 
Thy face. — Surely this man was born of wo 

man. — 
Forgive my general and exceptless rashness. 
Perpetual-sober gods ! I do proclaim 
One honest man, — mistake me not, — but one; 
No more, I pray, — and he is a steward. — 
How fain would I have hated all mankind. 
And thou redeem'st thyself: But all, save thee, 
I fell with curses. [wise ; 

Methinks thou art more honest now, th.m 
For by oppressing and betraying me, 
Thouinight'st have sooner got another service 
For many so arrive at second mnsters. 
Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true, 
(For 1 must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure,) 
is not thy kindness subtle, covetous, 
If not a usuring kindness; and a* rich meo 
Expecting in return twenty for one? [deal gifts 

Flav. No, my most worthy master, in whose 
breast 
Doubt and suspect, alas, are placed too late : 
You should have lear'd false times when yo« 

did feast : 
Suspect still comes where an estate is least. 
That which 1 show, heaven knows, is merely 
Duty, and zeal to your unmatched mind, [love. 
Care of your food and living: and, believe it. 
My most honour'd lord. 
For any benefit that points to me, 
Either in hope, or present, Pd exchange 
For this one wish, that you had power and 
To requite me, by making rich yourself, [wealth 

Tim. Look thee, 'tis so 1 — TliQU singly 

honest man, 

Here take : — the gods, out of my misery. 

Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and 

happy : [men *; 

But thus conditicn'd, thou shalt buihl from 



li 



II 



• For legal. f Compost, manure. J An alteration of honour is an alteration 

<»f an honourable «tate to a static of di?i:race. q How happily. |j Recommended. 

% Away from hum-in habitation. 



Sc^n III.] 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



739 



Hate all, curse all: show charity to none; 
But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone, 
Ere thou relieve the beggar : give to dogs 
What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swal- 
low them, [woods, 
Debts wither them : Be men like blasted 
And may diseases lick up their false bloods ! 
And so, farewell, and thrive. 



F'laz , O, let me stay , 

And comfort you, my master. 

Tim. Ifthouhatest 

Curses, stay not ; fly, whilst thou'rt bless'd 

and free : 
Ne*er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee. 
lEa'eu?it sever aliy. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. The same. Before Timon*& Cave. 

Enter Poet «wd Painter; Timon behind 
unseen. 

Pain. As I took note of the place, it can- 
not be far where he abides. 

Poet. What's to be thought of -him ? Does the 
rumour hold for true, that he is so full of gold 1 

Pain, Certain : Alcibiades reports it; 
Phrynia and Timandra had eold of him: he 
likewise enriched poor straggling soldiers with 
great quantity: 'Tis said, he gave unto his 
steward a mighty sum. 

Poet. Then tills breaking of his has been 
but a try for his friends. 

Pain. Nothing else: you shall see him a 
palm in Athens again, and flourish with the 
highest. Therefore, 'tis not amiss we tender 
our loves to him, in this supposed distress of 
his : it will show honestly in us ; and is very 
likely to load our purposes with what they 
travel for, if it be a just and true report that 
goes of his having. 

Poet. What have you now to present unto 
him ? 

Pain. Nothing at this time but my visita- 
tion : only I will promise him an excellent 
piece. 

Poet. I must serve him so too; tell him of 
9n intent that's coming toward him. 

Pain. Good as the best. Promising is the 
very air o'the time : it opens the eyes of ex- 
pectation : performance is ever the duller for 
his act ; and, but in the plainer and simpler 
kind of people, the deed of saying * is quite out 
of use. To promise is most courtly and 
fashionable: performance is a kind of will or 
testament, which argues a great sickness in 
his judgment that makes it. 

Tnn. Excellent workman I Thou canst not 
pnint a man so bad as is thyself. 

P et. I am thinking what I shall say I have 
provided for him : It must be a personating of 
himself: a satire against the softness of prospe- 
rity ; with a discovery of the infinite flaltei ies 
that follow youth and opnlency. 

Tim. Must thou needs stand for a villain 
m thine own work? Wilt thou whip thine 
own faults in other men 1 Do so, I have gold 
for thee. 

Poet. Nay, let's seek him: 
Then do we sin against our own estate. 
When we may profit meet, and come too late. 

Pain. True ; 



When the day serves, before black-corner'd 

night. 
Find what thou want'st by free and offer'd 
Come. riicjht. 

Tim, 111 meet you at the tarn. What a 
god's gold. 
That he is worshipp'd in a baser temple 
Than where swine feed ! [the foam ; 

'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark, and plough'gt 
Settlest admired reverence in a slave : 
To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye 
Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey ! 
'Fit I do meet them. [Advancins;, 

Poet. Hail, worthy Timon! 

Pain. Our late noble master. 

Tim Have I once lived to see two honest 

Poet. Sir, [men ? 

Having often af your open bounty tasted, [off. 
Hearing you were retired, your friends fall'n 
Whose thankless natures— O abhorred spirits ! 
Not all the whips of heaven are large enough — 
Whatltoyoy, [finence 

Whose star-like nobleness gave life and in- 
To their whole being! I'm rapt, and cannot 
The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude [cover 
With any size of words. [better: 

Tim. Let it go naked, men may see't the 
You, that are honest, by being what you are. 
Make them best seen and known. 

Pain. He, and myself, 

Have travell'd in the great shower of your 
And sweetly felt it. [gifts, 

Tim. Ay, you are honest men. 

Pain. We are hither come to offer yon our 
service. [I requite yon 1 

Tim. Most honest men! Why, how shall 
Can you eat roots, and drink cold water ? no. 

Both. What we can do, we'll do, to do you 
service. [that 1 have gold ; 

Tim. You are honest men : You have heard 

I am sure you have : speak truth : you are 

honest men. [therefore 

Pain. So it is said, my noble lord: but 
Came not my friend, nor I. [counterfeil+ 

Tim. Good honest men: — Thou draw'st a 
Best i!i all Athens : thou art, indeed, the best ; 
Tliou counterfeit'st most lively. 

Pain. So, so, my lord. 

Tim. Even so, sir, as I say : — And, for thy 

fiction, [To the Poet. 

Why thy verse swells with stuff so fine and 

smooth. 
That thou a-t even natural in *hine art. — 
But, for all this, my honest- natured friends, 



• Th« doin^ of that we said we would do. 



f A portrait wafc so called. 



740 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act y 



1 muRt needs say, you have a little fault : fl 
Marry, *lis not nionslronsinyou ; neither wish 
Yon lake much pni.is to mend. 

Both. Beseech your honour, 

To make it known to us. 

T m. Yon'l! take it ill. 

Both. Most thankfully, ni> lord. 

Tirn. \V ill > ou, indeed t 

Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord. 

Tim. There's ne'er a one of you but trusts 
That mightily deceives you. [a knave, 

Both. Do we, my lord ? 

Thn. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him 
dissemble, 
Know his ^ross patchery, love hini, feed him, 
Keep ill yuiir t'osom : yet remain assured 
That he's a made-iip viilnin*. 

Pain. 1 know none such, my lord. 

Poet. Nor I. 

Tint. Look you, I love you well ; I'll give 
you told, 
Kid me these villains from yonr companies : 
Hang them, or slab them, drown them in a 
dranvhi*. fme. 

Confound them by some course, and con)e to 
I'll give yon gold enough. 

Both. Name them, my lord, let's know 
them. [in company : — 

Tim. Von that way, and you this, but two 
Each man apart, all single and alone, 
Yei an arch-villain keeps him compai.y. 
If, where thou art, two villains shall not be, 

[7'o f/ie Painter. 
Come not near him. — If thou vvonld'si not re- 
side [7'/ fhe Poet. 
But where one villain is, then him abandon. — 
Hence ! pack ! there's gold, ye came for trold, 
ye slaves : [Hence ! 
You have done work for me, there's payment: 
You are an alchymist, make gold of that : — 
Out, rascal doiis! 

[Kiit, beating and driting them out. 

SCENE II. The Same. 
Enter Flavius, and two Senators. 

Flav. It is in vain that you would speak 
For he is set so only to himself, [with 1 imon ; 
That noihing but himself, which looks like 
Is frienflly with him. [man, 

1 ^Sen. Bring ns to his cave : 

It is our part, and promise to the Athenians, 
To speak with Timon. 

1 Sen. At all times alike 

Men are not still the same : 'Twas time, and 
griefs, [hand, 

That framed him thus : time, with his fairer 
Offering the fortunes of his formerda>s, [him. 
The tormer man may make him : Bring us to 
And chance it as it may. 

Fiw . Here is his cave. — 

Ptace iind content be here! Lord Timon! 
Timon! [nians. 

Look out, ;ind speak to friends : The Athe- 
Ky two of their tnost reverend senate, greet 
fcpeak toUiem, uoble Timon. [thee: 



Enter Iiyio-H. 
Tim. Thou sun, that corafort'st, burn !-~ 

Speak, and be hanji'd : 
For each true word, a blister! and each false 
Be as a caut'rizing to the root oMie tongue, 
Consuming it with speaking! 

\ Sen. Worthy Timon — 

Tim. Of none but such as yi>u, and jou of 

Timon. f I imon. 

2 Sen. The senators of Athens gre* t thee, 

Tim. I thank them ; and would send them 

b.ack the plague. 

Could 1 but catch it for them. 

1 Sen. O, forget j 
What we are sorry for ourselves in thee. 
The senators, witli one consent of love;. 
Entreat thee back to Athens ; who have 
On special dignities, which vacant lit [thought 
For thy best use and wearing. 

2 Se>>.. They confess 
Toward thee, forgetfulnew too geneial, gioss: 
Which now tht- puljlic h<»dy, — v\hiihdoth sel- 
Pla\ the recanier,— feeling in itself [dora 
A lack of limou's aid, hath sense withal 
Of its own fall, r^^training aid to 1 imon ; 
And send forth us, to make their sorrowed 

render^, 
Together with a recompense more fruitful 
Than their otfencecati weigh down b^ the dram; 
Ay, even such heaps and sun. 8 of love and 

wedth, [theirs 

As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were 
.And write in thee the figures of their love. 
Ever to read them thine. 

'lint. You witch me in it; 

Surprise me to the very brink ot tears: 
Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eye», 
And I'll beweep these coniforts, worth> sena 

tors. [with us. 

1 Sen. Therefore, so please thee to return 
And of our Athens (thine and ours) to take 
The captainship, thou shall be met with thanks, 
Allow'djl \\\X\\ absolute power, and thy good 

name [back 

Live with authority: — so soon we shall drive 
Of Alcibiades the approaches wild ; 
Who. like a boar too savage, dolh root up 
His country's peace — 

2 Sen. And shakes his threat'ning sword 
Against the walls of Athens. 

1 Sen. Therefore, Timon, — 

Trn. Well, sir, T will ; therefore I will, sir; 
If Alcibiades kill my countrymen, [1 hus, — 
Let Alcibiades know this ol Timon, [Allien*, 
That — limon cares not. But if he sack fair 
And take our goodly aged men by the beards 
Giving otir holy virgins to the stain 
Of contumelious, beastly, mad-hrain'd war; 
Then let him know,— and tell him limon 
In pity of our aged and our youth, [speaks it, 
I cann(»t choose hut tell him, that— 1 care not, 
And let him take't at wor^t ; for their knives 

care not, 
Wliile >ou have throats to answer: ?or myself. 
There's not a whittle H in the unruly camp. 



A complete, a fini.«!hed villain. + In a jakes. t With one united vo-Ice of affecfion 

^ Confession. |j LicenBe<l. nncoulrolled. % A ciasp krdfe. 



Scene III,] 



TIM ON OF AliiEAS. 



74! 



But I do prize it at ray love, before [yon 

The revercnd'st throat in Athens. So I leave 
To the protection of the prosperous gods*, 
Aj thieves to keepers. 

Flav. Stay not, all's in vain. 

Tini. Why, I was writing or njy epitaph. 
It will be seen to morrow ; My long sickness 
Of heaitht, and living, now begins to mend, 
And nothing brings me all things. Go, live 
Be Alcibiades your plague, you his, [still ; 
And last so long enough i 

1 Sen. We speak in vam. 

Tim, But yet I love my country ; and am not 
One that rejoices in the common wreck. 
As common bruit J doth put it. 

1 Sen. That's well spoke. 

Tim, Commead me to my loving country- 
men, — [pass through them. 

1 Sen. These words become yoni iips as they 

2 Sen. And enter in our ears like great trl 
In their applauding gates. [umphers 

Tim. Commend me to them ; 

And tell them, that to ease them of their griefs, 
Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, 
Their pangs of love, with other incident throes 
That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain 
Tn life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness 
do them: [wTath. 

I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' 

2 Sen. I like this well, he will return again. 

Tun, I have a tree, which grows here in my 
close. 
That mine own use invites me to cut down, 
And shortly must I fell it ; Tell my friends, 
Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree^. 
From high to low throughout, that whoso please 
To stop affliction, let him take his haste. 
Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe. 
And hang himself : — I pray you do my greeting. 

Flav. Trouble him no further, thus you still 
shall find him. [Athens, 

Tijn. Come not to me again : but say to 
^Timon hath made his everlasting mansion 
"Upon the beached verge of the salt flood ; 
Which once a day with his embossed froth |1 
The turbulent surge shall cover ; thither come, 
And let my grave-stone be your oracle. — 
Lips, let sour words uo by, and language end: 
What is amiss, plague and infection mend ! 
Graves only be men's works; aiid death their 

gain! 
Sun, hide thy beams I Timon bath done his 
reign. {Exit TiMON. 

Sen. His discontents are unremovably 
Coupled to nature. [turn, 

2 Sen. Our ut pe in him is dead: let us re- 
And strain what other means are left unto us 
In our dearlF peril. 

2 Sen. It requires swift foot. [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. The Walls of Athens. 
Enter Two Senators, and a Messenger. 

1 Sen. Thou hast painfully disco ver'd ; are 
As full as thy report 1 [his files 



Mess, I have spoke the least : 

Besides, his expedition promises 
Present approach. [not Timon 

2 Sen. We stand much hazard, if they bring 
Mess. I met a courier, one mine ancient 

friend ; [posed. 

Whom, though in general part we were op- 
Yet our old love made a particular force. 
And made us speak like friends : — this man was 
From Alcibiades to Timon's cave, [riding 

With letters of entreaty, which imported 
His fellowship i'the cause against your city, 
In part for his sake moved. 

Enter Senators /rom Timon. 
1 Sen, Here come onr brothers. 

3 Sen. No talk of Timon, nothing of him 

expect. — [ing 

The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scour- 
Doth choke the ai' with dust : in and prepare; 
Ours is the fall, I fear ; our foes, the snare. 

[Exetmt, 

SCENE IV. The Woods. Timon's Cave, 
and c tomb-stone seen. 
Enter a Soldier, seeking Timon. 
Sol. By all description, this should be the 
place [is this t 

Who's here ? speak, ho ! — No answer I — What 
Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span : 
Some beast rear'd this ; there does not live a 
Dead, sure ; and this his grave. — [man. 

What's on this tomb I cannot read ; the cha- 
Pll take with wax. [racter 

Our captain hath in every figure skill ; 
An aged interpreter, though young in days: 
Before proud Athens he's set down by this, 
Whose fall the mark of his ambition is. [Exit. 

SCENE V. Before the Walls o/" Athens. 

Trumpets sound. Enter Alcibiades, and 

Forces. 

Alcib, Sound to this coward and lascivious 

town 

Our terrible approach. [A parley sounded. 

Enter Senators on the Walls. 
Till now you have gone on, and fill'd the time 
With all licentious measure, making your wills 
The scope of justice; till now, myself, and such 
As slept within the shadow of your power. 
Have wander'd with our traversed arms**, and 

breath'd 
Our sufferance vainly : Now the time is flush +t 
When crouching marrow, in the bearer strongs 
Cries, of itself, ^o more : now breathlesi 

wrong 
Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease ; 
And pursy insolence shall break his wind, 
With fear and horrid flight. 

1 Sen. Noble and yonng. 

When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit. 
Ere thou hadst power, or we Itad cause of feai , 
We sent to thee; to give thy rages balm. 
To wipe out our ingratitude with loves 
Above their quantity. 



* i. e.y The gods, who are the authors of the prosperity of mankind. t He means — th» 

disease of life begins to promise me a period, % Report, rumour. ^ Methodically, fror . 

highest to lowest. |i Snellen froth. IT Drtadfol. ** Arms across. ft Mature 



Tl;^ 



OHAKSPEARE 



Art f 



1 Sen, So did we woo 

Transformed Timon to onr city's love, 
B> ..nin'lt* luess-gi', Hiid hy promised means*; 
V\ V wrXK' noi .dl 111. kill ', nor ail destrve 
1 ii»' coiiiiiun .str<jke of vviti . 

I Vr '. Thtse walls of ours 

Were not eriried by tlvi" hands froofi whom 
^oi \\\\v rtc-.fiveil ytnir griefs; ii'-r are iliey 
siK-li, [should fdll 

Thai ihrs;' great towers, trophies, and schools 
Koi private faidi« in them. 

•> .y-;/. Nor ^re they livinff 

Who vvrre the moiivea t'at yon first went out; 
SIriiiie, II'. it ilu-y vvaiil* li <u ining in exress 
Ma li brok- ti>eir he irts. M neh. noble lord. 
Into «)ijr cny with th> banners spread : 
Hy leeiii ifion, oici a tiilu-d death, 
^if ihv rcVtHge* hnnzer for that food, [tenth; 
Whirlj nat'iie lotthsj take thou the destined 
kni\ l)y ti.e hazn-d of the spotted die, 
Lci die the spulled. 

1 y '/. All have net otfeiidcd; 
For ihosp that were, it is not square ^ to take 
On thtiSf tint are revenges : crimes, iike lands. 
Are not inherited. I hen, dear cmmlr) m m, 
Bi ing ill thy ranks, • nt leave \vltlu)iu thy rage : 
S^Jale III) Athenian cradle, and those kin, 
Wliich in tiie l)|tister of ihy wrath, must fall 
With ih'se th it haveoltended : likeashepherd, 
Ap,n-«»ach the fold, and cull the infected ft»rth. 
But kill not altogether. 

2 Sf"i. What thou wilt. 
Thou rdher shalt enforce it with thy smile, 
Tiian hew tot vvith thy sword. 

1 Sen, Set but thy foot 
Anain^st onr lainpired gates, and they shall ope ; 
So thou \nlt send tliy gentle heart betore, 

'Jo say, ihou'lt enter friendly. 

2 Sen. Throw thy glove ; 
Or any token of thy honour else, 

That tlion wilt use the wars as thy redress. 
And not as our confusion : all thy poweri 
Sbali make their harbour in our town, till we 



Have seal'd thy fall desire. 

Alcib. Then there's my glove; 

Descend, and open your tmtharged porlsj; 
Those enendes of I iinon's. and mine own, 
Whom you yourselves shall .?etouttor reproof, 
Fall,anrl no more : and,— ic atone ^ your fears 
vVith my more luibie meaning, — not a n>an 
Shall pa^& his quarter, or otfend the stream 
(>f regular justi e in your city's bounds. 
But shall be remedied, to your public laws 
At heaviest answer. 
Botn, *Tis most nobly spoken. 

Alc.b. Descend, and keep your words. 
[Tue Senators de^^^ e id^ umt open the Gates. 
Enler a Soldier. 
Sold. My noble general, Timon is dead; 
Fntomb'd upon the very hem o'ihe sea : 
And on Mis grave-stone thisinsculpture; which 
VV ith w tx I brought away, whose softimprep 
Interprets for my poor ignorance. [sior 

Alcib [Ueads.J Heie lies a zcretcned 

corse, oj wretched soul OertJ't : 
Seek not wy name : A pl/igue consumr you 

wicked caitiffs left! 
Here Lie I T>mon ; who, alive , all living 

meji did hute: 
Pass by, and curse thy Jill ; but pass, and 

stall 7/ot here thy gait 
These well express in thee thy latter spirits: 
Though thoii abhoriMst -ri a^our human griefs, 
Scoru'dst onr brains flow j], and those our 

droplets whii h 
From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit 
Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for 

aye 
Ontliy iow grave, on faults forgiven. Dead 
Is noble Timon ; of v\ hose memory 
Hereafter more — Bring me into vour city. 
And 1 will use the olive vvith my sword : 
Make war breed peace ; make peace stint % 

war ; make each 
Prescribe to other, as each other's leech ••• 
Let our drums strike. {Exeunt^ 



• i. f.. By promising him a competent subsistence. t Not regular, not equitable. 
X Unattacked gates. § Reconcile. !| i. e., Our tears. H Stop. •♦ Physician. 



The play of Timon is a domestic tragedy, and therefore strongly fastens on the attention of 
the reader. In the pi m there is not much art, but the incidents are natural, and the characters 
varitms and exact. Tne catastrophe afifords a very powerful warning against that ostentatious 
liberality, which scatters bounty, but confers no benefits, and buys flattery, but not friend- 
ship* 

In this tragedy, are many passages perplexed, obscure, and probably corrupt, which I have 
enoeavo.ired to rectify, or explain with due diligence; but having only one copy, cannot pro 
mi«e ui>seit (bat my eudeavoors shall be much applauded.— Johnson 



CORIOLAN 



^ergong t^prc^senteti. 



Caius Marcius Coriolanus, a noble 

Roman. 
Titus La rti us, V generals against the Vol- 
CoMiNius, I scians, 

Mknenius XcRipPKt friend to Coriolajius, 
►SicixVius Velutus,> ^ri^Mwe* of the peo- 
Jlmus Brutus, y pte. 
Young Marcius, sofi to Coriolanus. 
A Roman Herald. 
'Iujllus AuFiDius, general of the Vol- 

scians, 
Lieutenant to Aufidius. 
Conspirators with Aufidius* 
A Ciiizen of Antium, 



Two Volscian Guards. 

VoLUMNiA, mother to Coriolanus- 
ViRGiLiA, wife to Coriol'tnus, 
Yaleria, friend to Virgilia, 
Gentlewoman, attending Virgilia^ 

Roman and Volscian Senators^ Patricians^ 
jEdiles, LictorSy Soldiers, Citizens, 
Messe7igers, Servants to Aufidius, and 
other Attendants. 

Scene,— partly in Rome; and partly in the 
Territories of the Vohcians atid An* 
tiates. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. Rome. A Street. 

Enter a Company of mutinous Cilizetis,with 
Staves, Clubs, and other Weapons. 

1 at. Before we proceed any further, hear 
me speak. ^ 

at. Speak, speak. 

[Several speaking at once. 

1 at. You are all resolved rather to die 
than to famish 1 

at. Resolved, resolved. 

1 Cit. First you know, Caius Marcius is 
chief enemy to the people. 

Ctt. We know't, we know't. 

1 at. Let us kill him, and we'll have corn 
at our own price. Is't a verdict? 

at. No more talking on't; let it be done : 
away, away. 

2 C/t. One word, good citizens. 

1 at. NVe aie accounted poor citizens ; the 
patricians, good * : What authority surfeits on 
would relieve us; If they would yield us but 
the superfluity, while it were wholesome, we 
might guess, tliey relieved us humanely ; but 
ihey think we are too dear: the leanness that 
afflicts us, the object of our misery, is as an in- 
ventory to particularize their abundance; our 
Butferance is a gain to them. — Let us revei.^e 
this with our pikes, ere we become rakes t : for 
the gods know, 1 speak this in hunger for 
bread, not in thirst for revenge. 

2 at. Would you proceed especially against 
Caius Marcius? 

at. Against him first ; he's a very dog to 
*he commonalty. 

2 at. Consider you what services he has 
..one for his country ? 



1 at. Verj' well ; and could be content to 
give him good report for*t, but that he pays 
himself with being proud. 

2 Cit. Nay, but speak not maliciously. 

1 C/t. I say unto you, what he hath done 
famously, he did it to that end : thouuh sott- 
conscienced men can be content lo say, it was 
for his country, he did it to please his mother, 
and to be partly proud ; which he is, even to 
the altitude of his virtue. 

2 at. What he cannot help in his nature, 
you account a vice in him: You must in no 
way say he is covetous. 

1 Ca. If 1 must not, I need not be barren of 
accusations; he hath faults, with surplus, la 
tire in repetition. [Shouts within.] Whd 
shouts are these? The other side o'the city 
risen: Why stay we piating here? tu the 
Capitol. 

at. Come, come. 

1 Cct. Soft; who comes here? 

Enter Mlnemus Agkippa. 

2 at. Worthy Menenius Agrippa ; one that 
hath always loved the people. 

1 at. He's one honest enough ; Would all 
the rest w ere so ! 

Men. What work 's, my countrymen, in 

hand? Wnere go you [pray you. 

With bats and clubs? Ihe matter? Speak, I 

1 at. Our business is not unknown to the 

senate ; they have had inkling, this fortnight, 

what we intend to do, which now we'll show 

*em in deeds. They say, poor suitors have 

strong breaths ; they shall know, we hav« 

j strong a»"m8 too. 

i Alen. Why, masters, my good friends 
i mine hont-si neighbours. 



Rich. 



t Thin at rakeir. 



744 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act /. 



Will you ando yourselves? 

1 at. We cannot, sir, we are undone al- 
ready ? 

Me/i. I tell you, friends, most charitable care 
Have the pati'icians of you. For your wants, 
Your surteriiig in this dearth, you may as well 
Strike at the heaven with your staves, as lift 
tht'in [on 

Against the Roman state; whose course will 
The way it takes, cracking ten thousand curbs 
Of more stioiig iink asunder, than can ever 
Appear in your impediment : For the dearth. 
The gods, not the patricians, make it; and 
Your knees to them, not arms, must help. 
You are transported by calamity [Alack, 

Thither where more attends you; and you 
slandtr [faths rs. 

The helms o'the state, who care for you like 
When you curse them as enemies. 

1 at. Care for us! — True, indeed! — They 
ne'er cared for us yet. Suffer us to famish, 
and their store-houses crammed with grain; 
make edicts for usury, to support usurers: re- 
peal daily any wholesome act established 
against the rich ; and provide more piercing 
statutes daily, to chain up and restrain the 
poor. If the wars eat us not up, they will; 
and there's all the love they bear us. 

Men. Either you must 
Confess yourselves wondrous malicious. 
Or be accused of folly. I shall tell you 
A pretty tale ; it may be, you have heard it ; 
But, since it serves my purpose, I will venture 
To scale't* a little more. 

1 at. Well, ril hear it, sir: yet yon must 
not think to fob off our disi^racef with a tale : 
but, an't please you, deliver. 

Men. 'ihere was a time, when all the body's 
members 
Rebell'd against the belly; thus accused it: — 
That only like a gulf it did remain 
r the midst o'the body, idle and inactive. 
Still cuphoarding the viand, never bearing 
Like labour with the rest; where; the other in- 
struments 
Did see, and hear, devise, instruct, walk, feel. 
And, mutually participate, did minister 
Unto ihe appetite and affection common 
Of the whole bofly. I'he belly answered, — 

1 at. Well, sir, what answer made the belly? 

Men. Sir, I shall tell you. — With a kind of 
smile, [thus, 

Which ne'er came from the lungs, but even 
(For, look y<\\, I may make the belly smile 
As well as speak,) it tauniingly replied [parts 
To the disconiented members, the mutinous 
That envied his receipt; even so most fitly ^ 
As you malign our senators, for that 
They are not such as you. 

\ at. Your belly's answer: What! 

The kingly-crowned head, the vigilant eye. 
The counsellor heart, the arm our soldier, 
Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter, 
With oiher muniments and p;tly helps 
I» this oar fabi ic, if that liiey — 



I Mt7i. What then ? — 

j'Fore me, this fellow speaks! — what then? 

what then ? [strainM, 

1 Cit. Should by the cormorant belly be re- 

Who is the sink o'the body, 

Men. Well, what then ? 

1 at. The former agents, if they did cora- 
What could the belly answer? [plain. 

Men. I will tell you; 

If yon'll bestow a small (of what you have 
little) [svver. 

Patience, a while, you'll hear the belly's an- 
1 Cit. You are long about it. 
Men, Note me this, good friend ; 

Your most grave belly was deliberate. 
Not rash like his accusers, and thus answer'd : 
True is it, my incovpor ate friends , quoth he, 
Tiiat I receive the generuCfood atjirst. 
Which you do lite upon : and fit it is ; 
Because I am the store-house, and the shop 
Of the whole body : But if you do remember: 
I send it througii the rivers of your blood. 
Even to the court, the heart^-^to the seat 

o*the brain ; 
Jnd, through the cranks, || and offices of man. 
The strongest nerves, and small inferior 

veins, 
From me receive that natural competency 
Whereby they live: And though that all at 
once, [mark me, — 

You, my good friends, (this says the belly,) 
1 Cit, Ay, sir; well, well. 
yien. Though all at once cannot 

See ivhat I do deliver out to each ; 
Het I can make my audit up, that all 
From me do back receive thefiour of all. 
And leave me but the bran. What say yoii 
to't ? [this ? 

1 at. It was an answer : How apply you 
Men. The senators of Rome are this good 
belly. 
And you the mutinous members : For examine 
Their counsels, and their cares; digest things 
rightly, [hnd, 

Touching the weal o'the common ; you shall 
No public benefit vhich you receive. 
But it proceeds, or comes, from them to you. 
And no way from yourselves — What do you 
You the great toe of this assembly? [think 1 
1 at. I the great toe? Why the great toe? 
Men. For that being one o'the lowest, 
basest, poorest, [most : 

Of this most \vi.«e rebellion, thou go'st fore- 
Thou rascal, that art worst in blood, to run 
Lead'st first to win some vantage. — 
But make you ready your stiff bats and clubs ; 
Rome and her rats are at the point of battle. 
The one side must have balell. Hail, noble 
Marcius ! 

Enter Caius Marcius. 
Mar. Thanks.— What's the matter, you diS' 
sentious rogues. 
That rubbing the poor itch of your opinion. 
Make yourselves scabs? 
1 at. We have ever your good word. 



• Spread it. 

^ Exactly, 



■f Hardship, 
y Windings. 



% Whereas. 
^ Banc. 



Scene /,] 



CORIOLANUS. 



745 



Mar. He that will give good words to thee 

will flatter [you curs, 

Beneath abhorring. — What would you have, 
That like nor peace, nor war 1 the one affrights 

you, [you. 

The other makes you proud. He that trusts 
Where he should find you lions, finds you 

hares ; 
Where foxes, geese ; You are no surer, no, 
Thau is the coal of fire upon the ice, 
Or hailstone in the sun. Your virtue is, 
Tc make him worthy, whose offence subdues 

him, [greatness, 

And curse that justice did it. Who deserves 
Deserves your hate: and your affections are 
A sick niHti's appetite, who desires most that 
Which would increase his evil. He that de- 
pends 
Upon your favours, swims with fins of lead, 
And hews down oaks with rushes. Hang ye I 

Trust ye 1 
With every minute yoH do change a mind ; 
And call him noble, that was now your hate. 
Him vile, that was your garland. What's the 

matter. 
That in tiiese several places of the city 
You cry against the noble senate, who, 
Under the gods, keep you in awe, which else 
Would feed on one another? — What't their 

seeking? [they say. 

Men, For corn at their own rates; whereof. 
The city is well stored. 

Mar. Hang *em I they say? 

They'll sit by the fire, and presume to know 
What's done i'the Cnpitol : who's like to rise, 
Who thrives, and who declines : side factions, 

and ^ive out 
Conjectural mnniages; making parties strong. 
And feebling such as stand not in their liking. 
Below their cobbled shoes. They say, there's 

grain enough? 
Would the nobility lay aside their ruth *, 
And let me use my sword, I'd make a quarry t 
W^ith thousands of these quarter*d slaves, as 
As ! could pick J my lance. [hitih 

Me?i. Nay, these are almost thoroughly 

persuaded ; 
For though abun<lantly ihey lack discretion. 
Yet are they passing cowardly. But I beseech 
What sa>s the other troop? [you. 

Mar. They are dissolved : Hang 'era i 

They said, they were an hungry ; sigh'd forth 

proverbs ; — [must eat ; 

That hunger broke stone walls; that dogs 
That meat was made for mouths ; that the god» 

sent not 
Corn for the rich men only : — With these shred* 
They vented their complainings ; which being 

answer'd. 
And a petition granted them, a strange one, 
(To break the heart of generosity, [tht-ir caps 
And make hold power look pale,) they threw 
As they would hang them on the horns o'the 
Shouting their emulation j. [moon. 



Men. What is granted them 

Mar. Five tribunes to defend their vulgar 
wisdoms. 
Of their own choice : One's Junius Brutus, 
Sicinius Velutus, and 1 know not— 'Sdeath ! 
J he rab le should have first uuroof'd the city. 
Ere so prevail'd with me : it will in time 
Win upon power, and throw forth greater 
For insurrection's arguing ',|. [theme* 

Men. 1 his is strange. 

Mar. Go, get you home, you fragments I 
Enter a Messenger. 

Mes, Where's Cains Marcius? 

Mar. Here: What's the matter? 

Mes. The news is, sir, the Voices are in armB* 

Mar. 1 am glad ou't ; then we shall have 
means to vent 
Our musty superfluity : — See, our best elders. 
Enter Co yiitii vi^,T iT\5slj\ Villus,, and other 

Senators ; Junius Brutus, a/idSiciNius 

Velutus. 

1 Sen. Marcius, 'tis true that you have lately 
The Voices are in arms. [told us ; 

Mar. They have a leader, 

TuUus Aufidius, that will put you to't. 
1 sin in envying his nobility : 
And were I any thing but what I am 
I would wish me only he. 

Com. Yon have fought together. 

Mar. Were half to halt the world by the 
ears, and he 
Upon my party, I'd revolt, to make 
Only my wars with him : he is a lion 
That I am proud to hunt. 

1 Sen. J hen, worthy Marcius, 

Attend upon Cominius to these wars. 

Com. It is your former promise. 

Mar. Sir, it is ; 

And I am constant — Titns Lariius, thou 
Shalt see me once more strike at Tullus' face : 
What, art thou stiff? stand'st out ? 

Tit. Mo, Caius Marcius ; 

1*11 lean upon one crutch, and fight with the 
Ere slay behind this business. [other. 

Men. O, true bred ! 

1 Sen. Your company to the Capitol ; where, 
Our greatest friends attend us. [I know, 

Tit.^ Lead you on : 

Follo^v, Cominius ; we must follow you ; 
Right worthy you priority ^. 

Com. Noble Lartius ! 

1 Sen. Hence 1 To your homes, be gone. 

[To the Citizens. 

Mar. Nay, let them follow : 

The Voices have much corn ; take ihej>e rats 

thither, [neers^ 

To gnaw their garners**: — Worshipful muii- 

Your valour puts-H- well forth : pray, follow. 

[Exeunt Senators, Com. Mar. Tit. and 

jMenen. C\\.\/.ei\s steal auay. 

Sic. Was ever man so proud as is this 

Bru. He has no equal. [Marcius? 

Sic. When we were chosen tribunes for the 

Bra. Mark'd you his iip, and eyes? [people 



Pity, compassion. t Heap of dead. 

y For insurgents to debate apon. 
*• Granaries. 



X Pitch. § Faction, 

llight worthy of precedence, 
ft Shows itself. 

3S 



r4!6 



SHAKSPEARE. 



^t i. 



Sic IV ay, but his tannts. 

Bru. Being; moved, he will not spare to 
gird • the gods. 

Sic. Be-mock the modest moon. 

Bru. The present wars devour him : he is 
Too proud to be so valiant. [grown 

Sic. Such a nature. 

Tickled with good success, disdains the shadow 
"W hich he treads on at noon : But I do wonder 
His insolence can brook to be commanded 
Under Cominius. 

Bru. Fame, at the which he aims, — 

In whom already he is well graced, — cannot 
Better be held, nor more attain'd, than by 
A place below the first : for what 'miscarries 
Shall be the general's fault, though he perform 
To the utmost of a man ; and giddy censure 
Will then cry out of Marcius, O, if he 
Had borne the business! 

Sic. Besides, if things go well. 

Opinion, that so sticks on Marcius, shall 
Of his demerits t rob Cominms. 

Bru. Come: 

Half all Cominius* honours are to Marcius, 
Though Marcius earn'd them not ; and all his 

faults 
'To Marcius shall be honours, though, indeed. 
In aught he merit not. 

Sic. Let's hence, and hear 

How the despatch is made; and in what 
More than in singularity, he goes [fashion, 
Upon his present action. 

Bru, Let's along. 

[Eu:eicnt. 

SCENE n. Corioli. The Senate-House. 
Enter Tullus Aufidius, anc? cer/am Se- 
nators. 

1 Sen. So, your opinion is, Aufidius, 
That they of Rome are enter'd in our counsels. 
And know how we proceed. 

Auf. Is it not yours ? 

What ever hath been thought on in this state, 
That could be brous;ht to bodily act ere Rome 
Had circumvention % I 'Tis not four days gone, 
Since I heard thence ; these are the words : I 

think 
I have the letter here ; yes, here it is : {Reads. 
They have jjress'd a power, but it is not 
known [great ; 

Whether fur east, or west: the dearth is 
The people mutinous : a?id it is rumour*d, 
Cominius, Marcius, your old enemy, 
(Who is of Rimie norse hated than of you,) 
^nrf Titus Larlius. a most valiant Roman, 
These three lead on this preparation 
fVhither 'tis bent : most likely, 'tis for you : 
Consider of it, 

1 Sf7i. Our army's in the field : 

We never yet made doubt but Rome was ready 
To answer ns. 

Avf. Nor did yon think it folly. 

To keep your great pretences ve41*d, till when 
They needs must show themselves; which in 
the hatching. 



It seem'd,appear*dto Rome. By the discovery 
We shall be shorten'd in our aim ; which was 
To lake in § many towns, ere, almost, Ronje 
Should know we were afoot. 

2 Sen. Noble Aufidius. 

Take your commission ; hie you to your bands : 
Let us alone to guard Corioii : 
If they set down before us, for the remove 
Bring up your army ; but, I think, you'll find 
They have not prepared for us. 

A uf. O, doubt not that , 

I speak from certainties. Nay, more. 
Some parcels of theiv powers are torlh already, 
And only hitherward. 1 leave your honours. 
If we and Caius Marcius chance to meet, 
*Tis sworn between us, we shall never strike 
Till one can do no more. 

AIL The gods assist you I 

Auf And keep your honours safe ! 

1 Sen, Farewell. 

2 Sen. Farewell. 
AU, Farewell. [Ex tun t. 

SCENE III. An Apartment in Marcius 

House. 

Enter Volumnia and Virgilia: They sit 

down on two low stools, and sew, 

V'ol. I pray you, daughter, sing; or express 
yourself in a more comfortable sort : If my sou 
were my husband, I should freeiier rejoice in 
that absence wherein he won honour, than in the 
embracements of his bed, where he would show 
most love. When yet he was but tt nder bodied, 
and the only son of my womb; when youth with 
comeliness plucked uU gaze his way H ; when, 
for a day of kings' entreaties, a mother should 
not sell him an hour trom her beholding ; I, — 
considering how honour would become such a 
person; that it was no better than picin re-like 
to hang by the wall, if renown made it not stir, — 
was pleased to let him seek danger wliere he 
was like to find fame. To a cruel war I sent 
him; from whence he returned, his brow* 
bound with oak. I tell thee,daui:hter,— Ispianij 
not more in joy at first hearing he was a man- 
child, than now in first seeing he had proved 
himself a man. 

Vir. But had he died in the business, madaui, 
how then? 

Vol. Then his good report should have bcf n 
my son ; I therein wouhl have found issue 
Hear me profess sincerely : Had I a dozen sons 
— each in my love alike, and none less dear than 
thine and my good Marcius, — 1 had rather ha(^ 
eleven die nobly for their country, than one vo> 
luptuously surfeit out of action. 

Enter a Gentlewoman. 

Gent. Madam, the lady Valeria is come M 
visit you. [niNsel; 

Vir. 'Beseech you, give me leave to retire % 

Vol. Indeed, you shall not. 
Methlnks, I hear hiiher your husband's drum • 
See him pluck Aufidius <iown b> the haij ; 
As children from a bear, the Voices shiinnino 
him: 



• Sneer. 
t rreK>ccupation. 



t Demerits and merits had anciently the same meaning. 

^ To sabdue, U Attracted attention. % W ithdraw. 



Scene III] 



CORIOLANUS. 



747 



Methinks, I see him stamp thus and call thus, 
Come on, yon cownrtis, youivere got iujearf 
Though, f/oii were born in Rome: His bloody 
brow [uofs ; 

With his n)aiVd hand then wiping, forih he 
Like to a harvest-tntn, that's ta<k\l to mow 
Or all, or lose liis hire. 

Vtr. His bloody brow I O, Jupiter, no blood ! 

Vol. Away , you fool ! it more becomes a man, 
Than gilt his trophy : I he breasts of Hecuba, 
"When sht; did suckle Hector, look'd not lovelier 
Than Hector's forehead, when it spit toriii nioort 
At Grecian swuids contending. — leil Valeria, 
We are fit to bid her welconie. [Exit Gent. 

Vir. Heavens bless my lord from fell Aufi- 
dius! [knee, 

Vof. He'll beat Aufidius' head below his 
And tread upon his neck. 
He-enter Gx^ntiewomm, with Valeria arid 
her Usher. 

Val. My ladies both, good day to you. 

Viil. Sweet madam, 

Vir. I am glad to see your ladyship. 

Val. How do you boih ^ yoa are manifest 
housekeepers. \VJ^t, are you sewing here! 
A tiiid spot*, in ^h1 faith. — How does your 
little son I ^^ 

Vir. I thank your ladyship ; well, good 
madam. 

f' ol. He had rather see the swords, and hear 
a drum, than look upon his school-master. 

Val. O' my word, the father's son : I'll swear, 
'tis a very pretty boy. O' my troth, 1 looked 
upon him o' Weiinesday hilf an hour together : 
he has such a confirmed countenance, 1 saw 
him run after a gilded butteriiy; and when he 
caught it, he let it go again ; and after it again ; 
and over and over he comes, and up again ; 
catched it afjiin : or whether his fall enraged 
him, or how 'twas, he did so set his teeth, and 
tear it ; O, I warrant, how he mammocked t ill 

Vol, One of his father's moods. 

Val. Indeed, la, 'tis a noble child. 

Vir. A crack I, madam. 

VaL Come lay aside your stitchery ; 1 must 
have you play the idle huswife with me this 
afternoon. 

Vir, No, good madam ; I will not out of 
doors. 

Val, Not out of doors ! 

Vol. She shall, she shall. 

Vir, Indeed, no, by your patience: I will 
not over the threshold, till ray lord return from 
the wars. 

Val Fie, you confine yourself most unrea- 
sonably; Co'iie, you must go visit the good 
lady that lies in. 

V-r. I will wish her speedy strength, and 
visit her with my prayers; but 1 f^nnot go 
thither. 

Vol. Why, I pray you? 

Vir. 'lis not to save labour, nor that I want 
love. 

V^ol. You would be another Penelope : yet, 
*h€y say, all the yarn she spun in Ulysses* ab- 
•eoce, did but fill Ithaca full of moths. Come y 



I would your cambric were sensible as your 
finger, that you might leave prickingii for pity. 
Come, you sliall go wiiu us. 

i tr. No, t:ot<d mada;n, pardon me; indeed, 
I will not to. Jh. 

Vol. In truth, la. go with me; and I'll tell 
you exce'leni news of your husband. 

Vir. {),i£ood niadaai, ihi-'ie cm be none yet. 

Vi.l. Verily, I do not jest with you; there 
caine news from him last night. 

Vir. Indeed, madam ? 

Val. Ill earnest, it's true; I heard a senator 
speak it. Thus it ii :— i'he \ Olces have an army 
forth; a.ainsl whom Cominin.- the general is 
gone, with one part ot our Roman power : sour 
lord, and litus Lai tins, are set down before 
their city C'orioli ; the> nothing doi^bi j revail- 
ing, and to make it brief j wars. This, is true, 
on mine honour; and so, I pray go with us. 

Vir, Give me excuse, good madam; 1 will 
obey you in every ti;ing hereafter. 

Vol. Let her alone, lady ; as .she is now, she 
will but disease our belter mirth. 

Mil. In troth, I thitik she would : — Fare yoa 
well, then. — Come, good svv et lady.— Pr*y- 
thee, Virgilia, turn thy sole.nnness out oMoor, 
and go along «itii tis 

Vir. No : at a word, madam ; indeed. 1 must 
not. I wish >ou much mirth. 

Val, Well, then farewell. [Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. Before QorioW. 
Enter, with Drum and Colonrs, M.arcius, 
Titus Lartius, Officers and Soldiers. To 
thtm a Messenger. 

Mar, Yonder comes news: — A wager, they 
I. art. My horse to yours, no. [have md. 
Mjr, *Tis done. 

hart. Agreed, 

Mar, Say, has our general met the enemy t 
Mess. They lie in view ; but have not spoke 

as yet. 
Lart. So, the good horse is mine. 
Mar. I'll buy him of yoa. 

Lart, No, 1*11 nor sell, nor give him: lend 
you him, 1 will. 
For half a hundred years.— Summon the town. 
Mar, How far off lie the; e armies? 
Mess, Within this mile and half. 

Mar, Then shall we hear their 'larum, and 
they ours. 
Now, Mars, I pr'ythee make us quick in work ; 
That we with smoking swords may march from 
hence. [niasl. 

To help our fielded |1 friends!— Come, blow thy 
They sound a jartey. Enter, on i lie ivtUls, 

some Senati-rs. and Others. 
Tullus Aufidius, is he within your walls? [he, 
J Sen. No, nor a man that fears you less than 
That's lesser than a little. Hark, our drums 

[Alarnm.s ajar off. 
Are bringing forth our youth: We'll break our 

walls", 
Rather than they shall pound us up: our gates 
Which yet seem shut, we have out pian'd witb 
rushes ; 



Of work. 



t Tore, 



: Boy. 



$ Short. 



Ii In the field of banla. 



74.3 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act /. 



They'll open of themselves. Hark you, far oft ; 
[Other Alarums. 
There is Aufidius ; list, what work he makes 
Amongst your cloven army. 

Mar. O, they are at it ! 

JLart. Theirnoise be our instruction. — Lad- 
ders, ho! 

The Voices etiter and pass over the Stage. 

Mar. They fear us not, but issue forth their 
city. [fight 

Now put your shields before your hearts, and 
With hearts more proof than shields. — Ad- 
vance, brave Titus: 
They do disdain us much beyond our thoughts, 
Which makes me sweat with wrath.— Come, 

on, my fellows; 
He that retires, I'll take him for a Voice, 
And he shall feel mine edge. 
Alaruniy and exeunt Romans and Voices, 

Jighting. The Romans, are beaten hack to 

their trenches. Re-enter Marti us. 

Mar. All the contagion of the south light on 
you, [plagues 

You shames of Rome ! you herd of — Boils and 
Plaster you o'er; that you may be abhorred 
Further than seen, and one iniect another 
Against the wind a mile! You souls of geese. 
That bear the shapes of men, how have you 
run [hell! 

From slaves that apes would beat? Pluto and 
/ All hurt behind ; backs red, and faces pale 
With flight and agued fear! Mend, and charge 

home, 
Or by the fires of heaven, I'll leave the foe, [on; 
And make my wars on you : look to't : Come 
If you'll stand fast, we'll beat them to their 
As they us to our trenches followed, [wives. 
Another Alarum. The Voices and Romans 

re-enter y and the Jight is renewed. The 

Voices retire mto Corioli, and Marcius 

follows them to the gates. 
So, now the gates are ope : — Now prove good 

seconds: 
*Tis for the followers fortune widens them, 
Not for the fliers : mark me, and do the like. 
{He enters the gates and is shut in. 

1 Sol. Fool hardiness ; not 1. 

^Sol. Nor I. 

3 Sol. See, they 

Have shut him in. {Alarum continues. 

AIL To the pot, I warrant him. 

Enter HiTVS Lartius. 

Lart, What is become of Maicius? 

All. Slain, sir, doubtless. 

1 Sol. Following the fliers at the very heels. 
With them he enters : who, upon the sudden, 
Clapp*d-to their gates ; he is himself alone 
To answer all the city. 

Lart. O noble fellow ! 

Who, sensible*, outdares his senseless sword. 
And, when it bovvst, stands up! Thou art left, 
A carbuncle entire, as big as thou ai t, [Mai cins : 
Were not so rich a jewel. Thon wast a soldier 
Even lo Cato's wish, not fierce and terrible i 
Only in strokes; but, with thy grim looks, and j 
The'thander-like percussion of ihy sounds, ' 



Ihou madest thine enemies shake, as if the 

Were feverous and did tremble. [world 

Re-enter Marcius bleeding , assaulted bp 

the enemy. 
1 Sol. Look, sir, 

Lart. 'TIS Marcius 

Let's fetch him off, or make remain alike. 

\TheyJight, and all enter the city. 
SCENE V. Within the toivn. A Street. 
Enter certain Romans, with spoils. 

1 Rom. This will I carry to Rome. 

2 Rom. And I this. 

3 Rom. A murrain on't ! I took this for silver. 

[Alarum continues still afar off. 
^/?^gr Marcius, andHiTDS, Lartius, wi^A 
a trumpet. 
Mar. See here these movers, that do prize 
their hours 
At a crack'd drachm J! Cushions, leaden spoons. 
Irons of a doit, doublets that hangmen would 
Bury with those that wore them, these base 
slaves, [with them. — 

Ere yet the fight be done, pack up : — Down 
And hark, what noise the g^^ral makes ! — T© 

him : — ^H| 

There is the man of my sou^hate, Aufidius, 
Piercing our Romans :Then,va!iantTitus, take 
Convenient numbers to make good the city ; 
Whilst I, with those that have the spirit, will 
To help Cominius. [haste 

J^tart. Worthy sir, thou bleed'st ; 

Thy exercise hath been too violent for 
A second course of fight. 

Mar, Sir, praise me not : 

My work hath yet not warm'd me: Fare you 
The blood I drop is ratht-r physicnl [well. 

Than dangerous to me : To Aufidius thus 
I will appear, and fight. 

Eart. Now the fair goddess, Fortune, 

Fall deep in love with thee ; and her great 
charms [man. 

Misguide thy opposer's swords ! Bold gentle- 
Prosperity be thy page ! 

Mar. Thy friend no less 

"than those she placeth highest ! So farewell. 
Lart. Thou worthiest Marcius! 

[Exit Marcius. 
Go, sound thy trumpet in the market-place ; 
Call thither all the officers of the town. 
Where they shall know our mind. Away. 

[ Eji ettnt. 

SCENE VI. Near the Camp of Gova\\\\\\%. 
Enter Cominius and Forces ^ retreating . 
Com. Breathe you, my friends ; well fought, 
we are come off 
Like Romans, neither foolish in our stands. 
Nor cowardly in retire : believe me, sirs. 
We shall be charged again. Whiles we have 
struck, [heai'i 

By interims, and conveying gusts, we have 
The charges of our frien<ls :— The Roman gods. 
Lead their successes as we wish onr own ; 
That both onr powers, with smiling fronts ei> 
countering, 



* Having sensation, feeling. 



t When It it> bent. 



X A Roman coin. 



Scene VI.] 



CORIOLANUS. 



749 



Enter a Messenger, 
May give youtbankfol sacrifice! — Thy news? 

Me^s, The citizens of Corioli have issued. 
And given to Lartius and to M arcius battle : 
I saw our party to their trenches driven, 
And then I came away. 

Com. Though thou speak'st truth, 

Methinks, thou speak'st not well. How long 
is't since ? 

Mess. Above an hour, my lord. [drums ; 

Com. *Tis not a mile ; briefly we heard their 
How could'st thou in a jnile confound * an hour. 
And bring thy news so late ? 

Mess, Spies of the Voices 

Held me in chase, that I was forced to wheel 
Three or four miles about; else had I, sir. 
Half an hour since brought my report. 
Enter Marcius. 

Com» Who*i yonder. 

That does appear as he were flay'd ? O gods. 
He has the stamp of Marcius ; and I have 
Before-time seen him thus. 

Mar. Come I too late ? 

Com, The shepherd knows not thunder from 
a tabor, 
More than I know the sound of Marciu^ tongue 
From every meaner man's. 

Mar, Come I too late? 

Com. Ay, if you come not in the blood of 
But mantled in your own. [others, 

Mar. O ! let me clip you 

In arms as sound as when I woo'd ; in heart 
As merry as when our nuptial day was dune. 
And tapers burn'd to bed ward. 

Com. Flower of warriors. 

How is*t with Titus Lartius ? 

Mar. As with a man busied about decrees : 
Condemning some to death, andsome to exile ; 
Ransoming him, or pitying, threat'ning the 
Holding Corioli in the name of Rome, [other; 
Even like a fawning greyhound in the leash, 
To let him slip at will. 

Com. Where is that slave 

Which told me they had beat you to your 
Where is he ? Call him hither. [trenches ? 

Mar. Let him alone. 

He did inform the truth : But for our gentle- 
men, [them !) 
The common file, (A plague! — Tribunes for 
The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did 
From rascals worse than they. [budge 

Com. But how prevail'd you ? 

Mar. Will the time serve to tell ? I do not 
think— [field ? 

Where is the enemy? Are you lords o'the 
If not, why cease you till you are so ? 

Com, Marcius, 

We have at disadvantage fought, and did 
Retire, to win our purpose. 

Mar. How lies their battle ? Know you on 
which side 
They have placed their men of trust ? 

Com. As I guess, Marcius, 

fheir bands in the vawardt are the AntiatesJ, 
Of their best trust : o*er them Aufidius, 



Their very heart of hope. 

Mar. I do beseech yon. 

By all the battles wherein we have fought. 
By the blood we have shed together, by the 
vows [rectly 

We have made to endure friends, that you di- 
Set me against Autidius and his Antiates : 
And that you not delay the present § ; but. 
Filling the air with swords ad vanced, and darts. 
We prove this very hour. 

Com. Though I could wish 

You were conducted to a gentle bath, 
And bahns applied to yon, yet dare I never 
Deny your ar-king; take your choice of those 
Thar best can aid your action. 

Mar. Those are they 

That most are willing: — If any such be here, 
(As it were sin to doubt,) that love this painting 
Wherein you see me smear'd ; if any fear 
Lesser his person than an ill report ; 
If any think brave death outweighs bad life. 
And that his country's dearer than himself; 
Let him, alone, or so many, so minded, 
Wave thus, {Waving his handl to express his 
And follow Marcius. [disposition, 

[They all shout, and wave their sivords , 
take him up in their armSy and cast tip 
their caps. 
O me, alone ! Make you a sword of me ? 
If these shows be not outward, which of yon 
But is four Voices'? Isione of you but is 
yVble to bear ae;ainst the great Aufidius 
A shield as hard as his. A certain number. 
Though thanks to all, must I select : the rest 
Shall bear the business in some other fight. 
As cause will be obey'd. Please you to march ; 
And four shall quickly draw out my command. 
Which men are best inclined. 

Com. March on, my fellows : 

Make good this ostentation, and you shall 
Divide in all with us. [Exeunt, 

SCENE VIL The Gates of CoxioW. 
Titus Lartius, having seta guard upon 

Corioli, going with a drum and trumpet 

toivard Cominius and Caius Marcius, enters 

with a Lieutenant, a party of Soldiers, 

and a Scout. 

Lart, So, let the ports p be guarded : keep 
your duties [spatch 

As I have set them down. If I do send, de- 
Those centuries If to our aid ; the rest will serve 
For a short holding : If we lose the field. 
We cannot keep the town. 

Lieu. Fear not our care, sir. 

Lart. Hence, and shut your gates upon us. 
Our guider, come ; to the Roman camp con- 
duct us. [Exiunt. 
SCENE VIII. A field of battle between 

the Roman and the Volcian Camps. 
Alarum. Enter Marcius and A-ufidius. 

Mar. I'll fight with none but thee ; for I do 
Worse than a promise-breaker, [hate thee 

Jluf. We hate alike , 



• Expend. t Front. t Soldiers of Antium. § Present time. | Gatet, 

% Companies of a hundred men. 

3 S 3 



750 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act /. 



Not Afric owns a serpent, I abhor 

More than thy fame and envy : Fix thy foot. 

Mar. Let the tirpt biul^er * die the other*s 
An I the gods doom hini'afierl [elave, 

Aft/, If I fly, Marcius, 

Halloo me like a hare. 

M./r. W itiiiii tliese three horns, TnMn*, 

Alone I fouglit in your Corioli walls, [blood 
And made what work I pleased; *Tis not iny 
Wherein thou seest me m;isk'd ; for thy re- 
VV rencij up thy power to the highest, [venge, 

Aft/. Wert thou the Hector, 

7 hat was the whip+ of your bragged progeny, 
Tlion shouldst nut 'scape nie here. — 

{Tin y jigh! , unti certain Voices come to 

th^ ad of Antidius. 

Officious, and not valiant — you have shamed 

In your condemned seconds j. [me 

[Exeunt Jigktingf driven in by Marcius. 

SCENE IX. The Rom^w Camp, 
Alarum, A Rttreat is sounfied. Flounsh, 
Enter at one side, Cominius, an/t Bo 
ma*i8 ; at the of her si(/e, AJarcus, with 
his arm ifi a sc<irj\ and other Ronians. 
Cam, If I should ttll thee o'ei this ihy day's 
work, [it, 

ThonMt not believe thy deeds : but Pll report 
Where seuaiors shall ming e tears with sniiles; 
W here great patricians shall attend, and shrug 
1' the end, admire; where ladies ishall be 
trighted, [dull Tribunes, 

And, gladly quaked 9, hear more; where the 
That, wiih the fusty plebeians, hate tliine ho- 
nours, [g^id^. 
Shall say, against their hearts — We thauK the 
Our Home hath such a soldier! — , 
Yet earnest ihon to a morsel of this feast. 
Having fully dined before. 
Eiiter TiTLS Lartius, with his power §, 
from the pvrsitit. 
Zjart. O general. 
Here is the steed, we the caparison : 

Hadst thou beheld 

M ir. Pray now. no more: my mother, 
Who has a charter^ to c\tol her blood, [done 



Cortu Should they not. 

Well might they fester 'gainst ingratitude. 
And tent lhetii*6elves with death. Of all the 
horses, [of all 

(Whereof we haveta'en good, and good st«>re,) 
The treasure, in this field achieved, and city. 
We render you the tei'th ; to he ta'en forth, 
Before the common distribution, at 
Your only choice. 

Mar. I thank yon, general ; 

But cannot rr.ake my heart consent to takje 
A bribe to pay my sword : I do refuse it ; 
And ?tand upon my ron:mon part with those 
That have beheld the doing. 

\A louii flourish . Then all cry^ Marcius! 
Marcitjs ! cast vp their caps ami lances. 
Cominius a/td Lartius sta}id bare. 

Mar. May these same instruments, which 
you profan [shall 

Never sound mote ! When diums and trnm pete 
1* tlie tield prove flatterers, let courts and oitiet 
be [growj 

Made all of false-faced .soothing: When steel 
Soft as the p rasite's silk, let him be made 
An overtuie for the wars! No more, I say; 
For I hat I have not wash'd ni} nose that bled 
Or foil'd somedebile** wretch,— which, with 
out note, [forth 

Here's many else have done, — you shout me 
In acclamations hyjjerbolical ; 
As if 1 loved my little should be dieted 
In praises sauced with lies. 

<'o//i. Too modest are yon ; 

More Gruel to your good report, than grateful 
To us that give you truly : by \our patit nee. 
If 'gainst yourself you be incensed, we'll pu» 
you [manacles 

(Like one that means his proper +■! harfn,) ir 
Then reason safely with you. — Therefore, be 

it known. 
As to us, to all the world, that Cains Marcius 
Wears this war's garland : in token of thf 
which [him, 

My noble steed, known to the camp, 1 give 
With all his trim belonging; and, from this 
Forwhathe did before Corfoli, call him, [time. 



When she does praise me, grieves me. I have • With all the applause ana clamour of the host, 
As yo>» have done; that's wiiat 1 can ; induced Cai us Marci Uh Coriolanus. — 



A-s yon have been ; thnt's for my country : 
He, thai has but etterted his gotd will. 
Hath overta'en mine act. 

Cjni. Yon shall not be 



Bear the addition nobly ever! 
[Flourish. Trumpets .sound, and Drums. 
All. Cains Marcius Coriolanus ! 
Cor. I will go wash; 



riie grave of your deserving; Rome ninstknow And when my face is fair, you shall perceive 
The value of lier own : 'iweie a concealment , Whether I blush or no: Howbeit, I thank 
vV'orse than a tieti, no less than a iraducement, ! >ou : — [limes, 

To hide yonr doings; and to silence that, jl n>ean to stride your steed; and, at all 

TV'hich to the spite ami top of praises vouch'd, ' To underrresttt your good addition, 
Would seem but modest : Therefore, 1 be- , To the fairness of njy power. 

seecn yon. Com. So, to our tent : . 

(\\\ sign of what yon are, not to reward ! Where, ere we do repose ns, we will write 

VV hat yon liave done,) before our army hear To Rome of our success. — Yon, Thus Lartins, 



nie. [they smnri 

M ir. I have some wounds npou me, and 
To liear themselves remember'd. 



Must to Corioli back: send us to Rome 
Ihe best §§, with whom we may articulate |I||, 
For their own good, and ours. 



♦Stirrer. + Boast, crack. J In sending snch help. $ Trown into gratcfnl trepidation. 
I Force*. ^Privilege. ♦• Weak, feeble. t+ Own. li Add more by domghifc beat. 
$J Cbiei uicii. lilj Kuler into articles. 



^cene IX.] 



COKIOLANU3. 



751 



Lart. I shall, my lord. 

Cor. The gods begin to mock ine. I that now 
Refused most princely gifts, am bound to beg 
Of iny lord general. 

Coin. Take it : 'tis yours. — What is't? 

Cor. I sometime lay, here in Corioli, 
At a poor m m's house ; he used ine kindly : 
He cried to me; I saw him prisoner; 
Eut then Anfidius was within my view, [yon 
And wrath o'erwhelm'd my pity : I request 
To give my poor host freedom. 

0>/«. O, well begg'd ! 

Were he the butcher of my son, he slionld 
Be free as is tiie wind. Deliver him, Titus. 

Ijurt. Marcius, his name ? 

Cor, By Jupiter, forgot : — 

I am weary ; yea, my memory is tired. — 
Have we no wine here? 

'Com. Go we to our tent : 

The blood upon your visage dries: 'tis tiine 
It should be look'd to: come. [Exeunt, 

S C E N' E X. The Cawp of the Voices. 
A Flourish. C>rnts, A'//fer Tullus Au- 
Fi Dius, bloody, with tuw or three Soldiers. 
Anf. The town is ta'eni [dition. 

1 S )l. Twill be deliver'd back on good cun- 
Anf. Condition ? — 
I would 1 were a Roman ; for I cannot, 
Beiui? a Voice, be that I am. — Condition! 
What good condition can a treaty find 
r the part that is at mercy 1 Five times, Mar- 
cius, 



I have fought with thee; so often ha>i tho& 

beat me ; 
And wouldst do so, T think, should we encnur* 
As often as we eat.— #By the elements, [lei 
If e'er a^ain 1 meet hiin beard lo beard, 
He is mine, or i am nis : Mine emulation 
Hath not that honour in't it had ; for wnere • 
I thought to crush him in an e jual turce, 
(True sword to sword,) I'll poich t at him some 
Or wralh, or craft, may get him. [way 

1 Sol, He's the devil 

Auf. Bolder, though not so subtle: My va 
lour's poi son'd 
With only differing stain by him ; for him 
Shall fly out of itself: nor sleep, nor sanctuary, 
BeiuiT naked, sick : nt>r fane, nr)r Capitol, 
The prayers or priests, nor times of saciifice; 
Embtrqnements all of fury, slull lilt up 
Their rotten privilege and custom 'gainst 
My hate to M ircius : where I tind him, were it 
At home, upon my brother's guard ;J:, even there 
Auai.istihe hospiiablecan-.n, would 1 [thccity; 
Wash my fierce hand in his heart. Go you to 
Learn how 'tis held ; and what they are, that 
Be hostages for Rtune. [must 

1 So'.. Will not you go? 

A f. I am attended $ at the cypress grove : 
I pray you, [thiiher 

(lis south the city mills,) bring me word 
How tiie woHd goes ; that lo the pace of it 
I may spur on ray journey. 

1 Sol, I shall, sir. 

lExeunU 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. Rome. A Public Place. 
Enter Menemus, Sicinius, and Brutus. 

Men. The augurer tells me, we shall have 
news to-ni'4hi. 

Bru. Cxood or bad? 

Men. Not ac ording to the prayer of the 
people, for they love not Marcius. 

Sic. Nature teaches beasts to know their 
Iriends. 

Men. Pray you, who does the wolf love? 

Sic. The lamb. 

Men. Ay, to devour him ; as the hungry 
plebeians would the noble Marcius. 

Bru. He's a lamb, indeed, that baes like a 
bear. 

Men. He's a bear, indeed, that lives like a 
lamb. You two are old men ; tell me one thing 
that I shall ask you. 

BothTrib. Well, sir. 

Men. In what enormity is Marcius poor, 
that you two have not in abundance? 

Bru. He's poor in no one fault, but stored 
with all. 

Sic. Especially, in pride. 

Bru. And topping all others in boasting. 

Alen. This is atrange now : Do you two know 



how you are censured here in the city, I mean 
of us o* the riiiht hand file? Do you i 

Both Trib. Why, how are we censured ? 

Men. Because you talk of pride now. — Will 
you not be angry? 

Both Trih. Well, well, sir, well. 

Men. Why 'tis no great m:itter; for a very 
little thief of occasion will rob yon of a great 
deal of pntience : give yi)ur dis[)osition the 
reins, and be ansjry at your pie tsnres ; at the 
least, if you take it a? a pleasure to you, in 
beiMii so. You blame Marcius for being proud? 

Bra. We do it not alone, Aw 

Men. 1 know, you can do very little alone; 
for your helps are many ; or else yonr actions 
would grow wondrous single : your abilities 
are loo infant-like, for doin-j; much alone. You 
t^lk of pride : (), that yon could turn your eyes 
towards the napes II of yonr necks, and m tke 
but an inieiioi survey of your good selves! O 
that you cordd ! 

Bra. U hat then, sir? 

Men. Why, tlien you should discover a brare 
of unmeriting, proud, violent, testy magis- 
trates, ('dias fools) as any in Rome. 

Sic, Menenius, you are known well enough 
too. 



• Whereas. t Poke, posh. 



J My brother posted to protect him. 

ji t5ack. 



$ Waited foe 



752 



SHAKSP£AR£. 



[Act IT. 



Men. I am known to be a humorous pa 
trician, and one that loves a cup of hoi wine 
with not a drop of allaying* Tyber in't ; said 
to be something imperfect, in favouring the 
first complaint : hasty, and tinder-like, upon 
upon too trivial motion: one that converses 
more with the buttock of the night, than with 
the forehead of the morning. What I think, I 
utter ; and spend my malice in my breath : 
Meeting two such weals-men t as you are, (I 
cannot call you Lycurguses) if the drink you 
gave me, touch my palate adversely, I make a 
crooked fdce at it. I cannot say, your worships 
have deliverea the matter well, when 1 find 
the ass in compound with the major part of 
your syllables: and though I must be content 
to bear with those that say you are reverend 
grave men, yet thej' lie deadly that tell you, you 
have good faces. If you see this in the map 
of my mycrocosmi, follows it, that I am 
known well enough too? What harm can 
yonr bisson ^ conspectuities glean out of this 
character, if I be known well enough (oo? 

Brit, Come, sir, come, we know you well 
enough. 

Mm. You know neither me, yourselves, 
nor any thing. You are ambitious f©r poor 
knaves' caps and legs || ; you wear out a good 
wholesome forenoon, in hearing a caus€ be- 
tween an orange- wife and a fosset-seller ; and 
then rejourn the controversy of three-pence to 
a second day of audience. — When you are 
liearing a matter between party and party, if 
you chance to be pinched with the cholic, 
you make faces like mummers ; set up the 
bicody tlag against all patience ; and, in roar- 
\\\<j. for a chamber-pot, dismiss the controversy 
bleeding, the more entangled by your hearing : 
all the peace you make in their cause, is calling 
both the parties knaves : Yon are a pair of 
strange ones. 

Bru. Come, come, you are well understood 
to be a perfecter giber for the table, than a 
necessary bencher in the Capitol. 

Mp». Our very priests must become mock- 
ers, if they shall encounter such ridiculous 
subjects as >ou are. When you speak best 
unto the purpose, it is not worth the wagging 
Of your bearfis ; and your beards deserve not 
BO honourable a grave, as to stuflF a botcher's 
cualiion, or to be entombed in an ass's pack- 
sadlle. Yet you must be saying, Marcius is 
proud ; who, in a cheap estimation, is worth 
all your predecessors, since Deucalion ; though, 
pera^venture, some of the best of them were 
lierediiriry hangmen. Good e'en to yoifr 
worships; more of your conversation would 
infect my brain, being the herdsmen of the 
beastly plebeians : 1 will be bold to take my 
leave ot you. 

{^Rv.'and Sic. retire to the back of the 

iSCi'rie. 

Enter VoLUMNiA, Virgilia, and Vale- 
ria, 4c. 
How now, my as fair as noble ladies, (and the 



moon, were she earthly, no nobler,) whither 
do yon follow your eyes so fast ? 

Vol. Honourable Menenius, my boy Marcius 
approaches ; for the love of Juno, let's go. 

Men. Ha! Marcius coming home? 

Vol. Ay, worthy Menenius ; and with most 
prosperous approbation. 

Men. Take my cap, Jupiter, and I thank 
thee: — Hoo! Marcius coming home ? 

Tivo Ladies. Nay, 'tis true. 

Vol. Look, here's a letter from him ; tht, 
state hath another, his wife another; and,] 
think, there's one at home for you 

Men. I will make my very house reel to 
night :->A letter for me *? 

Vir. Yes, certain, there's a letter for you ; 
I saw it. 

Men. A letter forme? It gives me an estate 
of seven years' health ; in which time I will 
make a lip at the physician : the most sovereign 
prescription in Galen is but empiricutick, and, 
to this preservative, of no better report than a 
horse drench. Is he not wounded? he waa_ 
wont to come home wounded. 

Vir. O, no, no, no. 

Vol. O, he is wounded, I thank the gods for't. 

Men. So do I too, if it be not too much : — 
Brings 'a victory in his pocket? — The wounds 
become him. 

Vol. On's brows, Menenius : he comes the 
third time home with the oaken garland. 

Men. Has he disciplined Aufidius soundly 1 

Vol. Titus Lartius writes, — they fought to- 
gether, but Aufidius got off. 

Me)u And 'twas time for him too, I'll war- 
rant him that : an he had staid by him, I would 
not hMve been so fidiused for all the chests in 
Corioli, and the gold that's in them. Is the 
senate possessed f of this? 

Vol. Good ladies, let's go : — Yes, yes. yes : 
the senate has letters from the general, wherein 
he gives my son the whole name of the war : 
he huh in this action outdone his former deeds 
doubly. 

Val. In troth, there's wondrous things spoke 
of him. 

Men. Wondrous? ay, I warrmt you, and 
not without his true purchasing. 

Vir. The gods grant them true ! 

Vol. True? pow, wow. 

Men. True? I'll be sworn they are true : — 
Where is he wounded ? — God save your good 
worships! [To the Tribunes^ tvho come for' 
ward.] Marcius is coming home : he has more 
cause to be proud. — Where is he wounded ? 

Vol. r the shoulder, and i' the left arm : 
There will be lariie cicatrices to show the 
people, when he shall stand for his place. He 
received, in the repulse of Tarquin, seven hurts 
i' the body. 

Men. One in the neck, and two in the thigh, 
— there's nine that I know. 

Vol. He had, before this last expedition, 
twenty-five wounds upon him. 
Men. Now it's twenty-seven : every gash was 



i' 



II 



• Waterof the Tiber. 



U Obeisance. 



t Statesmen. 



t Whole man. 
Fully informed. 



Blind. 



iScene i.\ 



COAIOLANU8 



753 



an enemy's grave : [A Shout and Flourish.] 
Hark? the trumpets. 

Fol. These are the ushers of Marcius : be- 
fore him [tears ; 
He carries noise, and behind him he leaves 
Death, that dark spirit, in*s nervy arm doth 
lie ; [men die. 
Which being advanced, declines ! and then 
A Sennet*. Trumpets sound. Enter Com- 

iNiLs and Titus Lartius; between thcm^ 

CoRiOLANUS, crowned uith an oaken 

Garland ; with Captains, Soldiers, and a 

Herald. 

Her, Know, Rome, that all alone Marcius 
did tight 
Within Corioli* gates : where he hath won. 
With fame, a name to Caius Marcius ; these 
In honour follows, Coriolanus : 
Welcome to Rome, renowned Coriolanus ! 

^Flomnsh. 

All. Welcome to Rome, renowned Corio- 
lanus ! [heart; 

Cor. No more of this, it does offend my 
Pray now, no more. 

Com. Look, sir, your mother, 

Cor. O ! 

You have, I know, petition'd all the gods 
For my prosperity. {Kneels. 

Vol. Nay, my good soldier, up ; 
My gentle Marcius, worthy Caius, and 
By deed-achieving honour newly named — 
What is it ? Coriolanus, must I call thee 1 
But O, thy wife. 

Cor. My (rracioust silence, hail! 

Wouldstthou have la«gh'd,had I come cofliu'd 

home, 
That we^p'st to see me triumph? Ah, my dear, 
Such eyes the widows in Corioli wear. 
And mothers that lack sons. 

Men. Now the gods crown thee ! 

Cor. And live you yet 7 — O my sweet lady, 
pardon. [7't» Valeria. 

Vol. 1 know not where to turn : — O wel- 
come home ; [corne all. 
And welcome, general ; — And you are wel 

Me7i. A hundred thousand welcoiiies : I 
conld weep, [Welcome ! 

And I conld laugh ; I am light, and heavy : 
A curse begin at very root of his heart, 
That is nut glad to see thee ! — You are three, 
That Rome should dote on: yet, by the faith 
of men, [that will not 

We have some old crab-trees here at home, 
Be grafted to your relish. Yet w elcoine, war- 
We call a nettle but a nettle; and [riors : 

The faults of fools but folly. 

Co?n. Ever right. 

Cor. Menenius, ever, ever. 

Her. Give way there, and go on. 

Cor. Your hand, and yours : 

[To hU H ife and Mother. 
Ere in our own house I do shade my head. 
The good patricians must be visited; 
From whom I have received not only greetings. 



But with them change of honours. 

Vol. I have lived 

To see inherited my very wishes. 
And the buildings of my fancy ; only there 
Is one thing wanting, which 1 doubt not but 
Our Rome will cast upon thee. 

Cor. Know, good mother, 

I had rather be their servant in my way. 
Than sway with them in theirs. 

Com. On, to the capitol. 

[Floui'ish. Cornets. Exeunt instate, as 
before. The Tribunes remain. 

Bru, Ail tongues speak of him, and the 
bleared sights [nurse 

Are spectacled to see him: Your prattling 
Into a rapture i lets her baby cry, [pins 

While she chats him: the kitchen nialkin^ 
Her richest locicram || 'bout her reechyH neck. 
Clambering the walls to eye him : stalls, bulks, 

windows, 
Are smother'd up, leads fili'd, and ridges horsed 
With variable complexions ; all agreeing 
In earnestness to see him : seld**-shown fla- 

menstt 
Do press among the popular throngs, and puff 
To win a vulgar station ;J: our veil'd dames 
Commit the war of white and damask, in [spoil 
Their nicelygawded §j cheeks, to the wantoB 
Of Phcebus' burning kisses : such a pother, 
As if that whatsoever god who leads him. 
Were slily crept into his human powers. 
And gave him graceful posture. 

Sic. On the suddeu, 

I warrant him consul. 

Bru. Then our office may, 

During his power, go sleep. [honours 

Sic. He cannot temperately transport his 
From where he should begin, and end ; but 
Lose those that he hath won. [will 

Bru. In that there's comfort. 

Sic. Doubt not, the commoners, for whom 
we stand. 
Hut they, upon their ancient malice, will 
Forget, with the least cause, these his new ho- 
nours; [question 
Which that he'll give them, make as little 
As he is proud to do't. 

Bru. I heard him swear. 

Were he to stand for consul, never would he 
Appear i'the market-place, nor on him put 
Ttie naples6]||i vesture o* humility ; 
Xor, showing (as the manner is) his wounds 
To the people, beg their stinking breaths. 

Sic. 'lis right. 

Bru. It was his word : O, he would miss it, 

% rather [him. 

Than carry it, but by the suit o*the gentry to 
And the desire of the nobles. 

Sic. I wish no better. 

Than have him hold that purpose, and to put it 
In execution. 

Bru. 'Tis most like he will, [wills; 

Sic. It shall be to him then, as our good 
A sure destruction. 



Flourish on cornets. f Graceful. 

% Soiled with sweat and smoke. 
It Common standing-place. 



t Fit. $ Maid. H Best linen. 

•* Seldom. \i Prie8t.<j. 

§i Adorned. |||1 Thread-bare. 



r54. 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act Jl 



Bru, So it mast fall oot 

To him, or our antliorities. For an viid, [tred 
We miisi suj^iCj^l* ihe pt-ople in what 'la- 
He still hath lield theiii ; that, to his power, he 
would [and 

Have made them mules, silenced tlieir pleaders, 
Di>propertied iheir freedoms : holding them, 
III human action and capacity, 
Ot no nioi e soul, nt)r tilness for the world. 
Than camels in their war ; who have their 

provaiid t 
Only for beaiing burdens, and sore blows 
For sinking under them. 

Sir. This, as you say, suggested 

At some time when his soaring insolence 
Shall leach the people, (which time shall not 

v%aiit, 
If he he put upon't ; and that's as easy. 
As to set dogs on sheep,) will be his fire 
To kindle tiieir dry stubble ; and their blaze 
Shall darken him tor ever. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Bru. What's the matter 1 

Mess. You are sent for to the Capilol. 'lis 
thought, 
That Marcius shall be consul : I have seen 
The dumb men throng to see him, and the 
blind [gloves, 

To hear him speak: The matrons flung their 
Ladies and maids their scarfs and handker- 
chiefs, 
Upon him as he passM : the nobles bended. 
As to Jo\e's statue; and the commons made 
A shower, and thunder, with their caps, and 
I never saw the like. [sliouts : 

Bru. Let's to the Capitol ; 

And carry with us ears and eyes for the time, 
Uut hearts for the event. 

Sic. Have with you. {Exeunt. 

SCENE II. The same. The Capitol. 
Enter two Officers, to lay Cushions. 

1 OJf. Come, come, they are almost here: 
How many stand for consulships? 

•2 Oj/. Three, they say : but 'tis thought of 
every one, ( oriolanus will carry it. 

1 O//. That's a brave fellow ; but he's 
vengeance prond, and loves not the common 
people. 

•2 O//'. 'Faith, there have been many great 
men that have flatter'd the people, who ne'er 
loved them ; and there be many that they have 
loved, they know not \Nheretore: so that, if 
th»y love ihey know not why, they hate upon 
no belter a ground : Theritore, tor Coriol.inus 
neiihei to caie whether they love or hate him, 
maniiesis the true knowledsie he has in tlieir 
di^posilion ; and, out of his noble careless- 
nej," . lei's thein plainly see't. 

1 Ojf. if he did not care whether he had 
their love or no, he waved fndirterently 'iwixt 
doing them neither good nor harm ; but he 
seeks their hate with greater devotion than 
they can render it him; and leaves nothing 
nudone, thiit may fully discover hini iheir op- 
posite J. Now, to seem to attect the malice 



and displeasure of the people, is as bad as that 
which he dislikes, to tlaiter them tor their 
love. 

1 Off. He hath deserved worthily of his 
country : And his ascent is not by such easy 
deiirees as those, who, having been supple and 
courteous to the people, bonnetted$, v^ ithout 
any further deed to heave them at all into 
their eslimation and report; but he hath s© 
planted his honours in their eyes, and his ac- 
tions in their hearts, that for their tongues to 
be silent, and not confess so much, were a 
kind of ingr.itefui injury; to report olher- 
wi.-e were a malice, that, giving itself the lie, 
would pluck reproof and rebuke from every 
ear that henrd it. 

1 O/7. ^ o more of him ; he is a worthy man: 
Make way, they are coming. 
A Stnnet. Enter, with Lictors before them^ 

Com IN 1 us, the Consul, Mknenius, Cori 

OLANUS,7;mwy other Senators, Sicinius 

and Hrutus. 7'Ae Senators take thelf 

places ; the Tribunes take theirs also 63 

themsel ves. 

Men. Having determined of the Voices, an^ 
To send for Titus Lartius, it remains. 
As the main point of this our after-meeting. 
To gratify his noble service that 
Hath thus stood for his country: Therefore 

please you, 
Most reverend and grave elders, to desire 
The present consul, and last general 
In our Aveil-found successes, to report 
A litile of that worthy work perform'd 
By Caius Marcius Coriolanus; whom 
We meet here, both to thank, and torememb 
With honours like himself. 

1 Sen. Speak, good Cominiuf 

Leave nothing out for length, and make %* 

think, 
leather our state's defective for requital, 
Than we to stretch it out. Masters o'the peopU 
We do request your kindest ears: and, after 
Your loving motion toward the common body. 
To yield what passes here. 

Sic. We are convented 

Upon a pleasing treaty ; and have hearts 
Inclinable to honour and advance 
The theme of our assembly. 

B7'u. ' Which the rather 

We shall be bless'd to do, if he remember 
A kinder vnlue of the people, than 
He hath hereto prized them at. 

Men. That's off, that's off j], 

I would you rather had been silent: F lease 
To luar Coniinius speak? [>ou 

Bru. Most willingly : 

But yet my caution was more pertinent. 
Than the rebuke you give it. 

Men. He loves your people; 

But tie him not to be their bedfellow.— [place. 
Worthy Cominius, speak. — Nay, keep your 
[Coriolanus rises, and o^ers to go <.w>'y 

1 Sen. Sit, Coriolanus: never shame 10 
What you have nobly done. [heni 

(Jor. Your honours' paroou 

Inform. f Provender. jAdveijary. $ Take oft" caps. f Nothing to the purpose 



^cene //.' 



CORIOLAAUS. 



75«> 



i iiftil I'Hlher have my woands to heal again, 
i liiin he.ir say how I got I hem. 

l^> u. Sir, I hope 

My words distench'd yoa not. 

<'or. No, sir : yet oft, 

When blows have made me stay, I fled from 

words. [your people, 

You souih'd not, therefore hurt not: But 

I U»ve tUem as they weigh. 

M-71. Pray now, sit down. 

Cor. I had rather have one scratch my 

head i't! e sun. 
When the al.irum were struck*, than idly sit 
To hear my nothings uionsterM. [E.it Cor. 
Men. Masters o'the people, 

Yonr ninUiplying: spawn how can he flatter, 
(That's thousand to one good one,) when you 

r.ow see 
He had rather venture all his limbs for honour, 
Than one of his ears to hear it?— Proceed, Co- 

niitiius. [lanus 

Com, 1 sli dl lack voice: the deeds of Corio- 
Should noi he ntter'd feebly. — It is held, 
Th It valour is the chiefest virtue, and 
Mc3l dig iifies the haverf: if it be, 
Th3 wAdu I speak of cannot in the world 
Be sillily vonnterpoised. At sixteen years. 
When rarqnin made a head for Rome, he 

fought 
Beyond the mark of others : our then dictator. 
Whom with all praise 1 point at, saw him fight, 
When with his Amazonian chin j he drove 
The bristled^ lips before him : he bestrid 
An o'er-press'd Roman, and i' the consul's view 
Slew three opposers: Tarquin's self he met, 
A nd struck him on his knee : in that day's feats. 
When he might act the woman in the sceneH, 
He proved best man i'the field, and for his 

meedH 
Was brow-bonnd with the oak. His pupil age 
Man-entered thus, he waxed like a sea; 
And, in the brunt of seventeen battles since, 
Helnrch'tl** all swords o'the garland. For this 
IJefore and in Corioli, let me say [last, 

I cannot speak him home: He stopp'd the 

fliers ; 
And, by his rare example, made the coward 
Turn terror into sport; as waves before 
A vessel undtr sail, so men obey'd, [stamp) 
And fell below his stem: his sword (death's 
Where it did mark, it took ; from face to foot 
He was a thing of blood, whose every mo- 
tion ++ 
Was timed;; with dying cries : alone he enter'd 
Th«» mortal gale o'the city, which he painted 
With shunless deftiny, aidless came off, 
X"il with a sudden re-enforcement struck 
Corioli, like a planet; now all's his: 
When by and by the din of war 'gan pierce 
His ready sense: then straight his doubled spirit 
Re-quicken*d what in flesh was fatigate^$. 
And to the battle came he; where he did 
Run reeking o*er the lives of men, as if 
♦Twere a perpetual spoil: and, till we call'd 



Both field and city ours, he never stood 
To ease his breast with panting. 

Men. Worthy man I 

I Sen. He cannot but with measure fit the 
Which we devise him. [honours 

Com. Our spoils he kick'd at ; 

And look'd upon things precious, as they were 
The common muck o'the world: lie covets less 
Than misery |ll| itself would give; rewards 
His deeds with doing them; and is content 
To spend the time, to end it. 

Men. He*8 right noble; 

Let him be call'd for. 

1 -AVw. Call for Coriolanus. 

OJf. He doth appear. 

He-enter Coriolanus. 

Men. The senate, Coriolanus, are well 
To make thee consul. [pleased 

Cor. I do owe them still 

My life and services. 

Men. It then remains. 

That you do speak to the people. 

Cor. 1 do beseech you. 

Let me o'erleap that custom ; for 1 cannot 
Put on the gown, stand naked, and entreat 
them, [please you. 

For my wounds' sake, to give their suflrage: 
That I may pass this doing. 

Sic. Sir, the people 

Must have their voices; neither will they bate 
One jot of ceremony. 

Meji. Put them not to't : — 

Pray you, go fit you to the custom ; and 
Take to you, as your predecessors have. 
Your honour with your form. 

Cor. It is a part 

That I shall blush in acting, and might well 
Be taken from the people. 

lint. Mark you that? 

Cor. To brag unto them, — Thus 1 did, and 
thus;— [hide. 

Show them the unaching scars which I shouhl 
As it I had received them for the hire 
Of their breath only : — 

Men. Do not stand upon't — 

We recommend to you, tribunes of the people. 
Our purpose to them ;— and to our noble 
Wish we all joy ami honour. [consul 

Sen. To Coriolanus comeall joy and honour! 
[Fiourish. Then exeunt Senators. 

Brii» You see how he intends to use the 
people. [will require them. 

Sic. May they perceive his intent! He that 
As if he did contemn what he requested 
Should be in them to give. 

Bru. Come, we'll inform thera 

Of our proceedings here : on the market-place 
I know they do attend us. [Exettnt, 

SCENE III. The same. The forum. 
Enter several Citizens. 

1 at. Once, if he do require our voice* 
we ought not to deny him. 

2 Cit. We may, sir, if we will. 



• Summoni to battle. + Possessor. J Without a beard. 5 Bearded. 

Smooth faced enough to act a woman's part. IF Reward. •* Won. ft Stroka 

ri Followed, j) Weaned. |1|| Avarice. 



756 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act jr 



3 at. We have power in ourselves to do 
it, but it is a power that we have no power 
to do : for if he show us his wounds, and ttll 
us his deeds, we are to put our tongues into 
those wouuds, and speak for them; so if he 
ell us his noble deeds, we must also tell him 
our noble acceptance of them. Ingratitude is 
monstrous : and for the multitude to be un- 
grateful were to make a monster of the 
muititutU; of the v;hich, we being mem- 
bers, should bring ourselves to be monstrous 
members, 

1 at. And to make us no better thought of, 
a little help will serve: for once, when we 
stood up about the corn, he himself stuck not 
to call us tlie many-headed multitude. 

3 at. \\ e have been called so of many ; not 
that our h»;ads are some brown, some black, 
some auburn, some baid, but that our wits are 
so diversely coloured : and truly I think, if all 
our wits were to issue out of one scull, they 
would f,y ^ast, west, north, south; and their 
consent of one direct way should be at once 
to all thejioints o' the compass. 

2 Cit. Think you so? Which way, do you 
judge, my wit would fly? 

3 at. Nay, your wit will not so soon out 
as another man's will, 'tis strongly wedged up 
in a block head : but, if it were at liberty, 
'twould sure southward. 

2 at. Why that way? 

3 Cit. To lose itself in a fog; where being 
three parts melted away with rotten dews, 
the fourth Mould return for conscience sake, 
to help to get thee a wife. 

2 at. You we never without your tricks: — 
You may, you may. 

3 at. Are you all resolved to give your 
voices? But that's no matter, the greater part 
carries it. I say, if he would incline to the 
people, there was never a vnjrthier man. 

l£nter CoRioLhfsVs and Mlnknius. 
Here he comes, and in the gown of humility; 
mark his behavicnr. We are not to stay all 
together, but to ccme by him where he stands, 
by ones, by two*t, and by threes. He's to 
make his requests by particulars : wherein 
every one of us has a single honour, in giving 
him our own voices with our own tongues: 
therefore follow nie, and I'll direct you how 
you shall go by him. 

AIL Content, content. [Ea:eii?it. 

Men. O, sir, you are not right: have you not 
The worthiest men have done it? [known 

Cor. What must 1 say? — 

I pray, sir, — Plague apon't ! I cannot bring 

My tongue to such a pace: Look, sir; 

my wounds; — 
I got them in my country's service, when 
Some certain of your brethren roar'd, and ran 
From the noise of our own drums. 

Ale/i. O me, the gods! 

You must not speak of that ; you must desire 
To think upon yon. [them 

Co7\ Think upon me! Hang'em! 

I would they would forget me, like the virtues 
Which our divines lose by them. 

Aieji. You'll mar all : 



1*11 leave you : Pray you, speak to them, 1 

pray you 
In wholesome manner. [Exit. 

Enter Two Citizens. 
Cor. Bid them wash their faces, 

And keep their teeth clean. — So, here comes a 

brace. 
Yon know the cause, sir, of my standing here. 

1 at. We do, sir ; tell us what hath brought 
Cor. Mine own desert. [you to't'/ 

2 at. Your own desert? 

Cor. Ay, not 

Mine own desire. 

1 at. How ! not your own desire? 

Cor, No, sir : 
'Twas never my desire yet 
To trouble the poor with begging. [thing, 

1 at. You must think, if we give you any 
We hope to gain by you. [corrsulship? 

('or. Well, then*, 1 pray, your price o'tbe 

1 at. The price is, sir, to ask it kindly. 
Cor. Kindly ? 

Sir, I pray let me ha't : I have wounds to show 
you, [voice, sir; 

Which shall be yours ia private.— Your good 
What say you? 

2 at. You shall have it, worthy sir. 
Cor. A match, sir: — 

There is in all two worthy voices begg'd :— 
I have your alms; adieu. 

1 CU. But this is something odd. 

2 at. An 'twere to give again — But 'tis no 

matter. [Exeunt two Citizens. 

Enter two other Citizens. 
Cor. Pray you now, if it may stand with 
the tune of your voices, that I may be consul, 
I have here the customary gown. 

3 (Jit. You have dcfeerved nobly of your 
country, and you have not deserved nobly. 

Cor. Your enigma? 

3 Cit. You have been a scourge to her 
enemies, you have been a rod to her friends; 
you have not, indeed, loved the common 
people. 

Cor. You should account me the more vir- 
tuous, that I have not been common in my 
love. I will, sir, flatter my sworn bi'other 
the people, to earn a dearer estimation of 
them; 'tis a condition they account gentle: 
and since the wisdom of their choice is rather 
to have my hat than my heart, 1 will practise 
the insinuating nod, and be off to them moft 
countcrfeitly ; that is, sir, I will counterfeit 
the bewitchment of sorrre popular man, and 
give it bountifully to the ilesirers. Therefore, 
beseech you, 1 may be consul. 

4 at. We hope to find you our friend ; and 
therefore give you our voices heartily. 

3 at. You have received many wounds for 
your country. 

Cor. 1 will not seal your knowledge with 
showing them. 1 will nrake much of your 
voices, and so trouble you no further. 

Both at. The gods give you joy, ?ir, 
heartily ! [Eitunt. 

Cof Most sweet voices! — 
Tetter it is to die, better to starve, 
Than crave the hire which fn st >vc do deserve. 



S'cene III.] 



COJRIOLANDS. 



757 



Why in this wolvish gown should I stand here. 
To beg of Hob and Dick, that do appear, 
Their needless vouches? Custom calls me to*t: 
Wh^t custom wills, in all thiniissh.)nld we do't. 
The (!nst on antiijiie time wo\ild lie nnswept, 
And monii^aino'is en or be too hia'dy heap'd 
For fnuh to over-peer *— Rather than fool it 
Let the hi'jh office and the honour go [so 

Foonethat wcvil-i do thus. — I am half through : 
The one part siiffer'd, the other will 1 do. 

tiii'fr Thref- other Citizens. 
Here come more voices, — 
Your voices: for your voices I have fought; 
WatohM foryonr voices ; for your voices, beat 
Of vvoiujds two dozen odl ; battles thrice six 
1 have seen and heard of; for your voices 
hnve [voices; 

Done m;iny things, s(»me less, some more : your 
ln<leed, I vvoidd be consul. 

5 ^'it. He has done nobly, and cannot go 
without an> honest man's voice. 

6 at. Therefiire let him be consul : The 
gods orive him joy, and make him good triend 
to the people! 

All. Atnen, amen. 

God save thee, noble consul ! 

[E'Piinf Citizens. 
Cor, Worthy voices! 

Re-ejiter Men emus, ?f;/Y/i Brutijs and 

S I CI N I us. 

Men. You have stood your limitation; and 
the trihimes 
Endue yon with the people's voice: Remains, 
That, in the orfieial marks invested, you 
Anon do meet the senate. 

(^or. Is this done? 

Sic. The custom of request you have dis- 
charged : 
The people do admit you; and are snmmonM 
To meet anon, upon yonr approbation. 

Cor. Where? at the senate-house? 
' Sic. There, Coriolanus. 

Cor, May I then change these garments? 
Sic. You may, sir. 

Cor, That TMI straight do; and, knowing 
myself again, 
Repiir to the senate house. [along? 

Men. I'll keep you company. — Wid yon 
Bru. We stay here for the people. 
S'fc, Fare yon well. 

[Exeunt CoKioi,. and'MET^Es, 
He has it now ; and by his looks, methinks, 
•Tis warm at his heart. 

Bru, With a proud heart he wore 

His humble weeds ; Will you dismiss the 
people? 

Re-enter Citizens. 
Sic. How now, my masters? have you chose 

1 at. He his onr voices, sir. [this man ? 
Bru, We pray the gods, he may deserve 

your loves. [notice, 

2 (*'t. Amen, sir : To my poor unworthy , 
He mock'd us. when he begg'd our voices I 

.3 Cit. Certainly, 

He flooted nsdown-rieht. [mock u>. j 

1 at. No, 'tis his kind of speech, he did not ■ 



_ 2 Cit. Not one amoaijst us save yourself, 

but says r^^ 

He used us scornfully : he should have show'd 

His marks of merit, wounds received for his 

Sic. Why, so he did, I am sure, [country. 

Cit. No ; no man saw 'em, 

[Se eral speaks 

3 Cit. He said, he had wounds, which he 
conld slictw in piivatej 
And with his haf^thus waving it in scorn, 
/ would be consul, says he : aged custom^, 
But by your voices, will not. so permit nif: ; 
Your voices therefore: When we granted 
that, {thank yw,— 
Here was, — I thank you for your roices,-^ 
Your most street voices : — now you have left 
your voices, [this mockery '< 
I hnve no further with yon: Was no* 

Sic. Why, either you were ignorant to see't. 
Or, seeing it, of such childish friendliness 
To vield your voices. 

Bru. " Coul I you not hive told him^ 

As you were lesstm'd, — When he had no 
But WHS a petty servant to the state, [power. 
He was your enemy; ever spake a-^ninst 
Your libeities, and the charters that you bear 
I* the body of the weal: and now, arriving 
At place of potency, and sway o'lhe state. 
If he should still nnlignantly remam 
Fast foe to the plebeiit, yoiir voices might 
Re curses to > ourselves ? Yon should have said. 
That, as his worthy deeds did cl lim no less 
Than what he stood for ; so his gracious nature 
Would think upon you for your voices, and 
Translate his malice towards you into love. 
Standing your friendly lord. 

Sic. Thus to have said. 

As you were fore-advised, had touch'd his 

spirit. 
And try'd his inclination ; from him pluck'd 
Either his gracious promise, which you might. 
As cause had call'd you up, have held him to ; 
Or else it would have gall'd his surly nature. 
Which easily endures not article 
Tying him to aught ; so, putting him to rage, 
Y(ni should have ta'en the advantage of his 
And pass'd him uuelected. [choler, 

Bru. Did you perceive, 

He did solicit you in free contempt, [think. 
When he did need your loves ; and do yon 
That his contempt shall not be bruising to you. 
When he hath power to crush? Why, bad your 
bodies [cry 

No heart among you ? Or had yon tongues, to 
Aga nst tha rectorship of judgment? 

.SVe. Have you. 

Ere now, deny'd the asker? and, now again. 
On him, that did not ask, but mock, bestow 
Your sued-for tonsues ? 

3 at. lie's notconfirm'd,weinaydenyh!m 

2 at. \nd will deny him : [yet. 

I'll have f.ve hundred voices of that sound. 

1 Cit. I twice five hundred, and their friends 
to piece *em. 

Bru. Get you hence instantly ; and tell thos« 
friends, — 



♦ Over -look. 



f Plebeians, eomrnoft |>e«pl8. 

IT 



758 



SHAKSPE4RE. 



Mc» // 



They have chose a consul, that will from them 

take 
Their liberties ; make them of no more voice 
Than dog8, that are as otten beat for barking. 
As therefore kept to do so. 

Sic. Let them assemble ; 

And, on a safer judgment, all revoke 
Your ign'-'ant election : Enforce* his pride. 
And his old natc unto you : besides, forget not 
With what contempt he wore the humble weed ; 
How in his suit he scorn'd you : but your loves. 
Thinking upon his services, took from you 
The apprehension of his present portance t. 
Which gibingly, ungravely he dW fashion 
After the inveterate bate he bears you. 

Bru, Lay 

A fault on us, your tribunes ; that we laboured 
(No impediment between) but that you must 
Cast your election on him. 

Sic. Say, you chose him 

More after cor commandment, than as guided 
By your own true affections : and that your 

minds 
Prc-occupy'd with what you rather must do 
Than what you should, made you against the 
To voice him consul ; Lay the fault on us. [grain 

jBru. Ay, spare us not. Say we read lectures 

to you. 

How youngly he began to serve his country. 

How long continued : and what stock be 

springs of, [came 

The noble house o'the Marcians ; from whence 



That A.ncus Marc4us, Numa's daughter's son. 
Who, after great Hostilius, here was king : 
Of the same house Publius and Quintus were. 
That our be5t water brought by conduits hither ; 
And Censorinus, darling of the people. 
And nobly named so, beicg Censor twice. 
Was his great ancestor. 

Sic. One thus descended. 

That hath beside well in his person wrought 
To be set high in place, we did commend 
To your remembrances : but you have found, i 
Scaling J his present bearing with his past. 
That he's your fixed enemy, and revoke 
Your udden approbation 

Bru. Say, you ne'er had done'l, | 

(Harp on that still,) but by our putting on 5 : 
And presently, when you have drawn your 
Repair to the Capitol. ^number, 

at. We will so : almost all [Several speak. 
Repent in their election. [Exeuiit Ciiizeos. 

Bru. Let them go on ; 

This mutiny were better put in hazard. 
Than stay, past doubt, for greater : 
If, as his nature is, he fall in rage 
With their refusal, both observe and answer 
The vantage 1| of his anger. 

Sic. To the Capitol : 

Come ; we'll be there before the stream o* the 

people ; 
And this shall seem, as partly 'tis, their own. 
Which we have goaded II onward. 

[Eieunt. 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. The same. A Street. 
Cornets, Enter Coriolanus, Menknius, 

CoMiNius, Titus Lartius, Senators, awd 

Patricians. 

Cor. Tullus Aufidins then had made new 
head 1 [which caused 

Lart. He had, my lord ; and that it was, 
Oar swifter composition. 

Cor. So then the Voices stand but as at first ; 
Ready, when time shall prompt them, to make 
Upon us again. [road 

Com. They are worn, lord consul, so. 

That we shall hardly in our ages see 
Their banners wave again. 

Cor. Saw you Aufidius ? 

JLart. On safe-guard •• he came to me ; and 
did curse 
Against the Voices, for they had so \ilely 
Yielded the town : he is retired to Antium. 

Cor. Spoke he of me ? 

Lart. He did, my lord. 

Cor. How? what? 

LiUrt. How often he had met you, sword to 
sword 
That, of all things upon the earth, he hated 
Your person most : that he would pawn his 
To hopeless restitution, so he might [fortunes 
Be caird your vanquisher. 



At Antium Uvea he? 



Cor. 

Lart. At Antium. 

Cor. I wish, I had a cause to seek him there. 

To oppose his hatred fully. — Welcome home. 

[To Lartius. 

Enter Sicinius and Brutus. 

Behold ! these are the tribunes of the people. 

The tongues o'the common mouth. I do de 

spise them; 
For they do prank ff them in authority. 
Against all noble sufferance. 

Sic. Pass no further. 

Cor. Ha! what is that? 

Bru. It will be dangerous to 

Go on : no further. 

Cor. What makes this change ? 

Men. The matter? 

Com. Hath he not pass'd the nobles, and the 

Bru. Cominius, no. [commons ? 

Cor. Have I had children's voices? 

1 Sen. Tribunes, give way ; he shall to the 
market-place. 

Bru. The people are incensed against him. 

Sic. Stop, 

Or all will fall in broil. 

Cor, Are these your herd ? — 

Must these have voices, that can yield them 

now, [are your olficesT 

And itraight disclaim their tongues?— What 



• Object. 
\ Advantage. 



t Carriage. 
^ Driven. 



X Weighing. 
With a guard. 



$ Incitr^tlon. 
tf Plume, (leik. 



Scene I.] 



CORIOLANUS. 



759 



You being their mouths, why rule you not I 
Have you not set tbem on? [their teeth ? 

Men, Be cairn, be calm. 

Cor. It is a purposed thing, ami grows by 
To curb the will of the nobility :— [plot. 

Suffer it, and live with such as cannot ruie, 
Nor ever will be ruled. 

Bru. Cairt nota plot: 

The people cry, you mock'd them : and, of late, 
W hen corn was given th«m gratis, you repined ; 
^andal'd the suppliants for the people ; callM 

them 
Time-pleasers, flatterers, foes to nobleness. 

Cor. Why, this was known before. 

Bru. Not to them all. 

Cor. Have you inform'd them since ? 

Bru. How ! I inform them ! 

Cor. You are like to do such busmess. 

Bru. Not unlike. 

Each way to better yours. 

Cor. Why then should I be consul 1 By yon 
clouds. 
Let me deserve so ill as you, and make me 
Your fellow tribune. 

Sic. You show too much of that. 

For which the people stir: If you will pass 
To where you are bound, you must inquire 

your way. 
Which you are out of, with a gentler spirit ; 
Or never be so noble as a consul. 
Nor yoke with him for tribune. 

Me/t. Let's be calm. 

Com. The people are abused : — Set on. — 
This palt'ring * 
Becomes not Rome ; nor has Coriolanus 
Deserved this so dishonoured rub, laid falsely + 
r the plain way of his merit. 

Cor. Tell me of corn ? 

This was my speech, and I will spe**t't again ;— 

Men. Not now, not now. 

1 Sen. Not in this neai, sir, now. 

Cor. Now, as I Aive, I will.— My nobler 
I crave their pardons : — [friends, 

For the mutable, rauk-scented many J let them 
Regard me as I do not flatter, and 
Therein behold themselves : I say again. 
In soothing them, we nourish 'gainst our senate 
The cockle of rebellion, insolence, sedition. 
Which we ourselves have plough'd for, sow'd, 
and scatter'd, [ber ; 

By mbigling them with us, the honoured num- 
Who lack not virtue, no, nor power, but that 
Which they have given to beggars. 

Men, Well, no more. 

Sen. No more words, we beseech you. 

Cor. How! no more? 

As for my country I have shed my blood, 
ivot fearing outward force, so shall my lungs 
Coin words till their decay, against those 

nieazels$ 
AVhich we disdain should tetter |1 us, yet sought 
The very way to catch them. 

Bru. \on speak o'the people 

As if yon wore a god to punish, not 
A man of their intirniity. 



Sic. *Twere well 

We let the people know't. 

Men. What, what 1 his chckr? 

Cor. Choler! 
W^ere I as patient as the midnight sleep. 
By Jove, 'twould be my mind. 

Sic. It is a miud 

That shall remain a poison where it is. 
Not poison any further. 

Cor. Shall remain ! 

Here you this Triton of the minnows^f? marfr 
His absolute shall? [you 

Com. *Twas from the canon**. 

Cor. Shall! 

good, but most unwise patricians, why. 
You grave, but recklessft senators, have yott 

thus 
Given Hydra here to choose an officer, 
That with his peremptory shall, being but 
The horn and noise o'the monsters, wants not 

spirit 
To say he'll turn your current in a ditch, 
And make your channel his ? If he have power, 
I hen vail your ignorance : if none, awake 
Your dangerous lenity. If you are learned. 
Be not as common fools ; if you are not. 
Let them have cushions by you. You are ple- 
beians. 
If they be senators : and they are no less. 
When both your voices blended, the greatest 
taste [trate ; 

Most palates theirs. They choose their magis- 
And such a one as he, who puts his shall, 
His popular shall, against a graver bench 
Than ever frown'd in Cireece I By Jove himself. 
It makes the consuls base : and my soul aches 
To know, when two authorities are Tip, 
Neither supreme, how soon confusion 
May enter 'twixt the gap of both, and take 
The one by the other. 

Com. Well — on to the market-place. 

Cor. Whoever gave that counsel, to gi ve forth 
The corn o'the store-house gratis, as 'twas used 
Sometime in Gret ce, 

Men. Well, well, no more of that. 

Cor. (Though there the people had more ab- 
solute powder,) 

1 say, they nourish'd disobedience, fed 
The ruin of the state. 

Bru. Why, shall the people give 

One, that speaks thus, their voice ? 

Cor. I'll give my reasons. 

More worthier than their voices. They know 

the corn 
Was not our recompense ; resting well assured 
1 hey ne'er did service for't : Being press'd to 

the war, 
Even when the navel of the state was fouch'd. 
That would not thread jj the gates : this kind of 

service 
Did not deserve corn gratis: being i'the war, 
Their mutinies and revolts, wherein they 

show'd [tion 

Most valour, spoke not for them : The accnsa- 
Which they have often made against the senatt. 



• Shnflfling. 
^ Small lish. 



+ Treacherously. J Populace. § Lepers. 

•* According to law. if Careless. 



II Scab. 
:;i Pasi^ through. 



r'oO 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act III 



All cause unborn, could never be the native * 
Of our so frank donation. Well, what then? 
How shall this bosom multiplied digest 
The senate's courtesy? Let deeds express 
What's like to be their words: — We did re- 
quest it ; 
We are the greater polli, and 271 true fear 
They gave u.s our demands: — Thus we debase 
The nature of our seats, and make the rabble 
Call our cares, fears ; which will in time break 

ope 
The locks o'the senate, and bring iu the crows 
To peck the eagles. — 

Men, Come, enough. 

Bru. Enough, with over-measure. 

Cer, No, take more : 

What may be sworn by, both divine and hu- 
man, ship, — 
Seal what I end withal! — This double wor. 
Where one part does disdain with cause, the 
other [wisdom 
Insult without all reason; where gentry, title. 
Cannot conclude, but by the yea and no 
Of general ijjnorance, — it must omit 
Real necessities, and give way the while 
T.'o unstable siightness : purpose so barr'd, it 
follows, [yo'i, — 
Nothing is done to purpose: Therefore, beseech 
You that will be less fearful than discreet; 
That love the fundamental part of state. 
More than you doubt; the change oft; that pre- 
A noble life before a long, and wish [fer 
To Jump^ a body with a dangerous physic [out 
'J hat's sure of death without it, — at once pluck 
The multitudinous tongue, let them not lick 
The sweet which is their poison: your dis- 
honour 
Mangles true judgment, and bereaves the state 
Of that integrity which should become it; 
Not having the power to do the good it would, 
For the ill which doth control it. 

Bru. He has said enough. 

Sic. He has spoken like a traitor, and shall 
As traitors do. [answer 

Cor. Thou wretch! despite o'erwhelm thee! — 
What should the people do with these bald 

tribunes? 
On whom depending, their obedience fails 
To the greater bench: In a rebellion, [law. 
When what's not meet, but what must be, was 
Then were they chosen ; in a better hour, 
Ln what is meet, be said it must be meet. 
And throw their power i'the dust. 

Bru. Manifest treason. 

,Sic. This a consul? no. 

Bru. The ^diles, ho! — Let him be appre- 
hended. 

Sic. Go, call the people; \Exit Brutus.] in 
whose name, myself 
Attach thee, as a traitorous innovator, 
A foe to the public weal : Obey, I charge thee. 
And follow to thine answer. 

Cor. Hence, old goat! 

Sen. 4; Pat. We'll surety him. 

Com. Aged sir, hands otf. 



Cor. Hence, rotten thing, 01 I shall shake thy 
Out of thy garment*. [bones 

Sic. Help, ye citizens. 

Reenter Brutus, uith the ^Ediies, and a 
Rabble of Citizens. 

Men. On both sides more respect. 

Sic. Here's he, that would 

Take from you all your power. 

Bru. Seize him, ^Ediles. 

Cit. Down w'th him, down with him! 

{Seieral \peak, 

2 Sen. Weapons, weapons, weapons! 

[They all bustle about Coriolanus 
Tribunes, patricians, citizens! — what ho! — 
Sicinius, Brutus, Coriolanus, citizens ! 

at. Peace, peace, peace ; stay, hold, peacei 

Men. What is about to be? — 1 am out wf 
breath; [bunes 

Confusion's near: I cannot speak: — You, tri- 
To the people, — Coriolanus, patience: — 
Speak, good Sicinius. 

Sic. Hear me, people ; — Peace. 

Cit. Let's hear our tribune: — Peace. Speak, 
speak, speak. 

Sic. You are at point to lose your liberties: 
Marcius would have all from you; Marcius, 
Whom late you have named for consul. 

M(7u Fie, fie, fie 1 

This is the way to kindle, not to quench. 

\Sen. To unbuild the city, and to lay all flat. 

Sic. What is the city, but the people? 

Cit. True, 

The people are the city. [blish'd 

Bru. By the consent of all, we were esta- 
The people's magistrates. 

Cit. YoH so remain. 

Men. And so are like to do. 

Cor. That is the way to lay the city flat; 
To bring the roof to the foundation; 
And bury all, which yet distinctly ranges. 
In heaps and piles of ruin. 

Sic. • This deserves death. 

Bru. Or let us stand to our authority. 
Or let us lose it: — We do here pronounce, 
Upon the part o'the people, in whose power 
We were elected theirs, Marcius is woithy 
Of present death. 

Stc. Therefore, lay hold of him ; 

Bear him to the rock Tarpeian||, and from 
Into destruction cast him . [thence 

Bru. ^diles, seize him. 

Cit. Yield, Marcius, yield. 

Men. Hear me one word. 

Beseech you, tribunes, hear me but a word. 

A'jdi. Peace, peace. [friend. 

Men. Be that you seem, truly your country's 
And temperately proceed to what you would 
Thus violently redress. 

Bru. Sir, those cold ways, 

That seem like prudent helps, are very poison 
ous [\nn\. 

Where the disease is violent : — Lay hands upon 
And bear him to the rock. 

Cor. No ; I'll die here. 

[Drawing his Sword* 



• Motive, no doubt, was Shakspeare's word. + Number. t Fear. 

II From whence criminals were thrown, and <las!ied to pieces. 



$ Risk. 



Svene /.] 



CORIOLANUS. 



761 



There's some among you have beheld me fight- 
ing; [seen me. 
Come, try upon yourselves what you have 

Men. Down with that sword;— Tribunes, 
withdraw awhile. 

Bru, Lay hands upon him. 

Men. Help, Marcius! help! 

You that be noble; help him, young and old! 

at. Down with him, down with him! 
[Jn this Mutiny, the'Yr'\b\M\e%.,theMd.\\es^ 
and the People, are all heat in. 

Men. Go, get you to your house; be gone. 
All will be Jiaught else. [away, 

; 2 ^Sen. Get yon gone. 

Ctw. Stand fast ; 

We have as many friends as enemies. 

Men. Shall it be put to that? 

1 Hen. The gods forbid ! 

I pr'ythee, noble friend, home to thy house ; 
Leave us to cure this cause. 

Men. For 'tis a sore upon us, 

You cannot tent yourself: Begone, *bescech 

Com. Come, sir, along with us. [you. 

Cor. I would they were barbarians, (as they 
are. 
Though in Rome litter'd,) not Romans, (as they 

are not, 
Though calved i* the porch o'the Capitol,) — 

Min. Be gone ; 

Put not your worthy rage into your tongue; 
One time will owe another. 

Cor. On fair ground, 

I could beat forty of them. 

Men. I could myself 

Take up a brace of the be&t of them ; yea, the 
two tribunes. 

Com. But now 'tis odds beyond arithmetic ; 
And manhood is call'd foolery, when it stands 
Against a falling fabric. — Will you hence. 
Before the tag ♦return ? Whose rage doth rend 
Like interrupted waters, and o'er bear 
What they are used to bear. 

Men. Pray you, be gone : 

I'll try whether my old wit be in request 
"With those that have but. littfe ; this must be 
With cloth of any colour. [patch'd 

Com. Nay, come away. 

[Exeunt Cok. Com. and others. 

1 Pat. This man has niarr'd his fortune. 
Men. His nature is too noble for the world : 

He would not flatter Neptune for his trident. 
Or Jove for his power to thunder. His heart's 
his mouth : [vent ; 

What his breast forges, that his tongue must 
And, being aiiiiry, does torget that ever 
He heard the name of death. {A noise within. 
Here's goodly work ! 

2 FcU. I would they were a-bed ! 
I Men. I would they were in Tyberl — What, 
' the vengeance, 

Could he not speak them fair? 
He-enter "^KviKis and Sicinius, tvith the 
Rabble. 
Sic. Where is this viper. 

That would depopulate the city, and 



Be every man himself? 

Men. You worthy tribunes, — 

6ic. He shall be thrown down the Tarpeian 
rock 
With rigorous hands; he hath resisted law, 
And therefore law shall scorn him further trial 
Than the severity of the public power. 
Which he so sets at nought. 

1 at. He shall well know, 

The noble tribunes are the people's mouths. 
And we their hands. 

at. He shall, sure on*t t. 

{^Several speak together. 

Men, Sir, — 

Sic. Peace. 

Men. Do not cry havoc J, where you 
With modest warrant. [should bnt hunt 

Sic. Sir, how comes it that you 

Have holp to make this rescue ? 

Men. Hear me speak : — 

As I do know the consul's worthiness. 
So can I name his faults : — 

Sic. Consul !— what consul ? 

Men. The consul Coriolanus. 

Bru. He a consul I 

at. No, no, no, no, no. 

Men, If, by the tribunes* leave, and yours, 
good people, 
I may be heard, I'd crave a word or two ; 
The which shall turn you to no further harm. 
Than so much loss of time. 

Sic. Speak brief!}' t-hen ; 

For we are peremptory to despatch 
This viperous traitor : to eject him hence. 
Were but one danger ; and, to keep him here, 
Our certain death ; therefore it is decreed 
He dies to-night. 

Men. Now the good gods forbid. 

That our renowned Rome, whose gratitude 
Towards her deserved ci children is enroU'd 
In Jove's own book, like an unnatural dam 
Should now eat up her own ! 

Sic. He*s a disease, that must be cot away. 

Men. O, he's a limb, tiial has but a disease ; 
Mortal to cut it otf ; to cure it, ensy. 
What has he done to Rome, that's worthy 

death ? 
Killing our enemies ? The blood he hath lost, 
(Which, I dare vouch, is more than that he 
hath, [country : 

By many an ounce,) he dropp'd it for his 
And what is left, to lose it by his country. 
Were to us all, that do't and sutfer it, 
A brand to the end o'the world. 

Sic. This, is clean kam f]. 

Bru. Merely If awry: when he did love his 
It honour'd him. [country 

Men. The service of the foot 

Being once gangrened, is not then respected 
For what before it was. 

Bru. We'll hear no more :— 

Pursue him to his house, and pluck him thence 
Lest his infection, being ot catching nature, 
Spread further. 

Men. One word more, one word. 



* The lowest of the populace, tag, rag, and bobtail. 
♦ The signal for slaughter. $ Deserving. || Quite awry. 



t Be sure on't. 

^I Absolutely 
3T3 



762 



SHAKSPEARE. 



U! IJL . 



Tliis tiger-footed rage, when it shall find 
The barm of unscanuM* swiftness, will, too 
late, [process; 

Tie leaden pounds to his heels. Proceed by 
Lest parties (as he is beloved) break out, 
And sack great Rome with Romans. 

Bru. If it were so, — 

Sic. What do ye talk? 
Have we not had a taste of his obedience ? 
Our iEdi less motet ourselves resisted? Come: 

Men. Consider this ; — He has been bred i' 
the wars 
Since he could draw a sword, and isill school'd 
In boultedf language; meal and bran together 
He throws without distinction. Give me leave, 
I'll go to him, and undertake to bring him 
Where he shall answer, by a lawful form, 
(In peace) to his utmost peril. 

1 Sen. Noble tribunes. 

It is the humane way: the other course 
Will prove too bloody ; and the end of it 
Unknown to the beginning. 

Sic. Noble Meneniui, 

Be you then as the people's officer: 
Mastere, lay down your weapons. 

Bru. Go not home. 

Sic. Meet on the market-place; We'll at- 
tend you there: [ceed 
Where, if you bring not Marclns, we'll pro- 
In our first way. 

Men. I'll bring him to yon : — 

Let me desire your company . [Ti; ttie Senators] 

He niust come. 
Or what is worst will follow. 

1 Sen. Pray yon, let's to him. 

\Exeunt. 
SCENE IT. A Room in Coriolanns's House. 
Enter Coriolanus, and Patricians. 

Cor, Let them pull all about mine ears ; 
present me 
Death on the wheel, or at wild horses* heels ; 
Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock. 
That the precipitation might down stretch 
Below the beam of sight, yet will I still 
Be thus to them. 

Enter Volumnia. 

1 Pat. You do the nobler. 

Cor. I musej, my mother 
Does not approve me further, who was wont 
To call them woollen vassals, things created 
To buy and sell with groats ; to show bare heads 
In congregations, to yawn, be still, and won- 
der. 
When one but of my ordinance^ stood up 
To speak of peace, or war. I talk of you ; 

[7'o Volumnia. 
Why did you wish me milder? Would you 

have me 
False to my nature? Rather say, I play 
'I he man I am. 

Vol. O, sir, sir, sir, 

I would have had yon put your power well on. 
Before you had worn it out. 

( 'or. Let go. 



Vol. You might have been enough the mai 
yon are. 
With striving less to be so: Lesser had been 
The thwartings of your dispositions, if 
Von had not show'd tlrem how yi»u were disH 
Ere they lack'd power to cross you. [posed 

Cor. Let them hang. 

Vol. Ay, and burn too. 

Enter Menenius, and Senators. 

Men. Come, come, you have been too 
rough, something too rough ; 
You must return, and mend it. 

1 Sen. There's no remedy ; 

Unless, by not so doing, our good city 
Cleave in the midst, and perish. 

Vol. Pray be counsell'd : 

I have a heart as little apt as yours, 
Hut yet a brain, that leads my use of .anger. 
To better vantage. 

Me7i. Well said, noble woman : [that 

Before he should thus stoop to the herd, but 
The violent fit o'the time craves it as physic 
For the whole state, I would put mine armoui 
Which I can scarcely bear. [on. 

Cor. What must 1 do? 

Men. Return to the tribunes. 

Cor. Well, 

What then? what then? 

Men. Repent what yon have spoke. 

Cor. For them? — I cannot do it to the god»; 
Must I then do't to them. 

Vol. You are too absolute; 

Though therein you can never be too noble. 
But when extremities speak. I have hear< 

you say, 
Honour and policy, like unsevercd friends, 
P the war do grow together: Grant that, and 

tell me. 
In- peace, what each of them by th* other lose 
ihat they combine not there. 

Cor. Tush, tush ! 

Men. A good demand. 

Vol. If it be hononr, in your wars, to seeni,i 
The same you are not, (which, for your best 
ends, [worse. 

You ailopt your policy,) how is it less, or 
That it shall hoKl companionship in peace 
With hononr, as in war; bince that to both 
It stands in like request ? 

Cor. Why force 1| you this ? 

Vol. Because that now it lies you on to speak 
To the people; not by your own instruction. 
Nor by the matter which your heart prompts 

you to, 

But with such words that are but roted in 
Your tongue, though but bastards, and syllables 
Of no allowance, to your bosom's truth. 
Now, this no more dishonours you at all. 
Than to lake inH a town with gentle words, 
Which else would put you to your fortune, ani 
The hazard of much blood. — 
I would dissen)ble with my nature, where 
My fortunes and my friends at stake required 
I should do so in hononr: I am in this. 
Your wife, your son, these senators, the nobicb 



|i 



Inconsiderate haste. 
^ Rank. 



f Finely sifted. 
Urge. 



X Wonder. 
% Snbdue. 



Scene 11.] 



COHIOLANUS. 



763 



And you will rather show our general lowts* 
ilo\T you can frown, than spend a fawn upon 
them [guard 

For the inheritance of their loves, and safe- 
Of w hat that want might ruin. 

Mtn, Noble lady!— [so. 

Come, go with us; speak fair: you may salve 
Not what is dangerous present, but the loss 
Of what is past. 

I oL 1 pr'ythee now, my son, 

Go to them, with this bonnet in thy hand ; 
And thus far having stretch'd it, (here be witii 
them,) [ness 

Thy knee bussing the stones, (for in such busi- 
Aciion is eloquence, aiid the eyes of the ig- 
norant 
Mor« learned than the ears,) waving thy head. 
Which often, thus, correcting thy stout heart. 
That humble, as the ripest mulberry, [thera. 
Now will not hold the handling: Or, say to 
Tliou art tl>eir soldier, and being bred in broils. 
Hast not the soft way, which, thou dost con- 
fess. 
Were fit for thee to use, as they to claim, 
la asking their good loves; but thou wilt 

frame 
Thyself, forsooth, hereafter theirs, so far 
As thou hast power and person. 

Meru This but done, 

£veD as she speaks, why, all their hearts were 

yours : 
For they have pardons, being a&kM, as free 
As words to little purpose. 

Vol. Pr'ythee now, [rather 

Go, and be ruled: although, I know, thou had'st 
Follow thine enemy in a fiery gulf. 
Than flatter him in a bower. Here is Cominius. 
Enter Cominius. 
Com. I have been i' the market-place : and, 
sir, *tis fit 
You make strong party, or defend yourself 
By calmness, or by absence ; all's in anger. 
Men. Only fair speech. 
Com. I think 'twill serve, if he 

Can thereto frame his spirit. 

Vol. tie must, and will : — 

Pr'ythee now, say you will, and go about it. 
Co7'. Must I go show them my unbarb'd 
sconce t? Must I, 
With my base tongue, give to my noble heart 
A lie, that it must bear? Well, I will do't : 
Yet were there but this single plot to lose. 
This mould of Marcius, they to dust should 
grind it, [ket-place : — 

And throw it against the wind. — To the mar- 
You have put me now to such a part, whkh 
3 shall discharge to the life. [never 

Com. Come, come, we'll prompt you. 

Vol. I pr'ythee now, sweet son ; as thou 
hast said. 
My praises made thee first a soldier, so, 
.)o have my praise for this, perform a part 
Thou hast not done before. 
L Cor. Well, I must do't : 

f A^way^ my disposition, and possess me 



Some harlot's spirit i My throat of tva" •« 
Which quired with my drum,into a pipe [turn'' 
Small as an eunuch, or the virgin voice 
That babies lulls asleep! The smiles ofknav*** 
Tentj in my cheeks; and schoolboys' tears 

take up 
The glasses of my sight ! A beggar's tongue 
Make motion through ray lips ; and my arm'd 

knees. 
Who bow'd but in my stirrop, bend like hi« 
That hath received an alms! — I will not do't; 
Lest 1 surcease to honour mine own truth. 
And, by my body's action, teach my mind 
A most inherent baseness. 

Vol. . At thy choice then « 

To beg of thee, it is my more dishonour. 
Than thou of them. Come all to ruin ; let 
Thy mother rather feel thy pride, than fear 
Thy dangerous stoutness ; for I mock at death 
With as big heart as thou. Do as thou list. 
Thy valiantnesswas mine, thou suck'dst it from 
But owe § thy pride thyself. [me ; 

Cor. Pray, be content ; 

Mother, I am going to the market-place ; 
Chide me no niore. Pii mountebank their 
loves, {beloved 

Cog their hearts from them, and come home 
Of all the trades in Rome. Look, I am going ; 
Commend me to ray wife. I'll return consul; 
Or never trust to what my tongue can do 
P the way of flattery further. 

VoL Do your will. [ Ej:il, 

Com. Away, the tribunes do attend you^ 
arm yourself 
To answer mildly ; for they are prepared 
With accusations, as 1 hear, more strong 
Than are upon you yet. 

Cor, The word is, mildly : — Pray yon, let u» 
Let them accuse me by invention,! [go; 

Will answer in mine honour. 

Men. Ay, but mildly. 

Cor. Well, mildly be it then ; mildly. 

[Exevnt. 

SCENE III. The same. The For«ni. 
Enter Sicinius and Brutus. 

Brt(. ]n this point charge him home, that 
he affects 
Tyrannical power ; If he evade us there, 
Enforce him with his envy || to the people ; 
And that the spoil, got on the Antiates, 
Was ne'er distributed. — 

Enter an iEdile. 
What, will be come ? 

j^d. He's coming. 

Brii. How accompanied ? 

jEd. With old Menenius and those senator* 
That always favoured him. 

Sic. Have you a catalogue 

Of all the voices that we have procured. 
Set down by the poll? 

jEd. 1 have ; 'tis ready, here. 

Sic. Have you collected them by tribes % 

JEd. I haw 

Sic, Assemble presently the people hither 



Common clowns. 



t Unshaven head. 

Ij Objvn his hatrf d- 



t Dw^n. 



/54 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Ace III, 



And when they hear me say, It shall be so 
V tke right and strength o* the commons, 
be it either [iheni, 

For death, tor fine, or banishment, then Id 
If I say, niie, cry fine ; if death, cry death ; 
Insisiing on the old preroiiaiive 
Anil power i' the truth o'the cause. 

jiia, I shall inform them 

Bra. And when such lime they have beguu 
to cry, 
Let them not cease, but with a din confused 
Eniorce the present execution 
Of what we chance to sentence. 

jEd. Very well. 

Sic. Make them be strong, and ready for this 
When we shall haj) to give't them. [hiiit, 

Bru» Go about it. — 

[Exit m^AW^. 
Put him to choler straight : He hath been used 
Ever to conquer, and to have liis worth 
Of contradiction : hieing once chafed, he cannot 
Be rein'd again to temperance ; then he speaks 
What's in his heart; and that is there, which 
With us to break I is neck. [looks 

ii'W^erC0R10LANUS,MENENIUS,C0MlNlUS, 

Sen itors, and Patricians. 

S'!C, Well, here he comes. 

Men, Calmly, T do beseech you. 

Cor. Ay, as an ostler, that for the poorest 
piece [honoiir'd gods 

Will bear the knave* by the volume — The 
Keep Rome in satety, an<l the chairs of justice 
Supplit::d wiih worthy men! plant love among 
lis! I peace, 

Throng our large temples with the shows of 
And not our streets with war! 

1 Seiu Amen, amen ! 

Men, A noble wish. 

Re-enter i^dile, nith Citizens. 

S'lC, Draw near, ye people. 

^'rf. List to your tribunes, audience : 

Cor. First, hear me spe ik. [Peace, J say. 

Biith Tri, Well, say.— Peace, ho. 

Cor, Shall I be ch.irged no further than this 
Must all determine here? [present ? 

Sic. I do demand 

If you submit you to the people's voices, 
Allovv their officers, and aie content 
To sutler lawful censure for such fau ts 
As sh dl be proved upon you i 

Cor, I am content. 

Men. Lo, citizens, he says he is content : 
The warlike service he has done consider ; 
Think on the wounds his body bears, which 
Like graves »' the holy churchyard. [show 

Cor. Scratches with briers, 

Scars to move laughter only. 

iMen. Consider farther, 

That when bespeaks not like a citi/en, 
You find him like a soldier : Do not take 
His rougher accents for malicious sounds. 
But, as 1 siy , such as beco.i.c a soldier, 
Katlier than envy t you. 

Com, Well^weii, no more. 

Cor, What is the matter. 



. ijat being pass'a for consul with full voice, 
I am so dishonoured, that the very hou' 
You take it otf again ? 

Sic. Answer to us. 

Cor. Say then : 'tis true, 1 ought so. 

ySic. AVe charge you, that you have contrived 
to take 
l*;om Rome all seasoned i office, and to wind 
Yourself into a power tyrannical ; 
b'or which, you are a traitor lo the people. 

Cor. How ! traitor? 

Men. i\ay; temperately: Your promise. 

Cor. The fires i' the lowest hell fold in the 
people! 
Call me their traitor ! — Thou injurious tribune I 
Within thine eyes sat twenty tliousand de itha 
In thy hands clutch'd 5i as many millions, in 
1 hy lying tongue both numbers, 1 would say, 
rhou liest, unto thee, with a voice as free 
As 1 do pray the gods. 

Sic. Mark you this, people ? 

Cit. To the rock with him, to the rock with 

SiC. Peace. [him I 

We need not put new matter lo his charge : 
What you have seen him do, and heard him 

speak. 
Beating your officers, cursing yourselves, 
Opposiuii laws with strokes, and here defying 
Ihose whose great power mnsi try him ; even 
So criminal, and in such capital kind, [this, 
Dese« ves the extremest death. 

Bru. but since he hath 

Served well for Rome, 

Cor. What do you prate of service ? 

Bru. I talk of that, that know ii. 

Cor. You ? 

Men, Is thif 

The promise that you made your mother? 

Com. Know, 

I pray you, 

Cor. I'll know no further : 

Let them pronounce the steep Tarpt ian death^ 
Vagabond exile, flaying ; pent lo hnger 
But with a grain a day, I would not buy 
Their mercy at the p;ice of one fair vvord ; 
Tsor check my courage for what they can give. 
To have't with saying, Goodnjorrow. 

Sic. Lor lliat he ha» 

(As much as in him lies) from time to time 
Envied [J against the people, seeking means 
To pluck away their power ; as now at last 
Given hostile strokes, and that notH in th« 

presence 
Of drealed justice, but on the ministers 
That do distribute it ; in the name o'the people. 
And in the power of us the tr ibunes, we, 
Even from this instant, banish him our city; 
In peril of precipitation 
From off the rock Tarpeian, never more 
To enter our Ronie gates : I'the people's name 
I say it shall be so. 

C/f, It shall be so. 

It shall be so ; let him away : he's banish'd. 
And 60 it shall be. [tnon friend<^;- 

Com. Hear me, my masters, and my cxtu 



J ] 



Will berr beine: called a knave- + Injure. 

^ GrajBp'd. Showed hatred. 



i Of lonj; standing;.. 
T Not only. 



ffrene III,] 



CORIOLANUS. 



765 



Sic. He's sentenced ; no more hearing. 

Com. Let me speak : 

I have been consul, and can show from* Kome 
Her enemies* marks upon me. I do love 
My c()«mtr>'sgo()d,\vifh arespect more tender, 
More holy, and profound than mine own life, 
My dear wife's estimate f, her wonib's in- 
crease. 
And treasure of my loins ; then if I would 
Speak that 

Sic, We know your drift : Speak what? 

Bru. There's no more to be said, but he is 
banisli'd. 
As enemy to the people and his country : 
It shall be so. 

at. It shall be so, it shall be so. 

Cor. You common cry; of curs I whose 
breath I hate 
As reek ^ o'the rotten fens, whose loves I prize 
As the dead carcasts of unburied men 
That do corrupt my air, 1 banish yon ; 
And here remain with your uncertainty ! 
Let every feeble rumour shake your hearts ! 
Your enemies, with nodding of their plumes, 



Fan you into despair! Have the power still 
To banish your defenders; till, at length. 
Your ignorance, (which finds not till it feels,) 
Making not reservation of yourselves, 
(Stili your own foes,) delivtr >ou, as most 
Abated il capuves, to some nation 
That won you without blows! Despising, 
For yon, the oily, thus I turn my back : 
There is a world elsewhere. 

[Exeunt Curiolaaus, Comimfjs, Me' 
NENius, Senato'S, ti?td Patricians. 
^d. 1 he people's enemy is gone, is gone ! 
Cit. Our enemy's banish'd ! he is gone I 
Hoo! hoo ! 
[The people shout, and Ihr&iv up their 
Caps. 
Sic. Go, see him out at gates, and follow him. 
As he hath follow'd you, with all despite ; 
Give him deserved vexation. Let a guard 
Attend us through the city. 

Cit. Come, come, let us see hiru out at 
gates ; come : — 
The gods preserve our noble tribunes ! —Come. 

[Kieujit. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. The same. Before a Gate of 
the City. 

Enter Coriolanus, Volumnia, Virgilia, 
^lE^Ei^iuSyCo'ii\.^i\26fandseveralyoung 
Patricians. 

Cor. Come, leave your tears ; a brief fare- 
well : — the beast IT [ther, I 
With many heads butts me away. — Nay, mo- i 
Where is your ancient courage? you were used | 
To say, extremity was the trier of spirits; [bear; 
That common chances common men could 
That, when the sea was calm, all boats alike 
Show'd mastership in floating: fortune's blows. 
When most stiutk home, being gentle wound- 
ed, craves 
A noble cunning : you were used to load me 
With precepts, ihat would make invincible 
The heart that conn'd them. 

Vir. O heavens! O heavens! 

Cor. Nay, I pr'ythee, woman, — 

Vtd. Now the red pestilence strike all 
And occupations perish! [trades iii Rome, 

Car. What, what, what ! : 

I shall be loved when I am iawk'd. N ay, | 
mother, [say, ' 

Bcsnme tliat spirit, when you were wont to 
If you had been the ^^ife of Hercules. 
Six of his labours you'd hivedoue,and saved 
Your hnsbun i so miuh sweat. — Comiiiius, 
Droop n<xi; aditu : — Farewell, my wife! my 

mother! 
I'll d(» well yet. — Thou old and trneMenenius, 
Thy tears are saiter than a younger nian's, 
And venonjous to thine eyes.— My sometime 
general 



I have seen thee stern, and thou hast oft beheld 
Heart hardening spectacles; tell these sad 
»Tjs fond** to wail inevitable strokes, [women. 
As *tis to laugh at them. — My mother, you 

wot well 
My hazards still have been your solace: and 
Believe't not lightly, (though I go alone 
Like to a lonely dragon, that his fen 
Makes fear'd, and talk'd of more than seen,) 

your son 
Will, or exceed the common, or be caught 
With cautelonstt baits and practice. 

Vol. My first j: sou, 

Whither wilt thou go? Take good Cominius 
With thee awhile: Determine on some course. 
More than a wild exposture^i to each chance 
That starts i*the way before thee. 

Cor. O the gods! 

Com. I'll follow thee a month, devise with 
thee [us. 

Where thou shalt rest, that thou mayst hear of 
And we of thee: so, if the time thrust forth 
A cause for thy repeal, we shall not send 
O'er the vast world to seek a single man ; 
And lose advantage, whic^ doth ever cool 
I'the absence ot the ueeder. 

Cor. Fare ye well : — 

Thou hast years upon thee; and thou art too 
Of the war's surfeits, to go rove with one [full 
That's yet unbruised : bring me but out at 

gate.— 
Come, my sweet wife, niy dearest mother, and 
My friends of noble touch-i|, when 1 am forth. 
Bid me farewell, and smile. I pray you, come 
While I remain above the ground, you shall 
Hear from me still ; and never of me aught 



* For. + Value. * Pack. $ Vapour. 1! Subdued. 

% The government of the people. ** Foolish. ++ insidious. 

ll Nobie^i. ;i;5 Exposure. l',(| True metal. 



/t»6 



SHAKSPEARK 



[Act If 



Bnt what is like me formerly. 

Men, That's worthily 

As any ear can hear. — Come, let's not weep. — 
It' I could shake off but one seven years 
From these old arms and legs, by the good 
I'd with thee every foot. [gods, 

Cor, Give me thy hand: — 

Come. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. The same, A Street near the 

Gate. 
Enter Sicinios, Brutus, and an ^dile. 

Sic. Bid them all home; he's gone, and 
we'll no further. — 
The nobility are vex'd, who, we see, have sided 
Id his behalf. 

Bru. Now we have shown oar power. 
Let us seem humbler after it is done. 
Than when it was a doing. 

Stc, Bid them home : 

Say, their great enemy is gone, and they 
Stand in their ancient strength. 

Brn. Dismiss them home. [^iifiEdile. 
Enter Volumnia, Virgilia, and Mjsne- 

NIUS. 

Here comes his mother. 

Sic. Let's not meet ner. 

Bru, Why ? 

Sic, They say, she's mad. 

Bru. They have ta'en note of as : 

Keep on your way. 

Vol. O, you're well met : The hoarded plague 
Requite your love ! [o'the gods 

Men. Peace, peace ; be not so loud. 

Vol. If that I could for weeping, you should 
hear. — 
Nay, and you thall hear some. — Will you be 
gone? [7b Brutus. 

Vir, You shall stay too: \To Sic in.] I 
would I had the power 
To say so to my husband. 

Sic. Are you mankind ? 

Vol. Ay, fool ; is that a shame? — Note but 
this fo»l, — [ship* 

Was not a man my father? Iladst thou fox- 
To banish him that struck more blows for 
Than thou hast spoken wonis ? [Rome, 

Sic, blessed heavens ! 

Vol. More noble blows, than ever thou wise 
words ; [Yet, go ; — 

And for Rome's good. — I'll tell thee what ; — 
Nay but thou shalt stay too : — I would my son 
Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him, 
His good sword in his hand. 

Sic. What then ? 

Vir, What then? 

He'd make an end of thy posterity. 

Vol. Bastar.'ls, and all. [Rome ! 

Good man, the wounds that he does bear for 

Men, Come, come, peace. 

Sic. I would he had continued to his country 
As he began : and not uuknit himself 
The noble knot he made. 

Bru. I would he had. 

Vol. I would he had? 'Twas >ou incensed 
the rabble : 



• Mean cur.iii 



"g- 



Cats, that can judge as fitly of his worth. 
As I can of those mysteries which heaven 
Will not have earth to know. 

Bru. Pray, let us go. 

Vol. Now, pray, sir, get you gone : 
You have done a brave deed. Ere you go, 
As far as doth the Capitol exceed [hear this : 
The meanest house in Rome, so far my son, 
(This lady's husband here, this, do you see,) 
Whom you have banish'd, does exceed you all. 

Bru, Well, well, we'll leave you. 

Sic, Why stay we to be baited 

With one that wants her wits? 

Vol, Take my prayers with you.— 

I would the gods had uothing else to do 

[Exeunt Tribunes. 
But to confirm my curses ! Could I meet them 
But once a day, it would unclug my heart 
Of what lies heavy to't. 

Men. You have told them home. 

And, by my troth, you have cau*t. You'll sup 
with me ? 

Vol. Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself. 
And so shall starve with feeding. — Come, let's 

go : 
Leave this faint puling, and lament as I do. 
In anger, Juuo-like. Come, come, come. 

Men. Fie, fie, fie! [Exeunt, 

SCENE III. A Highioay between Rome 

and Antium. 

Enter a Roman ajid a Voice, meeting, 

Rom. I know you well, sir, and you know 
me : your name, 1 think, is Adrian. 

Vol, It is so, sir : truly, I have forgot you. 

Rom. I am a Roman ; and my services are, 
as you are, against them: Know you me yet? 

Vol. Nicanor ? No. 

Rom. The same, sir. 

Vol. Ifeu had more beard, when I last saw 
you ; but your favour t is well appeared by 
your tongue. What's the news in Rome? I 
have a note from the Volcian state, to find you 
out there : You have well saved me a day 'a 
journey. 

Rom. There hath been in Rome strange in- 
surrection : the people against the senators 
patricians, and nobles. 

Vol. Hath been! Is it ended then? Our 
state thinks not so ; they are in a most warlike 
preparation, and hope to come upon them in 
the heat of their diviiiion. 

Rom. The main blaze of it is past, but a 
small thing would make it flame again. For 
the nobles receive so to heart the banishment 
of that worthy Coriolanus, that they are in a 
ripe aptness, to take all power from the people, 
and to pluck from them their tribunes for ever, 
rhis lies glowing, I can tell you, and is almost 
mature for the violent breaking out. 

Vol. Coriolanus banished 

Rom. Banished, sir. 

Vol. Yon will be welcome with this Intel li 
gence, Nicanor. 

Rom. The day serves well for them now. T 
have heard it said, ihe ♦i'teiit ••me to cxiiupt a 

t ConijirM/iucc. 



Scene III.] 



CORIOLANUS 



767 



miin's wife, is when she'% fallen out with her 
husband. S our noble Tullus Aufidius will ap- 
k pear well in these wars, his great opposer, 
Coriolanus, being bow in no request of his 
country. 

Fol. He cannot choose. T am most fortu- 
nate, thus accidentally to encounter you : You 
have ended ray business, and I will merrily 
accompany you borne. 

RiWi. I shall, between this and supper, tell 
you most strange things from Rome ; all tend- 
ing to the good of their adversaries. Have 
i, you an army ready, say you ? 

Vol. A most royal one : the centurions, and 
their charges, distinctly billeted, already in 
the entertainment*, and to be on foot at an 
hour's warning. 

Rom. I am joyful to hear of their readi- 
ness, and am the man, I think, that shall get 
them in present action. So, sir, heartily well 
met, and most glad of your company. 

Vol. You take my part from me, sir ; I have 
the most cause to be glad of yours. 

Jiom. Well, let us go together. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. Antium. Before Aufidius's 
House, 
Enter CoRiOLANus, in mean Apparel, dis^ 
guised and mvffied. 
Cor. A goodly city is this Antium : City ! 
Tis I that made thy widows ; many an heir 
Of these fair edifices 'fore ray wars 
Have I heard gi oau, and drop : then know 
me not ; [stones, 

L«»t that thy wives with spits, and boys with 

Enter a Citizen. 
In puny battle slay me. — Save you, sir. 
C,t. And you. 

Cor. Direct me, if it be your will. 

Where great Aufidius lies: Is h.e in Antium? 
Cit. He is, and feasts the nobles of the state 
At his house this night. 

Cor. Which is his house, 'beseech you 1 

Cit. This, here, before you. 

Cor. Thank you, sir ; farewell. 

[Exit Citizen. 

O, world, thy slippery turns! Friends now fast 

sworn. 
Whose double bosoma seem to wear one heart. 
Whose hours, whose bed, whose meal, and 

exercise. 
Are still together, who twin, as 'twere, in love 
Unseparable, shall within this hour. 
On a dissension of a doitf, break oat 
To bitterest enmit> : So, fellest foes. 
Whose passions and whose plots have broke 

their sleep 
To take the one the other, by some chance. 
Some trick not worth an egg, shall grow dear 

friends, 
And interjoiu their issues. So with me : — 
My birth-place hate I, and my love's upon 
1 his enemy town* — I'll enter: if he slay me, 
He does fair justice ; if he give me way, 
\ I'll do his country service. {Exit. 



SCENE V. The same. A Hall in Aufi- 

dius' House, 

Music within. Enter a Servant. 

1 Sew. Wine, wine, wine! W^hat service 
is here ! I think our fellows are asleep. {Exit, 

Enter another Servant. 

2 Serv. Where's Cotus ! my master calls 
for him. Cotus 1 {Exit. 

Enter Coriolanus. 
Cor. A goodly house ; The feast smells well : 
Appear not like a guest. [but I 

Reenter the first Servant. 

1 Serv. What would you have, friend! 
Whence are you? Herd's no place for yon: 
Pray, go to the door. 

Cor. I have deserved no better entertainment 
In being CoriolanusJ, 

Re-enter second Servant. 

2 Serv. Whence are you, sir? Has the poi 
tcr his eyes in his head, that he gives entranc 
to such companions $ ? Pray, get you out. 

Cor. Away! 

2 Serv. Away ? Get you away. 

Cor. Now thou art troublesome. 

2 Serv. Are you so brave? I'll have yo^ 
talked with anon. 

Enter a third Servant. The first meets him. 

3 Sr^rv. What fellow's this? 

1 Serv. A strange one as ever I looked on : 
I cannot get him out o'the house: Pr'ythec, 
call rr.y master to him. 

3 Serv. What have you to do here, fellow! 
Pray you, avoid the house. 

Cor. Let me but stand ; I will not hurt your 
hearth. 

3 Serv. What are you? 

Cor. A gentleman. 

3 Serv. A marvellous poor one I 

Cor. True, so I am. 

3 Serv. Pray you, poor gentleman, take up 
some other station ; here's no place for you; 
pray you, avoid : come. 

Cor. Follow your function, go ! 
And batten [| on cold bits. {Pushes him away. 

3 Serv. What, -will you not ? Pi-»ythee, tell 
my master what a strange guest he has here. 

Siyerw. And I shall. {Exit, 

3 Serv. Wberedwellest thou? 

Cor. Under the canopy. 

3 Serv. Under the canopy ! 

Cor. Ay. 

s Serv. Where's that ? 

Cor. V the city of kites and crows. 

3 Sere. V the city of kites and crows ? — What 
an ass it is ! — Then thou dwellebt withdawstoo? 

Cor. No, I serve not thy master. 

3 Serv. How, sir I Do you meddle with my 
master? 

Cor. Ay ; 'tis an honester service than to 
meddle with thy mistress : 
Thou prat'st, and prat'st ; serve with thy tren- 
cher, hence ! {Btats him ana if. 
Enter Aufidius and the second Servant. 

Auf. Where is this fellow ? 



In pay 



t A small coin. 



J Having derived that name from Corioli. 
H Feed. 



Fellows. 



76S 



SHAKSPEARE. 



'Act IV. 



t Scrv. Here, sir; I'd have b<-aten him like 

d dog, bnt for disinr!>ine U»e h)rds within. 

Atif. Whence couust thou ? what wonldest 

thou? Tliy name? [name? 

Why 8peak'»t noi? Speak, man: ^^ hai's thy 

Cor. If, Tuilus, [Vnmujiing. 

Not yet thon know 'st me, and seeing me, do.*t 

Think uie for the man I am, necessity [not 

Conunands me name myself. 

A vf. \V hat is thy name ? 

[hervanis retire. 
Cor. A name unmnsical to the Volcians' ears, 
And harsh in snund lu thine. 

A nf. Say, what's thy name ? 

Thon hast a grim appearance, and thy face 

Bears a commai.d in't ; though thy tackle's 

torn, [name? 

Thon show'^t a noble vessel: What's tliy 

Cor. Prepare thy brow to frown; Know'st 

thou nie yet ? 
Auf. I know thee not : — Thy name T 
Cur. My name is Caius Marcius, who hath 
done 
To thee particularly, and to all the Voices, 
Great hurt and mischief; thereto witness may 
My surname, Coiiolanus: The painful service. 
The extreme dangers, and the drops of blood 
Shed for my thankless country, art- requited 
But with that surname ; a good memory *, 
And wilness of the malice and displeasure 
Which thou shouldst bear me : only that 

name remains; 
The cruelty and envy of the people. 
Permitted by our dastard nobles, who 
Have all forsook me, hath devour'd the rest ; 
And suttered me • y the voice of slaves to be 
W hoopM out of Rome. Now, this extremity 
Hath brought me to thy hearth; Not out ot 
Mistake me not, to save my life ; for if [hope, 
I had fear'd death, of all the tnen i'the world 
I would Ir^ve 'voided thee: but in m.^re spite, 
To be full quit of those my banishers. 
Stand I before thee here. Then if thou hast 
A heait of wreak* in thee, that will revenge 
Thine own particular wrongs, and stop those 
maiinsj [straight, 

Of shame seen through thy country, speed thee 
And ntake my misery serve thy turn; so use it. 
That xwy revengelul services may prove 
As benefits Co thee ; for I will fight 
Against my canker'd country with the spleen 
Ot all the under ^ fiends. But if so be [fortunes 
Thou darest not this, and that to prove more 
Thou ait tired, then, in a word, I also am 
Lon'jer to live most weary, and present 
My throat to thee, and to thy ancient malice : 
Which not to cut, would show thee but a fool j 
Since I have ever follow'd thee with hate. 
Drawn inns of blood out of thy country's 

breast, 
And cannot live but to thy shame, unless 
It be to do thee service. 

An/. O, Marcius, Marcius, 

Each word thoo hast spoke hath weeded from 
A root of ancient envy. If Jupiter [my heart 



Should from yon cloud speak divine things, 

and say, [tb.ee, 

*Tis true, I'd not believe them more than 
All noble Marcius. — (), let me twine 
Mine arms about that body, where against 
My grained ash an hundred times haih broke. 
And scared the moon with splinters! Here 1 
The anvil of my sword ; and docontest [clipj) 
As hotly and as nobly with thy love. 
As ever in ambitious strength I did 
Contend against thy valour. Know thou first 
I loved the maid I marrie<l ; never man 
Sigh'd truer breath ; but that 1 see thee here, 
Thou noble thing! mere dances my rapt heart. 
Than when I tirst my wedded mistress s.iw 
Bestride my threshold. Why, thou Mars! I- 

tell thee. 
We have a power on foot; and I had purpose 
Once more to hew thy target from thy brawnH, 
Or lose mine arm f'or'f.Thou ha»t beatmeoul»» 
Twelve several times, and I have nightly since 
Dreamt of encounters 'twixt thyself and me ; 
We have been down together i ; my sleep, 
Unbucklim: helms, fisting each other's throat. 
And waked half dead with nothing, ^^o^thy 

Marcius, 
Had we no quarrel else to Rome, but that 
Thou art thence banish'd, we would nuister aL* 
From twelve to seventy tt; and, pouring war 
Into the bowels of ungrateful Rome, 
Like a bold flood o'er-, eat. O, come, go in. 
And take our frien<lly senators by the han#ls ; 
A'i ho now are here, taking their leaves of me. 
Who am prepared against your territories. 
Though not for Rome itself. 

Cor. You bless me, Gods! 

An/. Therefore, most absolute sir, if thou 

wilt have 
The leading of thine cwn revenges, take 
The one half of my commission ; and set down 
As best thou art experienced, since thou 

know'st [own ways: 

Thy country's strength and weakness,— thine 
Whether to knock against the gates of Rome, 
Or rudely visit them in parts remote. 
To friijlit them, ere destroy. But come in : • 
Let me commend thee fii st to those, that shah 
Say yea to thy desires. A thousand welcomes ! 
And more a friend than e'er an enemy ; 
Yet, Marcius, that was much. Your hand! 

Most welcome I 

[Exet/7it CoRioLANUs and AvTiDivs. 

1 Serr. [Advancing.] Here's a strange al- 
teration ! 

2 iScrr. By my hand, I had thought to have 
strucken him with a cudgel ; and yet my mind 
gave me his clothes made a false report of 
him. 

1 Serv. What an arm he has! He turned 
me about with his fini:,er and his thumb, as oiie 
would set up a top. 

2 Serr. Nay, 1 knew by his face that there 
was something in him : He had, sir, a kind of 
face, melhouglit, — i cannot tell how to term it. 

1 Serv. Hehadso: looking as it were, 



• Memorial. t Rejentment. t Tnjuriefl. i Infernal. 
•• Fidl. tt Years of age. 



y Embrace. ^ Arm 



Scoie v.] 



CORlOLANUS. 



769 



•Would 1 were hanged, but I thought there 
was more in him than I could think. 

2 Serv. So did I, I'll be sworn: He Is 
simply the rarest man i* the world. 

1 iServ. I think he is : but a greater soldier 
than he, you wot* one. 

2 Serv. Who f mym;istcr? 

1 iServ. ]Say, it's no matter for that. 

2 Serv. Worth six of him. 

1 erv. Nay, not so neither; but I take him 
to be the greatei soldier. 

2 Serv. 'Faith, look you, one cannot tell how 
to say that : for the defence of a town, our 
general is excellent. 

1 Serv. Ay, and for an assault too. 
Re-^enter third Servant. 

3 Serv. O, slaves, I can tell you news ; 
news, you rascals. 

1, 2 Serv. What, what, what? let's partake. 

3 Serv. I would not be a Roman, of all 
nations; I had as lieve be a condemned man. 

1, 2 Serv. Wherefore? wherefore? 

3 Seri:. Why, here's he that was wont to 
thwack our general, — Caius Marcius. 

1 Strv. Why do you say thwack our ge- 
neral? 

3 Serv. I do not say thuack our general; 
Imu lie was always good enough for him. 

2 Serv Come, we are fellows and friends: 
he was ever too hard for him ; I have heard 
him say so himself. 

1 Serv. He was too hard for him directly, 
to say the truth on't : before Corioli, he scotched 
liiin and notched him like a carbonado t. 

2 Serv. An he had been cannibally given, 
he jniglil have broiled and eaten him too. 

1 Strv. But more of thy news? 

3 Serv. Why, he is so made on here within, 
as if he were son and heir to Mars : set at 
upper end o'the table : no question asked him 
by any of the senators, but ihey stand bald be- 
fore him: Our general himself makes a mis- 
tress of him ; sanctifies himself with*s hand, 
and turns up the white o'tbe eye to his dis- 
course. But the bottom of the news is, our 
^ent-ral is cut i' the middle, and but one half 
of what he was yesterday ; for the other has 
half, by the entreaty and grant of the whole 
I ible. He'll go, he says, and sowlejthe por- 
ter of Rome gates by the ears : He will mow 
d^jwn all before him, and leave his passage 
polled §. 

2 Serv. And he's as like to do't, as any man 
I can imagine. 

3 Serv. Do't? he will do't : For, look you, 
sir, he has as many friends as enemies : which 
frionds, sir, (as it were,) durst not (look yon, 
sir.) show themselves (as we terra it) hisfriends, 
whilst he's in directitude. 

I S^rv. Directitude! what's that? 

3 Ser>-. Bui when they shall see, sir, his 
cr -St up aj:ain, and the man in hloodjl, they 
N ill out of their burrows, like conies after 
rnin. and revel all with him. 

I Serv. But when goes this forward ? 



3 riBrt. To-morrow ; to-day ; presently. 
You shall have the drum struck up this after- 
noon : 'tis, as it were, a parcel IF of their feast, 
and to be execuied eretiiey wipe their lips. 

2 Serv. Why, then we shall have a stirring 
world again. This peace is nothing, but to 
rust iron, increase tailors, and breed ballad- 
makers. 

1 Serv, Let me have war, say I ; it ex- 
ceeds peace, as far as day does night ; it's 
spritely, waking, audible, and full of vent**. 
Peace is a very apoplexy, lethargy ; mulled tt, 
deaf, sleepy, insensible ; a getter of njore bas- 
tard children than war's a destroyer of men. 

2 Serv. 'Tis so : and as war, in some sort, 
may be said to be a ravisher ; so it cannot be 
denied, but peace is a great maker of cuckolds. 

1 Serv, Ay, and it makes men hate one 
another. 

3 Serv. Reason ; because they then less 
need one another. The wars, for my money. 
I hope to see Romans as cheap as Volcians. 
They are rising, they are rising. 

AlU In, in, in, in. [Exeunt, 

SCENE VI. Rome. A public Place. 
Enter Sicimus and Brutus. 

Sic. We hear not of him, neither need we 
fear him ; 
His remedies are tame i* the present peace 
And quietness o'the people, which before 
Were in wild hurry. Here do we make his 
friends [had, 

Blnsh that the world goes w^ell; who rather 
Though they themselves did sutfer by't, behold 
Dissentious numbers pestering streets, than see 
Our tradesmen singing iti their shops, and 
About their functions friendly. [going 

Enter Menlnius. 

Bru. We stood to't in good time. Is this 
Menenius? [kind 

Sic. 'Tis he, 'tis he: O, he is grown most 
Of late.— Hail, sir ! 

Men. Hail to you both ! 

Sic. Your Coriolanus, sir, is not much 
miss'd [stand ; 

But with his friends ; the commonwealth doth 
And so would do, were he more angry at it. 

Men. All's well ; and might have been much 
He could have temporized. [better, if 

Sic. Where is he, hear you ? 

Men. Nay, I hear nothing; his mother and 
Hear nothing from him. [his wife 

E'lter three or four Citizens. 

at. The gods preserve you both. 

Sic. Good-c'en, our neigh'^iours. 

Brii. Good-e'en to you all, go<»d-e'en to 
yon all. [««'■ knees, 

1 Cit. Ourselves, our wives, and children, on 
Are bound to pray for you both. 

,S)c. Live, and thrive! 

Bru. Farewell, kind neighbours: we wish'd 
Had loved you as we did. [Coriulanus 

Cl^ Now the gods keep you 1 

Both Tri. Farewell, farewell. [Ex. Citizens^ 



' Ku 



+ ^leat cut across to be broilt^d. 

*I Part. •♦ Rninonr, 



: Pull. 



$ Cnf r'oir. 



II Vigour. 
3 U 



770 



SHAKSPEARE. 



lAei IV. 



Sic. This is a happier and more comely lime, 
Than when these fellows ran about the streets 
Crying Confusion. 

JJru. Caius Marcius was 

A worthy officer i* the war; but insolent, 
O'ercome with pride, ambitious past all think- 
Self-loving, [ing. 

Sic. And affecting one sole throne, 

Without assistance*. 

Alen. I think not so. [tion, 

Sic. We should by this, to all our lamenta- 
If he had gone forth consul, found it so. 

Bru. The gods have well prevented it, And 
Sits safe and still without him. [Rome 

£:uter JEdile. 

jEd. Worthy tribunes. 

There is a slave, whom we have put in prison, 
Reports, — the Voices with two several powers 
Are entered In the Roman territories; 
And with the deepest malice of the war 
Destroy what lies before them. 

Mfn. Tis Anfidius, 

Who, hearing of our Marcius' banishment, 
Thrusts forth his horns again into the world : 
Which were inshell'd when Marcius stood f 
And durst not once peep out. [for Rome, 

Sic. Come, what talk you 

Of Marcius? 

Bru. Go see this rumonrer wbipp'd. — It 
The Voices dare break with us. [cannot be 

Men. Cannot be! 

We have record that very well it can; 
And three examples of the like have been 
Within my age. But reason jwith thefellow, 
Before you punish him, where he heard this : 
Lest you should chance to whip your informa- 
tion, 
And beat the messenger who bids beware 
Of what is to be dreaded. 

Sic. Tell not me ; 

I know this cannot be. 

Bru. Not possible. 

Enter a Messenger. [going 

Mess. The nobles, in great earnestness, are 
All to the senate house; some news is come. 
That turns j their countenances. 

Sic. 'Tis this slave ; — 

Go whip him 'fore the people's eyes: — Ids 

raising I 
Nothing but his report I 

Mess. Yes, worthy sir, 

The slave's report is seconded ; and more. 
More fearful is deliver'd. 

Sic. What more fearful ? 

Mess. Tt is spoke freely out of many mouths, 
fHow probable I do not know,) that Marcius, ' 
Join'd with Anfidius, leads a power 'gainst 

Rome; 
And vows revenge as spacious, as between 
The yonng'st and oldest thing. 

Sic. This is most likely ! 

Rrn. Raised only, that the weaker sort may 
Good Marcius home again. [wish 

Sic. The very trick on't. 

Men. This is unlikely: 

• Suffrage. f Stood up in its defence. % Talk. § Changes. |I Unite. 
% A. small round hole ; an auger isac.upenlcr'eiool. •* Mechanics. t1 Kevolt with pleasare. 



He and Autidius can no more atooe||. 
Than violentest contrariety. 

Enter atiother Messenger. 

Mess. You are sent for to the senate: 
A fearful army, led by Caius Marcius, 
Associated with Anfidius, rages 
Upon our territories; and have already 
O'erborne their way, consumed with fire, and 
What lay before them. [took 

Enter Cominius. 

Com. O, you have made good work I 

Men. What news? what news? 

Cojn. You have holp to ravish your own 
daught.ers, and 
To melt the city leads upon your pates ; 
To see your wives dishonour'd to your noses ; — 

Men. What's the news? what's the news ? 

Com. Your temples Luru'd in their cement; 
and 
Your franchises, whereon you stood, confined 
Into an auger's bore If? 

Men. Pray now, your news ? 

You have made fair work, I fear me : — Pray, 

your news? 
If Marcius should be join'd with Volcians, — 

Com. Ifl 

He is their god ; he leads them like a thing 
Made by some other deity than nature. 
That shapes man better : and they follow him 
Against us brats, with no less confidence. 
Than boys pursuing summer butterflies. 
Or butchers killing flies. 

Men. You have made good work. 

You and your apron men ; you that stood so 
Upon the voice of occupation ♦*, and [much 
The breath of garlic-eaters I 

Cofn. He will shake 

Your Rome about your ears. 

Men, As Hercules 

Did shake down mellow fruit : You have 
made fair work? 

Bru. But is this true, sir? 

Com. Ay, and you'll look pale 

Before you find it other. All the regions 
Do smilingly revolt tt; and, who resist. 
Are only mock'd for valiant ignorance. 
And perish constant fools. W'hois'tcan blame 

him? 
Your enemies, and his, find something in him. 

Me?i. We are all undone, unless 
The noble man have mercy. 

Com. Who shall ask it? 

The tribunes cannot do't for shame; the people 
Deserve such pity of him as the wolf 
Does of the shepherds: for his best friends, if 
they [even 

Should say Be good to Home, they cbarved him 
As those should do that had deserved his hate. 
And therein sliow'd like enemies. 

Men. Tis true : 

If he were putting to my house the brand 
That should consume it, I have not the face 
To say 'Beseech you, cease. — Yon have made 

fair hands, 
You and your crafts! you have crafted fair! 



Scene VL] 



CORIOLANUS. 



77 i 



Com. You have brought 

A. trembling upon Rome, such as was never 
So incapable of help. 
Tri. Say not we brought it. 

Men. How! was it we? We loved him; 
bill like beasts, [clusters. 

And cowardly nobles gave way to your 
[ Who did hoot him out o*the city, 
I Com. But, I fear 

They'll roar him in again. Tullus Aufidius, 
The second name of men, obeys his points 
As if he were his officer : — Desperation 
, Is all the policy, strength, and defence, 
P That Rome can make against them. 
I Enter a Troop of Citizens. 

j Men, Here come the clusters. — 

I And is Aufidius with him? — You are they 
That made the air unwholesome, when you 

cast 
Tour stinking greasy caps, in hooting at 
Coriolanus' exile. Now he's coming ; 
I And not a hair upon a soldier's head, 

Which will not prove a whip; as many cox- 
combs, 
j As you threw caps up, will he tumble down, 
j And pay you for your voices. Tis no matter; 
If he could burn us all into one coal, 
We have deserved it. 
Cit. 'Faith, we hear fearful news, 
I 1 Cit. For mine own part, 

' When I said banish him, 1 said 'twas pity. 

2 Ctt. And so did I. 

3 Cit. And so did I; and, to say the truth, 
j 80 did very many of us: That we did, we did 

for the best : and though we willingly con- 
sented to his banishment, yet it was against 
our will. 

Co7n. You are goodly things, you voices! 
! Men. You have made 

Good work, yon and your cry* ! Shall us to the 
Cum. O, ay ; what else? [Capitol? 

\_EjLeunt Com. and Men. 
Sic. Go, masters, get you home, be not dis- 
may'd ; 
These are a side, that would be glad to have 
This true, which they so seem to fear. Go 
j And show no siijn of fear. [home, 

1 Cit. The gods be good to us! Come, mas- 
ters, let's home. I ever said, we were i' the 
wrong, when we banish'd him. 

2 Cit. So did we all. But come, let's home. 

[Exeunt Citizens. 
Bru. I do not like this news. 
Sic. Nor I. [wealth 

Bru. Let's to the Capitol :— Would half my 
Would buy this for a lie ! 
Sic. Pray, let us go. 

{Eveunt. 

SCENE VII. A Camp : at a small distance 
from Rome. 
Enter Aufidius, and his Lieutenant, 
Auf. Do they still fly to the Roman? 
Lieut. 1 do not know what witchcraft's in 
him ; but 

* Pack, alluding to a pack of hounds. 

^ llie chair of civil auihority. 



Your soldiers use him as the grace 'fore meat 
Their talk at table, and their thanks at end; 
And you are darken'd in this action, sir. 
Even by your own. 

Auf. I cannot help it now ; 

Unless, by using means, 1 lame the foot 
Of our design. He bears himself more proud- 

lier 
Even to my person than I thought he would. 
When first I did embrace him :Yet his nature 
In that's no changeling; and I must excuse 
What cannot be amended. 

JLieut. Yet I wish, sir, 

(I mean for your particular,) you had not 
Join'd in commission with him: but either 
Had borne the action of yourself, or else 
To him had left it solely. [sure, 

Auf. 1 understand thee well; and be thou 
When he shall come to his account, he knows 
not [seems. 

What I can urge against him. Although it 
And so he thinks, and is no less apparent 
To the vulgar eye,that he bears all things fairly. 
And shows good husbandry for the Volc»an 

state ; 
Fights dragon-like, and does achieve as soon 
As draw his sword : yet he hath left undone 
That, which shall break his neck or hazard 

mine. 
Whene'er we come to our account. 

Ltieiit. Sir, I beseech you, think you he'll 
carry Rome ? [down ; 

Auf. All places yield to him ere he sits 
And the nobility of Rome are his : 
The senators and patricians love him too: 
The tribunes are no soldiers; and their people 
Will be as rash in the repeal, as hasty 
To expel him thence. I think he'll be to Rome, 
As is the osprey t to the fish, who takes it 
By sovereignty of nature. First he was 
A noble servant to ti.em ; but he could not 
Carry his honours evtn : whether 'twas pride, 
Which out of daily fortune ever taints 
The happy man ; whether defect of judgment. 
To fail in the disposing of those chances 
\V hich he was lord of; or whether nature, 
Not to be other than one thing, not moving 
From the casque J to the cushion j, but com- 
manding peace 
Even with the same austerity and garb 
As he conlroll'd the war; but, one of these, 
(As he hath spices of them all, not alll). 
For I dare so far free him,) made him fear'd. 
So hated, and so banish'd : But he has a merit. 
To choke it in the utterance. So our virtues 
Lie in the interpretation of the time: 
And power, unto itself most commendable. 
Hath not a tomb so evident as a chair 
To extol what it hath done. 
One fire drives out one fire ; one nail, one nail ; 
Rights by rights fouler, strengths by strengths 
do fail. [thine. 

Come, let's away. When, Caius, Rome is 
Thou art poor'st of all ; then shortly ait thoa 
mine. [Exeunt, 



t An eagle that preys on fi.sh. 

\\ Not all in their full extent. 



\ Helm€l. 



779 



SHAKSPEARE. 



ACT V. 



SCENE 1. Rome. A public Place. 

Enttr Mi.NfcML's, Comimis, Sicinius, 

Hruti s, // d Other^i, 

Men, No, I'll iioi go: you hear what he 
hdtit s lid. [him. 

Which \v,)S soiiit'titne his general ; who loved 
In a most dear p,triic:ilar. He caliM lue father: 
But what (»'ih tf? Go, you that banish'd him, 
A mile before his tent fall down, and kneel 
The way ii.to his mercy : Nay, ir he coy'd* 
To hear Coininius speak, I'll keep at home. 

Com. He would not seem to knovv me. 

Alen. Do you hear? 

Com. Yet one time he did call me by my 
name : 
I ursied our old acquaintance, and the drops 
That we have bh-d together. Coriolanus 
He would not answer to: forbad all names; 
He was a kind of nothing, titleless. 
Till \\f had forced himself a name i'the fire 
Of burning Home. 

M n. Why, so ; you have made good work: 
A p iir of trib'iiies that have ratk'dt for Rome, 
To make coals cheap : A u«)ble memory^! 

Com. I minded him, howioyal *iv\as to par- 
When it was less expected: He replied, [don 
It was a bare petitioii of a stale 
To one whom they had puuish'd. 

Me/t. Very well : 

Could he say less? 

Cam. I otteiM to awaken his regard 
For his pi ivate friends : His answer to me was. 
He could not stiy to pick them in a pile 
Of noisome, musiy chatf : He said, 'twas folly, 
For one poor grain or two, to leave unburnt. 
And still to nose the ottence. 

Men. For one poor grain 

Or two? I am one of those; his mother, wife. 
His child, and this brave fellow too, we are the 

grains: 
Yon are the musty chaff; and you are smelt 
Above the moon: We must he burnt for you. 

Sic. Nay, pi ay, be patient: If you refuse 
your aid 
In this so never-heeded help, yet do not 
Upbrai I us with our distress. But, sure, if you 
Would be your country's pleader, your good 

tongue, 
More than the instant army we can make. 
Might stop our countryman. 

Men. No ; I'll not meddle. 

Si( . I pray you, go to him. 

Me/f, What should I do? 

y^/ //. Only make tri d what your love can do 
For Rome towards Marciiis. 

Mfjt. Well, and say that Marcius 

Return mo, as Cominiiis is nturn'd, 
Unhe.ird ; what then ? — 
But as a di«c,ontenud friend, grief-shot 
VVit.h liis unkiudness? Say'l be so? 

•Vic. Yet your good will 

Must have th.at thanks from Rome, after the 
A* you intended well. [measure 

Condesrended unwillingly, t Harassed by exactions. tM^moiial. )Pii/e». !| liletid. 



I Men, I'll undertake it: 

1 1 thin'< heMI hear me. ^ei lo i.i Inr- lip, [me. 
] And lium at i;ooil v oniinius, much ii.. hearts 
j He \va> not ttke.i vv. I, ; he 1 a I ^oi dined : 
The veins uuhlt'd, our hh.oii i.s cold, ami then 
We pout tij. on Kie morning, art- nuapt 
I o give or to lorgive; but when we have stntfM 
These pipes and these conveyaucesof our blood [ 
With wine and feedi. g. we have suppler souls 
Than in our priest-like fasts: therefore I'l) 
Till he be dieted to my request, [watch hira 
And then 1*11 set upon him. 

Bru. You know the very road into his kind 
And cannot lose your wa\ . 

Men. Good faith, I'll prove him. 

Speed how it will. I shall, ere long, have 

knowledge 
Of my success. [t'xit. 

Com. He'll never hear him. 

Sic. Not? 

Com. I tell you, he does sit in gold, his eye 
Red as 'twould burn Rome; and Ids injury 
The gaoler to his pity. I kneei'd before him; 
'Iwas very faintly he said, Rise , disiniss'd me 
Thus, with his speechless hand : VV hat he would 
do, [not, 

He sent in writing after me; what he would 
Bound with an oath, to yield to his conditions: 
So, that all hope is vain. 
Unless his noble mother, and his wife; 
Who, as I hear, mean to solicit him [hence. 
For mercy to his cvmntry. Therefore, let's 
And with our fair entreaties haste them on. 

[Extunt. 

SCENE II. An advanced Post of the Vol- 
cian Camp before Rome. The Guard at 
their Stations. 

Enter to them, Menenius. 

\G. Stay: Whence are you? 

2 G. Stand, and go back. 

Men. Yon guard like men; 'tis well: But, 
by your leave, 
I am an officer of state, and come 
To speak with Coriolanus. 

1 G. From whence? 

AJen. From Rome. 

1 G. You may not pass, you must return : our 
Will no more hear from thence. [general 

2 G. You'll see your Rome embrace<l with 
You'll speak with Coriolanus. [fire, before 

Men. Good, my friends, 

If you have heard your general talk of Rome, 
And of his friends there, it is lots ? to blanks, 
My name hath touch'd your ears: it is Mene- 
nius. [name 

1 G. He it so; go back : the virtue of your 
Is not here passable. 

Men. I tell thee, fellow. 

Thy general is my lover i| : I have been [read 
The book of his good acts, whence men have 
His fame unparallel'd haply amplitied ; 



Scene J I.] 



CORIOLANUS. 



773 



For 1 have ever verified ♦ my Iriends, [verity + 
(Of whom he*s chief,) with a!l the size that 
"Would without lapsing suffer : nay, sometimes. 
Like to a bowl upon a subtle j ground, 
I have tumbled past the throw ; and in his praise 
Have, almost, stain p'd thi; leasing^ : Therefore, 
I must have leave to pnss. [fellow, 

1 G. 'Faith, sir, if you had told as many lies 
in his behalf, as you hdve uttered words in your 
own, you should not pa.ss here : no, though it 
were as virtuous to lie, as to live chastely. 
Therefore, go back. 

Men, Pr'ythee, fellow, remember my name 
i&> Menenius, always factionary on the party of 
your general. 

2 G. Howsoever you have been his liar, (as 
you say you have) I am one that, telling true 
under him, must say, you cannot pass. There- 
fore, go back. 

Men. Has he dined, can'st thou tell? for 1 
would not spe ik with him till after dinner. 
1 G. You are a Roman, are you? 
Men. I am as thy general is. 

1 G. Then you should hate Rome, as he does. 
Can you, when you have pushed out your gates 
the very defender of them, and, in a violent po- 
pular ignorance, given your enemy your shield, 
think to front his revenges wiih the easy groans 
oroldwomen,the virginal palms of your daugh- 
ters, or with the palsied intercession of such a 
decayed dotantH as you seem to be? Can you 
think to blow out the intended fire your city 
is ready to flame in, with such weak breath as 
this? No, you are deceived; therefore, back 
to Rome, and prepare for your execution : you 
are condemned, our general has sworn you out 
of reprieve and pardon. 

Altn. Sirrah, If thy captain knew I were 
here, he would use me with estimation. 

2 G. Come, my captain knows you not. 
Mett. I mean, thy general. 

1 G. My general cares not for you. Back, I 
say, go, lest 1 let forth your half pint of blood ; — 
back, — tliat*s the utmostof your having: — back. 

Me?i. Nay, but fellow, fellow, 

Enter Coriolanus and Aufidius. 

Cor, What's the matter? 

Men. Now, you companion^, I'll say an er- 
rand for you ; you shall know now that I am 
in estimation ; you shall perceive that a Jack ** 
guardant cannot office me from my son Corio- 
laims: guess,but by my entertainment with him, 
if thou stand'st not i' the state of hanging, or of 
some death moie long in spectatorship, and 
crueller in sulfering ; behold now presently, and 
swoon for what's to come upon thee. — 1 he glo- 
rious gods sit in hourly synod about thyr parti- 
cular prosptiity, and love thee no v.orse than 
thy old father Menenius does! O, my son! my 
son! thou art preparing fire for us; look thee, 
ben's water to quench it. 1 washardiy moved to 
come to thee ; but being assured, none but my- 
selr could move thee, I have been blown out of 
your^ates with sighs; and conjure thee to par- 
don Rome, and thy petitionary countrymen. 



The good gods assuage thy wrath, and turn the 
dregs of it upon this varlet here; this, who, 
like a block, hath denied my access to thee. 

Cor. Away! 

Men. How! away? [aflFairs 

CA>r. Wife, mother, child, I know not. My 
Are servanted to others : Though I owe 
My revenge properly, my remission lies 
InVolcian breasts. That we have been familiar, 
Ingrateforgetfulness shall poison, rather [gone. 
Than pity, note how much. — therefore, be 
Mine ears against your suits are stronger, than 
Your gates against my force. Yet,forttl loved 
Take this along; I writ it for thy sake, [thee, 
[Gives a Letter. 
And would have sent it. Another word, Me- 
nenius, [dills, 
I will not hear thee speak. — This man, Aufi- 
Was my beloved in Rome: yet thou behold'st — 

AuJ'. You keep a constant temper. 

{Exeunt Coriolanus und Aupid. 

1 G. Now, sir, is your name Menenius. 

2 G, 'Tis a spell, you see, of much pow<er: 
You know the way home again. 

iG, Do you hear how we are shentJJ for 
keeping your greatness back? [swoon? 

2 G. What cause, do you think, 1 have to 
Men. I neither care for the world, nor your 
general : for such things as you, I can scarce 
think there's any, you are so slight. He that 
hath a will to die by himself, fears it not from 
another. Let your general do his worst. For 
you, be that you are long; and your misery 
increase with your age! I say to you, as 1 was 
said to. Away ! [JKiif . 

1 G. X noble fellow, I warrant him. 

2 G. The worthy fellow is our general : He 
is the rock, the oak not to be wind-shaken. 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE III. The Tent of Coriolanus. 
£?iter CoKioL AW &, A.V FiDivSf and Others. 

Cor. We will before the walls of Rome to- 
morrow 
Set down our host. — My partner in this action. 
You must report to the Volcian lords, how 
I have borne this busiLess. [plainly §j 

Auf, Only their ends 

You have respected ; stopp'd your ears against 
The general suit of Rome; never ad-nitied 
A private whisper, no, not with such friends 
That thought them sure of you. 

Cor. This last old man. 

Whom with a crack'd heart I have sent to 

Rome, . 
Loved me above the measure of a father; 
Nay, godded me, indeed. Their latest refuge 
Was to send him : for whose old love, 1 have 
(Though I show'd sourly to him,) once more 

ofiFer'd 
The first conditions, which they did refuse. 
And cannot now accept, to grace him only, 
That thought he could do more; a very littie 
I have yielded too: Fresh embassies, and suits. 



* Proved to. t Truth. J Deceitful. 

H Fellow. •♦ Jack in office. tf Because. 



§ Lie. 11 Dotard. 

H Reprmranded. jj Openly. 

a u 3 



774 



SHAKSPEAKi:. 



[Ac/ V, 



Nor from the stale, nor private friends, here- 
after 
Will 1 lend ear to.— Ha! what shoiit is this! 

[iSuoiit witiun. 
Shall I be tempted to infringe my vow 
In the s,»iiie li.iie 'U8 nude? 1 wdl not. — 
Enlir in i/iow mng U«bifs Virgilia, Vo- 
LVMsiKtleuffifig young IVIarcius, Vale- 
Rl V, fifnf Altendauts. 
Wy wife comes foremost; then the honour'd 
itKMild [hand 

Whetein this trunk wa.« framed, and in her 
liie nrrmil-child to her blood, but, out, attec- 
Alt lioiidand | rivile^e of nature, break! [tion! 
L«i It be \iituons, t<» be ti' siiiiaie. — [eyes, 
W hat is ihai cmt'sy worth f or those doves* 
Whicli Crth make goils fore worn? — 1 nult.and 
am not [bows; 

Of stn.niier eartli \h\n others. — My mother 
As if Olympus to a molehill should 
In <iii;)piio<ifion luxi : and in) young boy 
Hath an Jispecl of interce.'^sion, which 
Git'Hi nat'iif ciies, /^p//// wo/,— Let the Voices 
Plon Ji Rome, and harrow Italy; I'd never 
Be ."Uch fi i4<)s int; * to obe> instinct ; but stand, 
As if a man were author of himself. 
And knew no other kin. 

I /r. My h)rd and husband! 

Cor. The?e eyes are not the same 1 wore in 

txome. 
F/r. The sorrow, that delivers us thus 
^JakeK ^uu think so. [chaiK^ed, 

Cttf, Like a dull actor now, 

I have forgot my part, and 1 din out. 
Even to a lull disgrace. Best of my flesh, 
Fortive 111) tyranny ; but do not say, 
1 or tint, F'Tgiit! our Humayis.— O, a kiss 
1 ong as my e vile, sweet >»s my revenge! 
Now b> (he jealous queen t of heaven, that kiss 
1 cariifd from lliee,<leai ; ami my true lip 
Haih viiuinM it e'er since. — \ ou gods! 1 prate. 
And the most noble mother of the world 
Leave unsaluted : Sink, my knee, i' the earth ; 

[K7ieels, 
Of thy deep duty more impression show 
Than that of common sons. 

y ol. O stand up, bless'd ! 

Wlilsf, with no softer cushion than the flint, 
I kneel before thee; and improperly 
Miow duty, as mistaken all the while 
Between the child and parent. [Kneels. 

Cor. What is this ? 

Toiw knees to me ? to your corrected son? 
1 hen ht the pebi les on the hungry beach 
Fillip the stirs; then let the mutinous winds 
Siiii e the proud cedars 'gainst the fiery sun; 
Mil d'ring ilMp(lS^ilbilu>, to make 
Wiiat cannot be, slight work. 

y oL Thou art my warrior; 

I holp to frame thee. Do you know this lady ? 

Cor. I he noble sister ol I'ublicola, 
The moon of I ome; chaste as the icicle, 
That's curded by the frost fiom purest snow, 
And hangs on Dian's temple : Dear Valeria! 

y ol. Ihis is a poor epitome of yonis, 
Which, by the iuterprelaUon of full time, 



May show like all yourself. 

Cor, The god of soldiers. 

With the consent of supreme Jove, intonn 
Thy thoughts with nobleness; that thou may'st 

prove 

To shame unvnlnerable, and stick i' the wart 
Like a great sea mark, standing every tlaw j, 
An<l saving those that eye thee ! 

Vol. Your knee, sirrah. 

Cor. That's my brave boy. 
Vol. Even he, your wife, this lady, and 
Are suitors to you. [myself. 

Cor. T beseech you, peace: 

Or, if you'd ask, remember this before; 
The things 1 have forsworn to grant, may never 
Be held b) you denials. Do not bid me 
Dismiss my soldiers, or capitulate 
Again with Home's mechanics: — fell me not 
V\ herein I seem unnatural: Desire not 
To allay my rages and revenges, with 
Your colder reasons. 

Vol. O, no more, no more I 

Yon have said you will n(t grant us anything; 
For we have nothing else to ask, b t that 
Which you deny already : Yet we will ask ; 
That, if you fr^il in our request, the blame 
May hang upon your hardness: therefore hear 
us. [we'll 

Cor. Aufidius, and you, Voices, mark; for 
Hear nought from Rome in private. — Your 
request ? 
Vol. {Should we be silent and not speak, our 
raiment, 
And .state of bodies, would bewray^ what life 
We have led since thy exile. Think with 

thyself, 
How more unfortunate than all living women 
Are we come hither: since that thy flight, 
which should [with comforts. 

Make our e>es flow with joy, hearts dance 
Constrains them weep, and shake wiih fear 

and sorrow ; 
Making the mother, wife, and child, to see 
The son, the husband, and the father, tearing 
I lis country's bowels out. And to poor we. 
Thine enmity's most capital: thou ban *st us 
Our prayers to the gods, w hich is a comlort 
1 hat all but we enjt)y : For how can we, 
Alas! how can we for our country pray, 
Whereto we are bound ; together with thy 
victory, [lose 

Whereto we are bound? Alack ! or we must 
The country, our dear nurse; or else thy 

person, 
Our comfort in the country. We must tind 
An evident calamity though we had 
Our wish, which side should win : for either 
Must, as a foreign recreant, be led [thou 

W ith manacles thorough our streets, or else 
Triumphantly tread on thy counti>'s ruin; 
And bear the palm, for havinii bravely shed 
Thy wife and children's blood. For myself, 
I purpose not to wait on fortune, till (son. 
These wars determinelj : if 1 cannot persu.ide 

thee 
Rather l© show a noble grace to both part?*, 



' A young so««e. 



t Juno. 



X Gust, storm. 



5 Betray. 



I Conclude 



i!c€ne If J.] 



COKIOLAJNUS. 



775 



Than seek the end of one, thou shalt no sooner 
'March to assault thy country, than to li ead, 
( i rust to't, thou shall not,) on thy mother's 
That brought thee to this world [womb, 

yir. Ay, and on mine, 

7 hat brought you forth this boy, to keep your 
Living to time. [name 

Boy, He shall not tread on me ; 

I'll run away, till 1 am bigger, but then 1*11 
Cor. Not of a woman's tenderness lo be,[tight. 
Inquires nor child nor woman's face to see. 
1 have sat loo long. [Rising. 

Vol. Nay, go not from us thus. 

If it were so, that our request did tend 
I'o save the Romans, thereby to destroy 
The Voices whom you serve, you miL,ht con- 
demn us. 
As poisonous of your honour : No ; our suit 
Is, that you reconcile them: while the Volce-s 
May say. This mercy we have shutv'd; the 

Komans, 
7%i? ire received ; and each in either side 
Give the all-hail to thee, and cry. Be bles.s*d, 
I' or making up this 'peace! Thou know'st, 

great son, 
The end of war's uncertain; but this certain, 
J hat, if thou conquer Rome, the benefit 
Which thou shalt thereby reap, is such a name, 
Whose repetition will be dogg'd with curses; 
\\ hose chronicle thus writ, — The man tvas 

noble. 
But with his last attempt he wiped it out ; 
.Dtstroy*d his country ; aiid his name re- 

mains [tne, son : 

To the ensuing age, abhorr*d. Speak to 
'J hou hast atfected the fine strains* of honour, 
'1 o imitate the graces of the gods ; 
To tear with thunder the widecheeks o'lheair, 
And yet lo charge thy sulphur with a bolt 
That should but rive an oak. "Why dost not 

speak? 
Think'st thou it honourable for a noble man 
Still to remember wrongs? — Daughter, speak 

you : [boy : 

He cares not for your weeping — Speak thou. 
Pet haps, thy childishness will move him more 
ihan can our reasons. — There is no man in 

the world [me prate 

More bound to his mother; yet here he lets 
j.ike one i' the stocks. Thon hast never inlhy 
vShow'd Ihy dear mother any courttsy ; [life 
When she(poorhen!)fond of no second brood. 
Has citick'd thee to the wars, and safely home, 
Loaden with honour. Say, my request's un- 
And spurn me back: But, if it benotso, [just. 
Thou art not honest ; and the gods will plague 

thee. 
That thou restrain'st from me the duty, which 
To a mother's part belongs.— He turns away: 
Down, ladies; let us shame him with our 

knees. 
To his surname Coriolanus 'longs more pride, 
Than pity to our prayers. Down ; an end: 
i'his is ttie last ; — So we will home to Rome, 
And die among our neighbours. — I>i ay, behold 
us : 



This boy, that cannot tell what he would have. 
But kneels, and holds up hands, for fellowship. 
Does reason our petition with more strength 
Than thou hast to deny't. — Come, let us go: 
This fellow had a Volcian to his mother; 
His wife is in Corioli, and his child 
Like him by chance : — Yet give us our des- 
1 am hush'd until our city be afire, [patch : 
And then I'll speak a little. 

Cor. O mother, mother I 

[Holding VoLUMNiA by the hqnds, silent. 
What have yoa dowe! Behold the heavens 

do ope, 
The gods look down, and this unnatural scene 
They laugh at. O my mother, mother! O ! 
You have won a happy victory to Rome: 
But, for your son, — believe it, O, believe it. 
Most dangerously you have with him prevail'd. 
If not most mortal to him. But, let it come : — 
Aufidius, though I cannot make true wars, 
I'll frame convenient peace. Now, good Au- 
fidius, [heard 
Were you in my stead, say, would you have 
A mother less? or granted less, Aufidius? 

Avf. I was moved withal. 

Cor. 1 dare be sworn you were : 

And, sir, it is no little thing, to make [sir. 

Mine eyes lo sweat compassion. But, good 
\\ hat peace you'll make, advise me: For my 
part, [you, 

I'll not to Rome, I'll back with you ; and jpray 
Stand to me in this cause. — O mother! wife I 

Anf. 1 am glad thou hast set thy mercy and 
thy honour 
At difference in thee: out of that I'll work 
Myself a former fortune. [Aside, 

[The Ladies make signs ?o Coriolanus, 

Co7'. Ay, by and by ; 

[To VOLUMNIA, VlRGlLIA, dc. 

But we will drink together: and you shall bear 
A belter witness back than words, which we. 
On like conditions, will have counter-s«eard. 
Come, enter with us. Ladies, you deserve 
To have a temple built you : all the swords 
In Italy, and her confederate arms. 
Could not have made this peace. [Eieunt. 

SCENE IV. Rome. A Public Place. 
Enter Menenius and Sicinius. 

Men. See you yond' coign t o'lhe Capitol: 
yond* corner stone? 

Sic. Why, what of that? 

Men. If it be possible for you to displace H 
with your little finiier, there is some hope the 
ladies of Rome, especially his inother, may 
prevail with him. But I say, there is no hope 
in't ; our thro<^s are sentenced, and stay | upon 
execution. 

Sic. Is't possible, that *o short a time cap 
alter the condition of a man? 

Men. There is dilTerency between a grub 
and a butterfly; yel >our buiterfiy was a grub. 
This Marcius is grown from man to dragon ; 
he has wings; he's more than a creeping thLig. 

Sic. He loved his mother dearly. 

Men. So did he me: and he no more re- 



• The refinemenU. 



t Anp.le. 



J Stay but for it. 



776 



SHAKSPEAllE. 



[Act V 



members his mother now, than an eight year 
old horse. The tartness of his face sours ripe 
grapes. When he walks, he moves like an 
eniiine, and the ground shrinks before his 
treading. He is able to pierce a corslet with 
his eye; talks like a knell, and his hum is a 
battery. He sits in his state *, asa thing madet 
for Alexander. What he bids be done, is 
finished with his bidding. He wants nothing 
of a god but eternity, and aheaven to throne in. 
Sic. Yes, mercy, if you report him truly. 
Men. I paint him in the character, Mark 
what mercy his mother shall bring from him. 
There is no niore mercy in him than there is 
milk in a male tiger ; that shall our poor city 
find : and all this is 'long of you. 
Sic, The gods be good unto us! 
Men. No, in such a case the gods will not 
be good unto us. When we banished him, we 
respected Hot them ; and he returning to break 
our n«cks, they respect not us. 
Enter a Messenger. 
Mess. Sir, if you'd save your life, fly to 
your house ; 
The plebeians have got your fellow tribune. 
And hale him up and down; all swearing, if 
The Roman ladies bring not comfqrt home. 
They'll give him death by inches. 

Enter another Messenger. 
Sic, What's the news? 

Mess. Good news, good news; — The ladies 
have prevail'd, 
ITie Voices are dislodged, and Marcins gone : 
A merrier day did never yet greet Rome, 
No, not the expulsion of the Tarquins. 

Sic. Friend, 

Art thou certain thisis true? is it most certain? 
Mess. As certain as I know the sun is fire : 
Where have you lurk'd, that you make doubt 
of it? [tide. 

Ne'er through an arch so hurried the blown 
As the recomforted through the gates. Why, 
hark you : 
[Tnnn'pets and Hautboys sounded, and 
Drums beaten^ all together. Shout- 
ing also tvithin. 
The trumpets, sackbnts, psalteries, and fifes. 
Tabors, and cymbals, and the shouting; Ro- 
Make the sun dance. Hark you ! [mans, 

[Shouting again. 
Men. This is good news : 

I will go meet the ladies. This Volumnia 
Is worth of consuls, senators, patricians, 
A city full; of tribunes, such as you, [to-day ; 
A'sea and land full : You have prayed well 
This morning, for ten thousand of your throats, 
I'd not have given a doit. Hark, how they 
joy ! [Shouting and Music. 

Sfc. First, the gods bless you for your tid- 
Accept my thankfulness. [ings ; next. 

Mess. Sir, we have all 

Great cause to give great thanks. 

Sic. They are near the city ? 

Mess. Almost at point to enter. 
^'*" We will meet them, 

[Going . 



Sic. 



And help the joy. 
• Chair of state. 



Enter the Ladies, accompanied by Senators, 
Patricians, and People. Taey pass over 
the Stage. 

1 Sen, Behold our patroness,the life of Rome " 
Call all your tribes together, praise the gods, 
And make triumphant fires ; strew flowers 

before them ; 
Unshout the noise that banish'd Marcius, 
Repeal t him with the welcome of his mother; 
Cry, — Welcome, ladies, welcome 1 — 

All. Welcome, ladies I 

Welcome! 

[A Flourish tvith Drums and Trumpets^ 
[ExeutU. 

SCENE V, Antium. A Public Place. 
Enter Tullus Aufidius, u4th Attendants. 
Auf. Go tell the lords of the city, I am here : 
Deliver them this paper : having read it, 
Bid them repair to the market-place; where I, 
Even in theirs and in the commons* ears, 
Will vouch the truth of it. Him I accuse. 
The city ports § by this hath enter'd, and 
Intends to appear before the people, hoping 
To purge himself with words : Despatch. 

[Exeunt Attendants 
Enter three or four Conspirators of Aufi 

dius* Faction, 
Most welcome ! 

1 Con. How is it with our general 1 

Auf. Even sc 

As with a man by his own alms empoison'd, 
And with his charity slain. 

2 Con. Most noble sir 
If you do hold the same intent wherein 
You wish'd us parties, we'll deliver you 
Of your great danger. 

Auf. Sir, I cannot tell ; 

We must proceed, as we do find the people. 

3 Con. The people will remain uncertain, 

whilst [either 

'Twixt you there's difference ; but the fall ol 
Makes the survivor heir of all. 

Auf. I know it; 

And my pretext to strike at him admits 
A good construction. I raised him, and I 
pawn'd [heightened. 

Mine honour for his truth : Who being so 
He water'd his new plants with dews of flat- 
Sedncingso my friends : and to this end, [tery. 
He bow'd his nature, never known before 
But to be rough, unswayable, and free. 

3 Con. Sir, his stoutness. 
When he did stand for consul, which he lost 
By lack of stooping, 

Auf. That I would have spoke of 

Being banish'd for't, he came unto my hearth ; 
Presented to my knife his throat ; itook him ; 
Madehim joint-servant with me; gave him way 
In all his own desires : nay, let him choose 
Out of myfiles his projects to accomplish,[ment3 
My best and freshest men ; served his design. 
In mine own person ; holpH to reap the fame. 
Which he did end all his ; and took some 
To do myself this wrong Mill, at the last, [pi ide 
1 seem'd'his follower, not partner; and 



To resemble. 



J Recall. 



Gates. 



I| Helucd. 



Scene V.] 



CORIOLANUS. 



777 



He waged me with his countenance*, as if 
I had been mercenary. 

1 Con. So he did, my lord : 

The army marvell'd at it. And, in the last, 
When he had carried Rome ; and that we 
For no less tpoil than glory, — [look'd 

Aiif. There was it:— 

For which my sinews shall be stretch'd upon 

him. 
At a few drops of women's rheum t, which are 
As cheap as lies, he sold the blood and labour 
Of our great action : Therefore shall he die. 
And I'll renew me in his fall. But, hark ! 

[Dru?7is and Trumpets sound, with 
great shouts of the People. 

1 Con, Your native town you enter'd like a 

post, 
And had no welcomes home ; but he returns. 
Splitting the air with noise. 

2 Con. And patient fools, 
Whose children he hath slain, their base throats 
With giving him glory. [tear, 

3 Con. Therefore, at your vantajge, 
Ere he expresi himself, or move the people 
With what he would say, let him feel your 

sword. 
Which we will second. When he lies along, 
After your way his tale pronounced shall bury 
His reasons with his body. 

Aiif. Say no more ; 

Here come the Lords. 

Enter the Lords cfthe City. 

Lords. You are most welcome home. 

Atif, I have not deserved it. 

But, worthy lords, have you with heed perused 
What 1 have written to you ? 

Lords. We have. 

1 Lord. And grieve to hear it. 

What faults he made, before the last, I think. 
Might have found easy tines : but there to end, 
Where he was to betjin ; and give away 
The benefit of our levies, answering us 
With our own charge j ; making a treaty where 
There was a yielding ; this admits no excuse. 

Auf. He approaches, you shall hear him. 

Enter Coriolanus, tvith Drums and Co- 

lours ; a Croivd of Citizens tvith him. 

Cor. Hail, lords! I am returned your soldier; 
No more infected with my country's love. 
Than when I parted hence, but still subsisting 
Under your great command. You are to know. 
That prosperously I have attempted, and 
With bloody passage, led your wars, even to 
The gates of Rome. Our spoils we have brought 

home 
Do more than counterpoise, a full third part, 
The charges of the action. We have made 
With no less honour to the Antiates§, [peace. 
Than shame to the Romans: And we here de- 
liver. 
Subscribed by the consuls and patricians. 
Together with the seal o*the senate, what 
We h ive compounded on. 

Auf. Read it not, noble lords; 



But tell the traitor, in the highest degree 
He hath abused your powers. 

Cor. Traitor! — How now? 

Auf. Ay, traitor, Marcius. 

Cor. Marcius ! 

Auf Ay, Marcius, Caius Marcius: Dost 
thou think [name 

I'll grace thee with that robbery, thy stol'n 
Coriolanus in Corioli? — 

You lords and heads of the state, perfidiously 
He has betray 'd your business, and given up, 
For certain drops of salt 11, your city Rome 
(I say, your city,) to his wife and molh-='r: 
Breaking his oath and resolution, like 
A twist of rotten silk ; never ailmitting 
Counsel o'thc war; but at his nurse's tears 
He whined and roared away your victory; 
That pages blush'd at him, and men of heart 
M^AxtyjtL u wondering each at other. 

Cor. Hear'st thou. Mars? 

Auf Name not the god, thou boy of tears, — 

Cor. Ha! 

Auf No more IT? 

Cor. Measureless liar, thou ha«t made my 
heart 
Too great for what contains it. Boy ! O 

slave ! — 
Pardon me, lords, 'tis the first time that ever 
I was forced to scold. Your judgments, my 

grave lords. 
Must give this cur the lie : and his own notion 
(Who wears my stripes impress'd on him ; that 

must bear 
My beating to his grave;) shall join to thrnst 
1 he lie unto him. 

1 Lord. Peace, both, and hear me speak. 
Cor. Cut me to pieces, Voices ; men and 

lads, [hound ! 

Stain all your edges on me. — Boy ! False 
If you have writ your annals true, 'tis there. 
That like an eagle in a dovecote, I 
Flutter'd your Voices in Corioli : 
Alone I did it.— Boy! 

Auf. Why, noble lords, 

Will you be put in mind of his blind fortune. 
Which was your shame, by this unholy brag- 
'Fore your own eyes and ears ? [g<irt. 

Con. Let him die ft)r't. 

{Several speak at once. 

at. {Speaking promiscuously.'] Tear him 
to pieces, do it presently. He killed my son ; 
— my daughter; — He killed my cousin Mar- 
cus ; — He killed my father. — 

2 Lord. Peace, ho ; — no outrage ; — peace. 
The mnn is noble, and his fame folds in 

This orb o'tl.e earth **. Hi? last offence to us 
Shall have jufliciousH heariijg. — Stand, Auti- 
And trouble not the peace. [dins. 

Cor. O, that I had him. 

With six Aufidiuses, or more, his tribe, 
To use my lawful sword ! 

Auf Insolent villain I 

Coil. Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill him. 
[AuFiDius and the Conspirators draw. 



* Thought me rewarded with good looks. t Tears. 

^Rewarding us with our own expenses. ^ People of Antinm. jj Drops of tears. 

% >'omore than a boy of tears. *♦ His fame overspreads the world. tt Judiciftl 



778 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act V 



and kill Coriolan us, who falls, and 
AuFiuiLS stands on him.] 

Lords. Hold, hold, hold, hold. 

Avf. My noble masters, hear me speak. 

1 Lorn, O Tiilliis. — 

2 Lord. Thoo hast done a deed whereat 

valour will weep. [be quiet; 

3 Lord. Tread not upon him. — Masters all. 
Put up your swords. [this rage, 

Auf. My lords, when yon shall know (as in 
Provoked by him, you cannot,) the great 

danger 
Which this man's life did owe you, you'll re- 
joice 
That he is thus cut off. Please it your honours 
To call me to >onr senate, I'll deliver 
Myself your loyal servant, or endure 
Your heaviest censure. 



1 Lord. Bear from hence his body. 
And monrn yon for him : let him be regarded 
As the most noble corse that ever herald 

Did follow to his urn. 

2 Lord. His own impatience 

Takes from Aufici'us a great part of blame. 
Let's make the best of it. 

A II f. My rage is gone. 

And I am struck with sorrow. — Take him up: 
Help, three o'the chitfest soldiers; I'll be 

one. — 
Beat thou the drum that it speak mournfully: 
Trail your steel pikes. — Though in this city he 
?lath widow'd and unchilded many a one. 
Which to this hour bewail the injury. 
Yet he shall have a noble memory*. — 
Assist. [Eieunty bearing the hody o/'Corio- 
LANUs. A dead March sounded* 



Memorial. 



The tragedy of Coriolanus is one of the most amusing of our author's performancet. 
The old man's merriment in Menen'Hs; the lofty lad\'s dignity in Volumnia; the bridal 
modesty in Virgilia; tie patrician aiid military h.iuiihtiness in Coriolanus ; the plebeian 
mhliiiniiy and tribniiitian insolence in briuus and Sicinins, make a very pleasing and intert-fet- 
^ng vari'ety ; and the various rev«,lutions of ihe hero's foriune fill i\\^ mind with anxious 
ciiriosity. 1 here is, perhaps, too much bustle in the tirst Act, and loo little in the last.— 



"i 



JULIUS CiESAR. 



^cr«;t)ujj repvesJenteli. 



Julius C^sar, 

OcTAVius C^SAR, ^ trhtmvirs, after the 
Marcls AM;i)Nius, \ death of Julius 
M. .-E.MiL. Lepidus, J Casar. 
Cicero, Publius, Popilius Lena. ; sena- 
tors, 
Marcus Brutus, >^ 

CASSiUS, I 

Casca, 

T K E B o N I u s, I Conspirators against 

LiGARius, ) Julius Cossar, 

DeCIUS liRUTUS, 

Metpllus Cimber, I 

C I N N A , / 

FLAViusff7?d Mardi.los, tribunes, 
Artemidorus, a sophist of Cnidos, 
4 Soothsayer. 



CistiAf a poet, A noth er Poet. 

Lucif.ius, TiTiNius, ME^>JALA, young 
CATu,<777r/ VoLUMNius ;J'ri€fi(isto Bru- 
tus tirid Cassias. 

Varro, Clitus, Claudius, Strato, IjU' 
ciuSjDARUAMus^yertfl/ifi to Bri.tus, 

Pin DAK US, servant to Cassius, 

Calphurnia, wife to C(Esar. 
Portia, wife to Brutus, 

Senators, Citizens, Guards, Attendants, 4'C« 

Scene, during a great part of the Play^ at 
Rome : ajter wards at Sardis ; and near 
Pliiiippi. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. Rom€. A Street. 
Enter Flavius,Marullus, and a Rabble 
0/ Citizens. 
Fla, Hence ; home, you idle creatures, ge^ 
you home ; 
is this a holiday 1 What ! Icnow yon not, 
l^eing inecha^iical, 3'ou ought not walk. 
Upon a labouring day, without tiie sign 
Of your profession ? — Speak, what trade art 

1 CU. V\ hy, sir, a carpenter. [thou? 
iWV'r. Where is thy leather apron and thy rnle? 

What dost thou with thy best apparel on?— 
You, sir; what trade are you 1 

2 Cit. Truly, sir, in respect of a fine work- 
I am but, as you would say, a cobbler, [man. 

Mar. But what trade art thou? Answer me 
directly. 

2 Cit. A trade, sir, that, I hope, I may use 
with a Siife conscience ; which is, indeed, sir, 
a mender of bad soals. 

Mar. What trade, thou knave ; thou naugh- 
ty knave, wliat trade ? 

iCit. Nay, I beseech you, sir, be not out 
with me : jet, if you be out, sir, I can mend 
you. 

Mar, What meanest thou by that? Mend 
me, thou saucy fellow? 

2 (it. Why, sir, cobble you. 

Flav. Thou art a cobMer, art thou? 

2 Cit. Truly, sir, all that I live by is, with 
the awl : I meci<lle with no tradesman's 
matters, ncjj* women's matters, but with awl. 
I am, indeed, sir, a surgeon to old shoes ; 
when they are in great danger, I recover them. 
As proper men as ever trod upon neats* lea- 
4iier, have gone upon my handy-work. 



Flav. But wherefore art not in thy shop 
to-day ? Why dost thou l«ad these men about 
the streets ? 

2 Cit. Truly, sir, to wear out their shoes, 
to get myselr into more work. But, indeed, 
sir, we make holiday, to see Caesar, and to re- 
joice in his trinnjph. 

Mar. Wherefore rejoice? What conquer 
brings he home l 
What tributaries follow him to Rome, 
To grace in captive bi)ndshis chariot wheels? 
You blocks, you stones, you worse than sense- 
less things! 
O, you hard hearts, you cruel men of Rome, 
Knew you not Pompey ? Many a time and 

oft 
Have you climVd up to walls and battlements. 
To towers and windows, yea, to chimney, 
tops, [sat 

Your infants in your arms, and there have 
The live-long day, with patient expectation. 
To see great I'ompey pass the streets of Home: 
And when you saw his chariot but appear, 
Have you not made an uuivei sal shout. 
That Tyber treitibled underneath her banks. 
To hear the replication of your sounds. 
Made in her concave shores t 
And do you now put on your best attire? 
And do jou now cnll out a holiday? 
And do you now strew flowers in his way, 
That comes in triumph over Pompey's bloo<i? 
Be gone ; 

Run to your houses, fall tipon your knees. 
Pray to the gods to intermit the plague 
That needs must light on this ingratitude, [fan t 

/Vat;. Go, go, good countrymen, and,forthii 
Assemble all the poor men r f your sort •; 



• Rank. 



^K 



7sa 



fi^HAivJSFLAiiE. 



(Act A 



I 



Draw them to Tyber banks, and weep your i 
Into the channel, till the lowest stream [tears 
Do kis8 the most exalted shores of all. 

[Exeunt Citizens. 
See, whe'r* their basest metal be not moved ; 
They vanish tongue-tied in their guiltiness. 
Go you down that way towards the Capitol ; 
This way will I : Disrobe the images. 
If you do find them deck'd with ceremoniest. 

Mar. May we do so ? 
You know, it is the feast of Lupercal. 

Fluv^lt is no matter ; let no images 
Be hung with Caesar's trophies. I'll about, 
And drive away ihe vulgar from the streets : 
JSo do you too, where you perceive therji thick. 
These growing feathers pluck'd from CsBsar's 
Will make him fly an ordinary pitch; [wing, 
"Who else would soar above the view of men, 
And keep us all in servile fearfnluess. [Exeu?it, 

SCENE II. Tftesame. A public Place, 
Enter in Procession, tilth Mmic, C^sar ; 

AjiJOjiYf for the course; Calphurnia, 

Portia, Decius, Cicero, Brutds, Cas- 

sius, a/id Casca; a great Crowd/olloivingy 

among them a Soothsayer. 

CcBs, Calphurnia. — 

Casca, Peace, bo! Caesar speaks. 

[Music ceases. 

C(ES, Calphurnia^ — 

C(d. Here, my lord. 

Q'as. Stand you directly in Antonius* way, 
When he doth run his course j. — Antonius. 

Ant. Caesar, my lord. 

Cas, Forget not, in your speed, Antonius, 
To touch Calphui nia : for our elders say. 
The barren, touched in this holy chase, 
Shake off their steril curse. 

Ant. I shall remember: 

When Caesar says. Do this, it is performed. 

Cas. Set ou ; and leave no ceremony out. 

[Miis/c, 

Sooth. Caesar. 

C(ES. Ha! who calU ? 

Casca. Bid every noise be still : — Peace yet 
again. [Music ceases. 

CtEs. Who is it in the press $, that calls on me? 
ihear a tongue, shriller than all the music, 
Cry, Caesar : Speak ; Caesar is turn'd to hear. 

Sooth. Beware the ides of March. 

C<BS. What man is that? 

Bru. A soothsayer bids you beware the ides 
of March. 

Cas, Set him before me, let me see his face. 

Cas. Fellow, come from the throng : Look 
upon Caesar. [once again. 

Cas. U hat says't thon to me now? Speak 

Sooth. Beware the ides of March. [pass. 

Cas. He is a dreamer; Jet us leave him ; — 

[Sennet \\. Kieunt all Out Brd. and Cas. 

Cas. Will yoK go see the order of the course ? 

Bru. Not'l. 

f tf*. I pray yoo,do. [part 

Bru. 1 am not ganjesome : I do lack some 



Of that quick spij it that is in Antony. 
Let me not hinder, Cassius, your desires ; 
I'll leave you. 

Cas. Brutus, I do observe you now of late : 
I have not from your eyes that gentleness. 
And show of love, as 1 was wont to have : 
You bear too stubborn and too strange a hand 
Over your friend that loves you. 

Bru. Cassius, 

Be not deceived : if I have veil'd my look, 
I turn the trouble of my countenance 
Merely upon myself. Vexed I am. 
Of late, with passions of some difference, 
Conceptions onlv proper to myself, [viours : 
Which give some soil, perhaps, to my beha- 
But let not therefore my good friends be 

grieved ; 
(Among which number, Cassius, be you one ;) 
Nor construe any further my neglect, 
Than that poor Brutus, with himself at war. 
Forgets the shows of love to other men. 

Cas. Then, Brutus, I have much mistook 

your passion H, [buried 

By means whereof, this breast of mine hath 

Thoughts of great value, worthy cogitations. 

Tell me, good Brutus, can you see >our face? 

Bru. N o, Cassius : for the eye sees not itself,. 
But by reflection, by some other things. 

Cas. 'Tisju*t: 
And it is very much lamented, Brutus, 
That you have no such mirrors, as will turn 
Your hidden worthiness into your eye. 
That you might see your shadow. I have heard. 
Where many of the best respect in Rome, 
( Except immortal Caesar,) speaking of Brutus, 
And groaning underneath this a^e's yoke. 
Have wish*d that noble Brutus had his eyes. 

Bru. Into what dangei s would you lead me, 
Cassius, 
That you \\ould have me seek into myself 
For that which is not in me? [to hear : 

Cas. Therefore, good Brutus, be prepared 
And, since you know you cannot sec yourseif 
So well as by reflection, I, your glass, 
Will modestly discover to yourself 
That of yourself which you yet know not ofv 
And be not jealous of me, gentle Brutus i 
Were 1 a common laugher, or did use 
To stale ** with ordinary oaths my love 
To every new protester; if you know 
ihat I do tawn on men, and hug them hard. 
And after scandal them; or ifyou know 
Ihat I protess myself in banqueting 
To all the rout, then hold me dangerous. 

[Flourish and Shout. 

Bru. What means this shouting^ I do t't^iir 
Choose Caisar for their king. [the people 

Ciis. Ay, do you fear ii ? 

Then must I think you would nut have it so 

Bru. I would not, Cassius; yet I love hiiu 
well:— 
But wherefore do yon hold me here so long? 
Wh;jt is it that you would impart to me ? 
If it be aught toward the general good, 

♦ W^hether. + Honorary ornaments ; tokens of respect. 

A cereraonj observed at the feast of IjUpenalia. § Crowd. jj Flourish of insfrniueuU* 
% 1 ije uaiuie ot your fti lings. ♦* Allure. 



Sce^ IJ\ 



JULIUS CyKSAH. 



78 i 



Set honour in one eye, and death i* the other. 
And I will look on both inditierentiy : 
For, let the gods so speed me, as I love 
The name of honour more than I fear death. 

Ctf V. I know that virtue to be in yon, Brutus, 
As well as I do know your outward favour. 
Well, honour is the subject of my story. — 
1 cannot tell what you and other men 
Think of this life; but, for my single self, 
I had as lief not be, as live to be 
In awe of such a thing as I myself. 
I was born free as Caesar ; so were you : 
We both have fed as well ; and we can both 
Endure the winter's cold as well as he. 
For once, upon a raw and gusiy * day, 
The troubled Tyber chafing with her shores, 
Caesar said to me, Darest thou, Cassias, 7ioiv 
Leap in with me into this angi'yjiood. 
And swim to yonder jpoint ? Upon the word. 
Accoutred as I was, I plunged in, 
And bade him follow : so, indeed, he did. 
The torrent roar'd ; and we did butfet it 
With lusty sinews; throwing it aside, 
A.nd stemming it with hearts of controversy. 
But ere we could arrive the point proposed, 
Caesar cry'd. Help me, Cassius, or 1 sink. 
1, as /Eneas, our great ancestor. 
Did from the flames of Troy upon his shoulder 
The old Anchises bear, so, from the waves of 
Did I the tired Caesar: And this man [Lyber 
Is now become a god ; and Cdssius is 
A wretched creature, and must bend his body, 
If Caesar carelessly but nod on him. 
He had a fever when he was in Spain, 
And, when the fit was on him, I did m'^rk 
How he did shake : *tis true, this god did shake : 
His coward lips did from their colour fly ; 
And that same eye, whose bend doth awe the 
Did lose his lustre: 1 did hear him groan, [world, 
Ay, and that tongue of his, that bade the 
Romans [books, 

Mark him, and write his speeches in their 
Alas! it cried. Give me some rf/i/iA:,Titinius, 
As a sick girl. Ye gods, it doth amaze me, 
■ A man of such a feeble tempei 1 should 
So get the start of the majestic world. 
And bear the palm alone. [Shout. Flourish. 

Bru. Anothei general shout I 
I do believe that these applauses are [Caesar. 
For some new honours that are heap'd on 

Cas* Why, man, he doth bestride the narrow 
Like a Colossus; and we petty men [world 
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about 
To find onr»elves dishonourable graves. 
Men at some time are masters of their fates : 
The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars. 
But in ourselves, that we are underlings. 
Brutus, and Caesar: What should be in that 
Caesar? [yours? 

Why should that name be sounded more than 
Write them together, yours is as fair a name; 
Sound them, itdoth become the mouth as well ; 
Weigh them, it is as heavy; conjure tliejn, 
Brutus will start a spirit as soon as Caesar. 

[Shout. 



Now in the names of all the gods at once. 
Upon what meat doth this our Caesar feed. 
That he is grown so great? Age, thou ar» 
shamed: [bloods! 

Rome, thou hast lost the breed of noble 
When went there by an age, since the great 
flood, [man? 

But it was famed with more than with one 
When could they say, till now, that talk'd of 

Rome, 
That her wide walks encompass*d but one man I 
Now is it Home indeed, and room enough. 
When there is in it but one only man. 
01 you and I have heard our fathers say, 
There was a Brutus % once, that would have 

brook*d 
The eternal devil to keep his state in Rome, 
As easily as a king. 

Bru. That you do love me, I am nothing 
jealous; [aimi; 

What you would work me to, I have some 
How I have thought of this, and of these times 
I shall recount hereafter ; for this present, 
I would not, so with love I might entreat you. 
Be any further moved. What you have said, 
I will consider; what you have to say, 
I will with patience hear: and find a time 
Both meet to hear, and answer, such high 

things. 
Till then, my noble friend, chewH upon this ; 
Brutus had rather be a villager, 
Ihan to repute himself a son of Rome, 
Under these hard conditions as this time 
Is like to lay upon us. 

Cas. I am glad that my weak words 
Have struck but this much show of fire from 
Brutus. 
Reenter C^sar, and his Train^ 

Bru. The games are done, and Caesar is 
returning. [sleeve ; 

Cas. As they pass by, pluck Casca by the 
And he will, after his sour fashion, tell you 
What hath proceeded worthy note to-day 

Bru. I will do so : — But look you, Cassius, 
The ftngry spot doth glow on Caesar's brow. 
And all the rest look like a chidden train : 
Calphurnia's cheek is pale ; and Cicero 
Looks with such ferret IT and such fiery eyes. 
As we have seen him in the Capitol, 
Being cross'd in conference by some senators. 

Cas. Casca will tell us what the matter is. 

Ccps. Autonius. 

Ant. Caesar. [fat; 

C(ES. Let me have men about me that are 
Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o'nights : 
Yond* Cassius has a lean and hungry look ; 
He thinks too much : sucii men are dangerous. 

Ant. Fear him not, Caesar, he's not dan- 
gerous ; 
He is a noble Roman, and well given. 

C(ES. 'Would he were fatter : — But I fear 
him not: 
Yet, if my name were liable to fear, 
I do not know the man 1 should avoid 
So soon as that spare Cassius. He reads rnach 



Windy. t Temperament, constitution. t Lucius Junius Brutus, 

$ Guess. jl Ruminate. % A ferret has red eyes. 

3X 



782 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Art I, 



He is a gtai i>bserver, and he looks 

Quite tliioui^h the deeds of meo : he loves 

no p|j*vs, 
As thon rloti. Antony ; he hear* no music : 
Seldom Ik- smiles ; and smiles in such a sort. 
As ir he moikd Jiimself, and scorn'd his spirit 
Thai could be moved to smile at any thing. 
Such men as he be never at heart's ease, 
Whiles, ihoy behold a greater than themselves; 
And therefore are they very dangerous. 
1 rather tell thee what is to be tear'd, 
Than what I fear, for always I am Caesar. 
Come on n»y li^ht hand, for this ear is deaf. 
And tell me truly what thou think'st of him. 
[t'deunt C^SAR and his Train, 
Casca .stays behind, 

Casca. You pnli'd me by the cloak : Would 
you Bpeak with n)e? 

Em. Ay, Casca; tell us what hath chanced 
That Cn3sar looks so sad. [to-day, 

Casca. Why you were with him, were 
you not? 

Bt u. I should not then ask Casca what 
hath < hanted. 

Casca. Why, i here was a crown ofFer'd him : 
and beini^ ottered hitsi, he put it by with the 
back of his hand, thus; and then the people 
fell a' shouting. 

Brti. Wliat was the second noise for? 

Casca \V hy, for that too. 

Cas, They shouted thrice : What was the 
last cry for? 

Casca. V\ liy, t(.r that too. 

Bru. Was the cn)wn otter'd him thrice? 

Casca. Ay, marry, was't, and he put it by 
thrice, every timtf gentler than other; and 
at every putting by nniie honest neighbours 
shouted. 

Cas. Who offer'd him the crown? 

Casca. Why, Antony. 

Bru, Tell us the manner of it, gentle Casca. 

Casca. I can as well be hanged as tell the 
manner of it : it was mere foolery, 1 did not 
mark it. 1 saw Mark Antony offer him a 
crown ; — yet 'twas not a crown neither, 'twas 
one ol the?e coronets ; — and, as 1 told yon, he 
put it by once ; but for all that, to my think- 
ing, he would fain have had it. I'hen he 
t.ttered It to him again ; then he put it by 
again : but, to my thinking, he was very loili 
lo lay his (iniiers oft it. And then he ottered 
it the third time ; he put it ihe third lime by : 
(ud still as he refused It, the rabbhMuent hooted, 
.uk\ clapped their chopped hands, and thiew 
«ip their sweaty niLht-caps, and uttered stub 
• deal of stinkiny breath heoanse Caesar refused 
t!ie crown, thai it had almost choked Caesar; 
lor he 8woont;d, and lej' down at it: Atnl, for 
mine unnu part, i duist not laugh, for fear of 
«>pening niy lipf, and receiving the bad air. 

dig. But, ».oft. I piay you: What, did 
Ca-sar swoon ? 

Ca.sca. He fed down in the market-place, 
Aiid foamed at mouth, and was speechless. 
Bru. *TiB very like : he hatli the falling 
tkkiicMi. -< 



Ca.^. So, Ca?sar hath it not; bni}iiu,ann I, 
And honest Casca, we have th? falling sickness. 

Casca. 1 know not what you rae.m ty that; 
but, I am sure, CjEsar fell down. If the tag* 
rag people did not clap hiid, and hiss him, ac- 
cording as he pleased and displea?ed them, at 
the> U!«e to do the players in the theatre, 1 am 
no tiue * man. 

Bry. What said he when he came into 
himself? 

Casca. Marry, before he fell down, when > 
he perceived the common herd was glad he 
refused the crown, he plucked me ope his 
doublet, and offered them his throat to cut. — 
An I had been a man of any occupation t, if . 
1 would not have taken him at a word, I ' 
would I might go to hell among the rogues: — 
and so he fell. When he came to himself 
again, he said, If he had done or said any thing 
amiss, he desired their worships to think it 
was his infirmity. Three or four wenches, 
where 1 stoo<l, cried, Alas, good sovl! — and 
forgave him with all their hearts : But there's 
no heed to be taken of them ; if Caesar had 
stabbed their motheis, they would have done 
no les6. 

Bru, And after that he came, thus sad, away t 

Casca. Ay. 

Cas. Did Cicero say any thing ? 

Casca Ay, he spoke Creek. 

Cas. To what effect ? 

(asca. Nay, an I tell yon that, I'll ne'er 
look jou i' the face again: But those that 
understood him sndled at taie another, and 
shook their heads ; hut, for mine own part, it 
was Greek to me. I could tell you more 
news lOo : Marullus and Flavins, for pulling 
scarfs off Caesar's imai:es, are put to silence. 
Fare >ou well. There was more foolery yet, 
if I cotdd remember it. 

Ca.s. Will you sup with me to-night, Casca I 

(hisca. No, I am promised forth. 

Cas. W ill you dine with iiie to-morrow? 

Casca A>, if I be alive, and your mind 
hold, and your dinner worth the eating. 

Cas. Good ; I will expect ^on. 

Casca. Do so: Farewell, both. 

[Exit Casca. 

Brit. What a blunt fellow isthisgtown to be I 
He was quick mettle when he went to school. 

Cas. So is tie now, in execution 
Of an> bold or noble enterprise, 
However he puts on this lardy form. 
1 his rudeness is a sauce to hi^ good wit, 
Whicli gives mi-n stomach to digest his word* 
With better appeiite. 'you: 

Bru. And *o it is. For this time I will leave 
To-morrow, if yon please to speak with me, 
I will come home to you ; or, if sou will, 
Come home with mr, and 1 will wail tor you. 

Cas. 1 w ill do so : — till then, think of the 
world. [Edit Bkotus. 

Well, Brutus, thou art noble; >et,I see. 
Thy honourable metal may be wrought 
From that it i.<j disposed j: Therefore 'li.<« mpct 
Thai nolle mii.da keep ever with their IiKe»« 



• lloneat. 



t A uicrhaalc. 



Uiepofcd po. 



JULIUS C7t:SAll. 



Scene II,] 



For who so firm that cannot be reduced 1 
Caesar doih bear me hard • ; but he loves 

Brutus : 
Xf I were Brutus now, and he were Cassius, 
He should not liumourt me. I will this night, 
lu st.vci.il hands, in at his windovvs tlirow. 
As if I hey c-une from several citizens. 
Writings all tending to the great ^pinion 
That Rome holds of his name; whertin ob- 
Ciesar's ambition shall be glanced at : [scurely 
And, alter this, let Caesar seat him sure ; 
For we will shake hiiu, or worse days endure. 

[EUit. 

SCENE III. The same. A Street, 
Vhuyfder and Lightning. Enter, from op- 
posite sides, C ASCA, with his sivord drawn, 

and Cicf.ro. 

Cic. Good even, Casca : Brought you Caesar 
home J? 
Why are you breathless? and why stare you so? 

Casca. Are not you moved, when all the 
sway of earth 
Shakes, like a thing unfirm? O Cicero, 
I have seen ten)pests, when the scolding winds 
Have rived the knotty oaks ; and I have seen 
The ambitious ocean swell, and rage, and foam. 
To be exalted with the ihreat'ning clouds: 
But never till to-night, never till now. 
Did I go through a tempest dropping fire. 
Either there is a civil strife in heaven; 
Or else tl.e world, too saucy with the gods. 
Incenses ihcm to send destruction. [ful? 

Cic. Why, saw you any thing more wonder- 

Casca. A common slave (you know him well 
by sight,) Lburn 

-^eld up his lett hand, which did flame and 
jLiike twenty torches join'd ; and yet his hand, 
Is'ot sensible of fire, remained unscorch'd. 
Bt sides, (I have not since put up my sword,) 
Against the Capitol 1 met a lion, 
Who glared upon me, and went surly by, 
Without annoying me : And there were drawn 
Upon a heap a hundred ghastly women, [saw 
Transform'd with their fear; who swore, they 
Men, all in fire, walk up and down the streets. 
And, yestei Jay, the bird of night did sit. 
Even at noon-dny, upon the market plaie, 
Hooting and shrieking. When these prodigies 
Do so conjointly meet, let not men say, 
These are their reasons^ — Tliey are natural; 
For, I believe they are portentous things 
Unto the c'.imate that they point upon. 

Cic. Indeed, it is a strange-disposed time: 
But men may construe things after their fashion, 
Cleans from the purpose of the things them- 
selves. 
Comes Caesar to the Capitol to morrow? 

Casca. He doth; for he did bid Antonius[row. 
Send word to you, he would be there lonior- 

Cic. Good night then, Casca : this disturbed 
Is not to walk in. [sky 

Casca. Farewell, Cicero. 

{tUit Cicero. 



7s:i 



Enter Cassius 

Cas. Who's there? 

Casca. A Roman, 

Cas. Casca, by your voice. 

Casca. Your ear is good. Cassius, what 
night is this? 

Cas. A very pleasing night to honest men. 

Casca. Whoever knew the heavens menace 
so? [of faults. 

Cas. Those, that haveknown the earth pofull 
For my part, 1 have walkM about the streets. 
Submitting me unto the perilous nii^ht; 
And, thus unbraced, C^asca, as yon see. 
Have bared my bosom to the thunder-stone ||' 
And, when the cross blue lightning itera'd to 

open 
The breas^ of heaven, I did present myself 
Even in the aim and very flash of it. 

Casca. But wherefore did you so nmch tempt 
the heavens? 
It is the part of men to fear and tremble, 
When the most mijihty gods, by tokens, send 
Such dreadful heralds to astonish us. [of life 

Cas. You are dull, Casca ; am) those sparks 
That should be in a Roman you do want. 
Or else you use not : You look pale, and gaze. 
And put on fear, and cast yourself in wonder. 
To see the strange impatience of the heavens : 
But if you would consider the true cause, 
Why all these fires, why all these gliding ghosts. 
Why birds, and beasts, from quality andkindlT; 
Why old men, fools, and chiiilien calculate; 
Why all these thinis ehanse, from their ordi- 
Their natures and pre-formed faculties, [nance. 
To monstrous quality; why, 3 on shall find, [rits. 
That heavt^n hath infused them with these spi- 
To make them instruments of fear, and warn- 
ing, [Casca, 
Unto some monstrous state. Now could I, 
Name to thee a man most like this dreadful 
night ; [roars 
That thunders, lightens, opens graves, and 
As doth the Hon in the Capitol: 
A man no ndghtier than thygelf, or me. 
In personal action; yet prodigious** grown. 
And fearful as these strange eruptions are. 

Casca. *Tis Caesar that you mean : Is it not, 
Cassius? 

Oas. Let It be who it is : for Romans now 
Have thewesff and limbs like to their ancestors; 
But, woe the while! our fathers' minds are 

dead. 
And we are govern'd with our mothers' spirits; 
Our yoke and sufterance show us womanish. 

Casca. Indee<l, they say, the senators to- 
Mean to establish Caesar as a kinij : [nu»rrow 
And he shall wear his crown by sea and land. 
In every place, save here in Italy. [then; 

Cas. I know where I will wear this dajigcr 
Cassius from bondage will deliver Cassins: 
Therein, ye gods, you make the weak most 

strong ; 
Therein, ye gods, you tyrants do '°feat : 
Nor stony tower, nor walls of bcattn brass. 



' Has an unfavourable opmion ( f me. Cafole. 

§ Entirely. j] Bolt. W Wh> tlley (?<'vii»r 



+ Did you nttend Ctrnav hrme 
hoin quaiiiy mu\ n*!tn*s. 



784 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act I 



Nor airless dnngeon, nor sironu links of iron. 

Can be retentive to the strength of spirit ; 

But life, being weary of ihese worldly bars, 

Never lack? power to ; ismiss itself. 

If I know thi.s know alt the world besides. 

That piirt of tyranny that I do bear, 

1 can shake off at pleasure. 

CasCd. So can l : 

So every bondman in his own h;ind bears 
The power to cancel his captivity. [then? 

Co.^. And why shonld (.'cusar be a tyrant 
Poor man i I know he w«)ul(l not be a wolf, 
Bnt iliat he sees the RoniaMS are bnt slieep: 
He were no lion, were not Romans hinds*. 
Those that with ha^te will make a mighty tire, 
Begin it with weak straws; What trash is 

Rome, 
What rubbish, and what offal, when it serves 
For the base matter to illnmiuate 
So viK' a thin2; as Caesar? But, O grief! 
Where hast tliou led me ? I, perhaps, speak this 
Before a willing bondman: then I know 
My ans\\er ipuft be made: But I am arm*d, 
Anfl dangers a. ? to me indifferent. [man, 

Casca. Yon speak to Caeca ; and to such a 
That is no tieering tell-tale. Holdt tr.y hand : 
Be factions* for redress of all these griefs ; 
And I will set this foot of mine as far 
As who goes farthest. 

fas. There's a bargain made. 

Now know yon, Casca, I have moved already 
Some certain of the noblest-minded Romans, 
To undergo, with me, an enterprise 
Of honourahl(Mla..jjcrons consequence; 
And I do know, by this, they stay for me 
In Pompej's porch : for now, this feartnl night, 
Therr is no stir, or walking in the streets; 
And the complexion of the element 
Is favour'dj, like the work we havCin hand, 
Most bloody, fiery, md most terrible. 
Enter CiNNA. 

CuMca. Stand close awhile, for here comes 
one in haste. 



(\ts. 'Tis Cinna, I do know him by his gaitlj 
He is a friend. — Cinna, where h^ste you so? 

Cm, To tindontyou: Who's that? Metellu. 
Cimber? 

Cas. No, it is Casca; one incorporate 
To our attempts. Am I not staid for, Cinna i 

Cin, 1 am glad on't. What a fearful nigl^ 

is this! [sights 

There's two or three of us have seen strangi 

Cas. Am I not staid for, Cinna? Tell me. 

Cin. Yes 

You are. O, Cassias, if yon conld but win 
The noble Brutus to our party 

Cas, Be you content : Good Cinna, take this 
paper, 
And look you lay it in the praetor's chair. 
Where Brutus may but lind it; and throw this 
In at his window : set thi,«> up with wax 
Upon old i'rutns' statue: all this done, 
Repair to Porapey's porch, where you shall 

find us. 
Is Decius Brutus and Trebonius there? 

Cm, All but Metellus Cimber; and he's 
gone 
To seek yon at your house. Well, I will hie, 
And so bestow these papers as you bade me. 

Cas. That done, repair to Pompey's theatre, 

[Klit CiNNA. 

Come, Casca, yon and I will, yet, ere day, 
See Brutus at bis house: three parts of idni 
Is ours already ; and the man entire. 
Upon the next encounter, yields him ours. 

Casca. O, he sits high in all the people's 
hearts : 
And that, which would appear offence in us, 
iiis countenance, like richest alcliynjy, 
V\ ill change to virtue, and to worthiness. 

Cas. llim, and his worth, and our great 
ut-ed of him. 
You have right well conceited. Let us go. 
For it is after midnight ; and, ere day, 
We will awake him, and be sure of him, 

[Exeunt, 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. The same. Brutus's Orchard. 

Enter Brutus. 

liru. W^haf, Lucius! ho! 
I caimot, by the progress of the stars. 
Give gue?s how near to-day. — Lucius, I say ! — 
1 would it were my fault to sleep so soundly. 
When, Lucius, whenH? Awake, I say : What, 
Lucius! 

Enter Lucius. 
I Lvr. Call'd you, my lord ? 
^ B 11. Get me a taper in my study, Lucius: 
\^ h«'M it is li_lite<l, come and call me here. 
/.(ic, 1 will, my lorrt. {Exit. 

Lrn. It must be by his death: and, for iljt 
part, 
I know no personal cause to spurn at him, 
BtJt ft.r the geueral. fie would be crown'd : — 



How that might change his nature, there's the 

question ; 
It is the bright day, that brings forth the adder; 
And that craves warj walking. Crown him? — 

That ;— 
And then, 1 grant, we put a sting in him, 
Ihat at his will he may do danger with. 
The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins 
Remorse** from power : And, to speak truth of 

Cccsar, 
I have r.ot known when his affections sway'd 
More than his reason. But 'tis a common 

proof tt, 
That lowliness is young ambition's ladder. 
Whereto the climber upward turns his face: 
But when he once attains the upinoj^t round. 
He then unto the ladder turns his back, 
Looks in the clouds, scorning the base degreef:;^ 



• n««er. ♦ Here's roy hand. 1 Active. i Resembles. I| Air of walking. 

« An exclamation of impatience. •• Pity, tenderness. tt lixpcrience. J* Low steps. 



iScene /.] 



JULIUS Cj1i:SAR. 



785 



By \vhi£h he did ascend : so Caesar may ; 
Then, lest h»: may, prevent. And, since the 

quarrel 
Will be.tr uo colour for the thing he is, 
Fashion it thus ; that what he is, augmented. 
Would run to these and these extremities : 
And therefore think him as a serpent's egg, 
Which, hatchM, would, as his kind*, grow 
And kill him in the shell. mischievous; 

Re-enter Lucius. 

Luc. The taper burneth in year closet, sir. 
Searching the window for a flint I found 
This paper, thus seal'd up; and, I am sure. 
It did not lie there when I went to bed. 

BrU' Get }Ou to bed again, it is not day. 
Is not to-morroM', boy, the ides of March 1 

Luc. I know not, sir. [word. 

Bru. Look in the calendar, and bring me 

Luc. I will, sir. [Exit. 

Bru. The exhalations, whizzing in the air. 
Give so much light, that I may read by them. 
[Ojje?is the Letter , aiid reads. 
Brutus, thou sleep'st ; awake, and see thy- 

selj. 
Shall Rome, 4c. Sjieaky strike, redress ! 

Brutus, thou sleep* st ; aivakt, 

Such instigations have been often dropp'd 
Where I have took them up. 
Shall Rome, Sec. Thus must I piece it out ; 
Shall Rome stand under one man's awe? 

What ! Rome 1 
My ancestors did from the streets of Rome 
The Tarqiiin drive, when he was call'daking. 
Speak, strike, redress ! — Am 1 entreated then 
To speak, and strike? O Rome! I make thee 

promise. 
If the redress will follow, thou receivest 
Thy full petition at the hand of Brutus I 
Re-enter Ij{j CIVS. 

Luc. Sir, March is wasted fourteen days. 
'[Knock withifi. 

Bru. 'Tis good. Go to the gate ; somebody 
knocks. [Exit Lucius. 

Since Cassius first did whet me against Cassar, 
I have not slept. 

Between the acting of a dreadful thing 
And the fir5t motion, all the interim is 
Like a phantasmaf, or a hideous dream : 
The genius, and the mortal instruments. 
Are then in council : and the state of man. 
Like to a little kingdom, suffers then 
The nature of an insurrection. 

Re-enter Lucius. 

Lt(c. Sir, 'tis your brother Cassius at the 
"Who doth desire to see you. [door, 

Bru, Is he alone? 

Luc. No, sir, there are more with him. 

Bru, Do you know them ? 

Luc, No, sir ; their hats are pluck'd about 
their ears. 
And half their faces buried in their cloaks, 
That by no means I may discover them 
By any mark of favour J. 

Bru. Let them enter. 

[Exit Lucius. 



Tliey are the faction. conspiracy! [night, 
Shamesl thou to show thy dangerous brow by 
When evils are most free! O, then, by day. 
Where wilt thou find a cavern dark enough 
To mask thy monstrous visage? Seek none« 

conspiracy ; 
Hide it in smiles and affability : 
For if thou path thy native semblance § on. 
Not Erebus II itself were dim enough 
To hide thee from prevention. 
Enter Cassius, Casca, Decius, Cinna, 

Metelj.us CiMJBER, a7id Trebomus, 

Cas, I th-ink we are too bold upon yonr 
rest : 
Good morrow, Brutus ; Do we trouble you 1 

Bru. I have been up this hoar ; awake, all 
night. 
Know I these men that come along with you? 

Cas. Yes, every man of them ; and no man 
here 
But honours you : and every one doth wish 
You had but that opinion of yourself. 
Which every noble Roman bears of you. 
U'his is Trebonius. 

Bru. He is welcome hither. 

Cas, This Decius Brutus. 

Bru, He is welcome too. 

Cas. This, Casca ; this, Cinna ; 
And this, Metellus Cimbcr. 

Bru. They are all welcome. 

What watchful cares do interpose themselves 
Betwixt your eyes and night { 

Cas. Shall I entreat a word ? [They whisper, 

Dec. Here lies the east ; Doih not ilie day 

Casca. No. [break here 1 

Ci/i. O, pardon, sir, it doth ; and yon grey 
lines. 
That fret the clouds, are messengers of day. 

Casca. You shall confess that you are both 
deceived. 
Here, as I point my sword, the sun arises ; 
Which is a great way growing on the south. 
Weighing the youthful season of the year. 
Some two months hence, up higher toward 

the north 
He first presezits his fire ; and the high east 
Stands, as the capitol, directly here. [one. 

Bru. Give me your hands all over, one by 

Cas. And let us swear our resolnlion. 

Bru. No, not an oath: If not the faceH 
of men, 
The sufferance of our souls, the time's abuse,— 
If these be motives weak, break off betimes. 
And every man hence to his idle bed ; 
So let high sighted tyranny range on. 
Till each man drop by lottt-ry**. Butif theae. 
As I am aure they do, bear fire eiiuugh 
To kindle cowards, and to steel with valour 
The melting spirits of women , then, country- 
men. 
What need we any spur, but our ov.ii cause. 
To prick us to redress? what other bond, 
Than secret Romans, that have spoke the word 
And will not palter tt? and wh.>t other oath. 
Than honesty to honesty engaged 



♦ Nature, 
i Hell. 



t Visionary. % Countenance. 

IF Perhaps Shakspeare v/rotefaith. 



§ Walk in thy true form. 
Lot. tt Prevaricate. 

3X3 



rsT) 



SHAKSPKARE. 



[Art // 



That this shall be, or we will fall for it? 
Swear priests, and cowards, and men cau- 

U'lollR *, 

Old feehle carrions, and such suflFering souls 
Th It welcome wrongs ; unlo bad causes swear 
Such creatures .is men doubt: but do not stain 
Tilt even virtue of our enterprise, 
Nor ihe insnppressive mettle of our spirits. 
To think thai or our cause, or our perform- 
ance, 
Did t)ec<1 an oath ; when every drop of blood 
Thiit every Roman bears, and nobly bears. 
Is liuilty »'.t a several bastardy. 
IV he do break the smallest particle 
Of any promise that hath passM from him. 

f'tf.v. Hut what oi Cicero .' Shall we sound 
hini i 
I tliink, he will stand very stront; with us. 

Co.sca. Let us not leave him out. 

('in. No, by no means. 

Afcf. O let us have him; tor his silver hairs 
W i'l purchase us a good opinion +, 
An<l hny ucn's voices to commend our deeds : 
li shall he said, his judgineni ruled our hands ; 
Our \ouths, and wildness, shall no whit ap- 
liut all l)e buried in his gravity, [pear, 

Bru. (), name him not; let us not break j 
witl\ him ; 
For he wdl never follow any thing 
That other men begin. 

C'a.v. Then leave him out. 

Ctisca. Indeed, he is not fit. 

Dec. Shall no man else'be touch'd but only 
CivsHr % [meet, 

Crtv. Decius, well urged: I think it is not 
Mark Antony, so well beloved of Caesar, 
Should outlive Caesar : We shall find of him 
A shrewd contriver ; and you know his 

means. 
If he improves them, ma)' well stretch so far, 
>\8 to annoy us all : which to prevent, 
Let Antony and Caesar fall together. 

Bru. Our course will seem too bloody, 
Cains Cassius, 
To cut the head otf, and then hack the limbs ; 
Like wrath in death, and envy ^ afterwards: 
For Antony is but a limb of Tsesar. 
Let us be sacrificeis, but no batchers, Cains. 
We all stand up against the spirit of Caesar ; 
And in the spirit of men there is no blood : 
O, that we then could come by Caesar's spirit, 
And not dismember Caesar! But, alas, 
Cdesar must blce'l for it! And, gentle friends, 
Let's kill him boldly, but not v\rathfully; 
Let's carve him as a dish ht for the gods. 
Not hew him as a carcase fit for hounds: 
And let our hearts, as subtle masters do. 
Stir up their servants to an act of rage. 
And after seem to chide them. Ihis shall 

mike 
Our purpose necessary, and not envious : 
\Vhich so appearing to the common eyes, 
We shall he cali'd piirgers, not murderers. 
And for Mark Antony, think not of him ; 



For he can do no more man Caesar's arm. 
When Caesar's head is oft. 

Cas. Yet I do fear him : 

For in the ingrafted love he bears to Ca?sar,— 

Bru, Alas' good Cassius, do not think of 
If he love Caesar, all that he can do [him : 
Is to himself ; take thought, and die for Cajsar : 
And that were much he should ; for h , \a given 
To sports, to wildness, and much company. 

Treb. There is no fear in him ; let him not 
die ; 
For he will Jive and laugh at this hereafter 
[Clock striket 

Bru. Peace, count the clock. 

Vas, The clock hath striken thret, 

Treb. Tis time to part. 

C.ts, But it is doubtful yet, 

Whje'rII Caesar will come forth io-day,orno: 
For he is superstitious grown of late; 
Quite from the main opinion he ht Id once 
Of fantasy, of dreams, and ceremonies IT . 
It may be, these apparent prodigies, 
The unaccustom'd terror of this night. 
And the persuasion of iiis auyurers **, 
May hold him from the capitol to-day. 

Dec. Never fear that : if he be so resolved 
I can o'ersway him : for he loves to hear. 
That unicorns may be betray'd with trees, 
And bears with glasses, elephants with holes. 
Lions with toils, and men with flatterer's: 
Hut, when 1 tell him he hates flatterers. 
He says he does; being then most flattered. 
Let me work : 

For 1 can give his humour the true bent ; 
And I will bring him to the Capitol. 

Cas. Nay, we will all of us be there to fetch 
him. [mostt 

Bru. By the eighth hour : Is that the utter- 

Cm, Be that the uttermost, and fail not 'hen. 

Met. Caius Ligarius doth bear Caesar hard, 
Who rated him for speaking well of Pompey ; 
I wonder, none of you have thought of him. 

Brit. Now, good Metellus, go along by him++: 
He loves me well, and I have given him 

reasons ; 
Send him but hither, and I'll fashion him. 

Cas. The morning comes upon us : We'll 

leave you, Brutus : — [member 

And, fi lends, disperse yourselves: but all •^e- 

What you have said, and show yourselves true 

Romans. [<ily ; 

Bru. Good gentlemen, look fresh and mer- 
Let not our looks put on jj our purposes ; 
But bear it as our Roman actors do. 
With untired spirits, and formal constancy : 
And so, good-morrow to you every one. 

[Exfunt all but Brutus. 
Boy ! Lucius! — Fast asleep? It is no matter; 
Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of sluinber: 
Thou hast no figures ^5, nor no fantasies. 
Which busy care draws in the brains of men ; 
Therefore thou sleep'st so sound. 
Enter Portia. 

Por. Brutus, my lord 



• Cautious, t Character. J Let ns not break the matter to him. 

S Malice. || Whether. ^ Omens at sacrifices. •♦ Prognosticaiors. 

Bv his house. Jt Show our desijjn*. %% Shapes created by imagination 



Vcene /.\ 



JULIUS CiESAR. 



7.^7 



iiru. Portia, what mean you ? Wherefore 
rise yon now ? 
It is not for your health, tlius to commit 
Yi'ur weak condition to tiie raw-coUl morning. 

J-'or. Vor fi.r yoMi 's neither. You have un- 
gt-ntiy, Brutus, [per, 

Stole fioni my bed : And yesternight, at sup- 
You suddenly arose, and walk'd about, 
Musinv, -and sighing wlih your arms acioss : 
An i when I ask'd you what the matter was, 
You stared upon me with ungentle looks : 
1 urged you further ; then you scratchM your 

head, 
And too impatiently stamp'd with your foot : 
Yet I insis ed, yet you answer'd not ; 
But, Willi an angry waftnre of your hand. 
Gave si in lor me to leave you : >«o 1 did ; 
Feiringto st.tngthentliat impatience, [withal, 
Which seem'd too much enkindled ; and, 
Hopinii it was but an etfect of humour, [man, 
^^ hich sometime hath his hour with every 
It will not let you eat, nor talk, nor sleep ; 
An I. could it work s > much upon your shape, 
As it naili much prevailM on your condition *, 
I should not know yon, Brutus. Dear my lord, 
Mike me hc.ju tinted with your cause of grief. 

Brii. I >im not well in health, and that is all. 

Por. Brutus is wise, and were be not in 
health. 
He would embrace the means to come by it. 

Brii Why, so 1 do : — Good Portia, go to 

Por. Is Brutus sick ;' and is it physical [bed. 
To walk unbraced, and suck up the humours 
Of the dankt morning? What, is Brutus sick; 
And will lie steal out of his wholesome bed. 
To dare the vile contagion of the night? 
And tempt the riieumy ; and unpurged air 
To add unto his sickness ? No, my Brutus ; 
Von have some sick offence within your mind. 
Which, by the right and virtue of my pltce, 
I ought to know of: And, upon my knees, 
I chririn you, by my once commended beauty. 
By all your vows of love, and that great vow 
Which did incorporate and make us one, 
That you unfold to me, yourself, your half. 
Why yt)u are heavy ; and what men to-nisjht 
Have had resort to you : for here have been 
home six or seven, who did hide their faces 
Even from darkness. 

Bru. Kneel not, gentle Portia. 

Por. I should not need, if you were gentle 
Brums. 
Within the bond of marriage, tell me, Brutas, 
Is it excepted, 1 should know no secrets 
That appertain to you ? Am I yourself 
But, as it were, in sort or limitation ; 
To keer with you at meals, comtort your bed, 
And talK to you sometimes? Dwell 1 but in 

the suburbs^ 
Of your good pleasure? If it be no more, 
Portia is Brutus' harlot, not his wife. 

Bru. You are my true and honourable wife ; 
As dear to me, as are the ruddy drops 
Til at virt my sad heart. [this secret. 

for. If this were true, then should 1 know 



I grant 1 am a woman ; but, withal, 

A woman that i(*rd Brutus took to wife : 

1 grant I am a woman ; but, withal, 

A woman well-reputed ; Cato's daughter. 

Think you, I am no stronger than my sex, 

Being so fathered and so husbanded? 

Tell me your counsels, I will not disclose them ! 

I have made strong proof of my constancy, 

Giving myself a voluntary wound 

Here, in the thigh : Can 1 bear that with 

And not my husband's secrets ? [patience, 

Bru. O ye gods. 

Render me worthy of this noble wife ! 

[Knocking within. 
Hark, hark! one knocks: Portia, go in a 

while; 
And by and by thy bosom shall partake 
The secrets of my heart. 
All my engagements 1 will construe to thee, 
All the charactery |j of my sad brows : — 
Leave me with haste. [Kiit Portia. 

Enter Lucius rtwrf Ligari us. 

Lucius, who is that knocks? 

IjUC. Here is a sick man, that would speak 
with you. [of. — 

Brii. Cains ttlgarius, tliat Metellus spake 
Boy, stand aside. — Caius Ligariusl how? 

JLig. Vouchsafe good morrow from a feeble 
tongue. [brave Caius, 

Bru. 6, what a time have you chose out. 
To wear a kerchief? 'Would you were not sick ! 

Lig. I am not sick, if Biutus have iu hand 
Any exphut worthy the name of honour. 

Bru. Such au exploit have I in hand, 
Ligarius, 
Had you a healthful ear to bear of it. [fore, 

Lig. By all th.e gods that Romans bow be- 
I here discard my sickness. Soul of Rome ! 
Brave son, derived from lionoural)le loins I 
Thou, like an exorcist, hast conjured up 
My mortified ^^plrit. iSovv bid me run. 
And I will strive with things impossible ; 
Yea, get the better of them. What's to do? 

Bru. A piece of work, that will make sick 
men wliole. [make sick ? 

Ijig. But are not some whole, that we must 

/Jru. That must we also. What it is, my 
I shall unfold to thee, as we are going [Caius, 
To whom it must be done. 

Lig. Set on your foot ; 

And, with a heart new-fired, 1 follow you, 
To do I know not what : but it sufliceih 
That Brutus leads me on. 

Bru. FoUovv me then. 

[Ea:€unt. 

SCENE II. The same. A Room in Caesar's 

Palace, 
Thunder and Lightning. Enter C^sa r, in 
his Night-gown. 
C(BS. Nor heaven, nor earth, have been at 
peace to-night : 
Thrice hath Calphurnia in her sleep cried out, 
Help, ho! tUcy murder Casar.' Who's 
within ? 



Tci 



imper. 



t Damp. 



t Moisture. 
All that is charactere<1 on. 



$ The residence of harlot*. 



788 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act 11 



Enter a Servant. 

SeriK My lord ? 

Cas. Go bid the priests do present sacrifice. 
And bring me their opinions of success. 

Serv. 1 will, my lord. [Exit. 

Enter Calphurnia. 

Cal. What mean yoa, Caesar? Think you to 
walk forth 1 
You shall not stir out of your house to-day, 

Cas, Cfcsar shall forth : The things that 
threatenM me, [see 

Ne'er luok'd but on my back ; when they shall 
The face of Caesar, they are vanished. 

Cal, Caesar, I never stood on ceremonies •, 
Yet now they fright me. I'here is one within, 
Besiiles the things that we have heard and seen, 
Kecounts most horrid sights seen by the watch. 
A lioness hath whelped in the streets ; [dead : 
And graves have yawn'd^ and yielded up their 
Fierce fiery warriors fight upon the clouds, 
In ranks, and squadrons, and right form of war, 
Which drizzled blood upon the Capitol: 
The noise of battle hurtled t in the air. 
Horses did neigh, and dying men did groan ; 
And ghosts did shriek, and squeal J about the 

streets, 
O Caesar ! these things are b^ond all use. 
And 1 iio fear them. 

CcES. What can be avoided, 

Whose end is purposed by the mighty gods? 
Yet Caesar shall go forth : for these predictions 
Are to the world in general, as to Caesar. 

Cat. When beggars <iie, there are no comets 

seen ; [of princes. 

The heavens themselves blaze forth the death 

Ccos. Cowards die many times before their 
deaths ; 
The valiant never taste of death but once. 
Of all the wonders that I yet have heard. 
It seems to me most strange that men should 
Seeing that death, a necessary end, [tear; 

Will come, when it will come. 

Re-eiiter a Servant. 

What say the augurers ? 

Serv. They would not have you to stir forth 
to-day. * 

Plucking the entrails of an offering forth, 
They could not find a heart within the beast. 

Cas. 1 he gods do this in shame of coward- 
Caesar should be a beast without a heart, [ice: 
If he should stay at home to-day for fear. 
No, Ceesar shall not : Danger knows full well 
That Caesar is more dangerous than he. 
We were two lions liiter'd in one day, 
And I the elder and more terrible ; 
And Caesar shall go forth. 

Cat, Alas, my lord. 

Your wisdom i* consumed in confidence. 
Do not go forth to-day : Call it my fear [own. 
That keeps you in the house, and not your 
Wf'll send Mark Antony (o the senate-house ; 
Aim! he shall say, you are not well to-day : 
l^et me, upon my knee, prevail in this. 

C(Es. M ark Antony shall say, 1 am not well ; 
And, for thy humour, I will stay at home. 



Enter Dei it s. 
Here's Decius Brutus, he shall tell them so. 

Dec. Caesar, all hail ! Good morrow, wor 
thy Csesar : 
I come to fetch you to the senate-house. 

C<£s. And you are come in very happy time 
To bear my greeting to the senators. 
And tell them, that I will not come to-day : 
Cannot, is false ; and that I dare not, falser ; 
I will not come to-day : Tell them so, Decius. 

Cal. Say, he is sick. 

C<ss. Shall Caesar send a lie % 

Have I in conquest stretch'd mine arm so far, 
To be afeard tolell grey-beards the truth 1 i 

Lecius, go tell them, Ciesar will not come. ^ 

Dec. Most mighty Caesar, let me know some | 
cause. 
Lest I be laugh'd at, when I tell them so. 

C<£S. The cause is in my will, 1 will not 
That is enough to satisfy the senate. [ci-niC ; 
But, for your private satisfaction. 
Because 1 love you, I will let you know. 
Calphurnia here, my wife, stays me at home : 
She dreamt to-night she saw my statua. 
Which, like a fountain, with a huudi ed spouts, 
Did run pure blood ; and many lusty Komais 
Came smiiing, and did bathe iheir hands in it. 
And these does she apply for warnings, por* 
And evils imminent; and on her knee [tents. 
Hath begg'd, that 1 will s^ay at home to-day. 

Dec, 'J his dream is ail amiss interpreted ; 
It was a vision, fair and fortunate : 
Yonr statue spouting blood in many pipes. 
In which so many smiling Romans baih'd. 
Signifies that from yon great Rome shall suck 
Revivinv' blood : and that great nun shall prei^s 
For tinctures, stains, relics ^, and cognizance ||. 
This by Calphurnia's dream is signified, [it. 

C&s, And this way have you well expounded 

Dec, I have, when you have heard what I 
can say : 
And know it now : The senate have concluded 
To give, this day, a crown to mighty Caesar. 
If you shall send them vvonl, you will not | 

come, [mock 

Their minds may change. Besides, it were a 
Apt to be rendered, for some one to say. 
Break up the senate till another time. 
When Casar's wife shall meet ivith better 

dreams. 
If Caesar hide himself, shall they not whisper, 
Z/O, Casur is ufyiid ? 

Pardon me, Caisar ; for my dear, dear love 
To your proceeding bids me tell you this ; 
And reason to my love ia liable H. 

C<Es. How foolish do your fears teem now, 
Calphurnia? 
I am ashamed i did yield to them. — 
Give me my robe, for 1 will go : — 
Enter Publiijs, Brutus, Ligarius, Me 

TEI.LUS, C \Si;a,TrEKOMUS, Si ClNNA. 

And look where Publins is come to fetch me. 

Pub. Good morrow, Caesar. 

Cc£S. Welcome, Publiu*. — 

What, Brutus, are you stirr'd so early too f- 



Never paid a regard to prodigies or omens. t Encountered. 

^ At to a laint, for reliques. || As to a prince for honours. 



J Cry with p.jin. 
• Suboidina 



Sc€ne ILl 



JULIUS cyi:sAR 



80 



Xrood-niorrow, Casca. — Cains Ligarius, 
Caesar was ne'er so much yonr enemy, 
As that same ague which hath made you lean. 
What is't o'clock T 
Bra. Caesar, 'tis stmcken eight. 

CcBS. I thank you for your pains and cour- 
tesy. 

Etifer Antony. 
See ! Antony, that revels long o*night«, 

Is notwithstanding up : • 

Good morrow, Antony. 
Ant. So to most noble Caesar. 

Cas, Bid them prepare within : — 
I am to blame to be thus waited for. fbouius ! 
Now, Cinna :— Now, Metellus : — What, Tre- 
I have anbonr's talk in store for you ; 
Remember that you call on me to-day : 
Be near me, that 1 may remember you. 

Treb. Caesar, I will : — and so near will I be, 

[Aside. 
That your best friends shall wish I had been 
further. [wine with me ; 

C(ES. Good friends, go in, and taste soin* 
And we, like friends, will straightway go to- 
gether. [Caesdr, 
Bru. That every like is not the same, O 
The heart of Brutus yearns * to think upon ! 

[i^eunt. 

SCENE III. The same, A Street near 
the Capitol. 
Enter Artemidorus, reading a Paper, 
Art. Caesar, betvare of Brutas ; take heed 
■of Cassius ; come not near Casca ; have an 
€ye to Cinna ; trust not Trebonins ; mark 
well Metellus Cimber ; Decius Brutus /ovc* 
thee not; thou hast wronged Caius Liga- 
rius. There is but one mind in ail these 
men, and it is bent against Caesar. If thou 
be*st not immortal, look about you : Secu- 
rity gives way to conspiracy. The mighty 
gods defend thee ! Thy lover t, Artemidorus. 
Here will I stand till Caesar pass along. 
And as a suitor will I give him this. 
My heart laments, that virtue cannot live 
Out of the teeth of emulation %. 
If thou read this, O Caesar, thou may'st live ; 
If not, the fates with traitors do contrive. 

[Exit, 

SCENE IV. The same. Another Part of 
the same street^ before the House of 
Brutus. 

Enter Portia rtwrf Lucius. 
Pot. I pr*ythee, boy, ran to the senate- 
house ; 
Btay not to answer me, but get thee gone : 
Why doit thou stay 1 



Luc. To know my errand, m^dam. 

Pur. I would have had thee there, and here 

again, [there. — 

Ere I can tell thee what thou shouldst do 

C) constancy, be strong upon ray side ! 

Set a huge mountain 'tween my heart and 

toBgne 1 
1 have a man's mind, but a woman's might. 
How hard.it is for women to keep counsel ! — 
Art thou here yet? 

Lvc. Madam, what should I do ? 

Run to tlie Capitol, and nothing else? 
And so return to you, and nothing else? 

Por. Yes, bring me word, boy, if thy lord 
look well. 
For he went sickly forth : And take good note 
What Caesar dotii, what suitors press to him. 
Hark, boy I what noise is that? 

y>MC. 1 hear none, madam. 

Par. Pr'ythee, listen well; 

1 heard a basiling rumour, like a fray. 
And the wind brings it from the Capitol, 

Euc, Sooth 5, madam, 1 hear nothing. 
Enter Soothsayer. 

Por. Come hither, fellow: 

Which way hast thou been ? 

Sooth. At mine own house, good lady. 

Por. What is't o'clock 1 

Sooth. About the ninth hour, lady* 

Por. Is Caesar yet gone to the Capitol ? 

Sooth. Madam, net yet ; I go to take my 
To see him pass on to the Capitol. [stand, 

Por. Thou hast some suit to Ccesar, hast 
thou not? [Caesar 

Sooth. That I have, lady: if it will please 
To be so good to Caesar, as to hear me, 
I shall beseech him to befriend himself. 

Por. Why, knowest thou any harm's in- 
tended towards him t 

Sooth. None that I know will be, much that 
I fear may chance. [row : 

Good-morrow to you. Here the street is nar- 
The throng thatfollow^s Caesar at the heels. 
Of senators, of praetors, common suitors, 
Will crowd a feeble man almost to death : 
I'll get me to a place more void, and there 
Speak to great Caesar as he coraes along. 

[Exit. 

Por, I must go in. — Ah me ! how weak a 
The heart of woman is! O Brutus! [thing 

The heavens speed thee in thine enterprise ! 
Sure, the boy heard me : — Brutus hath a suit. 
That Caesar will not grant. — O, I grow faint : 
Run, Lucius, and commend me to my lord ; 
Say, I am merry : come to me again. 
And bring me word what he doth say to tnee. 
^ [Exeunt 



• Grievei. 



f Friend. 



t Euvy. 



$ Really. 



f'©J 



81IAKSPEARL. 



[Aci 111 



ACT 

SCENE I. Tilt same. The Capitol ; the 
Senate sitting. 

A Crowd of People in the Street leading to 
the Capitol; among them Akiemido- 
Bus, and the Soothsayer. Flourish. Efi- 
fer C.«s\R, Brutits,Cassius,Casca,D£- 

ClUS, iMtTELLUS, TreBONIUS, CiNNA, 

Antony, Letidus, Pofilius, Publius, 
and Others. 

Co's. The id II of March are come. 
Sooth. Ay, CtBsar ; but not gooe. 
Art. Hail, Caesar! Read thii »ched ale. 
Dec. Trebonius doth desire you to o'er-read, 
At your best leisure, this his humble suit. 
Art. O, Caesar, read mine first for mine's 
a suit [Caesar. 

That touches Caesar nearer: Read it, great 
Cas. What toucheth us ourself shall be last 

served. 
Art. Delay not, Caesar; read it instantly. 
CiES. What, is the fellow mad ? 
Pub. Sirrah, give place. 

Cas. What, urge yoa your petitions in the 
Come to the Capitol. [street ? 

C^SAR enters the Capitol, the rest joUow- 
ing. All the Senators rise. 
Pop. I wish your enterprise to-day may 
Cas, What enterprise, Popilius ? [thrive. 
Pop. Fare you well. 

[Advayices to C^bsar. 
Bru, What said Popilius Lena ? 
Cas. He wish'd to-day our enterprise might 
I fear, our purpose is discovered. [thrive. 

Br^j. Look, how he makes to Caesar : Mark 

him. 
Cas. Casca, be sadden, for we fear preven- 
tion. — 
"Brntus, what shall be done? If this be known. 
Cassias or Caesar never shall turn back. 
For I will slay myself. 

Bru. Cassias, be constant : 

Popilius Lena speaks not of our purposes ; 
For, look, he smiles, and Caesar doth not 
change. [yow, Brntus, 

Cas. Trtbonius knows his time; for, look 
He draws mark Antony out of the way. 
[Kieunt Antony and Trebonius. C^ssar 
afid the Senators take their Seats. 
Dec, Where is Metellas Cimbert Let him 
And presently prefer his suit to Caesar. [go, 
Bru. He is address'd ♦ : press near, and se- 
cond him. [hand. 
Cm. Casca, yo^fcre the first that rears your 
Ca-s. Are we all ready ? what is now amiss. 
That Caesar, and hia senate must redress ? 
Met. Most high, most mijihty, and most 
puissant Caesar, 
Metellus Cimber throws before thy seat 
An humble heart :— [Kncelijrg. 
V(ES. I must prevent thee, Cimber. 
Th-se coachings, and these lowly courtesies, 



III. 

Might, fire the blood of ordinary men; 
An 1 turn pre-ordinance, and first decree. 
Into the law of children. Be not fond, 
lo think that Caesar bears such rebel blood. 
That will be tbaw'd from the true quality 
With that which melteih tools ; 1 mean, sweet 
words, fing. 

Low-crook'd curt'^ie», and base spaniel fawn- 
ITiy brother by decree is banished ; 
If thou dost bend, and pray, and fawn for him, 
I spurn thee like a cur out of my way. 
Know, Caesar (ioth not wrong ; nor without 
Will he be satisfied. [cause 

Met. Is there no voice more worthy than 
my own, 
To sound more sweetly in great Caesar's ear. 
For the repealing of my banish'd brother? 

Bru. I kiss thy hand, but not m flattery. 
Desiring thee, that Pubiius Cimber may [Caesar; 
Have an immediate freedom of repeal. 

C^s. What, Brutus ! 

Cas. Pardon, Caesar ; Caesai, pardon: 

As low as to thy foot doih Cassius fall, 
To beg enfranchisement for Punlius Cimber. 

Cees, 1 could be well moved, if 1 were, as 
you ; [me: 

If I could pray to move, prayers would move 
Bnt I am constant as the northern star, 
Of whose true-tix*d and resting quality 
There is no fellow in the firmament, [sparks. 
The skies are painted with nnnumber'd 
They are all fire, and every one doth shine; 
But there's but one in all doth hold his place : 
So, in the world ; 'Tis furnis/d well with 
men, [sivet; 

And men are flesh and blood, and apprehen- 
Yet, in the number, I do know but one 
That unassailable holds on his rankj, 
Unshaked of motion §: and, tluat 1 am he. 
Let me a little show it, even in this ; 
That I was constant.Ciraber should be banish'd. 
And constant do remain to keep him so. 

Cifi. O Caesar, 

CcES, Hence ! Wilt thou lift op Olympus? 

Dec. Gre.it Caesar, 

Ccrs. Doth not Brutus bootless ij kneel ? 

Casca. Speak, hands, for me. 

[Casca stabs Caesar in the Neck. CiSSAR 

catches hold of his Arm. He is then 

stabbed by setrral other Conspirators, 

and at last by Marcus Brutus. 

("acs. ii7 /?/, i^rM^f' If .^—1 hen fall, Caesar. 
{Dies. The Senators and Ptopie re- 
tire in con/us ian. 

Cin. Liberty ! Freedom ! Tyranny is dead ! — 
Run hence, proclaim, cry it atiout the streets. 

Cas. Some to the common pulpits, and cry 
out 
Liberty, freedom, and enfranchisement ! 

Bru. People, and senators ! be notaffiiiihted; 
Fly not ; stand still I— ambition's debt is paid. 

Casca, Go to the pulpit, Brutus. 



• Rfcidy. 



t Intelligent. ♦ Continues to hold it. $ Solicitation. 

g Uu)iucct;8sfully. \ And thou, Brutus ? 



Scene /.] 



JULIUS C^SAR. 



7$i 



Dec. And Cassiii* too. 

Bru. Where's Publius t 

Cm, Here, quite confounded with this mu- 
tiny. • [Caesar's 

Met, Stand fast together, lest some friend of 
Should chance [cbeer ; 

Bru. Talk not of standing; — Poblius, good 
There is no harm inr,ended t<> your person, 
Nor to no Roman else : so tell them, Vublius. 

Cas. And leave us, Publius ; lest that the 

people, [chief. 

Rushing on us, should do your age some mis 

Bru, Do so;— and let no man abide this 
But we the doers. [deed, 

Re enter Trebonics. 

Cas. Where's Antony ■? 

Tre. Fled to his bouse amazed : 

Men, wives, and children, stare, cry out, and 
As it were doomsday. [run, 

Bru, Fates ! we will know your pleasures : 
That we shall die, we know ; *tis but the time, 
And drawing days out, that men strind upon. 

Cas. Why, he that cuts off twenty years of 
life. 
Cut's oft so many years of fearing death. 

B7'u. Grant that, and then is death a benefit : 
60 are we Caesar's friends, that have abridged 
His time of fearing death. — Stoop, Romans, 

stoop, 
And let us bathe our handi in Csesar's blood 
Up to the elbows, and besmear our swords: 
Then walk we forth, even to the market-place ; 
And, waving our red weapons o'er our heads. 
Let's all cry. Peace I Freedom! and Liberty ! 

Cus. Stoop then, and wash *. How many 
ages hence, 
Bhall this our lofty scene be acted over, 
Zn states unborn, and accents yet unknown 1 

Bru. How many times shall Caesar bleed in 
That now on Pompey's basis lies along, [sport, 
No w orthier than the dust ? 

Cas. So oft as that shall be. 

So often shall the knot of us be call'd 
The men that gave our country liberty. 

Dec. What, shall we forth ? 

Cas. Ay, every man away : 

Brutus shall lead ; and we will grace his heels 
With the most bohiest and best hearts of Rome. 
Enter a Servant. 

Bru. Soft, who comes here 1 A friend of 
Antony's. [kneel ; 

Serv. Thus, Brutus, did my master bid me 
Thus did Mark Antony bid me fall down : 
And, being prostrate, thus he bade me say. 
( Brntiis is noble, wise, valiant, and honest ; 
Caesar was mighty, bold, royal, and loving ; 
Say, I love Brutus, and I honour him ; 
Say, I fear'd Caesnr, hcnour'd him, and loved 
If Brutus will vouchsafe, that Antony [him. 
May safely come to him, and be resolved 
How Caisar hath deserved to lie in death, 
Mark Antony shall not love Caesar dead 
So well as Brutus living ; but will follow 
Ihe fortunes and affairs of noble Rrutus, 
Thorough the hazards of this untrod state. 
With all true faith. So says my master Antony. 



Brti. Thy master is a wise and valiant Ro- 
I never thought him worse. [man ; 

Tell him, so please him come unto this pi. tee. 
He shall be sati.«fied ; and, by my honour. 
Depart unlouch'd. 

Serv. V\\ fetch him presently. 

[Exit Servant. 

Bru. I know, that we shall have him well 
to friend. 

Cas. I wish, we may: but yet have I a mind 
That fears him much ; and my misgiving still 
Falls shrewdly to the purpose. 

Re-enter Antony. 

Bru. But here comes Antony. — Welcome, 
Mark Antony. 

A nt. O mighty Caesar ! Dost thou lie so low t 
Are all thy conquests, glories, triumphs, spoils. 
Shrunk to this little measure ?— tare thee well. 
I know not, gentlemen, what you intend. 
Who else must be let blood, who else is rankf : 
If 1 myself, there is no hour so fit 
As Cassar's death-hour ; nor no instrument 
Of half that woi th, as those your swords, made 

rich 
With the most noble blood of all this worldf. 
I do beseech ye, if you bear me hard, [smoke, 
Nows whilst your purpled hands do reek and 
Fulfil your pleasure. Live a thousand years, 
I shall not find myself so apt to die : 
No place will please me so, no mean of death. 
As here by Caesar, and by you cut off. 
The choice and master spirits of this age. 

Bru. O Antony ! beg not your deatli of us. 
Though now we must appear bloody and cruel. 
As, by our hands, and this our present act. 
You see we do ; yet see you but oui- hands, 
And this the bleeding bitsiiiessthey have done; 
Our hearts you see not, they are pitiful ; 
And pity to the general wrong of Rome 
(As fire drives out fire, »o pity, pity,) 
Halh done this deed on Caesar. For your part, 
To you our swords have leaden points, Mark 

Antony : 
Our arms, in strength of malice, and our hearts, 
Of brothers' temper, do receive you in [ence. 
With all kind love, good thoughts, and rever- 

Cas^ Your voice shall be as strong as any 
In the disposing of new dignities. ^ [man's, 

Bru, Only be patient, till we have appeased 
The multitude, beside themselves with fear. 
And then we will deliver you the cause 
Why I, that did love Caes ir when 1 struck him, 
Have thus proceeded. 

Ant. I doubt not of yo"»r wisdom. 

Let each man render me his bloody hand : 
First, Marcus Bruius, will I shake vitii you: 
Next, Caius Cassius, do I take yoor hand ; — 
Now, Decius Brutus, yours ; — now yours, Me- 

tetlis; 
Yours, Cinna ; and, my valiant C*^ca, yours » 
Though last, not least in love, your ".good Tre- 

bonius. 
Gentlemen all,— alas f what shall say? 
My credit now stands on such slip ry ground 
That one of two bad ways you mm onceit m« 
Either a coward or a flatterer. — 



• In Caesar's blood. 



t Grown too high for the pablic safety 



792 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Aci 111 



That I did love thee, Caesar, O, tis trae : 
If then thy spirit look upon us now. 
Shall it not grieve thee, dearer than thy death, 
To see thy Antony making his peace. 
Shaking ihe bloody fingers of thy foes. 
Most noble ! in the presence of thy corse? 
Had I as many eyes as tliou hast wounds. 
Weeping as fast as they stream forth thy 

blood. 
It would become me better, than to close 
In terms of friendship with thine enemies. 
Pardon me, Julius!— Here wast thou bay'd, 

brave hart ; [stand. 

Here didst thou fall; and here thy hunters 
Sign'd in thy spoil, and crimson'd in thy lethe. 

world ! thou wast the forest to this hart ; 
And this, indeed, O world, the heart of thee. 
How like a deer, stricken by many princes, 
JJost thou here lie 1 

Cas. Mark Antony, 

Ant. Pardon me, Caius Cassias : 

The enemies of Caesar shall say this ; 
Then, in a friend, it is cold modesty. 

Cas, 1 blame you not for praising Caesar so 
But what compact mean you to have with us l 
Will you be prick'd in number of our friends ; 
Or shall we on, and not depend on you \ . 

Ant. Therefore 1 took your hands ; but was, 
indeed, [Caesar. 

Sway'd from the point by looking down on 
Friends am I with you all, and love you all ; 
Upon this hope, that you shall give me reasons, 
Why, and wherein, Cfesar was dangerous. 

Bru. Or else were this a savage spectacle : 
Our reasons are so full of good regard, 

1 hat were you, Antony, the son of Caesar, 
You should be satisfied. 

Ant, That's all I seek : 

And am moreover suitor, that 1 may 
Produce his body to the market-place ; 
And in the pulpit, as becomes a friend. 
Speak in the order of his funeral. 
Bra. You shall, Mark Antony. 
Cas. Brutus, a word with you. — 

You know not what you do ; Do not ccmsent, 

[^Aside. 
That Antony speak in his funeral : 
Know you how much the people may be moved 
By that which he will utter? 

Bra, By your pardon ; — 

I will myself into the pulpit first. 
And show the reason of our Caesar's death : 
What Antony shall speak, I will protest 
He speaks by leave and by permission; 
And that we are contented, Caesar shall 
Have ;ill true rites, and lawful ceremonies. 
It shall advantage more than do us wrong. 
Cas. I know not what may fall ; I like it not. 
Bru. Mark Antony, here, take you Caisar's 
body. 
Ton shall not in your funeral speech blame us. 
But speak all good you can devise of Caesar ; 
And say, you do't by our permission; 
Else shall you not have any hand at all 
About his funeral : And you shall speak 



In the same pulpit whereto I am going. 
After my speech is ended. 

Ant. Be it so ; 

I do desire no more. i 

Bru, Prepare the body then, and follow ns. 
{Exeunt all but Antony. 
Ant. O, pardon me, thou piece of bleeding 
earth, 
That I am meek and gentle with these butchers! 
Thou art the ruins of the noblest man 
That ever lived in the tide • of times. 
Woe to the hand that shed this costly blood ! 
Over thy wounds now do I prophesy, — [lips. 
Which, like dumb mouths, do ope their ruby 
To beg the voice and utterance of my tongue; 
A curse shall light upon the limbs of men ; 
Domestic fury, and fierce civil strife. 
Shall cumber all the parts of Italy : 
Blood and destruction shall be so in use. 
And dreadful objects so familiar, 
That mothers shall but smile, when they behold 
Their infants quarter'd with the hands of war ; 
All pity choked with custom of fell deeds : 
And Caesar's spirit, ranging for revenge, 
With Ate by his side, come hot from hell. 
Shall in these confines, with a monarch's voice. 
Cry Havoc^j and let slip j the dogs of war; 
That this foul deed shall smell above the earth 
With carrion men, groaning for burial. 

Enter a Servant. 
You serve Octavius Caesar, do you not? 
Seru, I do, Mark Antony. 
Ant, Caesar did write for him to come to 
Rome. [ing: 

Serv. He did receive his letters, and is coin- 
And bid me say to you by word of mouth, — 

O ('aesarl [Seeing the Body. 

Ant. Thy heart is big, get thee apart and 
weep. 
Passion, I see, is catching ; for mine eyes, 
Seeing those beads of sorrow t^tand in thine. 
Began to water. Is thy master coming? 
Serv, He lies to-night within seven leagues 
of Rome. [hath chanced : 

Ant. Post back with speed, and tell him u hat 
Here is a mourning Rome, a dangerous Rome, 
No Rome of safety for Octavius yet ; 
Hie hence, and tell him so. Yet, ?tay a white ; 
Thou Shalt not back, till I have borne this corse 
Into the market-place : there shall I try, 
In my oration, how the people take 
The cruel issue of these bloody men ; 
According to the which, thou shalt discourse 
lo young Octavius of the state of things. 
Lend mc your hand. * 

[Exeunt, with Cesar's Body. 

SCENE II. The same. The Forum, 
Enter Brutus and C\ssius, and a Throfig 
of Citizens. 
at. We will be satisfied ; let us be satisfied^ 
Bru. Then follow me, and give me audience 
friends, — 
Cassins, go you into the other street, 
And part the numbers. — 



• Cou-.se. t The signal for civing no quarter. 

X To let slip a dv)g at a deer, &c., wa.i ihe icchnical phrase of Shak?peare'B time. 



Sctne //.I 



JULIUS CiESAR. 



793 



'Ihose ihat will hear me speak, let them stay 

here ; 
Those that will follow Cassius, go with him ; 
And public reasons shall be rendered 
Of Caesar's death. 

1 CU. I will hear Brutus speak. 

2 Cit. I will hear Cassius ; and compare their 

reasons. 
When severally we hear them rendered, 
[Exit Cassius, uith some of the Citizens. 
Bkutus goes into the Rostrum. 

3 Ctt. The noble Brutus is ascended : Si- 
Uru. Be patient till the ':2t. [lence! 

Romans, countrymen, ana lovers*! hear me 
for my cause ; and be silent that you may 
hear : believe me for mine honour ; and have 
respect to mine honour, that you may believe ; 
censure me in your wisdom; and awake your 
senses that you may the better judge. If there 
be any in this assembly, any dear friend of 
Cassar'B, to hJm I say, that Brutns' love to 
Cajsar was no less than his. If then that friend 
demand, why Brutus rose against Ceesar, this 
is my answer, — Not that I loveil Caesar less, 
but that 1 loved Rome more. Had you rather 
Cajsar were living, and die all slaves,— than 
that Caesar were dead, to live all free men 1 
As Caesar loved me, 1 weep for him ; as he 
was fortunate, I rejoice at it ; as be was va- 
liant, I honour him : but, as he was ambitious, 
1 slew him : There is tears for his love ; joy for 
his fortune ; honour for his valour ; and death 
for his ambition. Who is here so base, that would 
be a bondman I If any, speak ; for him have 
1 ottended. W ho is here so rude, that would 
not be a Roman? If any, speak; for him 
have I oflfended. Who is here so vile, that will 
not love his country? If any, speak ; for him 
have I offended. I pause for a reply. 

Cit. None, Brutus, none. 

[Several speaking at once. 

Bru. Then none have I offended. I have 
done no more to Caesar, than you should do 
to Brutus. The question ot his death is en- 
rolled in the Capitol : his glory not exte- 
nuated, wherein he was worthy; nor his of 
fences enforced, for which he suffered death. 
Enter Antony and Others, with 
Cesar's Body. 
Here comes his body, mourned by Mark An- 
tony : who, though h« had no hand in his 
death, shall receive the benefit of his dying, a 
place in the commonwealth; as which of you 
iihall not? With this I depart ; That, as I slew 
my best lover + for the good of Rome, I have 
the same dagger for myself, when it shall 
please my country to need my death. 

Cit. Live, Brutus, live ! live ! 

1 at. Bring him with triumph home unto 

his house. 

2 Cit, (iive him a statue with his ancestors. 

3 Cit. Let him be Ceesar. 

4 Cit. Caesar's better parts 
Shali now be crown'd in Brutus. 

1 Cit. We'll i>ri»g him to his house with shouts 
Bru, My countrymen, [and clamours. 

• Frieada. 



^Cit, Peace; silence I Brutus speak*. 

I Cit. Peace, ho ! 

Bru. Good countrymen, let me depart alone. 
And, for my aake, stay here with Antony : 
Do grace to Caesar's corpse, and grace his 
. speech [tony. 

Tending to Caesar's glories ; which Mark An- 
By our permission is allowed to make. 
I do entreat you, not a man depart, 
Save I alone, till Antony have spoke. {Exit, 

1 Cit. Stay, hoi and let us hear Mark 
Antony. 

3 Cit, Let him go up into the public chaii , 
We'll hear him:— Noble Antony, go up. 

Ant. For Brutus' sake, I am beholden to you. 

4 Cit, What does he say of Brutus ? 

3 Cit, He says, for Brutus' sake. 
He finds himself beholden to us all. 

4 Cit. 'Twere best he speak no harm of 

Brutus here. 

1 Cit. This Caesar was a tyrant. 

3 Cit. Nay, that's certain ; 

We are bless'd that Rome is rid of him, 

2 Cit, Peace ; let us hear what Antony can 

Ant. You gentle Romans, [say. 

Cit, Peace, ho ! let us hear him. 

Ant. Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend 

me your ears ; 
I come to bury Caesar, not to praise him. 
The evil that men do lives after them ; 
The good is oft interred with their bones ; 
So let it be with Caesar. The noble Brutufe 
Hath told you Caesar was ambitious : 
If it were so, it was a grievous fault ; 
And grievously hath Caesar answer'd it. 
Here, under leave of Brutus and the rest, 
(For Brutus is an honourable man ; 
So are they all, all honourable men ;) 
Come I to speak in Caesar's funeral. 
He was my friend, faithful and just to me : 
But Brutus says he was ambitious ; 
And Brutus is an honourable man. 
He hath brought many captives home to Rome 
Whose ransoms did the general ©offers fill: 
Did this in Caesar seem ambitious? [wept 
When that the poor have cried, Caesar hath 
Ambition should be made of sterner stuff: 
Yet Brutus says he wms ambitious ; 
And Brutus is an honourable man. 
You all did see, that on the Lupercal, 
I thrice presented him a kingly crown, 
Which he did thrice refuse. Was this ambi^ 
Yet Brutus says, he was ambitious ; [tioiil 
And, sure, he is an honourable man. 
I speak not to disprove what Brutus spoke. 
But here I am to epeak what I do know. 
You all did love him once, not without cause; 
What cause withholds you then to mourn for 

him? 
O judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts, 
And men have lost their reason ! Bear with me; 
My heart is in the coffin there with Ciesar, 
And I must pause till it come back to me. 

1 Ctt. Methinks, there is much reason la 

his sayings. 

2 Cit. If thou consider rightly of the matter, 



t Friend. 



3 Y 



794 



SHAKS^PEARE. 



[Act III 



Caesar has had great "vrrong. 

d(.'it. Has he, masters ? 

1 fear there will a worse come iirhis place. 

4 at. MarkM ye his worJs? He would not 
take the crown j 
Therefore, 'tis certain, he was not ambitioHS. 

1 at. If it be found so, some will dear 

abide it. [with weepinyj. 

iCit. Poorsonl! his eyes are red as "fire 

3 at. There's not a nobler man in Rome 

than Antony. [speak. 

4 at. Now mark him, he begins again to 
Ant. But yesterday, the word 'of Caesar 

might [there. 

Have stood against the world: now lies he 
And none so poor* to do him reverence. 

masters.! if 1 were disposed to stir 
Your hearts and minds to mutiny and rage, 

1 should do Brutus wrong, and Cassias wrong. 
Who, you all know, are honourable men. 

I will not do them wrong ; I rather choose 
To MTong the dead, to wrong myself, and yon. 
Than 1 will wrong such honourable men. 
But here's a parchment., with the seal of Caesar, 
I found it in his closet, *tis his will : 
Let but the commons hear this testament, 
(Which, pardon r:?, 1 do not mean to read,) 
And they would go and kiss dead Caesar's 

wounds, 
And dip their napkins t in his sacred blood; 
Yea, beg a hair (;r him for memory. 
And, (lying, mention it v^ithin their wills. 
Bequeathing it, as a rich legacy. 
Unto their issue. 

4 at. We'll hear the will : Read it, Mark 
Antony. [will, 

at T-he will, the vfill; we wilf hear Caesar's 

Ant. Have patience, gentle friends, I must 
not read it ; 
It is not meet yon know how (Caesar loved yon. 
You are not wood, yon are not stones, bat men ; 
And, being men, hearing t'le will of Caesar, 
It will inrlame you, it will make you mad : 
'^Fis good yoir kno^v not that you are his heirs ; 
Fdr if you should, O, what would come of it! 

4 at. Read the will : we will he^r it, Antony; 
You shall read us the will ; Caesar's will. 

Ant, Will you be patient? Will you stay 
a while? 
I have o'ershot myself to tell yon of it. 
I fear, I wrong the honourable men, [it. 

Whose daggers have stabb'd Caesar: I do fear 

4C^^.They were traitors: Honourable men! 

(yit. The will ! the testament I 

2 at. They were villains, murderers: The 

will ! read the wilt! [will? 

Ant. You will compel me then to read the 
Th«-n make a ring about the corpse of Caesar, 
And let me show you him that made the will 
Shall 1 descend ? And will you give me leave . 

(yu. Come (lor/n, 

2 at. Descend. 

[He comes dotrn from the Pulpit. 

3 at. You Dhall have leave. 



4 at. A ring ; stand niund. 

1 at. Stand from me hearse, stana irom 
the body. ftonv. 

2 at. Room for Antony ; — most nobie An- 
A7it. Nay, press not so upon me; stand 

far olf. 
at, {Stand back ! room I bear back I 
Ajit, If you have tears, prepare to shed ^ 

them now. 
You all do know this mantle: I remember 
The first time ever Caesar put it on ; 
*Twas on a summer's evening, in his tent ; 
That day he overcame the iServii : — 
Look ! in this place ran Cassius' dagger 

through : 
See ! what a rent the envious Casca made : 
Through this the well beloved Brutus stabb'd; 
And, as he pluck'd his cursed steel away, 
Mark how the blood of Ciesar follow'd it ; 
As rushing oat of doors, to be resolved 
If Brutus so unkindly knock'd or no; 
For Brutus), as you know, was Caesar's angel : 
Judge, O you gods, how dearly Caesar loved 

him! 
This was the most unkindesit cut of all : 
For when the noble Caesar saw him stab. 
Ingratitude, more strong than traitors* arms. 
Quite vanqnish'd him : then burst his mighty 

heart ; 
And, in his mantle muffling up his face. 
Even at the base of l^ompey's statua j, [fell. 
Which all the while ran blood, great Ciesar 
O, what a fall was there, my countrymen ! 
Then I, and you, and all of us, fell down, 
Whilst bloody treason fiourish*il over us ^. 
O, now yon weep ; and, I perceive, you feel 
The dintjl of pity : these are gracious drops. 
Kind souls, what weep you, when you hot 

behold 
Our Caesar's vesture wounded? Look you 

here, [tors. 

Here is himself, marr'd, as yon see, with trai- 

1 at. Q piteous spectacle I 

2 at. O noble Caesar I 

3 at. O woful day 1 

4 Cit. O traitors, villains! 

1 (Ht. O most bloody sight! 

2 at. We will be revenged : revenge; about, 
— seek, — burn,— (ire, — kill, — slay! — let not a 
traitor live. 

A7tt. Stay, countrymen. 

1 at. Peace there : — Hear the noble Antony. 

2 at. We'll hear him, we'll follow him, 
we'll die with him. 

Ant, Good friends, sweet friends, let me not 
stir you up. 

To such a sudden flood of mutiny. 

They, that have done this deed, ai e honourable ; 

What private griefs H they have, alas, I know 
not. 

That made them do it; they are wise and ho- 
nourable 

And will, no doubt, with reasons answer you. 

I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts; 



• The meanest man is now too high to do reverence to Caesar. + Handkerchiefs. 

I btaliu., for iiatue, is commoa among the old writers. § Was successful. I Impression, 

S Grievances. 



Scene J J.] 



JULIUS C^SAR. 



79.5 



1 am no orator as Brutus is: 
But,as you know me all,a plain blunt man, [well 
That love my friend ; and that they know full 
That gave me public leave to speak of him. 
Fur 1 have neither wit, nor words, nor worth. 
Action, nor utterance, nor the power of speech. 
To stir men's blood : I only speak right on ; 
I tell you that, which you yourselves do know ; 
Show you sweet Caesar's wounds, poor, poor 
dumb mouths, [tu«. 

And bid them speak for me : But were I Bru- 
And Brutus Antony, there were an Antony 
Would ruffle up your spirits, and put a tongue 
In every wound of Caesar, that should move 
The stones ot Rome to rise and mutiny. 
at. We'll mutiny. 

1 Cit. We'll burn the house of Brutus. 

a (it. Away then, come, seek the conspi- 
rators, [me speak. 
Ant. Yet hear me, countrymen; yet hear 
Cit. Peace, ho! Hear Antony, most noble 
Antony. [not what : 
Ant. Why, friends, yon go to do you know 
Wherein hath Caesar thus deserved your loves? 
Alas, you know not :—! must tell you then :— 
You have forgot the will I told you of. 

Cit. Most true;— the will;— let's stay, and 

hear the will. [seal, 

A7it. Here is the will, and under Caesar's 

To every Roman citizen he gives. 

To every several man, seventy-five drachmas *. 

2 Cit. Most noble Caesar! — we'll revenge 
S-Cif. O royal Caesar! [his death. 
Aut. Hear me with patience. 

Cit. Peace, ho! [walks. 

Ant. Moreover, he hath left you all his 
His private arbours, and new-planted orchards, 
On this side Tiber ; he hath left them you. 
And to your heirs for ever ; common pleasures. 
To walk abroad, and recreate yourselves. 
Here was a Caesar : When comes such another? 

1 Cit. Never, never: — Come, away, away: 
We'll burn his body in the holy place, 

And with the brands fire the traitors' houses. 
Take up the body. 

2 Cit. Go, fetch fire. 

3 Cit, Pluck down benches. [thing. 
4Cit, Pluck down forms, windows, any 

[Exeunt Citizens, uitli the Body. 

Ant. Now let it work : Mischief, thou art 

afoot, [fellow? 

lake thou what course thou wilt!— How now, 

Enter- a Servant. 

Sorv, Sir, Octaviua is already come to Rome. 



Ant. Where is he? 

Serv. He and Lepidus are at Cesar's houie 
Ant. And thither will I straight to visit him : 
He comes upon a wish. Fortune is merry. 
And in this mood will give us any thing. 

Serv. 1 beard him say, Brutus and Cassiua 
Are rid like madmen through the gates of 
Rome. [people. 

Ant. Belike they had some notice of the 
How I had moved them. Bring me to Octa- 
„ vius. [Exeunt, 

SCENE III. The same. A street. 
Enter Cinna, the Poet. 
Cin. I dreamt to-night, that I did feast with 
Caesar, 
And things unluckily charge my fantasy : 
1 have no will to wander forth of doors. 
Yet something leads me forth. 
Enter Citizens. 

1 Cit. W^bat is your name ? 

2 Cit. W^hither are you going , 

3 Cit. Where do you dwell? flort 

4 Cit. Are you a married man, or a bache* 

2 Cit. Answer every man directly. 

1 Cit, Ay, and briefly. 
4 Cit. Ay, and wisely. 

3 Cit. Ay, and truly, you were best 

Cin. What is my name? Whither am I go- 
ing? Where do I dwell? Am I a married man, 
or a bachelor? Then to answer every man di- 
rectly, and briefly, wisely, and truly. Wisely 
I say, I am a bachelor. 

2 Cit. That's as much as to say, they are fools 
who marry :— You'll bear me a bang for that, 
I fear. Proceed ; directly. 

Cin. Directly, I am going to Caesar's funeral. 

1 Cit. As a friend or an enemy ? 
Cin, As a friend. 

2 Cit, That matter is answered directly. 

4 Cit. For your dwelling, — briefly. 
Cin. Briefly, I dwell by the Capitol. 

3 Cit, Your name, sir, truly. 
Cin. Truly, my name is Cinna. 

^Cit, Tear him to pieces, he's a conspirator 

Cin, I am Cinna the poet, I am Cinna the 
poet. 

^Ctt. lear him for his bad verses, tear hisn 
for hie bad verses. 

iCit. It isno matter, his name's Cinna ; plnck 
but his name out of his heart,and turn him goin u. 

3 Cit. Tear him, tear him. Come, branil>. 
ho! fire-brands. To Brutus', to Cassius' ; bura 
all. Some to Decius' house, and some to Ci<6 
ca's ; some to Ligarius' : away ; go. [Exeutil, 



SCENE I. The same. A Room in Antony's 

House, 
Antony, Octavius, and Lepidus, seated 
at a Table. 
Ant, These many then sliall die ; their naines 

/w'*vP''v^''^-K [3^ou, Lepidus/ 

Uct, Yonr brother, too, must die; Consent 
M^jK i do consent. 



ACT IV. 



^^''» Prick f him down, Antony 

Lep, Upon condition Publins shall not live» 

Who is your sister's son, Mark Antonv. 
Ant, He shall not live; look, with a spot 1 
dauin J him. 

Hut, Lepidus, go yon to Caesar's house; 

Fetch the will hither, and we will cU-icrmin 

How to cut oil some charge id Ifi/d -ies. 



• Oreek coin. 



t Set )t)ark. 



CoMdenm. 



TOd 



SllAKSPEAKE. 



\Act jr 



Lep. W hat, shall I find you ktre? 

Oct. Or here, or at 

The Capitol. [Ea:U Ltriuus. 

Ant. This is a slight iinnicritable man. 
Meet to be .*ent on errands : Is it fit, 
The three-fold world divided, he Should stand 
One of the three to chare it? 

Oct. So you tb :>'jght .him ; I 

And took his voice who should be prick'd to 
In our black sentence and proscription, [die, 

A?it, Octavius, I have seen more days than 
you ; 
And tboH^h we lay these hon^jua-^n this man. 
To ease ourselves of divers slanderous loads, 
He shall but bear them as the ass bears gold: 
To s^ oan and sweat under the business, 
Eitiier led or driven as we point the way; 
And having brought our treasure where we will, 
Then take we down his load, and turn him off, 
i,ike to the empty ass, to shake his ears. 
And graze in commons. 

Oct, You may do yoor will ; 

But he's a tried and valiant soldier. 

Ant, So is my horse, Octavius ; and, for that, 
I do appoint him store of provender. 
It is a creature that I teach to fight, 
To wind, to stop, to run directly on; 
His corporal motion govern'd by my spirit. 
And, in tome taste, is Lepidus bat so ; [forth : 
He must he taught, and irainVl, and bid go 
A barren-spirited fellow; one that feeds 
On objects, arts, and imitations; 
^ hich, out of use, and staled by other men, 
Begin his fashion : Do not talk of him, 
But as a property*. And now, Octavius, 
Listen great things. — Brutus and Cassins 
Are levying powers: we must straight make 
Therefoie, let onr alliance b<i combined, [head ; 
Our best friends made, and our best means 

stretch'd out ; 
And let ns presently go sit in council, 
How covert n atters may be best disclosed, 
And open perils sniest answered. 

Oct. Let us do so: for we are at the stake, 
And bay'dt about with many enemies ; [fear. 
And some, that smile, have in their hearts, I 
Millions of mischief. [Kieuiit, 

SCENE n. Before Brutus* Te7it, in the 
Camp near Sardis. 

Drum. Enter Brvtvs, Lucilius, Lucius, 
a7id Soldiers: Titimus and Pindarus 
meeting them, 

Bru. Stand here. 

Luc. Give the word, ho! and stand. 

Bru. What now, Lucilius? is Cassius neart 

Luc. He is at hand ; and Pindarus is come 
To do you salutation from his master. 

\^\s\i\vi\}s gives a Letter to Brutus 

Bru. He greets me well. — Your master, Pin- 
In his own change, or by ill oflicers, darus. 
Hath given rne some worthy cause to wish 
Things dune, undone : but, if he be at hand, 
1 »hall be satisfied. 

Pin. I do not doubt. 



But th;il my noble mrister will appear 
Such as he is, full of regard, and honour. 

Urn. He is not doubted. — A word, Lucilii]»; 
How he received you, let me be resolved. 

Luc. With courtesy, and with respect 
enough ; 
But not with such familiar instances. 
Nor with such free and friendly conference. 
As he hath used of old. 

Bru. Thou hast described 

A hot friend cooling: Ever note, Lucilius, 
When love begins to sicken and decay, 
It useth an enforced ceremony. 
There are no tricks in plain and simple faith; 
But hollow men, like horses hot at hand. 
Make gallant show and promise of their mettle: 
But when they should endure the bloody spur. 
They fall their crests, and, like deceitful jades. 
Sink in the trial. Comes hi« army on ? 

Luc. I'hey mean i\\u ni^ht in Sardis to be 
quarter'd ; 
The greater part, the horse in general, 
Are come with Cassius. [March tvithin* 

Bru, Hark, he is arrived :— 

March gently on to meet him. 

E'ter Cassius and Soldiers. 

Cas. Stand, ho! 

Bru. Stand, ho ! Speak the word along. 

Within. Stand. 

M ithin. Stand. 

Within. Stand. 

Cas. Most noble brother, you have done m« 
wrong. [enemies! 

Bru. Judge mc, you gods! Wrong 1 mine 
And, if not so, how should I wrong a brother 1 

Cas, Brutus, this sober form of yours hides 
And when ycu do thein [wrongs ; 

Bru. Cassius, be content. 

Speak your griefs J softly, — 1 do know yo» 

well :— 
Before the eyes of both our armies here, [us. 
Which should perceive nothing but love from 
Let ns not wrangle : Bid them move away ; 
Then in my tent, Cassius. enlarge your griefs. 
And 1 will give you audience. 

Cas. Pindarus, 

Bid our commanders lead their charges off 
A little from this ground. 

Bru^ Lucilius, do the like; and let no man 
Come to our tent, till we have done our con- 
ference. 
Let Lucius and Titinius guard our door. 

{Kreunt, 

SCENE III. Wit?iin the Tent oj Brutus. 

Licius a7id Titinius at some diitance 

from it. 

Enter Brutus and Cassius. 

Cas, That you have wrong'd me, doth ap- 
pear in this : 
I You have condemn'd and noted Lucius Pella, 
For taking bribes here of the Sardians; 
Wherein, my letters, praying on his side. 
Because I knew the man, were slighted off. 

Bi'U. You wrong'd yourself, to write lu 
stirh a case. 



As a thi 



'•t out dl5pf»i»4l. 



i Snr 



limited. 



(^riev4nc««. 



ScfMe III.] 



JULIUS CJESAR. 



797 



Cas. In such a time as this, it is not meet 
Tli-at every nice ♦• ofience should bear his com- 
ment. 
Bru. Let me tell you, Cassius, you yourself 
Are much condemn'd to have an itching palm; 
To sell and mart your oflSces for gold. 
To undeservers. 

Cas. 1 an itching palm? 

Yon know, that you are Brutus that speak this, 
Or, by the gods, this speech were else your last. 
Bru, The name of Cassius honours this 
corruption, m 

And chastisement doth therefore hide his head. 
Can. Chastisement! • [remember! 

Bra. Remember March, the ides of March 
Did not great Julius bleed for justice' sake? 
What villain tonch'd his body, that did slab. 
And not tor justice I VV hat, shall one of us, 
i hat struck tlie foremost man of all this world. 
But for supporting robbers ; shall we now 
Couiaminate our fingers with base bribes? 
And sell the mighty space of our large honours, 
i or so much lra^h, as may be grasped thus? — 
1 had rather be a dog, and bay+ the moon, 
Than such a Roman. 

Cas. Brutus, bay not me, 

I'll not endure it : you forget yourself. 
To hedge me in J ; 1 am a soldier, I 
Older in practice, abler than yourself 
To make conditions^. 
Bra, Go to ; you're not, Cassius. 

Ctfv. I am. 

Bru. I say yon are not. [self; 

Cas. Urge me no more, I shall forget my- 
Have mind upon your health, tempt me no 
BiK, Aw.ty, slight man! 'further. 

Cas. Is*t possible? 

Bru. Hear me, for I will speak. 

Must 1 give way and room to your rash choier ? 

Shall 1 be frighted when a madman stares? 

Cas. O ye gods! ye gods 1 Must I endure 

all this? [proud heart break ; 

Bru. All this; ay, more: Fret, till your 

Go, show your slaves how choleric you are. 

And make your bondmen tremble. Must I 

budge? 
Must I observe you? Must 1 stand and crouch 
Under your testy humour? By the gods. 
You sliall digest the venom of your spleen, 
Though it do split you : for, from this day forth, 
I'll use you for my mirth, yea, for my laughter. 
When you are waspish. 

Cas. Is it come to this? 

Bru. You say, yon are a better soldier : 
Let it appear so ; make your vaunting true, 
And it shall please me well : For mine own 
I shall be glad to learn of noble men. [part, 
C<is. Von wrong me every way, you wrong 
rac, Hruiiis ; 
I said an tl er soldier, not a better: 
D.d I say better ' 

Hra. if you did, I care iix)t. 
r«-.. \V iien C«sar lived, he durst not thus 
have iiioved me. [tempted him. 

Bru. Peace, peace ; you durst not so have 



Cas, I durst not? 
Bru. No. 

Cus. What? durst not tempt him? 
Bru. For your life you durst not. 

Cas. Do not presume too much upon njy 
I may do that 1 shall be sorry for. [love, 

Bru, You have dune that you should be 
sorry for. 
There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats 
For 1 am arm'd so strong in honesty. 
That they pass by me, as the idle wind. 
Which I respect not. I did send to you [me ; 
For certain sums of gold, which yon denied 
For I can raise no money by vile means : 
By heaven, I had rather coin my heart. 
And drop my blood for drachmas ||, than to 
wring [trash. 

From the hard hands of peasants their vile 
By any indirection. I did send 
To you for gold to pay my legions, [Cassius? 
Which you denied me : Was that done like 
Should I have answer'd Caius Cassius so ? 
When Marcus Brutus grows so covetous. 
To lock such rascal counters from his friends. 
Be ready, gods, with all your thunderbolts. 
Dash him to pieces ! 
Cus. I denied yoo not. 

Bru, Yoa did. 

Cas. I did not : — he was but a fool. 

That brought my answer back. — Brutus hath 

rived ^ my heart : 
A friend thould bear his friend'e infirmities. 
But Brutus makes mine greater than they are. 
Bru. I do not, till you^'practise them on me. 
Cas, You love me not. • 

Bru, -r I do not like your faults* 

Cas, A friendly eye could never see such 
faults. [do appear 

Bru. A flatterer's would not, though they 
As huge as high Olympus. [come, 

Cas. Come, Antony, and young Octavius, 
Revenge yourselves alone on Cassius, 
For Cassius is aweary of the world : 
Hated by one he loves ; braved by his brother . 
Check'd like a bondman ; all his taults ob- 
served. 
Set in a note-book, learnM, and conn'd by rote 
To cast into my teeth. O, I could weep 
My spirit from mine eyes ! — There is my 

dagger. 
And here my naked breast ; within, a heart 
Dearer than Piulus* mine, richer than gold : 
If that thou be'st a Roman, take it forth ; 
I, that denied thee gold, will give my heart : 
Strike, as thou didst at Caesar ; for, 1 know. 
When thou didst hate him worst, thou love» 
Than ever thou lovedst Cassius. [him betta 
Bru, Sheath your dagger 

Be angry when yon will, it shall have scope. 
Do what you will, dishonour sb.dl be humouj 
O Cassius, you are yoked with a lamb 
That carries anger, as the flint bears fire; 
Who, much enforced, shows a hasty spark. 
And straight is cold again. 
Cas. Hath Cassias lived 



* Trifling. t Bait, bark at. 

^ ienns, tit to confer the offices at mv disposal. 



X Limit my authority. 
11 Coin. V Sulit. 

3 \' 3 



^99 



SHAKSPEARE. 



n tr. 



Co be but niirtb and laughter tp his Brutus, 
When grief, and blood ill teinper'd, vexeth 
him? [too. 

Bru. When I spoke that, I was ill-temper'd 
Cas. Do you confess so much? Give me 
Bru. And my heart too. [your hand. 

Cas, O Brums I— 

Bru, \V hat's the matter ? 

Cas, Have you not love enough to bear 
with me, [gave mc. 

When that rash humour, which my mother 
Makes me forgetful? 

Bru. " Yes, Cassius; and, henceforth, 

Wiien you are over-earnest with your Brutus, 

He'll think your mother chides, and leave vou 

so. [Xuise udtnin. 

Poet. [Wifkin.] Let me go in to see the 

generals ; [meet 

There is gome grudge between them, 'tis not 

They be alone. 

Luc. [M^ftfiin] You shall not come to them. 
Foet, [H'^ithin.] Nothing but death 8b.all 
stay me. 

Enter Poet. 

Cas. How now? What's the matter? 

Poet. For shame, you generals; What do 

you me«n? [should be; 

Love, and be friends, as two such men 

For I have seen more years, 1 am sure, than 

ye. [rhyme! 

Cas. Ha, ha; how vilely doth this cynic 

Bru. Get you hence, sirrah ; saucy fellow, 

hence. 

Cas. Bear with hira, Brutus ; *tis his fashion. 

Bru. I'll know his humour, when he knowf 

his time*: [fools? 

What should the wars do with these jigging 

Companion*, hence. 

Cas. Away, away, be gone. 

[EjlU Poet. 
Enter hvciLivs andTirisivs. 
Bru. Lncilius and Titinius, bid the com. 
manders 
Prepare to lodge their companies to-night. 

Cas. And come yourselves, and bring Mts- 
Immediately to us. [sala with you 

[Exeunt Lucilius awrf Titinius. 
Bru. Lucius, a bowl of wine. [angry. 

Cas, I did not think, you could have been so 
Bru. O Cassius, I am sick of many griefs. 
Cas. Of yonr philosophy you make no use, 
If you give place to accidental evils, [is dead. 
Brti. No man bears sorrow better : — Portia 
Cas. Ha! Portia? 
f Bru. She is dead. [you so? — 

Cas. How 'scaped I killing, when 1 cross'd 
O insupportable and touching loss! — 
Upon what sickness? 

Bru. Impatient of my Hbsence \ 

And grief, that young Octavins with Mark An- 
tony [her death 
Have made them*elve« po strong : — for. with 
Tiiat tidings came; — With this she fell distract. 
And, her artt-ndants absent, swaHow'd fire. 
Cas. And di»d so ? 
Bru. K\eu so. 



Cas. O ye mortal gods I 
Enter Lucius, ivitU ffins and Taptrs, 
Bru. Speak no more of her. — Give rti« a 
bowl of wine: — 
In this I bury all unkindness, Cassins. [Drinks, 
Cas. My heart is thirsty for that coble 
pledge : — 
Fill, Lucii>6, till the wine o'erswell the cup ; 
I cannot drink too much of Brutus' love. 

[Drinks. 
Be-enter TiTifi IV s, ivah Mkssala. 
^ru. Come in, Titinius: — Welcome, good 

Measala. — 
Now sit we close abiht this taper here. 
And call in question our neceMities. 
Cas, Portia, art thou gone ? 
Bru, No more, I pray you.— 

Messala, I have here received letters. 
That young Octavius, and Mark Antony, 
Come down upon us with a mighty power f 
Bending their expedition toward Pliilippi. 
Mes. Myself have letters of the self-same 
Bru. With what addition? [tenonr. 

Mess. That by proscription, and bills of 
Octavius, Antony, and Lepidus, [outlawry, 
Have put to death an hundred senators. 

Bru. Therein our letters do not well agree; 
Mine speak of seventy senators, that died 
By their proscriptions, Cicero being one. 
Cas. Cicero one ? 

Ales. Ay, Cicero is dead. 

And by that order of proscription. — 
Had you your letters from your wife, my lord ? 
Bru, No, Messala. [her? 

Ales. Nor nothing in your letters writ of 
Bru. Nothing, Messala. 
Ales. That, mcthinks, is strange. [In yours? 
Bra. Why ask you ? Hear you aught of her 
Afes, No, my lord. [true. 

Bru. Now, as you are a Roman, tell me 
Ales, Then like a Roman bear the truth I 
tell : [ner. 

For certain she is dead, and by strange man- 
Bru. Why, farewell, Portia. — We must diej 
Mesgrala ; 
With meditating that she must die once J, 
I have the patience to endure it now. 
Ales, Even so great men great losses should 

endure. 
Cas. I have as much of this in art$ as you, 
But yet my nature could not bear it so. 

Bru. Well, to our work alive. What do you 
Of marching to Pl«lippi presently? [think 
Cas. I do not thiu'k it good. 
Bru, Your reason? 

Cas. This it is : 

•Tis better, that the enemy seek ns : 
So 8ha41 he waste his ujeans, weary his soldier*. 
Doing himself offence ; whilst we, lying still, 
Are full of rest, defence, ami nimbleness. 
i Bru, Good reasons must, of force, give 

place to better. 
The people, 'twixt I'hilippi and this ground. 
Do stand but in a forced alfection ; 
} For ti.ey havegrudued us cont.ibution : 
I The enemy, inarching along by them. 



• ?-Jlow. 



f Poice. 



J At Btune time. 



§ Theory. 



k 



Scene III,] 



JULIUS CjESAK. 



799 



By'them shall make a fuller number up, 
Come on refresh'd, new-added, and encou- 
raged ; 
Fi om which advantage shall we cut Lim oflf, 
If at Philippi we do face him there. 
These people at our back. 

Cas. Hear me, good brother. 

JSrit, Under your pardon. — You must note 
beside. 
That we have try'd the utmost of our friends. 
Our legions are brim-fiiU, our cause is ripe : 
The enemy increaseth every day, 
We, at the height, are ready to decline. 
There is a tide in the affairs of men, [tune ; 
Which, taken at the flood, leads on to for- 
Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
Is bound in shallows, and in miseries. 
On s.uch a full sea are we now afioat; 
And we must take the current when it serves. 
Or lose our ventures. 

Cas. Then, with your will, go on ; 

We'll along ourselves, and meet ihem at Phi- 
lippi. [talk, 

Bru. The deep of night is crept upon our 
And nature must obey necessity ; 
Which we will niggard with a little rest. 
There is no more to say 1 

Cas. ]So more. Goodnight; 

Early to-morrow will we rise, and hence. 

Bru. Lucius, my gown, [Exit Lucius.] 
Farewell, good Messala ; — 
Good night, TiiiHins: — ISIoble, noble Cassiuf., 
Good night, and good repose. 

Cas. O, my dear brother ! 

This wag an ill beginning of the night : 
Kevei come such division 'tween our souls! 
Let it Bat, Brutus. 

Bru. Every thing is well. 

Cas. Good night, my lord. 

Bru. Good night, good brother. 

Tit. Mes. Good night, lord Brutus, 

Bru. Farewell, every one- 

{Exeunt Cas. Tit. and Mes. 
RC'enter Lucius, r/i^A the Girwri. 
Give me the gown. Where is thy instrument 1 

Luc. Here in the tent. 

Bru. What, thou speak'st drowsily? 

Poor koave, I blame thee not ; thou art o'er- 

watch'd. 
Call Claudius, and some other of my men ; 
I'll have them sleep on cushions in my tent. 

Luc. Varro, and Claudius ! 

Enter Varro arid Claudius. 

Var. CaMs my lord 1 

Bru, I pray you, sirs, lie in my tent, and 
It may be, 1 shall raise you by and by [sleep; 
Ou business to my brother Cassias. 

Var. So please you, we will stand, and 
watch your pleasure. [sirs ; 

Bru. I will not have it so : lie down, good 
It may be, I shall otherwise bethink me. 
Look, Lucius, here's the book 1 sought for so; 
I pirt it in the pocket of my gown, 

[Servants lie down. 
I Luc. I was sure your lordahip did not give 
i: me. 



Bru. Rear with me, good boy, I am maeb 
forgetful. 
Canst thou hold up thy heavy eyes awhile. 
And touch thy instrument a strain or two? 

Luc. Ay, my lord, an it please you. 

Bru. It does, my boy : 

I trouble thee too much, but thou art wil.ing. 

Luc. It is my duty, sir. 

Bru. I should not urge thy duty past thy 
might ; 
I know, young bloods look for a time of rest. 

Luc. 1 have slept, my lord, already. 

Bru. It is well done ; and thou shak sleep 
again ; 
I will not lioid thee long: if I do live, 
I will be good to thee. [Mu.'tic, und a Sotig 
This is a sleepy tune : — O murderous slumber 
Lay'st thou thy leaden mace* upon my boy. 
That plays thee music? — Geatlti knave, good 

night ; 
I will not do thee so much wrong to wake thee 
If thou dost nod, thou break'sttliy instrument 
I'll take it from thee ; and, good boy, good 
night. [down. 

Let me see, let me see ; — Is not the Ie»ir turn'd 
Where I left reading? Here it is, 1 think. 

{He sits doivn 
Enter the Ghost o/Gmsxr. 
How ill tliis taper burns!— Ha! who come. 

here? 
I think it is the weakness of mine eyes 
That shapes this monstrous apparition. 
It comes upon me :— Art thou any thing ? 
Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil 
That makest my bloo(i cold, and my hair t< 
Speak to me, what thou art. ^stare 

Ghost. Thy evil spirit, Brutus. 

Bru, Why comest thou? [Uppi 

Ghost. To tell thee thou shall see me at Phi« 

Bru, \^ell; 
Then I shall see thee again ? 

Ghost. Ay, at Philippi. 

[Ghost vanlsh'es. 

Bru, Why, I will see thee at Philippi thea- 
Now I have taken heart, thou vanishest: 
III spirit, I would hold more talk with thee.— 
Boy ! Lucius! — Varro! Claudius! sirs, awake/ 
Claudius! 

Luc, The strings, my lord, are false. 

Bru. He thinks he still is at his instrument. 
Lucius, awake. 

Z.MC. My lord ! [so cry 'd stout? 

Bru. Didst thou dream, Lucius, thai thou 

Luc. My lord, I do not know that 1 diei 
cry. [any thinu'? 

Bru. Yes, that thou didst : Didst thou see 

Luc, Nothing, my lord. 

Bru. Sleep again, Lucius, Sirrah, Claudius! 
Fellow thou i awake. 

Var. My lord. 

Clau. My lord. [sleep? 

Bru. Why did you so cry out, sirs, in your 

Var. Clau. Did we, my lord? 

Bru. Ay ; Saw you any thiiig f 

Var. No, my lord 1 saw nothing. 

(Jlau, Nor 1, my l<>rd. 



Sceptre. 



800 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV. 



Bru. Go, and commend me to my brother I And we will follow. 

Cassius ; Var, Clau. It shall be done, my lord. 

Bid him set on his powers betimes before, { [Exeunt 



ACT V. 



S C EN E I. The Plains of Ph ilippi, 
EnferOcT.KMivs, Anton Y,a/irf their Army, 

Oct. Now, Antony, our hopes are answer'd : 
You said, the enemy would not come down. 
But keep the hills and upper ret^ions; 
It proves not so: their haitles are at h md ; 
They mean to warn* us at Philippi here, 
Answeiiu!!* before we do demand o'"lhem. 

Ant. Tut, I am in their bosoms, and 1 know 
Whereiote they do it: they could be content 
To visit othLM places; and come down 
VVith fearful bravery, thinking, by this face. 
To fasten in our thoughts that they have cou- 
But 'tis not so. [rage ; 

Enter a Messensjer. 

Mess. Prepare you, generals: 

The enemy comes on in t^allant show ; 
Their bloody sign of battle is hnn;;; out. 
And something to be done immediately. 

Atit. Octdvins, lead your battle softly on, 
Upon the left hand of tlie even field. [left. 

Oct. Upon the right hand I, keep thou the 

Anl. Why do you cross me in this exigent? 

Oct. 1 do not cross you; but I will do so. 
[March. 
Drum, Enftr Brutus, Cassius, (md their 

Army; Lucilius, Titinius, Messala, 

and Others. 

Bru. They stand, and would have parley. 

Cas. Stand fast, iitinius : We must out and 
talk. [brtttle? 

Oct. Mark Antony, shall we give sign of 

Ant. No, Caesar, we wiii answer on their 

charge. [words. 

Make forth, the generals would have some 

Oct. Stir not until the signal. [men? 

Bru. Words before blows : Is it so,country- 

Oct. Not that we love words beiter, as you 
do. [Octavius. 

Bru. Good woriisare better than bad strokes, 

Ant. In your bad strokes, Brutus, you give 
good words : 
Witness the hole you made in Caesar's heart. 
Crying, Long live! hail CcEsar ! 

Cas. Antony, 

The posture of your blows are yet unknown; 
But for your words, they rob the Hybla bees. 
And leave them honeyless. 

Ant, Not stingless too. 

Bru. O, yes, and soundless too; 
For you have stol'n their buzzing, Antony, 
And, verv wisely, threat before you stin^. 

Ant. Villains, you did uot so, wheu your 
vile daggers 
Hack'd one another in the sides of Cvesar: 
You show'd your teeth like apes, and fawu'd 

like hounds, 
And bowM like bondmen, kissing Caesar's feet ; 

i-'nmmon. t Throw t Foremost. 



Whilst damned Casca, like n cur, behind. 
Struck CaBsar on the neck. O tiattertrs 1 

Cas. Flatterers! — Now, Brutus, thank yonr- 
This tongue had not offended so to-day, [self : 
If Cassius might have ruled. [us sweat, 

Oct. Come, come, the cause : If arguing make 
The proof of it will turn to redder drops. 
Look ; 

1 draw a sword against conspirators ; 
When think you that the sword goes up again ? 
Never, tdl Caesar's three and twenty %\ound6 
Be well avenged ; or till another C?esar 
Have added slaughter to the sword of traitors. 

Bru. Caesar, thou can'st not die by traitors. 
Unless thou bring'st them with thee. 

Oct. So I hope : 

I was not born to die on Brutus' sword. 

Bru. O, if thou wert the noblest of thy strain, 
Young man, thou could'st not die more honour- 
able, [honour, 

Cas. A peevish schoolboy, worthless of such 
Join'd with a masker and a reveller. 

Ant. Old Cassius still! 

Oct. Come, Antony ; away. — 

Defiance, traitors, hurlt we in your teeth : 
If you dare fit^ht to-day, come to the field ; 
If not, when you have stoujachs. 

\ Exeunt Octavius, Antony, and 
their Army. 

Cas. Why now, blow wind ; sw^ll, biilow ; 
and swim, bark! 
The storm is up, and all is on the hazard. 

Bru. Ho! 
Lucilius ; hark, a word with yon. 

Luc, My lord. 

[Brutus and Lucilius converse apart, 

Cas. Messaia, — 

Mes-, What says my general? 

Cas. Messaia, 

This is my birth-day ; as this very day [sala : 
Was Cassius born. Give me thy hand, Mes- 
Be thou my witness, th;\t, against my will. 
As Pompey was, am I compell'd to set 
Upon one battle all our liberties. 
You know, that I held Epicurus strong. 
And his opinion : now I clsange my mind, 
And partly creflit things that do presage. 
Coming from Sardis, on our former + en,' urn 
Two mighty cagk-sfell, and there they perch'd, 
Gorging and feeding from our soldiers' hanns ; 
Who to Philippi here consorted^ us; 
This mornin»: are they fled away, and srone; 
And in their steads, tlo ravens, crows, and kites, 
Fly o'er our heads, and downward look on ua, 
As we were sickly l)rey : their shadows seem 
A canopy most fatal, under which 
Our army lies, ready to give up the ghost, 

Mes. Believe not so. 

Cas. I but believe it partly g 



$ Accompanied. 



Scene /.] 



JULIUS CiESAR. 



t o.\ 



l^or 1 am fresh ot spirit, and resolved 
To meet all perils very constantly. 

Bru, Even so, Lucilius. 

Cafi. Now, most no'ble Brutus, 

The s^ods to-day stand tiiondiy ; that we may, 
Lovers in peace, le.id on our days to age! 
But, since the attairsof men rest&till uncertain, 
Let's reason wiih the worst that may befall. 
If we do lose this battle, then is this 
The very last time we shall speak together: 
What are you then determined to dol 

J5rw. Even by the rule of that philosophy, 
By which I did blame Cato for the death 
Which he did give himself :— I know not how. 
But I do find it cowardly and vile, 
For fear of what mi^ht fall, so to prevent 
The time of life : — arming myself with patience, 
Jo stay the providence of some high powers, 
That govern us below. 

Cas Then, if we lose this battle, 

You are contented to be lead in triumph 
Thorough the streets of Rome 1 [Roman, 

Bru. No, Cassius, no: think not, thou noble 
That ever Brutus will go bound to Rome; 
Ue bears too great a mind. But this same day 
Must end that work the ides of March begun ; 
y\nd whether we shnll meet again 1 know not. 
Therefore our everlasting farewell take : — • 
For ever, and for ever, farewell, Cassius! 
If we do meet again, why we shall smile ; 
If not, why then this parting was well made. 

Cas. For ever, and for evei, farewell, Bru- 
If we do meet again, we'll smile indeed ; [tus ! 
If not, 'lis true, this parting was well made. 

Bru. Why then, lead on. — O, that a man 

migiit know 

The end of this day's business, ere it come I 

But it sufiiceth, that the day will end. 

And then the end is known. — Come, ho! 

away ! {Exeunt. 

SCENE IL The same. The Field of Battle, 
Alarum. Enter Brutus and Messala. 
Bru. Ride, ride, Messala, ride, and give 
these bills* 
Unto the legions on fhe other side : 

[Loud A larum. 
Let them set on at once ; for I perceive 
But cold demeanour in Octavius' wing, 
And sudden push gives them the overthrew. 
Ride, ride, Messala : let them all come down. 
[Exeunt. 

SCENE in. The same. Another Part of 
the Field. 

Alarum. Enter Cassivs ««<f Titinius. 

Cax. O, look, Titinius, look, the villains flyl 
Myself have to mine own lurn'd enemy : 
This ensign here of mine was turning back; 
I ?lew the coward, and did take it from him. 

Tit. O Cassius, Brutus gave the word too 
early: 
Who having some advantage on Octavius, 
Took it too eagerly ; his soldiers feJl to spoil, 
V\ hibt we by Anjony are all enclosed. 



Enter I-'ini^akls. 
Pin. Fiy further ott, uiv iwi(i,il> further ott; 
Mark Antony is in your tents, my loni I 
Fly, therefore, noble Cassius, lly far off. 
Cas. This hill is far enough. Look, look, 
Titinius; 
Are those my tents, where I perceive the fire? 
Tt. They are, my lord. 
Cas. Titinius, if thoo Invest me, 

Mount thou my horse, and hide thy spurs in 

him, 
Till he have brought thee up to yonder troops, 
And here again; that I may rest assured. 
Whether yond* troops are friend or enemy. 
Tit. I will be here again, even with a 
thought. {Ejcif, 

Cas. Go, Pindarus, get higher on that hill ; 
My sight was ever thick; regard Titinius, 
And tell me what thou notest about the field. — 

[Exit PliNDARl'S 

This day I breathed first : time is come round. 
And where I did begin, there I shall end ; 
My life isrun his compass. — Sirrah, what news? 

Pin. [A hove.] O my lord ! 

Cas. What news! 

Pin. Titinius is 
Enclosed round about with horsemen, that 
Make to him on the spur; — yet he spurs on. — 
Now they are almost on him : nowr,Titinins;! — 
Now some Might:— O, he 'lights too:— he's 
ta'en — and hark I [Shout. 

They shout for joy. 

Cas. Come down, behold no more. — 

O, coward that I am, to live so long. 
To see my best friend ta'en before ray face! 

Enter Pindarus. 
Come hither, sirrah : 
In Parthia did I take thee prisoner ; 
AikI then I swore thee, saving of thy life, 
That whatsoever i did bid thee do, [thine oathi 
Thou should'st attempt it. Come now, keep 
Now bea freeman ; and, with this good sword. 
That ran vhiough Caesar's bowels, search this 

bosom. 
Stand not to answer : Here, take thou the hiltsr 
And, when n.y face is cover'd as 'tis now, 
Guide thou the sword. — Caesar, thou art rc^ 

venged. 
Even with the sword thaikill'd thee. [Dies. 

Pin. So, I am free ; yet would ns^t so have 
Durst I have done my will. O Cassius ! [been. 
Far from this country Pindarus shall run, 
Where never Roman shall take note of him. 

[Exit, 
Re-enter Titinius, with Messala. 

Mes. It is but change, Titinius ; for Octa- 
Is overthrown by noble Rrutns' power, [vius 
As Cassius' legions arc by Antony. 

Tit. These tidings will well comfort Cassius. 

Airs. Where did you l24ve him ? 

Tt. All discon?ol 

Wiih Pindarns his bondsman on this hill, 

Mes. Is not that he, that lies upon the grouml? 

7^/?. Heliesnotlikeihe living. O my heart I 

Afcs. Is not that he*? 

Tit. No, tills was be, Mesrirtia, 



• Directions for the officers 



812 



SHAKSrEAIlE. 



\Act V 



But C.iwiua is no more. — O selthiji; sua ! 
Ab in Ihy rtd rays thon dost sink to night, 
So III his red blood Caseins* day is fct ; 
Ih« sun of Home ip set! Our day is yone; 
Clouds, d«w8, and dangera come ; our rteeds 

are done ! 
Mistrust of my success hath done this deed. 

M€.\. Mi}«tru8t of good' success liath done 
O hateful errt)r, melancholy's child! [tins deed. 
Why dost thou show to the apt thoughts of 

men 
The thintjs that are not? O error, soou con- 
ceived, 
Tlioa never comest unto a happy birth, 
But kill'st the mother that engender'd thee. 

Tit. VVhat.Pindarus! VVhere art thou. Pin- 
darns? [meet 

Mes. Seek him, Titinins: whilst I go to 
The noble Brutus, thrusting this report 
Into his ears: I may say, thrusting it ; 
For piercing steel, and darts envenomed. 
Shall be as welcome to the cars of Brutus, 
As tidings otlhis sight. 

IM. Hie you.Mesaala, 

And I will seek for Pindarus the while. 

{Kiit Mess A LA. 
Why didst thou send me forth, brave Cassius? 
Did I not meet thy friends? and did not they 
Put on my brows this wreath of victory. 
And bid me give 't thee? Didst thou not hear 

their shouts ? 
Alas, thou hast mUconstrued every thing. 
But hold thee, take this garland on thy brow; 
'J liy Brutus bid me give it thee, and 1 
W ill do his bidding. — Brutus, come apace. 
And see how I regarded Cains Cassius. — 
By your leave, gods : — this is a Roman's part : 
Come, Cassius* sword, and find Tiliuius' heart. 

IDies. 

Aloriim. Re-enter MEssALA,f/e^A Brutus, 
Young Cato, Strato, Volummus, and 
LuciLius. 

Bru. Where, where, Messala, doth his body 
lie ? 

Mex. Lo, yonder, and Titinins mourning it. 

Bru» Titinius' face is npward. 

Cato. He is slain. 

Bru. O Julius Cae.sar, thou art mighty yet! 
Thy spirit walks abroad, and turns our swords 
la our own proper entrails. {Loiv Alarums. 

Cato. Brave Titinins ! 

lK)ok,whe'r behave not rrown'd dead Cassius! 

Bru. Are yet two Romans living such as 
Ihe^?— 
The last of all the Romans, fare thee ^vcU ! 
It is impossible that ever Rome 
Stiould breed thy fellow, — Friends, I owe 

more tears 
To this dead man, than yon shhil see me pay. — 
I shall find time, Cassius, I shall find time.— 
Come, therefore, and toThassossend his body ; 
His funerals shall not be in our camp, 
I e«t it discon»fgrt us. — Lucilins, come ; — 
And come, young Cato: let us t<> the field. — 
Labeo, and Flavins, set our battles on : — 



'Tis three o'ch ck ; and, Romans, yet eie nigh* 
We ?hul-i try fcrtunein a second fi'ght. [Kieujit, 

SCENE IV. Another part of the Field. 
Alarvm. Enter fighting, Saldiei's of hotk 
armies ; t-hen Brutus, Cato, Lucilius, 
and Others. 

Bru. Yet, countrymen, O, yet hold up yonr 
heads I [vvitn me ? 

Cato. What bastard doth not? Who will gc 
I will proclaim my naine about the field : 
I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho ! 
A foe to tyrants, and my country's friend ; 
I am the son of Marcus Cato, ho ! 

[Charges the enemy, 
Bru. And I am Brutus, Marcus Brutus, I ; 
Brutus, my country's friend ; know mc for 
Brutus. 

\^Exity charging the ememy. Cato U 
overpowered, andJ'uUx, 
Luc. O young and noble Cato, art thou 
down? 
Why, now thou diest as bravely as Titinins ; 
And may'st be honoured being Cato's son. 
1 Sold. Yield, or thou diest. 
LiUC, Only I jield to die : 

There is 8o much thai thou wilt kill me 
BtrzMght ; [Offering Money, 

Kill Brutus, and be honour'd in his death, 

1 Sold. We must not. — A noble prisoner ! 

2 Sold. Room, ho! Tell Antony, Brutus is 

ta'en. [general : — 

I Sold. Pll tell the news. — Here comes the 
Enter Antony. 
Brutus is ta'en, Brutus is ta'en, my lord. 
A?it. VVhere is he? 

Luc. Safe, Antony; Brntns is safe enough; 
I dare assure thee, that no enemy 
Shall ever take alive the noble Brutus: 
The gods defend him from so great a shame! 
When you do find him, or alive, or dead, 
He will be found like Brutus, like himself. 
Attt. This is not Brums, friend; but I a*- 
sure you, 
A pri.ze no less in worth : keep this man safe, 
Give him all kindntfts : I had ratlier have 
Such men my friends than enemies. Go on, 
And sfee whe'r* Brutus be alive or dead : 
And bring us word, unto Octavius' tent. 
How every thing is chanced. [Eieunt* 

SCENE V. Another part of the Field. 
Enter Brutus, Daudakius, Clitus, 

Strato, and Volummus. 
Brv. Come, poor rem>i«ns of friends, rest 
on this rock. floid, 

Cli. Slatiliusshow'd the torch-light; but, my 
He came not back ; he is or ta'en or slain. 
Bru. Sit «hee down, Clitus : Slayin;^ is tb 
word ; 
It is a deed in fashion. Hark thee, Clitus.— 
{iVhls'pcring. 
Cli. What, I, my lord? No, not for all the 

world. 
Bru. Peace then, no words. 
Cli. I'll rather kill myself. 



• Whether. 



gcene V.] 



JULIUS CiESAB. 



803 



Bru, Hark thee, Dardanius ! 

[PVhLspers him. 

Dar. I do s»icb a deed 1 

Cli. O, Dardanins! 

i?ar.. O, Ciitusl [thee? 

Cli. What ill request did Brutus make to 

Dar. To kill him, Clitus : Look, he medi- 
tates. 

Cli. Now is that noble vessel full of g^ief, 
That it rims over even at his eyes. 

Br'u. Come hither, good Voluranius : list a 

Vol. What says my lord? [word. 

Bru. Why this, Volumuius : 

Tlie ghost of Caesar hath appear*d to me 
Two several times by night : at Sardls, onec ; 
And, this last night, here in Philippi* fields. 
1 know my hour is come. 

Vol. Not so, my lord. 

Bru. Nay, 1 am sure it is, Volumnius. 
Thou see'st the world,Volumnius, how it goes ; 
Our enemies have beat us to the pit : 
It is more woi thy to !eap in ourselves, 
Than tarry till they push us. Good Volum- 
nius, [gether; 
Thou know'st, that we two went to school to- 
Even for that our love of old, I pray thee, 
Hold thou my sword-hilts, whilst I run on It. 

Vol. That's not an office for a friend, my 
1-ord. [Alarum still. 

Cli. Fly, fly, my lord ; there is no tarryiilg 
here. [Volumnius. — 

Bru. Farewell to you ; — andyou ; — and you, 
Strato, thou hast been all this while asleep ; 
Farewell to thee too, Strato. — Countrymen,, 
My heart doth joy, that yet, in all my life, 
I found no man, but he was true to me. 
I shall have glory by this losing day, 
More than Octavius and Mark Antony, 
By this vile conquest shall attain «nto. 
So, fare you well at once ; for Brutus' tongue 
Hath almost ended his life's history : 
Night hangs upon mine eyes; my bones 

would rest. 
That have but labour'd to attain this hour. 

{Alarum. Cry within. Fly, fly, fly. 

Cli. Fly, my lord, fly. 

Bru. Hence; I will follcw thee. 

{Exeunt Clitus, Dardanius, and Vo- 

LLMNIUS* 

• Receive into my service- 



I pr'ythee, Strato, stay thou by thy lord : 
Thou art a fellow of a good respect ; [it ; 

Thy life hath had some smatch of hoBMur in 
Hold then my sword, and turn away thy face, 
Wiiiie I do run upon it. Wilt thou, Strato? 

atra. Give me your hand first : Fare you 
well, my lord. 

Bru. Farewell, good Strato. — Caesar, now 
be still: 
I kill'd not thee with half so good a will. 

[He runs on his Sword, and dies. 
Alarum. Retreat. jB/i/er Octavius, An- 
tony, Messala, Lucilius, and their 

A rtny. 

Oct. What man is that ? 

Mess. My master's man. — Strato, where is 
thy master? [Messala; 

Stra. Free from the bondage you are in, 
The concfaerors can but make a tire of him ; 
For Brutus only overcame himself, 
And no man else hath honour by his death. 

Liuc. So Brutus should be found. — 1 thank 
thee, Brutus, 
That thou hast proved Lucilius* saying true. 

Oct. All that served Brutus, I will enter- 
tain them * : 
Fellow, wilt thou bestow thy time with me? 

Stra. Ay, if Messala will prefer f me to 

Oct. Do so, Messala. [you. 

Mes. How died my master, Strato ? 

Stra. I held the sword, and he did run on 
it. [thee, 

Mes. Octavius, then take him to follow 
That did the latest service to my master. 

Ant. This was the noblest Roman of them 
All !ke conspirators, save only he, [all : 

Did that they did in envy of great Caesar ; 
He, only, in a general honest thought, 
And common good to all, made one of them. 
His life was gentle ; and the elements 
So mix'd in him, that Nature might stand np. 
And say to all the world, TUis was a man ! 

Oct. According to his virtue let us use him. 
With all respect and rites of burial. 
Within my tent his bones to-night shall lie. 
Most like a soldier, order'd honourably. 
So, call the field to rest : and let's away, 
To part the glories of this happy day . 

[Exeunt. 

i Recommend. 



Of this tragedy many particular passaees deserve regard, and the contention anrt recon 
cilementof Brutus and Cassiusis universally celebrated; but I have never been strongly agi- 
tated in perusing it, and think it somewhat co.Vl and unafferting, compared with some o her of 

I Sbakspeare's plays: his adherence to the real story, and to Homan manners), seem U> 5iav#» 

I Inpeded the natural vigonr of his genius.—JoU Nsoii, 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



^er^on^ tepre^dCnteD* 



SAR, > 
PIDUS, J 



M Antont, 

OcTAVius C^sAR, ^ triumvirs, 

M. ^MiL. Lep 

Sextus Pom.peius. 

DoMiTius Enobarbus, Ventidius, Eros, 

Scar us, Dercetas, Demetrius, Philo, 

friends of Antony. 
Mec^nas, Agrippa, Dolabella, Pro- 

cuLEius, Thyreus, GALLUS,/r/ewdj^o 

Cesar. 
Menas, Menecrates, Varrius, friends 

of Pempey. 
Taurus, lieutenant-general to CcBsar. 
Canidius, lieutenant-general to Antony, 
SiLivSf an qfficer in Ventidius* s army. 



^EupHRONius, an ambassador from Antong " 

to C(Esar, 
Alexas, Mardian, Seleucds, and Dio> 

MEDES, attendants an Cleopatra, 
A Soothsayer. A Clown. 

Cleopatra, queen of Egypt, 
OcTAviA, sister to Casar^ and wife to 
Antony. 

?r"a^s^^'^^'} attendants on Cleopatra, 

OJUcers, Soldiers^ Messengers, and other 
Attendants, 

Scene f dispersed ; in several parts of the 
Roman empire. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. Alexandria. A Room in 
Cleopatra's Palace, 

Enter Demetrius and Philo. 

Phi. Nay, but this dotage of our general's, 
O'er flows tlie measure : those his goodly eyes, 
That o'er the files and musters of the war [turn, 
Have glow'd like plated Mars, now bend, now 
The othce and devotion of their view 
Upon a lawny front : his captain's heart 
Which in the scuffles of great fights hath 
burst [per; 

The buckles on his breast, reneges ♦ all tem- 
A.nd is become the bellows, and the fan, 
1o cool a gipsy's lust. Look where they come ! 
Flourish. Enter Antony and Cleo- 
patra, t/i^/i their Trains ; Eunncha/tf«- 
ning her. 
Take but good note, and yon shall see in him 
The triple pillar of the world transform'd 
Into a strumpet's fool : behold and see. 
Cleo. If it be love indeed, tell me how mnch. 
Ant. There's beggary in the love that can be 

reckon'd. 
Cleo. I'll set a bourn f how far to be beloved. 
Ant. Then must thou needs find out new 
heaven, new earth. 

Enter an Attendant. 
Att. News, my good lord, from Rome. 
Ant. " Grates I me: — the sum. 

Cleo. Nay, hear them, Antony : 
Fiilvia, perchance, is angry ; Or, who knows 
If the 8carce-be»rded C^sar have not sent ' 



His powerful mandate to yon. Do this, or 
thU ; [that , 

Take in§ that kingdom, and enfranchise 
Perform't, or else ue damn thee. 
Ant. How, my love! 

Cleo. Perchance, — nay, and most like. 
You must not stay here longer, your dismission 
Is come from Caesar; therefore hear it, An- 
tony, [say ?~Both ?— 
Where's Fulvia's process ||.? Caesar's, I would 
Call in the messengers. — As I am Egypt's 
queen, [thine 
Thon blushest, Antony ; and that blood of 
Is Caesar's homager : else so thy cheek pays 
shame, [sengers. 
When shrill-tongned Fulvia scolds. — The mes- 
Ant. Let Rome in Tiber melt 1 and the wide 
arch 
Of the ranged empire fall I Here is my space ; 
Kingdoms are clay : our dungy ?arth alike 
Feeds beast as man : ihe nobleness of life 
Is to do thus; when soch a mutual pair, 

[Embracing, 
And such a twain can do't, in which, I bind 
On pain of punishment, the w«rld to weetlT, 
We stand op peerless. 

Cleo. Excellent falsehood I 

Why did he marry Fulvia, and not love hert 
I'll seem the fool I am not ; Antony 
Will be himself. 

Ant, Bat stirr'd by Cleopatra.- 

Now, for the love of Love, and her %q^ 
hours. 



• Renounces. 



* Bound or Hmlt. 

Il Si'.iiiiuoiis. 



t Offendis. 
% Know. 



\ Subdue, conquer. 



Scene I.] 



ANTONY AND CIJ.GPATRA. 



805 



Let*8 not confound • the time wiih conference 

harsh : [stretch 

There's not a minute of our lives should 

Without some pleasure now: What sport to- 

Cleo. Hear the ambassadors*. [night 1 

Ant, Fie, wrangling queen ! 

Whom every thing becomes, to chide, to Ifiugh, 
To weep; whose every passion fully strives 
To make itself, in thee, fair and admired ! 
No messenger ; but thine and all alone, [note 
To-night we'll wander through the streets, and 
The qualities of people. Come, my queen; 
Last nii^ht yon did desire it: Speak not to us. 
[Ex. Ant. a?id Cleo. with their Train, 

Vem. Is Caesar with Antoruus prized so 
slight? [tony. 

Phi, Sir, sometimes, when he is not An- 
He comes too short of that great property 
VVhich '^till should go with Antony. 

Dem, I'm full sorry. 

That he approves the common liarf, who 
Thus speaks of him at Rome : But I will hope 
Of better deeds to-morrow. Rest you happy ! 

lExeunt. 

SCENE II. The same. Another Room. 

Enter Charmian, Iras, A.lexas, and 
a Soothsayer. 

Char, Lord Alexas, sweet Alexas, most any 
thing Alexas, almost most absolute Alexas, 
Where's the soothsayer that you praised so to 
the queen ? O, that I knew this husband, 
which, you say, must change his horns with 
garlands! 

Alex. Soothsayer. 

^Soo^/i. Your will ? [know things'? 

Char. Is this the man? — Is't you, sir, that 

Sooth. In nature's infinite book of secrecy, 
A. little I can read. 

Alex, Show him your hand. 

Enter Enobarbus. 

Eno. Bring in the banquet quickly ; wine 
enough, Cleopatra's health to drink. 

Char. Good sir, give me good fortune. 

Sooth. I make not, but foresee. 

Char. Pray, then, foresee me ona. 

Sooth. You shall be yet far fairer than you 
are. 

Char. He means, in flesh. 

Ira^!. iNo, you shall paint when yen are old. 

CJuir, Wrinkles torbid ! 

Alex. Vex not his prescience ; be attentive. 

Char. Hush! 

Sooth. You shall be more belo *ing than 
lyeloved. 

Char, I had rather heat ray 1 ver with 
drinking. 

Alex. Nay, hear him. 

Char. Good now, some excellent fortune! 
Let me be married to three kings in a 'orcnoon, 
I and widow them, all : let me have 4 child at 
fifty, to whom llerodof Jewry may d»4 homage: 
find me to marry me with Octavius Caesar, and 
companion me with my mistress. 

Sooth. You shall outlive the lady whom yon 
lerve. 



Char. O excellent! 1 love long life better 
than figs. [former fortune 

Sootn, You have seen and proved a fairer 
Than that which is to approach. 

Char. Then, belike, my children shall have 
no names I : Pr' ythee, bow many boys and 
wenches must I have? 

Sooth. If every of your wishes had a womb. 
And fertile every wish, a million. 

Char. Out, fool ! I forgive thee for a witch. 
Alex. You think, none but your sheets are 
privy to your wishes. 

Char. Nay, come, tell Iras hers. 

Alex. We'll know all our fortunes. 

Env. Mine, and most of our fortunes, to- 
night shall be — drunk to bed. 

Jrax, There's a palm presages chastity, if 
nothing else. 

Char. Even as the o'erflowing Nilos pre- 
sageih famine. 

Jras, Go, you wild bedfellow, you cannot 
soothsay. 

Char. Nay, if an oily palm be not a fruit 
ful prognostication, I cannot scratch mine 
ear. — Pr'ythee, tell her bat a worky-day for- 
tune. 

Sooth. Your fortunes are alike. 

Iras, But how? but how? give ine parti- 
culars. 

Sooth. I have said. 

Iras, Am I not an inch of fortune better 
than she? 

Char. Well, if you were but an inch of for- 
tune better than I, where would you choose it? 

Iras. Not in my husband's nose. 

Char. Our worser thoughts heavens mend I 
Alexas, — come, his fortune, his fortune. — O, 
let him marry a woman that cannot go, sweet 
Isis, 1 beseech thee ! And let her die too, and 
give him a worse ! and let worse follow worse, 
till the worst of all follow him lau2;hing to his 
grave, fifty-fold a cuckold! Good Isis 5, hear 
me this prayer, though you deny me a matter 
of more weight ; good Isis, I beseech thee 1 

Iras, Amen. l)ear goddess, hear that prayer 
of the people ! for, as it is a heart breaking to 
see a handsome man loose-wived, so it is a 
deadly sorrow to behold a foul knave un- 
cuckolded ; Therefore, dear isis, keep deco- 
run>, and fortune him accordingly ! 

Char. Amen. 

Alex, Lo, now! if it lay in their hands to 
make me a cuckold, they would make them- 
selves whores, but they'd do't. 

Eno. Hush! here comes Antony. 

Char, Not he, the queen* 

Enter Cleopatra. 

Cleo. Saw you my lord ? 

Eno. No, lady. 

Cleo, Was he not here T 

Char. No, madam. [sudden 

Cleo. He was disposed to mirth ; but on the 
A Roman thought hath struck him. — Eno' ar 

Eno. Madam. [bus,— 

Cleo. Seek him, and bring him hither 
Where's Alexas ? 



Consume. 



t Fame. 



t Shall be bastards. 



$ An Egyptian godde 
3 Z 



606 



SllAKSPEAHE. 



[Jci f. 



Alex. Here, madam, at your service. — My 
lord approaches. 
Enter Antony, uit.k a Messenger and 
Attendants. 
Cteo. We will not look n pon him : Go with us* 
[Kit unt Cllupatra,Enobarbus, Alex- 
As, Iras, Charmian, Soothsayer, and 
Attendants. 
iT/ev.s. Fnlvia, thy wife, first came into the 
Anf. Against my brother Lucius ? [field. 
Mis . Ay : [stale 

Rill so. in that war had end, and the time's 
Mride friends of them, jointing their force 

*g'Unst CsBsar ; 
Whose better i«sue in the war, from Italy, 
Upon the first encounter, drave them. 

Anf. Well, 

Wh-it worst? [teller. 

J/f-i.s. The natnre of bad news infects the 

Ant. When it concerns the fool or coward. 

On : [Tis thus ; 

Things, tl»at are past, are done, with me. — 

Who lelU nie true, though in his tale lie death, 

I he 11 him as he flattered. 

Mfss Labienus 

(This is stiff npws) hath, with liis Parthian force. 
Extended • Asia from Euphrates ; 
His conquering banner shook, from Syria 
To Lydid, and to Ionia; 

W hi 1st 

Ant. Antony, thou wouldst say, — 
Mess. O, my lord I 

Ant. Speak to me home, mince not the ge- 
neral tongue ; 
Name Cleopatra as she's call*d m Rome: 
Rail thou in Fulvia's phrase; and taunt my 
faulte [malice 

With such full license, as both truth and 
Have power to utter, O, then we bring foi tb 
weeds, [told ns. 

When our ({uick winds t lie still; and our ills 
Is as our earing J. Fare thee well a while. 
Mess. At your noble pleasure. [B^it. 

Ant. From Sicyon how the news? Speak 
there. [such an one? 

1 Att. Ihe man from Sicyon.— Is there 

2 Att, He stays § upon your will. 

Ant. Let hirn appear, — 

These strong Egyptian fetters I must break. 

Enter another Messenger. 
Or lose mjself in dotage. — What are you? 

2 Mess. Fulvia, thy wife, is dead. 

Ant. Where died she? 

2 Mess. In Sicyon : [serious 

Her length of sickness, with what else more 
Impoiteth thee to know, this bears. 

[Gives a letter. 

Ant. Forbear me. — 

[Exit Messenger. 
There's a great spirit gone ! Thus did I desire it : 
What our contempts do often hurl from us, 
We wish it ours again ; the present pleasure. 
By revolution lowering, does become 
The opposite of itself: she's good, being gone ; 



The hand could pluck her back, that shovetf 

her on. 
I must from this enchanting queen break off 
Ten thousand harms, n^ore than the ills 1 kn >\r, 
My idleness doth hatch. — How now! Eno 
barbus ! 

E'lter Eno BAR BUS. 

Eno. What's yonr pleasure, sir? 

Afit. I must with haste from hence. 

Eno. Why, then, we kill all our women: 
We see how mortal an unkitidness is to them; 
if they suflfer our departure, death's tne word. 

Ant. I must be gone. 

Eno. Under a compelling occasion, let wo- 
men die : It were pity to cast them away for 
nothing ; though, between them and a great 
cause, they should be esteemed nothing. Cleo^ 
patra, cat«.hing hut the least noise of this, dies 
instantly ; I have seen her die twenty times 
upon far poorer moment : I do think, there ia 
mettle in death, which commits some loving 
act upon her, she hath such a celerity in dying.. 

Ant. She is cunning past man's thought. 

Eno. Alack, sir, no ; her passions are made 
of nothing but the finest part of pare love : 
We cannot call her winds and waters, sighs 
and tears ; they are greater storms and tem- 
pest? than almanacks can report : this cannot 
be cunning in her ; if it be, she makes a shower 
of rain as well as Jove. 

Ant. 'Would I had never seen her! 

Eno. O, sir, you had then left unseen a won- 
derful piece of work ; which not to have been 
blessed withal, would have discredited your 
travel. 

Ant. Fulvia is dead. 

Eno-. Sir? 

Ant. Fulvia is dead. 

Eno. Fulvia? 

Ant. Dead. 

Eno. Why, sir, give the gods a thankful 
sacrifice. When it pleaseth their deities to 
take the wife of a man from him, it shovvs to 
man the tailors of the earth ; comforting there- 
in, that when old robes are worn out, there 
are members to make new. If (here were no 
more women but Fulvia, then had you indeed 
a cut, and the case to be lamented : this grief 
is crowned with consolation ; your old smock 
brings forth a new petticoat: — and, indeed, 
the tears live in an onion, that should vvatrr 
this sorrow. [stale 

Ant. The business she hath broached in the 
Cannot endure my absence. 

E710. And the business you have bro:iched 
here cannot be without you ; especially thai 
of Cleopatra's, which wholly depends on your 
abode. foflicera 

Ant. No more light answers. Let our 
Have notice what we purpose. I shall break 
The cause of our expedience [j to the queen. 
And get her lovell to part. For not alone 
The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches 
Do strongly speak to us ; but the letters too 



* Seized. t In some editions minds* 

X TIlMng, plowing ; prepares ui to produce good seed. § Waits. 

^ Leave, 



I E.xpeUition. 



Scene IL] 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



807 



Of many our contriving friends in Rome 
Petition ns at home : Sextns Pompeius 
Hath given the dare to Caesar, and commands 
The empire of the sea : our slippery people 
{Whose love is never link'd to the deserver. 
Till his deserts are past,) begin to throw 
Pompey the great, and all his dignities, 
Upon his son ; who, high in name and power. 
Higher than both in blood and life, stands up 
Fur the main soldier : whose quality, going on, 
The sides o'the world may danger : Much is 
breeding, [life, 

Which, like the courser's* hair, hath yet but 
And not a serpent's poison. Say, our pleasure, 
To such whose place is under us, requires 
Our quick remove from hence. 
Eno. I shall do't. [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. Enter Cleopatra, Char- 
mi am, Iras, and Alex as. 

Cleo. Where is he? 

Char. I did not see him since. 

Cieo, See where he is, who's with him, 
what he does : — 
I did not send youf; — If you find him sad. 
Say, I am dancing ; it in mirth, report 
That I am sudden sick : Quick, and return. 

[Exit Alex. 
Ohar. Madam, methinks, if you did iove 
him dearly, 
You do not hold the method to enforce 
The like from him. 

Cleo. What should I do, I do not ? 

Char. In each thing give him way, cross him 

in nothing. [lose him. 

Cleo. Thou teachest like a fool : the way to 

Char. Tempt him not so too far: I wish, 

forbear ; 

In time we hate that which we often fear. 

Enter Antony. 
But here comes Antony. 

Cleo. 1 am sick, and sullen. 

Ant. I am sorry to give breathing to my 
purpose, — [fall; 

Cleo. Help me away, dear Charmian, 1 shall 
It cannot be thus long, the sides of nature 
Will not sustain it 
Ant. Now, my dearest queen, — 

Cleo. Pray you, stand further from me. 
Ant. What's the matter? 

Cleo. I know, by that same eye, there's 
some good news. 
What says the married woman ? — You may go ; 
Would, she had never given you leave to come ! 
Let her not say, 'tis I that keep you here, 
I have no power upon you ; hers you are. 
Ant. The gods best know, — 
Cleo. O, never was there queen 

So mightily betray*d! Yet, at the first, 
I saw the treasons planted. 
*' Ant. Cleopatra, — 

j Cleo. Why sbonld I think, you can be mine, 
and true, [gods 

Though you in swearing shake the throned 

* Horse. t Look as if I did not send you. t The arch of our eye-brows. 

$ Smack or flavour. 1] Gate. IT Render my going not dangerous. •* Can Fnlvia be dead 
tt The commotion she occasioned, ij Mad of the river Nile. §5 To me, the Qmftn of Egypt 



Who have been false to Fuivia f Kiolous mad- 
ness, 
To be entangled with those month -made vows 
Which break themselves in swearing ! 

Ant, Most sweet queen, — 

Cleo. Nay, pray you, seek no colour for 
your going, [staying. 

But bid farewell, and go: when you sued 
Then was the time for words : No going then ; — - 
Eternity wag in our lips, and eyes ; [poor. 
Bliss in our brows' bent j; none our parts so 
But was a race§ of heaven : They are so still. 
Or thou, the greatest soldier of the world. 
Art turn'd the greatest liar. 

Ant, How now, lady I 

Cleo. I would, I had thy inches ; thou shouldst 
There were a heart in Egypt. [know. 

Ant. Hear me, queen : 

The strong necessity of time commands 
Our services a while; but my full heart 
Remains in use with you. Our Italy [peius 
Shines o'er with civil swords: Sexlus Pom- 
Makes his approaches to the port i| of Rome : 
Equality of two domestic powers [to strength. 
Breeds scrupulous faction : The hated, grown 
Are newly grown to love : the condemn'd Pom- 
Rich in his father's honour, creeps apace [pey. 
Into the hearts of such as have not thrived 
Upon the present state, whose numbers 

threaten ; 
And quietness, grown sick of rest, would purge 
By any desperate change : My more particular. 
And that which most with you should safeU my 
Is Fulvia's death. [going, 

Cleo. Though age from folly could not give 
me freedom, 
[t does from childishness : — Can Fulvia die ** ? 

A/(t. She's dead, my queen : 
Look here, and, at thy sovereign leisure, read 
The garboils she awaked ft; at the last, best: 
See, when and where she died. 

Cleo. O most false love I 

Where be the sacred vials thou shouldst fill 
With sorrowful water? Now I see, I see. 
In Fulvia's death, how mine received shall be. 

Ant. Quarrel no more, but be prepared to 
know 
The purposes I bear; which are, or cease. 
As you shall give the advice : Now, by the fire. 
That quickens Nilus* slime jj, I go from hence. 
Thy soldier, servant; making peace, or war. 
As thou affect'st. 

Cleo. Cut my lace, Charmian, come; — 

But let it be. — I am quickly ill, and well : 
So Antony loves. 

Ant. My precious queen, forbear ; 

And give true evidence to his love, which 
An honourable trial. [stands 

Cleo. So Fulvia told me. 

I pr'ythee, turn aside, and weep for her; 
Then bid adieu to me, and say, the tears 
Belong to Egypt §§ : Good now, play one scene 
Of excellent dissembling: and let it look 
Like perfect honour. 



808 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act L 



Ant. You'll heat my bU)od ; no more. 

Cleo, Yoa can do better yet; but this is 

Ant, Now, by my sword, — [meetly. 

Cleo. And target, — Still he mends; 

But this is not the best : Look, pr'ythee, Char- 
How thisHercnleanRoman does become [mian, 
The carriage of his chafe *. 

Ant. I'll leave you, lady. 

Cleo. Courteous lord, one word. 
Sir, you and I must part, — but that's not it: 
Sir, you and I have loved, — but there's not it; 
That you know well : Something it is I would, — 
O, niy oblivion t is a very Antony, 
And I am all forgotten! 

Ant. But that your royalty 

Holds idleness your subject, I should takeyoo 
For idleness itself. 

Cieo. 'Tis sweating labour. 

To bear such idleness so near the heart 
As Cleopatra this. But, sir, forgive me ; 
Since my becomings kill me, when they do not 
Eye wel I to you : Your honour calls you hence ; 
Therefore be deaf to my unpitied folly, 
And all the gods go with you 1 upon your sword 
Sit laureli'd victory! and smooth success 
Be strew'd before your feet 1 

Ant. Letnsgo. Corae; 

Our separation so abides, and flies, 
That thou, residing; here, go'st yet with me, 
And I, hence Heeting, here remain with thee. 
Away. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. Rome. An Apartment in 

Caesar's House. 

Enter Octavius Caesar, Lepidus, and 

Attendants. 

C<ES. You may see, Lepidus, and henceforth 
It is not Caesar's natural vice to hate [know, 
One great competitor I : From Alexandria 
'i his is the news ; He fishes, drinks, and wastes 
The lamps of night in revel : is not more man- 
Than Cleopatra; nor the queen Ptolemy [like 
More womanly than he : hardly gave audience, 
or [find there 

Vouchsafe to think he had partners : you shall 
A man, who is the abstract of all faults 
That all men follow. 

Lejt. I must not think there are 

Evils enough to darken all his goodness: 
His faults, in him, seem as the spots of heaven. 
More fiery by night's blackness ; hereditary, 
Rather than purchased >^; what he cannot 
Than what he chooses. [change, 

C€ES. You are too indultient : Let us grant, it 
Amiss to tumble on the bed of Ptolemy ; [is not 
To give a kingdom for a mirth; to sit 
And keep the turn of tippling with a slave; 
To reel the streets at noon, and stand the buffet 
With knaves that smell of sweat : say, this be- 
comes him, 
(As his composure must be rare indeed, 
Whom these things cannot blemish,) yet must 

Antony 
No way excuse bis soils, when we do bear 



So great weight iu his lightness |{. If he fillM 
His vacancy with his voluptuousness. 
Full surfeits, and the dryness of his bones, 
Call on himlF for't: but to confound** such time, 
That drums him from his sport, and speaks at | 
As his own state, and ours, — 'tis to be chid [loud * 
As we rate boys; who, being mature in know* 
ledge, [sure, 

Pawn their experience to their present plea* 
And so rebel to judgment. 

Enter a Messenger. 
Lep, Here's more news. 

Mess. Thy biddings have been done ; and 
every hour. 
Most noble Ca&sar, shalt thou have report 
How 'tis abroad. Pompey is strong at sea ; 
And it appears, he is beloved of those 
That only have fear'd Caesar : to the ports 
The discontents ft repair, and men's reports 
Give him much wrong'd. 

Bas. I should have known no less :— 

It hath been taught us from the primal state. 
That he, which is, was wish'd, until he were ; 
And theebb'd man, ne'er loved, till ne'er worth 
love, [bi><ly» 

Comes deai-'d, by being lack'd tt. This common 
Like a vagabond flag upon the stream. 
Goes to, and back, lackeying the varying tide. 
To rot itself with motion. 

Mess. Ceesar, I bring thee word, 

Menecrates and Menas, famous pirates, [wunnd 
Make the sea serve them ; which they ear$^ and 
With keels of every kind: Many hot inroads 
They make in Italy; the borders maritime 
Lack blood |||| to think on't, and flush ^Y youth 

revolt: 
No vessel can peep forth, but 'tis as soon 
Taken as seen; for Pompey's name strikes 
Than could his war resisted. [more, 

C(Es. Antony, [okce 

Leave thy lascivious wassals***. When thon 
Wast beaten from Modena, where thon slew'st 
Hirtiusand Pansa, consuls, at thy heel [against. 
Did famine follow; whom thon fonght'st , 
Though daintily brought up, with patience more 
Than savages could suffer : 1 hou didst drink 
The stale ttf of horses, and the gilded puddle jjj 
Which beasts would cough at : thy palate then 

did deign 
The roughest berry on the rudest hedge; 
Yea, like the stag, when snow the pasture sheets. 
The barks of trees thou browsedst ; on the Alps 
It is reported, thou didst eat strange flesh, 
Which some did die to look on : And all this 
(It wounds thine honour, that I speak it now,) 
Was borne so like a soldier, that thy cheek | 
So much as lank'd not. 
Lejf. It is pity of him. 

CiTS. Let his shames quickly 
Drive him to Rome: 'lis time we twain [end. 
Did show ourselves i' the field ; and, to that 
Assemble we immediate council : Pompey 
Thrives iu our idleness. 



• Heat. f Oblivious memory. t Associate or partner. $ Procured by his own fanlt. 

Levity. IF Visit him. •• Consume. ft Discontented. jt Endeared by being missed. 
$$ Plongh. lUI Turn pale. Hf Ruddy. ••• Feastings, in the old ccpy it is laissailvt, 
\e., vass<iJs. ftf Urine. ^ Stagnant, slimy w^ter. 



Scene ir.] 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, 



809 



Lep. To morrow, Caesar, 

I shall be furnish'd to inform you riglitly 
Both what by sea and land I can be able. 
To 'front this present time. 

Cas, Till which encounter. 

It is my business too. Farewell. 

Ijej), Farewell, my lord : What you shall 
know mean time 
Of stirs abroad, 1 shall beseech you, sir. 
To let me be partaker. 

Cas, Doubt not, sir ; 

1 knew it for my bond *. [Exeunt. 

SCENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the 

Palace. 
Enter Cleofatrk, Charmian, Iras, and 
Mardian. 
Cleo. Charmian,— 
Char, Madam. 
Cleo. Ha, ha !— 
Give me to drink mandragora f. 

Char. Why, madam t 

C^eo, That I might sleep out this great gap 
My Antony is away. [of time. 

Char. YoQ think of him 

Too much. 

Cleo, O, treason ! 

Charm Madam, I trust, not so. 

Cleo. Thou, Eunuch I Mardian 1 
Mar, What's your highness* pleasure T 

Cleo. Not now to hear thee sing ; I take no 
pleasure 
In aught an eunuch has ; 'Tis well for thee, 
That, being unseminar'd:^, thy freer thcrghts 
May not fly forth of Egypt. Hast then =^ec- 
Mar, Yes, gracious madam. [tions? 

Cleo. Indeed? [nothing 

Mar, Not in deed, madam ; for I can do 
But what in deed is honest to be done : 
Yet have I fierce affections, and think 
What Venus did with Mars. 

Cleo. O Charmian, 

Where think'st thou he is now 1 Stands he, or 

sits he? 
Or does he walk ? or is he on bis horse T 
O happy horse, to bear the weight of Antony ! 
Do bravely, horse I for wol'st thou whom thou 
The demi-Atlas of this earth, the arm [movcBt? 
And burgonet ^ of men. — He's speaking now. 
Or murmuring, JVhere's my serpent of old 
For so he calls me ; Now I feed myself [Nile ? 
With most delicious poison : — Think on me. 
That am with Phosbus' amorous pinches black. 
And wrinkled deep in time? Broad-fionted 

Caesar, 
When thou wast here above the ground, I was 
A morsel for a monarch : and great Pompey 
Would stand, and make his eyes grow in my 
brow ; 



There would he anchor his aspect, and die 
With his looking on his life. 

Enter A lex as. 
Alex, Sovereign of Egypt, hail I 

Cleo. How much unlike art thou Mark An- 
tony T [hath 
Yet, coming from him, that great medicine 
With his tinct gilded ihee.— 
How goes it with my brave Mark Antony t 

Alex, Last thing he did, dear queen. 
He kiss'd, — the last of many doubled kisses,— 
This orient p«arl ;— His speech sticks in my 
Cleo, Mine ear must pluck it thence, [heart. 
Alex. Good friend, quoth he. 

Say, thejirm Roman to great Egypt sends 
This treasure of an oyster ; at whose foot 
To mend the petty present ^ 1 will piece 
Her opulent throne with kingdoms ; All the 
east, [nodded. 

Say thou, shall call her mistress. So he 
And soberly did mount a termagant H steed, 
Who neigh'd so high, that what 1 would have 
Was beastly dumb'd by him. [spoke 

Cleo, What, was he sad, or merry 1 

Alex, Like to the time o'the year between 
the extremes 
Of hot and cold ; he was nor sad, nor merry. 
Cleo. O well divided disposition !— Note 
him, [»ote him : 

Note him, good Charmian, 'tis the man : but 
He was not sad ; for he would shine on those 
That m^tke their looks by his : he was not merry ; 
Which seem'd to tell them, his remembrance 
In Egypt with his joy : but between both ; [lay 
O heavenly mingle !— Be'st ihon sad, or merry, 
The violence of either thee becomes ; 
So does it no man else.— Met'st thou my posts ? 
Alex. Ay, madam, twenty several messen- 
Why do you send so thick ? [gci s : 

Cleo. Who's born that day 

When I forget to send to Antony, 
Shall die a beggar.— Ink and paper, Charmian. 
Welcome, my good Alexas.— Did 1, Charmian, 
Ever love Caesar so ? 

Char. O that brave Cassar ! 

Cleo. Be choked with such another emphasis! 
Say, the brave Antony. 

Char. The valiant Csesar! 

Cleo. By Isis, I will give thee bloody teeth. 
If thou with Caesar paragon again 
My man of men. 

Char. By your most gracious pardon, 

I sing but after you. 

Cleo. My salad days ; 

When I was green in judgment : Cold in blood 
To say, as I said then !— But, come, away : 
Get me ink and paper : he shall have every day 
A several greeting, or I'll unpeople Egypt. 

[Exeunt 



• My bonnden doty. f A ileepy potion. J Unmanned, 

4 A lieitaet. U Forioot. 

az a 



910 



SHAKSPEARE. 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. Messina. u4 Room in Pompey's 

House, 
Enter Pompey, Menecratls, and M enas. 

Pom. If ilie great gods be just, they shall 
The deeds of justest men. [assist 

Meiie. Know, worthy Pompey, 

That what they do delay, they not deny. 

Pom, Whiles we are suitors to their throne. 
The thing we sue for. [decays 

Mene. We, ignorant of ourselves. 

Beg often our own harms, which the wise 

powers 
Deny us for our good ; so find we profit. 
By losing of our prayers. 

Pom. I shall do well : 

The people love me, and the sea is mine; 
My power's a crescent, and my auguring hope 
Says, it will come to the full. Mark Antony 
In Egypt sits at dinner, and will make [where 
No wars without doors : Caesar gets njoney, 
He loses hearts : Lepidus flatters both. 
Of both is flatter'd ; but he neither loves, 
Nor either caies for him. 

Ale ft. Caesar and Lepidus 

Are in the field ; a mighty strength they carry. 

Pom. Where have you this? 'tis false. 

Men, i rom Silvius,sir. 

Pom. He dreams; 1 know, they are in 
Rome together, 
l.ookin'4 for Antony : But all charms of love, 
Salt Cleopatra, soften thy waned • lip! [both ! 
Let witchcraft join witli beauty, lust with 
Tie up the libertine in a field of tVasis. 
Keep his brain fuming ; Ipicurean cooks, 
Sharpen with cloyless sauce his appetite ; 
That sleep and feeding m.iy prorogue his ho- 
nour, [Van ins? 
Even tillf a Lethe'd dulness. — How now 
Ei-ter Varrid.s. 

Var. This is most certain that 1 shall deliver : 
Mark Antony is every hour in Rome 
Expected ; since he went from Egypt, 'tis 
A space for lurther travel. 

Pom. 1 could have given less niatter 

A better ear. — Menas, 1 did not thijd<, 
This amorous surfeiter wouUl have don'd J hi? 
For such a petty war : his soldiership [helm j 
Is twice the other twain : Hut let us rear 
'i he higher our opinion, that our stirring 
Can Irom the lap of hgypi's widow pluck 
The ne'er lust-wearied Antony. 

Mcji. I cannot hope, 

Caesar and Antony shall well greet together : 
His wife, that's dead, did trespasses to Caesar ; 
His brother warr'd upon him ; although, 1 
Not moved by Antony. [think. 

Pom. I know not, MenaSj 

How lesser enmities nnay give way to greater. 

Were't not that we st-and up against them all, 

Iwere pregnant they should square [J between 

themselves; 



For they have entertained cause enough 

To draw their swords : but how the fear of us 

May cement their divisions, and bind up 

The petty ditierence, we yet not know. 

Be it as our gods will have it ! It only stands 

(iur lives upoii, to use our strongest hands. 

Come, Menas. iJblxtunt, 

SCENE II. Rome. A Room in the House 

of Lepidus. 

Enter Enobarbcs and Lepilus- 

Ley. Good Enobarbus, 'tis a worthy deed, 
And shall become you well, to entreat >our 
To soft and gentle speech. [captain 

Eno, I shall entreat him 

To answer like himself: if Caesar move him. 
Let Antony look over Caesar's head. 
And speak as iouti as Mars. By Jupiter, 
Were 1 the wearer of Antonius' beard, 
I would not shave to-day. 

Leyj, 'Tis not a time 

For private stomaching. 

Eno. Every time 

Serves for the matter that is then born in it. 

Liy, But small to greater matters must 
give way. 

Eno. Not if the small come first. 

hey. Your speech is passion : 

But, pray you, stir no embers up. Here comes 
The noble Antony. 

isw^er Antony and Vewtidil's. 

Eno. And yonder, Caesar. 

Enter C-«.sar, MnCiKN as, and Ac rupa. 

Ant. If we composed well here, to Parthia: 
Hark you, Veniidius. 

Cas. I do not know, 

Mecaenas ; ask Agrippa. 

lAy. Noble friends, 

That which combined us was nio.^t iireat, and 
A leaner action rend us. What's amiss, [let not 
May it be gently beard : V\ hen we debate 
Our trivial ditterence loud, we do commit 
Murder in healing wounds: Then, noble part- 
(The rather for I earnestly beseech,) [ners. 
Touch you the somest points with sweetest 
Nor curstness** grow to the matter, [terms, 

Ant. *Tis spoken well ; 

Were we before our armies, and to fight, 
I should do thus. 

Cas. Welcome to Rome. 

Ant. Thank you. 

Cas. Sit. 

Ant. Sit, sir! 

Cas, Nay, 

Then— 

Ant. I learn, yon take things ill, which are 
Or, being, concern you not. [not so ; 

Cas. I roust be laugh'd at 

If, or for nothing, or a little, I 
Should say myself otfended; and with you 
Chiefly i* the world : more laugh'd at, that ^ 
should 



Declined, faded. 
U Qaarrel. 



To. 
% Agree. 



X Done on; i.e., put on. $ Helmet 

** Let not iilhnmour be added. 



^ 



0€ene A.i 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



811 



ftince name you derogately, when to sound i 
t not concern'd me. [your name 

Ant. My being iu Egypt, Caesar, 

What was't to you ? [Rome 

Cos. No more than my residing here at 
Might be to you in Egypt : Yet, if you there 
Did practise * on my state, your being in 
Might be my question f. [Egypt 

Ant. How intend you, practised 1 

CtBS. You may be pleased to catch at mine 

intent, [brother. 

By what did here befal me. Your wife, and 

Made wars upon me ; and their contestation 

Was theme for you, yon were th<> word of war. 

Ant. Yoj do mistake your business ; my 
brother never 
Did urge me in his act : I did inquire it ; 
And have my learning from some true reportsj, 
That drew their swords with yon. Did he not 
Discredit my authority with yours ; [rather 
And make the wars alike against my stomach, 
Having alike your cause ; Of this, my letters 
Before did satisfy you. If you'll patch aquarrel. 
As matter whole you have not to make it with, 
Jt must not be with this. 

Ccps. You praise yourself 

By laying defects of judgment to me; but 
You patched up your excuses. 

Ant. Not so, not so. 

I know you could not lack, I am certain ou*t, 
Very necessity of this thought, that I, 
Your partner in the cause 'gainst which he 

fought, 
Could not with graceful eyes attend those wars 
Which 'fronted j mine own peace. As for my 

wife, 
I would you had her spirit in such another : 
The third o'the world is yours; which with a 

snaffle II 
You may pace easy, but not such a wife. 

Eno. 'VVonld we had ail such wives, that 
the men might go to wars with the women ! 

Ant. So much ancurable, her garboils^, 
Caesar, 
Made out of her impatience, (which not wanted 
Shrewdnesss of policy too,) I grieving grant, 
Dil you to ) much disquiet : for that, you must 
But say, I could not help it. 

( '<F V. I wrote to you. 

When rioting in Alexandria ; you 
Did pocket up my letters, and with taunts 
Did gibe my missive** out of audience. 

A?it, Sir, 

He fell upon me, ere admitted : then 
Three kings I had newly feasted, and did want 
Of what i was i* the morning : but, next day, 
I told him of myself; which was as much 
As to have ask'd him pardon : Let this fellow 
Be entiling of our strife ; if we contend. 
Out of our question +t wipe him. 

Cas. Yon have broken 

Tlie article of your oath ; which you shall never 
Have tongue to charge me with. 

J^'p. Soft, Caesar, 



Ant. No, Lepidus, let him speak ; 
The honour's sacred which he talks on now. 
Supposing that 1 lack'd it: But on, Caesar ; 
The article of my oath, — 

Cas, To lend me arms and aid when I re^ 
The which you both denied. [quired them.; 

Ant. Neglected rather; 

And then, when poisoned hours had bound me 
up [may. 

From mine own knowledge. As nearly as I 
I'll play the penitent to you : but mine honesty 
Shall not make poor my greamess, nor my 
Work without it : Truth is, that Fuivia, [power 
To have me out of Egypt, made wars here ; 
For which myself, the ignorant motive, do 
So ffrr ask pardon, as befits mine honour 
To stoop in such a case. 

Lep, 'Tis nobly spoken. 

Mec. If it might please you, to enforce no 
further 
The griefs ;j between ye : to forget them quite. 
Were to remember that the present need 
Speaks to atone ^j you. 

Lep. Worthily spoke, Mecaenas. 

Bno. Or, if you borrow one another's love 
for the instant, you may, when you hear no 
more words of Pompey, return it again: you 
shall have time to wrangle in, when you have 
nothing else to do. 

Ant. Thou art a soldier only ; speak no more. 

Eno. That truth should be silent I had al- 
most forgot. [speak no more. 

A?tt, You wrong this presence, therefore 

Bno. Go to, then ; your considerate stone. 

C(ps, I do not much dislike the matter, bat 
The manner of his speech : for it cannot be, 
We shall remain in friendship, our condiiionsHK 
So differing in their acts. Yet, if I knew 
What hoop should hold us staunch^I^, from 
O' the world I would pursue it. [edge to edfre 

Agr. Give me leave, Caesar, — 

C{ES, Speak, Agrippa. 

Agr. Thou hast a sister by the mother's side. 
Admired Octavio : great Mark Antony 
Is now a widower. 

Cips. Say not so, Agrippa ; 

If Cleopatra heard you, your reproof 
Were well deserved of rashness. 

Ant. I am not married, Caesar : let me hear 
Agrippa further speak. 

Agr, To hold you in perpetual amity. 
To make you brothers, and to knit your hearts 
With an unslipping knot, take Antony 
Octavia to his wife: whose beauty claims 
No worse a husband than the best of men ; 
Whose virtue, and whose general graces, speak 
That which none else can utter. By this mar- 
riage, 
All little jealousies, which now seem great, 
And all great fears, which now import their 
dangers, 'tales 

Would then be nothing : truths would be bu 
Where now half tales be truths : her love ir 
both. 



• Tse b.td arts or stratagems. + Subject of conversation. ; Kepovtors. 

§ Opposed. ii Bridle. ^ Commotions. ** Messenger. t* ConvfrgatioQ 

;; Grievances. ^ Reconcile. ||1] Di>po5ition5. fS, Vuiu. 



ftl2 



SIIAKSPKARE. 



[Act it 



vVould, each to olhei , ami ail loves to both, 
Draw after her. Parion what I have spoke; 
For 'lis a ktudied, not a present thought, 
By duty ruminated. 

Ant. Will Caesar speak? 

Cas. Not till he he trs liow Antony is touch'd 
With what is spoke iheady. 

Ant, What power is in Agrippa, 

If I would say, Agrippa, be it so. 
To make this good ? 

CiPs. The power of Caesar, and 

His power unto Octavia. 

Anf. May 1 never 

'lo this good purpose, that so fairly shows, 
Dream of impediment! — Let me have thy 

hand : 
Further this act of grace ; and, from this hour. 
The heart of brothers govern in our loves. 
And sway our great designs ! 

C<ps. There is my hand. 

A sister I bequeath you, wh m no brother 
Did ever love so dearly : Let her live 
To join our kingdoms, and our he;*rts; an^^l 
Fly off oar loves again I [never 

i>€p» Happily, amen ! 

Ant. I did not think to draw my sword 
'gainst Pompey ; 
For he hath laid strange courtesies, and great, 
Of late upon me ; I must thank him only. 
Lest my remembrance suffer ill report ; 
At heel of ihat, defy him. 

Lep. Time cfilJs upon us : 

Of US must Pompey presently be sought, 
Or tise he seeks out as. 

A/It. And where lies he? 

Cas. About the Mount Misenum. 

Ant. What's his strength 

By land ? 

Cas. Great and increasing ; bttt by sea 
He is an absolute master. 

Ant. So is the fame. 

'Would we had spoke together? Haste we 

for it : 
Yet, ere we put ourselves in arms,dc8patcfa we 
The business we have talk'd of. 

Ctes, With most gladness ; 

And do Invite yon to my sister's view. 
Whither straight I will lead yon. 

Ant. Let os, Lepidus, 

Not lack your company. 

JLep. Noble Antony, 

Not sickness should detain me. 

[Flourish. Exeunt Casar, Anton t, 
and Lepidus. 

Afec, Welcome from Ej^ypt, sir. 

Eno. Half the heart of Caesar, worthy Me* 
caenas! — my honourable friend Agrippa I — 

Aer. Good Enobarbus I 

Mec. We have cause to be glad, that mat- 
ters arc so well digested. You staled well by 
it in Egypt. 

Eno, Ay, sir ; we did sleep day ont of coun- 
tenance, and made the night light with 
drinking. 

Mtc, Eight wild boars roasted whole at a 



breakfast, and but twelve persons ^herh Is 
this true? 

Eno. This wasbntas a fly by an eagle: we 
had much more monstrous matter of feast 
which worthily deserved noting. 

Mec. She's a most iriunjphant lady, if re* 
port be square * to her. 

Eno. When she first met Mark Antony, she 
pursed up his heart upon the river of Cydnus. 

Agr. There she appeared indeed; or my 
reporter devised well for her. 

Eno. I will tell you. 
The barge she sat in, like a bnrnish'd throne, 
Bnrn'd on the water : the poop was beaten 

gold: 
Purple the sails, and so perfumed, that 
The winds were love-sick with them; the oars 
were silver; [ma<le 

Which to the tune of flutes kept stroke, and 
The water, which they beat, to follow faster. 
As amorous of their strokes. For her own per- 
It beggar'd all description : she did lie [son. 
In her pavilion, (cloth of gold, of tissue,) 
O'er picturing that Venus, where we see. 
The fancy out-work nature : on each side her. 
Stood pretty dimpled boys, like smiling 
Cnpids, [seem 

With diverse-colour'd fans, whose wind 6id 
To glow the dtlicate cheeks which they did 
And what they undid, did+. [t'ool, 

Agr. O, rare for Antony ! 

Eno. Her gentlewomen, like the Nereides, 
So many mermaids, tended her i* the eyes. 
And made their bends adornings: .it the helm 
A seeming^mermald steers ; the silken tackle 
Swell with the touci e& of those flower-sofl 

hands. 
That yarely frame J the office. From the barge 
A strange invi&iblc perfume hits the sense 
Of the adjacent wharfs. The city cast 
Her people out upon her; ^nd Antony, 
Knthroned in the market-place, did sit alone. 
Whistling to the air ; which, but for vacancy 
Had gone to gaze on Cleopatra too. 
And made a gap in nature. 

Agr. Rare Egyptian f 

Eno. Upon her landing, Antony sent to her 
InvUed her to supper : she replied. 
It should be better, he became her guest ; 
Which she entreate<I : Our courteous Antony, 
Whom ne'er the word of No woman heard 

speak. 
Being barber'd ten times o'er, goes to the feast; 
And, for his ordinary, pays his heart. 
For what his eyes eat only. 

Agr. Royal wench ! 

She made great Caesar lay his sword to bed ; 
He plough'd her, and she cropp'd. 

EnOm 1 saw her once 

Hop forty paces through the public street: 
And having lust her breath, she spoke, and 

panted. 
That she did make defect, perfection. 
And, breathless, power breathe forth. 

Alec. Now Antony must leave her utterly. 



• Salts with her merits. f Added to the warmth they were intruded to dimiai&h. 

t Readily perform. § Wautou. [j Allotment. 



Scene I/.] 



ANTOxW AAD CLEOPATHA. 



813 



Eno. Never ; he will not ; ' 

Age cannot wither her, nor cnstom stale 
Her iotinite variety : Other women [hungry 
Cloy th' appetites they feed ; but she makes 
Where most she satisfies. For vilest things 
Become themselves in her ; that the holy priests 
Bless her, when she's riggish ♦. 

Mec. If beauty, wisdom, modesty, can settle 
The heart cf Antony, Octavia is 
A blessed lottery t to him. 

Agr. Let us go. — 
Good Enobarbus make yourself my guest, 
Whilst you abide here. 

Eno Humbly, sir, I thank you. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III. The same. A Room in 

Caesar's House. 

Enter Cms kn, Antony, Octavia between 

them ; Attendants, and a Soothsayer. 

Ant. The world, and my great office, will 
Divide me from your bosom. [sometimes 

Octa. All which time 

Before the gods my knee shall bow my prayers 
To them for you. 

Ant. Good night, sir. — My Octavia, 

Read not my blemishes in the world's report: 
I have not kept my square ; but that to conie 
Shall all be done by the rule. Good night, 

Octa. Good night, sir. [dear lady. — 

C<BS. Good night. 

{Exeunt Ci£SAR and Octavia. 

Ant. Now, sirrah! you do wish yourself in 

Snoth. VV ould I had never come from thence, 
Thithe"! 

\nt. If you can, your reason ? 

Sooth. I see't in 

My motion, have it not in my tongue : But yet 
Hie you again to Egypt. 

Ant. Say to me, 

Whose fortunes shall rise higher, Caesar's, or 

Sooth. Caesar's. [mine? 

Therefore, O Antony, stay not by his side: 
Thy daemon, that's thy spirit which keeps 

thee, is 
Noble, courageous, high, unmatchable, 
W here Caesar's is not ; but near him thy angel 
Becomes a Fear, as being o'erpower'd ; there- 
Make space enough between yon. [fore 

Ant. Speak this no more. 

Sooth. To none but thee; no more, but 
when to thee. 
If thon dost play with him at any game. 
Thou art sure to los6; and, of that natural 
luck, [thickens. 

He beats thee 'gainst the odds; thy lustre 
When he shines by: I say again, thy spirit 
Is all afraid to govern thee near him; 
But, he away, 'tis noble. 

A7it. Get thee gone : 

Say to Ventidius, I would speak with him: ^ 

[Eiit Soothsayer. 

He shall to Parthia.— Be it art,or hap, [him; 

He hath spoken true: The very dice obey 



• Wanton. 



t Allotment. 
^ Enclosed. 



And, in our sports, my belter cw-^-Mig faints 
Under his chance : if we draw \\^^, h^ speeds: 
His cocks do win the battle still r' .«ne, 
When it is all to nought ; and his f/t uUi ever 
Beat mine, inlioop'd§, at odds, i will «» 

Egypt: ['/^»** 

And though I make this marriage tot ^' 

Enter Yektidivs, 
r the east my pleasure lies : — O, come, V*« 

tidius, [re«<lg 

You must to Parthia; your commissiwi^ 
Follow me, and receive it. [Eieum 

SCENE IV. The same. A Street, 
Enter Lepidus, Mec^enas, and Agpippa 

Lep. Trouble yourselves no further: pra> 
Your generals after. [yoo, hasten 

Agr, Sir, Mark Antony 

Will e'en but kiss Octavia, and we'll follow, 

Lep. 1 ill I shall see you in your soldier'i 
dress. 
Which will become yon both, farewell. 

Mec. We shall. 

As I conceive the journey, be at mount [J 
Before you, Lepidus. 

Lep. Your way is shorter. 

My purposes do draw me niach about; 
You'll win two days upon me. 

Mec. Agr. Sir, good success • 

Lrp. Farewell. {Exeunt, 

SCENE V. Alexandria. A Room in the 

Palace, 

Enter Cleofatra, Chabmian, Iras, and 

Alexas. 

Cleo. Give me some music; music, moody IF 

Of us that trade in love. [food 

Attend, The music, ho! 

Enter Mardian. 
Cleo. Let it alone; let us to billiards: 
Come, Charmian. [dian. 

Char. My arm is sore, best play with Mar- 
Cleo, As well a woman wiih an eunuch 
play'd [me, sir? 

As with a woman; — Come, you'll play with 
M'ir. As well as I can, madam. 
Cleo. And when jfood will is show'd, though 
it come too short, 
The actor may plead pardon. I'll none now :— 
Give me mine angle, — We'll to the river : 

there. 
My music playing far off, I will betray 
Taw ny-finn'd fishes ; my bended hook shall 

pierce 
Their slimy jaws ; and, as I draw them up, 
1*11 think them every one an Antony, 
And say. Ah, ha ! you're caught. 

Char. '1 was merry, when 

You wager*d on yoar angling; when your 

diver 
Did hang a salt-fish on his hook, which he 
With fervency drew up. 

Cteo. That time!— O times!— 

1 langh'd him ont of patience; and that nii^ht 
I Idugh'd him into patience : and next morn 

t The ancients nsed to match quails as we match cocks 
ii Mount Miseuum. U Melancholy. 



814 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act II 



Ere the ninth hoar, I drunk him to his bed ; 
I'hen put ray tires • and mantles on him, whilst 
1 wore his sword Philippau. O I from Italy ; 

Enter a Messenger. 
Ram thou thy fruitful tidini^s in mine ears, 
That long time have been barren. 

Mess. Madam, madam, — 

Cieo. Antony's dead t — 
I f thou say so, villain, Ihon kiU'stthy mistress : 
But wetland free, 

If thou so yield him, there is gold, and here 
My bluest veins to kiss; a hand that kings 
Have lipp'd, and trembled kissing. 
Mess. First, madam, he's well. 

Cleo. Why, there's more gold. But, sir- 
rah, mark; We use 
To say the dead are well : bring it to that, 
The gold 1 give thee will I melt, and pour 
Down thy ill-uttering throat. 
Mess, Good madam, hear me. 
Cieo. Well, go to, I will; 

But there'sno goodness in thy face: If Antony 
Be free and healthful, why so tart a favour t. 
To trumpet such good tidings ? If not well. 
Thou shouldst come like a fury crown'd with 
Not like a formal man t. [snakes, 

Mess. Wilt please you he;jr me 1 

Cleo. I have a mind to strike thee, ere thou 
speak'st : 
Yet, if thou say Antony lives, is well, 
< >r friends with Caesar, or not captive to him, 
I'll set thee in a shower of gold, and hail 
Kich pearls upon thee. 
Mess, Madam, he's well. 

Cleo. Well said. 

Mess, And friends with Caesar. 
Cleo. Thou'rt an honest man. 

Mess. Caesar and he are greater friends 

than ever. 
Cleo. Make thee a fortune from me. 
Mess. But yet, madam, — 

Cleo. I do not like hut yet, it does allay 
The good precedence $; tie upon but yet: 
But yet is as a gaoler to bring forth 
Some monstrous malefactor. Pr'ythee, friend. 
Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear, 
The good and bad together: He's friend with 
(■aesar; [free. 

Ill state of health, thousay'st; and, thou say'st. 
Mess, Free, madam! no; 1 made no such 
He's bound unto Octavia. [report : 

Cleo. For what good turn I 

Mess, For the best turn i' the bed. 
Cleo, 1 am pale, Charmian. 

Mess. Madam, he's married t(» Uctavia. 
Cleo. The most infectious pestilence upon 
thee I [Strikes him down. 

Mess, Good madam, patience. 
Cleo, What say you?— Hence, 

[Strikes him again. 
Ilonible villain! or I'll spurn thine eyes 
Like balls before me; I'll unhair thy head; 

[She halts him up and dowji. 
Thou shall be whipp'd with wire, and stew'd 
Smarting in ling'rii.g pickle. [in brine. 



Mes.^ Gracious madam, 

I, that do bring the news, made not the match. 
Cleo. Say, 'tis not so, a province 1 will tiive 
thee, fhadst 

And make thy fortunes proud : the blow thou 
Shall make thy peace, for moving me to nge; 
And 1 will boot II thee with what gift beside 
Thy modesty can beg. 

Mess. He's married, madam. 

Cleo, Rogue, thou hast lived too long. 

[Draws a dagger 
Mess. Nay, then I'll run :— 

What mean you, madam? I have made no 
fault. [Exit. 

Char. Good madam, keep yourself within 
The man is innocent. [yourself; 

ClfO. Some innocents 'scape not the thnu- 
derbolt. — 
Melt Egypt into Nile! and kindly creatures 
Turn all to serpents! — Call the slave again; 
Though I am mad, I will not bite him : — Call, 
Char. He is afeard to come. 
Cleo. I will not hurt him :— 

These hands do lack nobility, that they strike 
A meaner than myself; since I myself [sir. 
Have given my«elf the cause.— Come hither. 

Re-enter Messenger. 
Though it be honest, it is never good [sage 
To bring bad news: Give to a graciouj mea- 
An host of tongues; but let ill tidings tell 
Themselves, when they be felt. 

Mess. I have done my duty. 

Cleo. Is he married ? 
I cannot hate thee worser than I do. 
If thou again say, Yes. 
Mess. He is married, madam. 

Cleo. The gods confound theel dost thou 

hold there still I 
Mess, Should I lie, madam? 
Cleo. O, I would thou didst; 

So half my E^ypt weresubmergedlT, and made 
A cistern for scaled snakes I Go, get thee 

h.nce ; 
Hadst thou Narcissus in thy face, to me 
Thou wouldst appear most ugly. He is mar- 
Mess. I crave your highness' pardon, [ried? 
Cleo. He is married? 

Mess, Take no offence, that I would not 
offend you : 
To punish me for what you make me do. 
Seems much unequal : He is married to Octa- 
via. [of thee, 
Cleo. O, that his fault should make a knave 
That artnot !— What? thou'rt sure of 't?— Gel 
thee hence: * [Rome, 
The merchandise which thou hast brought from 
Are all too dear for me ; Lie they upon thy 

hand. 

And be undone by 'em! {Exit Messenger. 

Char. Good your highness, patience. 

CLeo. In praising Antony, I have dispraised 

Char. Many times, madam. [Caesar. 

Cleo. 1 am paid for't now. 

Lead me from hence, 

I faint; O Iras, Charmian, — Tis no matter: 



• Head dress. 



\ So sour a countenmce. 
II Kev'oiKpciise. 



\ A man in his senses. 
^ WiielMi'd UMiier ua.er. 



^ Prece.iing. 






Scene V.] 



AKTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



815 



Go to the fellow, good Alexas ; bid him 
Report the feature * of Octavia, her yeara. 
Her inclinatiou. let him net leave out 
The colour of her hair :— bring rae word 

quickly.— [Exit A lex as. 

Let him for ever go : — Let him not — Char- 

inian, 
Though he be painted one way like a Gorgon, 
T'other way he's a Mars : — Bid you Alexas 

[To Mardian. 
Bring me w^ord, how tall she is. — Pity me, 

Charmian, 
But do not speak to me. — Lead me to my 

chamber. [Exeunt. 

SCENE VL iVi^ar Misenom. 
.Enter Pompey and Menas, at one side, 

with Drum and Trumpet : at another, 

CiESAR, Lepidus, Antony, Enobar- 

Bus, Mec^nas, with Soldiers marching. 

Pom. Your hostages I have, so have yon 
And we shall talk before we fight. [mine ; 

CcBs. Most meet, [have we 

That tirst we come to words ; and therefore 
Our written purposes before us sent; 
Which, if thou hast consider'd let ns know 
If 'twill tie up thy discontented sword; 
And carry back to Sicily much tall t youth 
That else must perish here. 

Pom, To you all three. 

The senators alone of this great world, 
Chief factors for the gods, — 1 do not know, 
Wherefore my father should revengers want. 
Having a sou and friends ; }»ince Julius Caesar, 
Who at Philippi the good Brutus ghosted J, 
There saw you labouring for him. What was 
it, [what 

That moved pale Cassius to conspire? And 
Made the all-honour'd, honest, Roman Brutus, 
With the arm'd rest, courtiers of beauteous 

freedom. 
To drench the Capitol ; but that they would 
Have one man but a man 1 And that is it, 
Hath made me rig my navy ; at whose bur- 
den [meant 
The anger'd ocean foams; with which I 
To scourge the ingratitude that despiteful 
Cast on my noble father. [Rome 

CcBs. Take your time. 

Ant. Thou canfct not fear ^ us, Pompey, with 
thy sails, [know'st 

We'll speak with thee at sea : at land, thou 
How much we do o'ercount thee. 

Pom. At land, indeed. 

Thou dost o'er-count me of my father's house : 
But, since the cuckoo buildi not for himself. 
Remain in't as thou may'st. 

L,ep. Be pleased to tell us, 

(For this is from the present H,) how you take 
J he offers we have sent you. 

CcBs. There's the point. 

Ant. Which do not be entreated to, but 
What it is worth embraced. [weigh ; 

CcBS, And what may follow. 

To try a larger fortune. j 



• Beauty. 



f Brave. 

% Target, 



X Haunted. 
ihit'hl. 



Pom. You have made me offer 

Of Sicily, Sardinia; and 1 must 
Rid all ihe sea of pirates ; then, to send 
Measures of wheat to Rome : This 'greed upon. 
To part with unhack'd edges, and bear back 
Our targe II undinted. 

C<BS. Ant, Lep, That's our offer. 

Pom, Know theo, 

I came before you here, a man prepared 
To take this offer : But Mark Antony 
Put me to some impatience : — Though I lose 
The praise of it by telling, You must know. 
When Caesar and your brothers were at blows. 
Your mother came to Sicily, and did find 
Her welcome friendly. 

Ant. 1 have heard it, Pompey; 

And am well studied for a liberal thanks. 
Which I do owe you. 

Pom, Let me have your hand ; 

I did not think, sir, to have met you here. 

Ant. The beds i* the east are soft ; and thank* 
to you. 
That call'd rae timelier than my purpose, hither. 
For I have gain'd by it 

CcES. Since I saw you last. 

There is a change upon you. 

Pom. Well, I know not 

What counts** harsh fortune casts upon ray 
But in ray bosom shall she never come, [face ; 
To make my heart her vassal. 

Lep. Well met here. 

Pom, I hope so, Lepidus. — Thus we are 
agreed : 
I crave, our composition may be written. 
And seal'd between us. 

CcEs. That's the next to do. 

Pom. We'll feast each other, ere we part ; 
Draw lots who shall begin. [and kt us 

Ant. That will I, Pompey. 

Pom. No, Antony, take the lot. but, first. 
Or last, your fine Egyptian cookery [Caesar 
Shall have the fame. I have heard that Julius 
Grew fat with feasting there. 

Ant. You have heard much. 

Pom. I have fair meanings, sir. 

Ant. And fair words to them. 

Pom. Then so much have I heard : — 
And I have heard, Apollodorus carried — 

Eno, No more of that : — He did so. 

Pom. What, 1 pray yor T 

Eno, A certain queen to Caesar in a ma 
tress. [soldie* 

Pom. I know thee now ; — How farest tho 

Eno. \\ el 

And well am like to do ; for, I perceive. 
Four feasts are toward. 

Pom. Let me shake thy hand 

I never bated thee : I have seen thee fight. 
When I have envied thy behaviour. 

Eno. Sir, 

I never loved you much ; but I have praisse/ 
you, mt-rk 

When you have well deserved ten time» «» 
As 1 have said you did. 

Pom. Enjoy thy plainness, 

$ Affright. C Prest nt subject. 

•♦ Sfoiis- i.,arVs. 



81& 



SUAKSPEARE. 



[Act II. 



It nothing ill beco'*' ^ mce. — 
Aboard my galley • **vite you all : 
Will you lead, lords? 

Cas; Ant. Lep. Show us the way, sir. 

Pom, Come. 

[Exeunt Pompev, C/ksar,Antony, Lb- 
pi d us, Soldiers, and Attendant*. 

Men. Thy father, Pompey, would ne'er have 
made this treaty. — [Aside.] — You and I have 
known*, sir. 

JSno, At sea, I think. 

Men, We have, sir. 

£no. You have done well by water, 

Jlfen. And you by land. 

Eno. I will praise any man that will praise 
me : though it cannot be denied what I have 
done by land. 

Me/i. Nor what I have done by water. 

Eno. Yes, something you can deny for your 
own safety : you have been a great thief by sea. 

Men. And you by land. 

Eno. There I deny my land service. But 
give me your hand, Menas: If our eyes had 
authority, here they might take two thieves 
kissing. 

Men, All men's face* are true, v/hatsoe'cr 
their hands are. 

E/to. But there is never a fair woman has a 
true face. 

Men. No slander ; they steal hearts^ 

Eno. We came hither to tight with you. 

Men, For my part, I am sorry it is turned 
to a drinking. Pompey doeth this day laugh 
away his fortune. 

E/io. If he do, sure, he cannot weep it back 
again. 

Men. You have said, sir. We looked not 
for Mark Antony here ; Pray you, is he mar- 
riei to Cleopatra? 

E/io, Caesar's sister i» called Octavia. 

Men. True, sir ; she was the wife of Cains 
Marcellns. 

Eno. But she is now the wife of Marcus 
Antonius ? 

Men. Pray you, sir? 

Eno. 'Tis truf. 

Men. Then is Cassar and he for ever knit 
together. 

E'fo. If I were bound to divine of this unify, 
I woald not prophesy so. 

Men. 1 think the policy o^ that purpose 
made more in the marriage, than the love of 
the parties. 

Eno. I think so too. But yon shall find, the 
band that seems to tie their friendship to- 
getiier, will be the very strangler of their 
ainitv : Octavia is of a holy, cold, and still 
conversation f. 

Mtn. Who would not have his wife so? 

Euo. Not he, that himself is not so ; which 
IS Vf ;irk Antony. He will to his Egyptian dish 
a^aiu : thrn sh ill the sighs of Octavia blow the 
fire up in Caesar; and, as 1 8aid*l)efore, that 
which is ilie strength of their amity, shall prove 
the iiniuediate author of their variance. An- 



tony will use his affection where it is ; he mar- 
ried but his occasion here. 

Men. And thus it may be. Come, sir, will 
you aboard? I have a health for you. 

Efto. 1 shall take it, sir; we have used our 
throats in Egypt. 

Mc7t. Come; let's away. [Ea:eu7it, 

SCENE VII. On Board Pompey's Galley, 

lying near Misenum. 

Music, Enter Two or Three Servants, with 

a Banquet %, 

1 Serv. Here they'll be, man : Some o' their 
plants $ are ill-rooted already, the least >%ind 
i' world will blow them down. 

2 Serv, Lepidns is high-coloured. 

1 Serv. They have made him drink alms- 
drink. 

2 Serv. As they pinch one another by the 
disposition, he cries oMi, no more ; reconciles 
them to his entreaty, and himself to the drink. 

1 Serv. But it raises the greater wai between 
him and his discretion. 

2 Serv. Why, this it is to have a name in 
great men's fellowship : I had as lief have a 
reed that will do me no service, as a partisan || 
I could not heave. 

1 Serv. '\o be called into a huge sphere, 
and not to be seen to move in't, are the holes 
where eyes should be, which pitifully disaster 
the cheeks. 
A Sennet sounded. Enter C^sar, Antony, 

Pompey, Lepiuus, Agripf a, MECiiiNAS, 

Enobarbus, Menas, 7i^^/i o/A^r C a plains. 

Ant. Thus do they, sir: [7c C^sAR.j The> 
take the How o' the Nile. 
By certain scales i* the pyramid ; they know. 
By the height, the lowness, or the nieanH, if 

dearth, 
Or foizon**, follow: The higher Nilus swells, 
J he more it promises: as it ebbs, the seedsman 
Upon the slime and ooze scatters his grain. 
And shortly comes to harvest. 

Eej). You have strange serpents there. 

Ant. Ay, Lepidus. 

Eej}, Yonr serpent of Egypt is bred now of 
your mud by the operation of your £ui*: so is 
your crocodile. 

Ant. They are so. 

Pom. Sit, — and some wine — A health to 
Lepidus. 

Lep. I am not so well as I should be, but I'll 
ne'er out. 

Eno. Not till you have slept; I fear me, 
you'll be in, till then. 

Lep, Nay, certainly, I have heard, the PtoU 
mies' pyramisestt are very gootlly things; with- 
out contradiction, I have heard that. 

Men, Pompey, a word. [Aside. 

Pom. Say in mine ear: What is't? 

Mtn. Forsake thy seat, I do beseech thee, 
captain, [Aside, 

And hear me speak a word. 

Pom. Forbear me till anon.— 

This wine for Lepidns. 



• Been acquainted. f Behaviour. t Dessert. § Feet. B Pike. 

S Middle. •• Plenty ft Pyramids. 



Scene VII.] 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



817 



Lsp, What manner o* thing is your crocodile? 

^nt. It is shaped, sir, like itself; and it as 
broad as it hath breadth : it is just so high as it 
is, and moves witli its own organs : it lives by 
that which nourisheth it; and the elements 
once of it, it transmigrates. 

Zicp. What colour is it of? 

Ant. Of its own colour too. 

Ifep. 'Tis a strange serpent. 

Ant. Tis so. And the tears of it are wet. 

C(ES. Will this description satisfy him? 

An(, With the health that Pompey gives 
him. else he is a very epicure. 

Pom. [To Mesas aside. ] Go hang, sir, hang I 
ell me of that away 1 away I 
Do as I bid you. — Where's this cup I call'd 
for ? [me, 

Men. If for the sake of merit thou wilt hear 
Rise from thy stool. [Aside, 

Pom. I think thou'rt mad. The matter? 
[Rises, and walks aside. 

Men. I have ever held my cap off to thy for- 
tunes. [What's els€? to say ? 

Pom. Thou hast served me with much faith : 
Be jolly, lords. 

Ant. These quick-sands, Lepidus, 

Keep off them, for you sink. 

Men. Wilt thou be lord of all the world? 

Pom, \\ hat say 'st thou ? 

Men. Wilt thou be lord of the whole world? 
That's twice. 

Pom. How should that be? 

Men. But entertain it, and, 

Altliough thou think me pour, I am the man 
Will give thee all the world. 

Pom. Hast thou drunk well? 

^Men. No, Pompey, I have kept me from 
the cup. 
riioH art, if thou darest be, the earthly Jove: 
Whate'er the ocean pales*, or sky inclipst. 
Is thine, if thou wilt have 't. 

Po7n. Show me which way. 

Men. These three world sharers, these cora- 
peiitorsi. 
Are in thy vessel : Let me cut the cable ; 
And, when we are put off, fall to their throats : 
All there is thine. 

Pom. Ah, this thou shouldst have done, 

And not have spoken on'tl In me,'tis villany ; 
In thee, it had been good service. Thou must 

know, 
*Tis not my profit that does lead niine honour; 
Mine honour, it. Repent, that e'er thy tongue 
Hath so betray'd thine act: Being done un- 
known, 
I should have found it afterwards well done; 
But must condemn it now. Desist, and drink. 

Men. For this, [Aside. 

I'll never follow thy pall»d$ fortunes more.— 
Who seeks, and will not take, when once 'tis 
Shall never find it more. [offtr'd. 

Pom. This health to Lepidus. [Pompey. 

j4nt. Bear him ashore I'll pledge it for him, 

JSno. Here's to thee, Menas. 

Men, Eoobarbus, welcome. 



Pom, Fill, till the cup be hid. 
£no. There's a strong fellow, Menas. 

[Pointhig to the Attendant who car- 
ries on Lepidus. 
Men. Why? 

Fmo, He beam 

The th\rd part of the world, man ; See'st not? 
Men, The third part then is drunk : 'Would 
That it might go on wheels! [it were all, 

Eno. Drink thou ; increase the reels. 
Men. Come. 

Pom, This is not yet an Alexandrian feast. 

Ant, It ripens towards it. — Strike the ves- 

Here » to Caesar. sels H, ho I 

Cas, I could well forbear it. 

It's monstrous labour, when I wash my brain. 
And it grows fouler. 
Ant, Be a child o'the time. 

C(£S. Possess IT it, I'll make answer: but 1 
bad rather fast [one. 

From all, four days, than drink so much in 
Eno. Ha, my brave emperor ! [To Antony. 
Shall we dance now the Egyptian Bacchanals, 
And celebrate our drink V 

Pom. Let's ha't, good soldier. 

Ant, Come, let us all take hands ! [sense 
Till that the conquering wine hath steep'd our 
In soft and delicate Lethe. 

Eno. All take hands. — 

Make battery to our ears with the loud music : 
The while, I'll place you: Then the boy shall 

sing; 
The holding *• every man shall bear, as loud 
As his strong sides can volley. 

[Music plays, Enobarbus 'places 
them hand in hand, 
SONG. 
Come, thou monarch of the vine, 
P lumpy Bacchus, ivith pink eyneii: 
In thy lats our cares be drowned ; 
With thy grapes our hairs be crowned; 
Cvp us, till the world go romtd; 
Cup us, till the world go round/ 

Cas. What would you more? — Pompey 
good night. Good brother. 
Let me request you off: our graver business 
Frowns at this levity. Gentle lords, let's part ; 
You see, we have burnt our cheeks : strong 
Enobarbe [tongue 

Is weaker than the wine; and mine own 
Splits what it speaks : the wild disj^uise hath 
almost [Good night. — 

Antick'd us all. What needs more words? 
Good Antony, your hand. 
Pom, I'll try you o'the shore. 

Ant. And shall, sir; give't your hand. 
Pom. O, Antony, [are friends : 

You have my father's house, — But what? we 
Come, down into the boat. 
Eno. Take heed you fall not. — 

[Exeunt Pompey, C^bsar, Anton y 
and Attendants. 
Menas, I'll not on shore. 
Men. No, to my cabin. — 



• Encompasses. 
I Kettle-drums. 



t Embraces. 
Understand. 



:j: Confederates. 
•• Burden, chorus. 



4 A 



Cloyed. 
ft Red eyes. 



818 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Art in 



These drums! — these trumpets, flutes! what! 
Let Neptune hear we bid a loud farewell 
To the&e ^reat fellows : Sound and be bang'd, 
sound out. 



[A Flourish of Trumpets, with Drums, 
Eno. Ho, says 'a I — There's my cap. 
Men, Hoi — noble captain I 

Gome. {Exeunt, 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. A Plain in Syria. 

Enter V enti di us, as after Conquest, with 
SiLius, and other Romans, Officers, and 
Soldiers; the dead Body of P acq Rvs borne 
before him. 

Fen. Now, darting Parthia, art thou struck ; 

and now 
Pleased fortune does of Marcus Crassus* death 
Make me revenger. — Bear the king's son's 

body 
Before our army: — Thy Pacorus, Orodes*, 
Pays this for Marcus Crassus. 

SU. Noble Ventidius, [warm. 

Whilst yet with Parthian blood thy sword is 
The fugitive Parthians follow; spur through 

Media, 
Mesopotamia, and the shelters whither 
The routed fly : so thy grand captain Antony 
Shall set thee on triumphant chariots, and 
Put garlands on thy head. 

Ven. O Siliufe, Silius, 

I have done enough : A lower place, note well, 
May make too great an act ; For learn this, 

Silius; 
Better leave undone, than by our deed acquire 
Too high a fame, when him we serve's away. 
Caesar and Antony hare ever won 
More in their officer, than person : Sossius, 
One of my place in Syria, his lieutenant. 
For quick accumulation of renown. 
Which he achieved by the minute, lost his 

favour. 
Who does i* the wars more than his captain 

can, 
Becomes his captain*8 captain : and ambition, 
The soldier's virtue, rather makes choice of 
Than gain, which darkens him. [loss 

I could do more to do Antonius good. 
But 'twould offend him ; and in his offence 
Should my performance perish. 

'Sil. Thou hast, Ventidius, 

That without which a soldier, and his sword. 
Grants scarce distinction. Thou wilt write to 

Antony 1 

Ven. V\\ humbly signify what in his name. 

That magical wonl of war, we have etfected; 

How, with his banners, and his well-paid 

The ne'er-yet-beaten horse of Parihia [ranks. 

We have jaded out o'the field. 

Sil, Where is he now ? 

Ven. He purposeth to Athens ; whither with 

what haste 
The weight we must convey with us will 

permit. 
We shall appear before him. — On, there ; pass 

along. [Exeunt, 



SCENE II. Rome. An Ante-Chamber in 
Caesar's House, 

-Eraser AGRipPA,awtfENOBARBus, meeting, 

Agr. What, are the brothers parted 1 
Eno. They have despatch'd with Pompey, 
he is gone; 
The other three are sealing. Octavia weeps 
To part from Rome : Caesar is sad ; and Lepi- 
dus, [troubled 

Since Pompey's feast, as Menas says, is 
With the green sickness. 
Agr, *Tis a noble Lepidus. 

Eno, A very fine one : O, how he loves 
Caesar! [Antony! 

Agr. Nay, but how dearly he adores Mtrk 
Eno. Caesar? Why, he'sthe Jupiter of men. 
Agr. What's Antony ? The god of Jupiter. 
Eno, Spake you of Caesar? How? the non- 
pareil ! 
Agr, O Antony I O thou Arabian bird 1 1 
Eno. Would you praise Caesar, say,-— 
Caesar ; — go no further. 
Agr, Indeed, he ply'd them both with ex- 
cellent praises. [loves Antony : 
Eno. But he loves Caesar best; — Yet he 
Ho! hearts, tongues, figures, scribes, bards, 
poets cannot [love 
Think, speak, cast, write, sing, number, ho, his 
To Antony. But as for Caesar, 
Kneel down, kneel down, and wonder. 
Agr. Both he loves. 
Eno. They are his shards J, and he their 
beetle. So, — {Trumpets, 
This is to horse. — Adieu, noble Agrippa. 
Agr. Good fortune, worthy eoldier; and 

farewell. 
Enter Caesar, Antoky, Lepidos, and 

Octavia. 
^nf. No further, sir. [self; 

C(ps, You tiike from me a great part of my- 
TJse me well in it. — Sister, prove such a wife 
As my thoughts make thee, and as ray furthest 

band^ 
Shall pass on thy approof.— Most noble An- 
tony, 
Let not the piece of virtue ||, which is set 
Betwixt us, as the cement of our love. 
To keep it builded, be the ram, to baiter 
The fortress of it : for belter might we 
Have loved without this mean, if on both parts 
This be not cherish'd. 

Ant, Make me not offended 

In your distrust. 
I Cas. I have said. 

I Ant. Yon shall not find, 

, Though you be therein curiousIT, the least cans* 



• Pacorus was the son of Orodes, king of Parthia. 
t Wiugs. $ Bond. (1 Octavia. 



t The phoenix. 
% Scrupulous. 



Seem II 1 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA 



819 



For what you seem to fear : So the gods keep 
you [ends ! 

Aiid m.ike the hearts of Romans serve your 
We wili here part. [well; 

Cces. Farewell, my dearest sisher, fare thee 
The eh inenls * be kind to thee, and make 
Thy spirits all of comfort! fare thee well. 
Octa. My noble brother! — [spring. 

A^t. The April's in her eyes: It is love's 
And these the showers to bring it on. — Be 
cheerful. [and — 

Octa. Sir, look well to my husband's house ; 
CfES. What, 

Octavial 

Oct. I'll tell you in your ear. [nor can 

An/. Her tongue wili not obey her heart, 

Her heart inform her tongue; the swan's down 

feather. 
That staiKis upon the swell at full of tide, 
And neither way inclines. 
E.'io. Will Caesar weep? [Aside toXGRiTFx. 
Agr. He hab a cloud in *s face. 

I^jio. He were the worse for that were he a 
So is he being a man. [horse ; 

Agr. WLy, Enobarbus ? 

When Antony found Julius Caesar dead. 
He cried ahuosi to roaring : and he wept. 
When at Philippi he found Brutus slain. 
£uu. That >ear, indeed, he was troubled 
with a rheum ; 
What willingly he did confound t, he wail*d: 
Believe it, till I weep too. 

Ca-s. No, sweet Octdvia, 

You shall hear from me still; the time shall 
Out-go my thinking on you. [not 

Ant, Come, sir, come; 

I'll wrestle with you in my strenpth of love : 
Look, here I have you ; thus I let you go. 
And give you to the gods. 

Cas. Adieu ; be happy ! 

Lep. Let all the number of the stars give 
To thy fair way! [light 

CiFS. Farewell, farewell! [Kisses Octa. 
Ant. Farewell! 

[Trumpets sound. Eaeunt. 
SCENE IIL Alexandria. A Room in the 

Palace. 
S//^er Cleopatra, Charmian, Iras, and 
Alexas. 
Cleo. Where is the fellow? 
Alex, Half afeard to come. 

Cleo. Go to, go to :^r-Conie hither, sir. 
Enter a Messenger. 
'Alex. Good majesty, 

Herod of Jewry dare not look upon you. 
But when you are well pleased. 

Cleo. That Herod's head 

I'll have : But how? when Antony is gone 
Through whom I might command it- — Come 
thou near. 
Mess. Most gracious majesty, — 
(Ico. Didst thou behold 

Octavia? 
Mess. Ay, dread queen. 
Cleo, Where? 

Of air and w »iEr. 

^ 1' ailed, lugged. 



Mess. Madam, in Rome 

I look'd her in the face ; and saw her led 
Between her brother and Mark Antony. 

Cleo. Is she as tall as me? 

Mess. She is not, madam. 

Cleo. Didst hear her speak? Is she shrill- 
tongued, or low? [low voiced. 

Mess. Madam, I heard her speak; she is 

Cleo. That's not so good :--he cannot like 
her long. 

Char. Like her? O Isis! 'tis impossible. 

Cleo. I think so, Charmian: Dull of tongue, 
and dwarfish! — 
What majesty is in her gait? Remember, 
If e'er thou look'dst on majesty. 

Mess. She creeps; 

Her motion and her station X are as one : 
She shows a body rather than a life; 
A statue, than a breather. 

Cleo. Is this certain ? 

Mess, Or I have no observance. 

Char, Three in Egypt 

Cannot make better note. 

Cleo. He's very knowing, 

I do perceiv't: — There's nothing in her yet: — 
The fellow has good judgment. 

Char. Excellent. 

Cleo. Guess at her years, I pr'ythee. 

Mess, Madam, 

She was a widow. 

Cleo, Widow? — Charmian, hark. 

Mess. And I do think she's thirty. 

Cleo. Bear'st thou her face in mind? is it 
long, or round ? 

Mess. Round even to faultincss. 

Cleo. For the nK»st part, too. 

They are foolish that are so. — Her hair, what 

colour? [as low 

Mess. Brown, madam : And her forehead is 
As she would wish it. 

Cleo. There is gold for thee. 

Thou must not take my former sharpness ill :— 
I will employ thee back again; 1 find thee 
Most fit for business : Go, make thee ready ; 
Our letters are prepared. [Exit Messenger, 

Char. A proper man. 

Cleo. Indeed, he is so : I repent me much 
That so i harry'd § him. V\ hy, methinks, by 
This creature's no such thing. [him. 

Char. O, nothing, madam. 

Cleo. The man hath seen some majesty, and 
should know, [feud. 

Char. Hath he seen majesty? Isis else de- 
And serving you so long! ^ 

Cleo. 1 have one thing more to ask him 
yet, good Charmian : — 
But 'tis no matter; thou shalt bring him to me 
Where 1 will write: All may be well enough. 

Char. I warrant you, madam. [Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. Athens. A Room in Antony's 

House. 

Enter Antony and Octavia. 

Ant. Nay, nay, Octavia, not only that, — 
That were excusable, that, and thousands more 
Of semblable import ||,— but he hath waged 

f Destroy. t Standing. 

li Similar tendency. 



820 



SHAKSPEABE. 



|4r7 /// 

New wars 'gaioft Ponipey ; made his will, and So the poor third h ap till death ei large hit 
To public ear : [read it confine. 



Spoke scantly of me: wneu perforce be conid 

not* 
But pay me terms of hoooar, cold and sickly 
He vented t them ; most narrow measure lent 
nie : (took't, 

When the best hint waa given him, he not 
Or did it from his teeth t* 

Oct. O my good lord. 

Believe not all ; or, if you must believe, 
Stomach $ not all. A more unhappy lady. 
If this division chance, ne'er stood between. 
Praying for both parts : 
-And the good gods will mock me presently. 
When I shall pray, O, bless my lord and hus- 
band! 
Undo that prayer, by crying out as loud, [ther, 
O, bless my brother! Husband win, win bro- 
Prays, and destroys the prayer; no midway 
'Twixt these extremes at all. 

Ant, Gentle Octavia, 

Let your best love draw to that point, which 

seeks 
Best to preserve it : if I lose mine honour, 
I lose myself: better I were not yours. 
Than yours so branchless. But, as yon re- 
quested, [lady, 
Yourself shall go between us : The mean time, 
I'll raise the preparation of a war [lady. 
Shall stain || your brother : Make your soonest 
So your desires are yours. [haste ; 
Oct* Thanks to my lord. 
The Jove of power make me most weak, most 

weak. 
Your reconciler! Wars 'twixt you twain 

would be 
As if the world should cleave, and that slain 

men 
Should solder ^[ up the rift ••. [begins. 

Ant, When it appears to you where this 
Turn your displeasure that way ; for our faults 
Can never be so equal, that your love 
Can equally move with them. Provide your 
going; [what cost 

Choose your own company, and command 
Your heart has mind to. {Exeunt, 

SCENE V. The same. Another Room in 
the same. 

Enter Enobarbus and Eros, meeting. 

Eno. How now, friend Erost 

Eros. There's strange news come, sir. 

Eno, What, man 1 

Eros. Caesar and Lepidus have made wars 
pon Pompcy. 

Eno. This is old ; What is the successH? 

Eros. Caesar, having made use of him |t in 
the wars 'gainst Pompey, presently denied him 
rivality^§; would not let him partake in the 
glory of the action : and not resting here, ac- 
t use* him of letters he had formerly wrote to 
lonipey; upon his own appeal ||||, seizes him : 



Eno. Then, world, thou hast a pair of chaps 

no more ; [liast 

And throw between them all the food iliou 

They'll grind the one the other. Where's An 

tony ? [spui ni 

Eros. He's walking in the garden — thus; and 
The rash that lies before liim ; cries, Eool 

Lepidus ! 
And threats the throat of that his officer. 
That murder'd Pompey. 

Eno. Our great navy's rigged. 

Eros. For Italy, and Caesar. More, Domi- 
My lord desirci yon presently : my news [tius, 
I might have told hereafter. 

Eno. 'Twill be naught : 

But let it be. — Bring me to Antony. 

Eros, Come, sir. {Exeunt, 

SCENE VI. Rome. A Room in Caesar's 

House. 
Enter C^vsar, Agrifpa, and M£Ci£NAe. 

Cas, Contemning Rome, he has done all 
this : and mo'-e ; 
In Alexandria, — here's the manner of it, — 
P the market-place, on a tribunal silver'd, 
Cleopatra and himself in chairs of gold 
Were publicly enthroned : at the feet sat 
Caesarion, whom they call my father's son ; 
And all the unlawful issue, that their lust 
Since then hath made between them. Unto her 
He gave the 'stablishment of i^gypt ; made hei 
Of lower Syria, Cyprus, Lydia, 
Absolute queen. 

Mec. This in the public eye I 

Ctts. V the common show-place, where they 
exercise. [kings : 

His sons he there proclaim'd, The kings of 
Great Media, Parthia, and Armenia, 
He gave to Alexander ; to Ptolemy he assign'd 
Syria, Cilicia, and Phoinicia : She 
In the habiliments of the goddess Isis 
That day appear'd; and oft before gave au- 
As 'tis reported, so. [dicnce 

Mec. Let Rome be thus 

Inform'd. 

Agr, Who, queasy ^f with his insolence. 
Already will their good thoughts call trom him. 

CcES. The people know it ; and have now 
His accusations. [received 

Agr. Whom does he accuse i 

Co's. Caesar ; and that, having in Sicily 
Sextus Pompeius spoil'd, we had not rated •*• 
him [nrie 

His part o'the isle : then does he say, he lent 
Some shipping unrestored : l.tstly, he frets, 
That LepiJusof the triumvirate [tain 

Should be deposed; ano, being, that we de- 
All his revenue. 

A^^r. Sir, this should be answer'd* 

C<es. 'Tis done already, and the messenget 
gone. 



Could not help. f Published. j Indistinct, through his teeth. $ Resent 

^ Disgrace. U Cement, clofe. *♦ Opening. ft What Hows. 

C i. e., Lepidus. §§ Equal rank. ||l| Accusation. 

511 Sick, disgusted. *•• Assigned. 



Scene VI.] 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



S2l 



I have told him, Lepidus was grown too cruel ; 

That he his high authority abused, 

And did deserve his change ; for what I have 

conqner'd, 
i grant him part ; but, then, in his Armenia, 
And other of his conqner'd kingdoms, I 
Demand the lilce. 
Mec. He'll never yield to that. 

CcBs. Nor must not then be yielded to in this. 

Enter Octavia. 
Oct.. Hail. Ca?sar, and my lord! hail, most 

dear Cjesar! 
CcES. That ever I should call thee, cast-away ! 
Let. You have not call'd me so, nor have 
yon cause. [You come not 

C(ps. Why have you stolen upon us thus? 
Like Caesar's sister : The wife of Antony 
Should have an army for an usher, and 
The neighs of horse to tell of her approach. 
Long ere she did appear ; the trees, by the veay, 
Should have borne men ; and expectation 

fainted, 
Longing for what it had not: nay, the dust 
Should have ascended to the roof of heaven, 
Raised by your populous troops : But you are 

come 
A market-maid to Rome ; and have prevented 
The ostent * of our love, which, left anshown 
Is often left unloved : we should have met you 
By sea and land ; supplying every stage 
With an augmented greeting. 

Oct. Good my lord. 

To come thus was I not constrain'd, but did it 
On my free-will. My lord, Mark Antony, 
Hearing that you p»'eparedfor war, acquainted 
My grieved ear withal ; whereon, I begg*d 
His pardon for return. 

C(ES, Which soon he granted. 

Being an obstruct t 'tween his lust and him. 
Oct. Do not say so, my lord. 
C(Bs. 1 have eyes upon him, 

And his affairs come to me on the wind. 
Where is he now 1 

Oct. My lord, in Athens. 

C<ES. No, my most wrong'd sister ; Cleo- 
patra [empire 
Hath nodded him to her. He hath given his 
Up to a whore ; who now are levying 
The kings of the earth for war: He hath 

assembled 
Bocchus, the king of Lybia ; Archelaus, 
Of Cappadocia ; Philadelphos, king 
Of Paphlagonia; the Thracian king, Adallas; 
King Malchus, of Arabia; king of Pont; 
Herod, of Jewry ; Mithridates, king 
Of Comagene; Polemon and Amintas, 
The kings of Mede and Lycaonia, with a 
More larger list of sceptres. 

Oct. Ah me, most wretched. 

That have my heart parted betwixt two friends. 
That do afflict each other ! 

C(BS. Welcome hither : 

Your letters did withhold our breaking forth ; 
Till we perceived, both how you were wrong 
ted. 



And we in negligent danger. Cheer your 
lieart : [drive? 

Be you not troubled with the time, which 
O'er your content these strong necessities ; 
But let (ieterinined things to destiny 
Hold unbewail'd their way. Welcome to Rom«! 
Nothing more dear to me. You are abused 
Beyond the mark of thought; and the high godg^ 
To do you justice, make the ministers 
Of us, and those that love you. Best of com 
And ever welcome to us. [fort ; 

Agr. Welcome, lady. 

Mec. Welcome, dear maaam, 
Ej*ch heart in Rome does love and pity you t 
Only the adulterous Antony, most large 
In his abominations, turns you off; 
And gives his potent regiment | to a trull $, 
That noises II it against us. 

Oct. Is it so, sir? [ you, 

Cces. Most certain. Sister, welcome: Pray 
Be ever known to patience : My dearest sister! 

{Exeunt, 

SCENE VII. Antony's Campy near the 
Promontory o/'Actium. 
Enter Cleopatra and Enobarbus. 
Cleo, I will be even with thee, doubt it not. 
Eno. But why, why, why ? 
Cleo. Thou hast forspoke if my being in these 
And »ay*st it is not fit. [wars ; 

Eno. Well,it is, is it? 

Cleo. ls*t not? Denounce against us, why 
Be there in person? [should not we 

Eno. [Aside.'] Well, I could reply : 
If we should serve with horse and mares to- 
gether, [would bear 
The horse were merely ** lost ; the mare» 
A soldier and his horse. 

Cleo. Whas is't you say? 

Eno. Your presence needs must puzzle 
Antony ; [his time. 

Take from his heart, take from his brain, from 
What should not then be spared. He is already 
Traduced for levity ; and 'tis said in Rome, 
That Photinus, an eunuch, and your maids, 
Manage this war. 

Cleo. Sink Rome ; and their tongues rot 
That speak against us ! A charge we bear I'the 

war, 
And, as the president of my kingdom, will 
Appear there for a man. Speak not against it ; 
I will not stay behind. 

Eno. Nay, I have done : 

Here comes the en>peror. 

Enter Antony and Canidius. 
Ant, Is't not strange, Canidius 

That from Tarentum, and Brundasinm, 
He could so quickly cut the Ionian sea, 
And take in-HToryne?— You have heard on't 
sweet? 
Cleo. Celerity is never more admired 
Than by the negligent. 

Ant. A gord rebuke, 

Which might have well becoired the best o. 
men. 



* Show, token. + Obstrnction. t Government. $ Harlot. 

T Forbid. •* Absolutely. tt Take, subdue. 



II Threatens. 



•IA& 



822 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act III. 



To tniint at slacknesa. — Canidius, we 
Will fiyht with him by aea. 

Cleo". By uea I What else? 

Can, Why will my lord do so? 
Ant. For • he dares us to't. 

Eno. So hath my lord dared him to single 
fight. [salia, 

Can. Ay, and to wage this battle at Fhar- 
Where CfBsar fought with Pompey : But t-hese 

offers, 
Which serve not for his vantage, he shakes off; 
Aui\ so should you. 

Eho. Your ships are not well mann'd : 

Your mariners are muleteers 1, reapers, people 
Ingross'd by swift impress! ; in Ctesar's tieet 
Are those 'that often have 'gainst Pompey 
fought ; [grace 

Their shi ps are yare § ; yonrs, heavy ||. No dis- 
Shall fall you for refusing him at sea. 
Being prepared for land. 

Ant. 'By sea, by sea. [away 

fe-wo. Most worthy sir, yon therein throw 
The absolute soldiership you have by land ; 
Distract your army, which doth most consist 
Of war-mark*d footmen ; leave unexecuted 
Youi own renowned knowledge ; quite forego 
The way which promises assurance; and 
Give up yourself merely to chance and hazard. 
From firm security. 

Ant. I'll fight at sea. 

Cleo. 1 have sixty sails IT, Ceesar none better. 

jint. Our overplus of shipping will ,we 

burn; [head of Actium 

And, with the rest full-mann'd, from the 

Beat the approaching Caesar. But if we fail. 

Enter a Messenger. 
"We then can do't at land. — Thy business? 

Me.is. The news is true, my Inrd ; he is de- 
Caesar has taken Toryne. [scried ; 
Ant. Can he be there in person? 'tis im- 
possible; [dius, 
Strange, that his power shoulrf be **. — Cani- 
Oar nineteen legions thoti shalt hold by land. 
And our twelve thousand horse : — We'll to 
our ship ; 

Enter a Soldier. 
Away, my ThetistH— How now, worthy sol- 
dier? 
Sold. O noble emperor, do not fight by sea ; 
Trust not to rotten planks: Do yow misdoubt 
This sword, and these my wounds? Let the 

Egyptians, 
And tli« Phoenicians, go a ducking; we 
Have used to conquer, standing on the earth. 
And fighting foot to foot. 

Ant, Well, well, away. 

lExeunt Antony, Cleopatra, and 
Enobarbus. 
.9oW. By Hercules, I think, I am i' the right. 
Can. So dier, thou art : but his whole ac- 
tion prows 
Not in the power on't : So our leader's led. 



And we are women s men. 

Sold. You keep by land 

The legions and the horse whole, do you not? 

Can. Marcus Octavius, Mnrcns Justeius, 
Pnblicola, and Caslius, are for sea : 
But we keep whole by land. This speed of 
Carries j; beyond belief. [Caesai's 

Sold. While he was yet in Rome, 

Hi« power §§ went out in such distractions Ijij, as 
Beguiled all spies. 

Can, Who's his lieutenant, hear you? 

Sold. They say, one Taurus. 

Can. Well I know the man. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. The emperor calls for Canidius. 

Can. With news the time's with labour; 
and throes HIT forth, 
Each minute, some. {Exeunt 

SCENE VIII. A Plain near Actium. 
Enter Caesar, Tauros, Officers, a7id 

Others. 
C(FS. Taurus, — 
Taur. My lord . 

Cas. Strike not by land ; keep whole : 
Provoke not battle, till we have done at sea. 
Do not exceed the prescript of this scroll : 
Our fortune li«supon fliis jump***. {Exeunt. 
Enter Antony and Enobarbus. 
Ant. Set we our squadrons on yon' side 
o'the hill, 
In eye+++ of Caesar's battle; from which place 
We may the number of the ships behold, 
And so proceed accordinjjly. [Exeunt, 

[Enter CAS\T)ivs,7narchi//gu'ith his Land 
Army ojic tray over the Sta^e ; and Tau- 
rus, the Lieutenant of Caesar, the other 
icay.. After their going in, is heard the 
noise of a Sea- Fight. 

Alarum. Re-enter 'Enouarbvs. 
Eno. ^' aught, naught, all naught! I can 
behold no longer: 
The Antoniad ttt, the Egyptian admiral. 
With all their sixty, fly, and turn the rudder ; 
To see't, mine eyes are blasted. 
Enter Scarus. 
Scar. Gods and goddesses. 

All the whole synod of them ! 

Eno. What's thy passion? 

Scar. The greater cantle$$§ of the woild is 
lost 
With very ignorance ; we have kiss'd away 
Kingdoms and provinces. 

Eno. How appears the fight? 

Scar. On oiirside like the token'd tlllll pesti- 
lence, [of K,tiypt, 
Where death is sure. Yon' rihald-rid nag ^Hl^ 
Whom leprosy o'ertake ! i' the midst o'the 

fight,— 
When vantai:e like a pair of twins appear'd, 
Bothasthejame, orralherour* the elder****. 
The brizetitt upon her, like a cow in June, 

• Because. ^ Mule drivers. + Pressed in haste. $ Ready. || Incumbered. 

*I Ships. •• Strange that his forces should be there. +t Cleopatra. Ij Goes. 

^$ F-.rces. ||H Detachmenis, separate bodies. f^F Agonizes. ♦•♦Hazard. +ft Si^ht. 
lU Name of Cleop itra'i ship. $5^ Corn«'r. |T!| Spotted. I^IIIF Lewd, cfmimon ?!nir>.pei. 
••*• Bvctcr. tttt The g«d fly that stings cattle. 



Scene VIIL] 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



823 



Hoists sails, and flies. 

Eno. That I beheld : mine eyes 

Did sicken at the sight on't, aud could not 
Endure a further view. 

Scar. She once being loof M *, 

The noble ruin of her raai^ic, Antony, 
Claps on his sea-wing, and like a doting mal- 
lard, 
Leaving the fight in height, flies after her: 
I never saw an action of such shame ; 
Experience, manhood, honour, ne'er before 
Did violate so itself. 

Eno. Alack, alack I 

Enter Can id i us. 

Can. Our fortune on the sea is out of breath. 
And sinks most lamentably. Had our general 
Been what he knew himself, it had gone well : 
O, he has given example for our flight. 
Most grossly, by his own. 

E710. Ay, are you thereabouts? Why then, 
good night 
Indeed. [Aside. 

Can. Towards Peloponnesus are they fled. 

Scar. *Tis easy to't ; and there I will attend 
What farther comes. 

Can, To Ceesar will I render 

My legions, and my horse ; six kings already 
Show me the way of yielding. 

Eno. I'll yet follow [reason 

The wounded chance of Antony, though my 
Sits in the wind against me. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IX. Alexandria. A Room in the 
Palace. 
Enter Antony, and Attendants. 
Ant. Hark, the land bids me tread no more 

upon't, [ther. 

It is ashamed to bear me! — Friends, come hi- 
I am so lated f in the world, that I 
Have lost my way for ever : — I have a ship 
Laden with gold ; take that, divide it ; fly. 
And make your peace with Cassar. 

Att. Fly! not we. 

Ant. I have fled myself; and have instructed 

cowards [be gone ; 

To run, and show their shoulders. — Friends, 
I have myself resolved upon a coHrse 
Which has no need of you; be gone: 
My treasure's in the harbour, take it. — O, 
I foUow'd that I blush to look upon : 
My very hairs do mutiny ; for the white 
Reprove the brown for rashness, and they 

them [shall 

For fear and doting. — Friends, be gone ; you 
Have letters from me to some friends, that 

will [sad, 

Sweep your way for yon. Pray you, look not 
>Jor make replies of loathness; take the hint 
Vf'hich my despair proclaims; let that be 



left 



[way 



'Which leaves itself: to the rea-side straight- 
i will possess you of that ship and treasure. 
Leave me, I pray, a little : 'pray you now : — 
May, do so ; for, indeed, 1 have lost com- 
mand, 

• Prought close to the wind. t Belated, benights. 
Ij Divested of his faculties. \ L'l 



Therefore I pray you : — I'll see you by and 
by. {Sits down. 

Enter Eros, atid Cleopatra, led by Char 
MIAN and Iras. 

Eros. Nay, gentle madam, to him : — Com* 

Iras. Do, most dear queen. [fort him. 

Char. Do! Why, what else? 

Eleo. Let me sit down. O Juno ! 

Ant. No, no, no, no, no. 

Eros, See you here, sir ? 

Ant. O fie, fie, fie. 

Char. Madam, — 

Iras. Madam; O good empress!— 

Eros. Sir, sir, — [kept 

Ant. Yes, my lord, yes ; — Het, at Philippi, 
His sword even like a dancer ; while I struck 
The lean and -wrinkled Cassius ; and 'twas I, 
That the mad Brutus ended : he alone 
Dealt on lieutenantry §, and no practice had 
In the brave squares of war: Yet now — No 
matter. 

Cleo. Ah, stand by. 

Eros. The queen, my lord, the queen. 

Iras. Go to him, madam, speak to him; 
He is unqualitit'dy with very shame. 

Cleo. Well then, — Sustain me :— O ! 

Eros. Most noble sir, arise; the queen ap- 
proaches; [but IT 
Her head's declined, and death will seize her; 
Your comfort makes the rescue. 

Ant. I have otfended reputation; 
A moat unnobie swerving. 

Eros. Sir, the queen. 

Ant, O, whither hast thou led me, Egypt? 
How I convey my shame out of thine eyes [See, 
By looking back on what I have left behind 
'Stroy'd in dishonour. 

Cleo. O, my lord, my lord! 

Forgive my fearful sails! I little thought. 
You would have tollovv'd. 

Ant. Egypt, thou knew'st too well. 

My heart was to thy rudder tied by the strings. 
And thou shouldst tow me after : O'er my spirit 
Thy full supremacy thou knew'st; and that 
Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods 
Command me. 

Cleo. O, my pardon. 

Ant. Now I must 

To the young man send humble treaties, dodge 
And palter in the shifts of lovvness ; who 
With half the bulk o'the world play'd as I 

pleased. 
Making and marring fortunes. You did know. 
How much you were my conqueror; and that 
My sword, made weak by my aft'ection, would 
Obey it on all cause. 

Cieo. O pardon, pardon ! 

Ant. Fall not a tear,T say; one of them rates*^ 
All that is one and lost : Give me a kiss; [ter, 
Even this repays me. — We sent our schoolrnas- 
Is he come back? — Love, 1 am full of lead : — 
Some wine, within there, and our viands: — 

Fortune knows. 
We scorn her most, when most she off'ers 
blows. [Exeunt, 

^^sar. $ Fought by his ofBcera. 
L'o'^s* ** Values. 



SHAKSPEARE. 



l^ct IIL 



SCENE X. Cesar's Camp, in Egypt. 

Enter CiESAR, Dolabella, Thyreds, and 

Others. 

C<rs Let him appear that's come from An- 
Know you him? [tony. — 

Dot. Caesar, 'tis his schoolmaster • : 

An argument that he is pluck'd, when hither 
lie sends so poor a pinion of his wing, 
AViiich had superfluous kings for messengers. 
Not many moons gone by. 

Enter Euphronius. 

C(rs, Approach, and speak. 

Ewp. Such as I am, I come from Antony; 
1 Wds of laie as petty to his ends. 
As is the morn-dew on the myrtle leaf 
7 o his grand sea t. 

CcE-s. Be it so ; Declare thine office. 

Eup. Loj-d of his fortunes he salutes thee, and 
Requires to live in Egypt : which not granted. 
He lessens his requests ; and to thee sues 
To lei him breathe between the heavens and 

eaith, 
A private man in Athens : This for him. 
Next, Cleopatra does confess thy greatness; 
Submits her to thy might; and of thee craves 
The circle j of the Ptolemies for her heirs, 
Mow hazarded to thy grace. 

Cas. For Antony, 

I have no ears to his request. The queen 
Of audience, nor desire, shall fail; so she 
From Egypt drive her all-disgraced friend $, 
Or take tiis life there : This if she perform, 
JShe shall not sue unheard. So to them both. 

Eup, Fortune pursue thee ! [bands. 

CcES, Bring him through the 

[Kiit Euphronius. 
To try thy eloquence, now 'tis time : Despatch ; 
From Antony win Cloopatra: promise, 

[To Thy REUS. 
And in our name, what she requires ; add more. 
From thine invention, offers : women are not, 
In their best fortunes, strong ; but want will 
perjure [Thyreug; 

The ne'er-touch'd vestal : Try thy cunning 
INlake thine own edict for thy pains, which we 
Will answer as a law. 

Thyr. Caesar, I go. [flaw]]; 

CcES. Observe how Antony becomes his 
And wh^t thou think'st his very action spcaka 
In every power that moves. 

Thyr. Caesar, I shall. {Exeunt. 

SCENE XI. Alexandria. A Room in the 
Palace. 
Enter Cleopatra, Enobarbus, 
Charmian, and Iras. 
Cleo. What shall we do, Enobarbus? 
Eno. Think, and die. 

Cieo, Is Antony, or we, in fault for this? 
Eno. Antony only, that would make his will 
Tiord of his reason. What although you fled 
From that great face of war, whose several 
ranges 



Frighted each other? why should he follow? 
The itch of his affection should not then 
Have nick'd his captainship ; at such a point, 
When half to half the world opposed, he being 
The mered question IT : 'Twas a shame no less 
Than was his loss, to course your flying flags. 
And leave his navy gazing. 

Cleo. Pr'ythee, peace. 

Enter Antony, with Euphromus. 

Ant. Is this his answer? 

Eup. Ay, my lord. 

jint. The queen 

Shall then have courtesy, so she will yield . 
Us up. 

Eup. He fcays so. 

Ant. Let her know it. — 

To the boy Caesar send this grizzled head. 
And he will fill thy wishes to the brim 
With principiilities. 

Cleo. That head, my lord? 

Ant^ To him again ; Tell him he wears the 
rose [should note 

Of youth upon him; from which the world 
Something particular: his coin, ships, legions 
M ay be a coward's j whose ministers would pre- 
Under the service of a child, as soon [vail 
Asi' the command of Caesar: I dare him, there- 
To lay his gay comparisons** apart, [fore. 
And answer me declined ft, sword against 

sword. 
Ourselves alone: I'll write it; follow me. 

[Exeunt A'sii:)S\ and Eufhrunius. 

Eno. Yes, like enough, high-battled Caesar 
will [show, 

Unstate his happiness, and be staged to the 
Against a sworder. — I see, men's judgments are 
A parcel jj of their fortunes; and things out- 
Do draw the inward quality alter them, [ward 
To suffer all alike. Ihat he should dream, 
Knowing all measures, the full Caesar will 
Answer his emptiness!— Caisar, tliou hast sub- 
His judgment, too. [due 

Enter an Attendant. 

Att, A messenger from Caesar 

Cleo, What, no more ceremony?— See, my 
women ! — [nose. 

Against the blown rose may they stop their 
That kneel'd unto the buds. — Admit him, sir. 

Eno. ]Mine honesty and I, begin to square §§ 

^^Aside, 
The loyalty, well held to fools, ''oes make 
Our faith mere folly : — Yet, he, that can endure 
To follow with allei^iance a fallen lord. 
Does conquer him that did his master conquer, 
And earns a place i' the story. 
Enter Thyrsus. 

Clfo. Caesar's will? 

Thyr. Hear it apart. 

( 'leo. None but friends ; tay boldly. 

Thyr. So, haply ||li, are they friends to An- 
tony. 

E)io. lie needs as many, sir, as Caesar has; 
Or needs not us. If Caisar please, our master 



• Euphronius, schoolmaster to Antony's children. 4 As is the dew to the sea. 

X Diadem, the crown. 6 ParamoJir. |1 Conforms him«elf to this breach of his fortune 

f The only c:iu?e of the dispute. •• Crrcumstancea of splendour. 1r In ase and uowcr 

t! Are of a pi«'(e with them. ^"j Qiutnel. liU Pttlutn:^. 



Scene X/.J 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



825 



Will leap to be his friend : For us, yon knoW; 
Whose he is, we are; and that's Caesar's. 

Thvr. So.— 

Thns then, thou mostrenown'd; Caesar entreats. 
Not to consider in what case thou stand'st. 
Further than he is Caesar. 

Cleo. Go on : Right royal. 

Thyr, He knows, that yon embrace not An- 
As you did love, but as you fear'd him. [tony 

CLeo. O I 

Thyr. The scars upon your honour, there- 
Does pity, as constrain'd blemishes, [fore, he 
Not as deserved. 

Cleo. He is a god, and knows 

What is most right: Mine honour was not 
But conquer'd merely. [yielded, 

Eno. I'o be sure of that, [Aside, 

I will ask Antony. — Sir, sir, thou'rt so leaky, 
That we must leave thee to thy sinking, for 
Thy dearest quit thee. [Exit Enobarbus. 

Thyr. Shall I say to Caesar 

What you require of him? for he partly begs 
To be desired to give. It much would please 

him. 
That of his fortunes you should make a staflf 
To lean upon : but it would warm his spirits. 
To hear from me you had left Antony, 
And put yourself under his shroud. 
The universal landlord. 

Cleo. What's your name ? 

Thyr, My name is Thyrens. 

Cleo. Most kind messenger. 

Say to great Caesar this, In dis{)iUaiion * 
I kisshi?coi.qii'ringhand; tellhim,! am prompt 
To lay my crown at his feet, and there to kneel : 
Tell him, from his all-obeying t breath I hear 
The doom of Egjpt. 

Thyr. 'Tis your noblest course. 

Wisdom and fortune combating together. 
If that the former dare but what it can, [lay 
>«o chance may shake it. Give me grace j to 
My duty on your hand. 

Cleo. Your Caesar's father 

Oft, when he hath mused of taking kingdoms 
Bestow'd his lips on that unworthy place, [in j. 
As it rain'd kisses. 

Re-enter Antony and Enobarbus. 

Ant, Favours, by Jove that thunders I — 
What art thou, fellow? 

Tnyr. One, that but performs 

The bidding of the fullest || man, and worthiest 
To have command obey'd. 

Eno. You will be whipp'd. 

Antm Approach, there: — Ay, you kitel — 

Now gods and devils! [cry'd, ho! 

Authority melts from me: Of late, when I 

Like boys unto a moss^, kings would start forth. 

And cry. Your will? Have you no ears? I am 

Enter Attendants. 
Antony, yet. Take hence this Jack**, and 
whip him. 

Eno. *Tis better playing with a lion's whelp, 
Than with an old one dying. 

Ant. Moon and itars I 



Whip him : — Were't twenty of the greatest 

tributaries 
That do acknowledge Caesar, should I find 
them [her name. 

So saucy with the hand of she here, (What's 
Since she was Cleopatra?) — Whiphim,fellows, 
Till, like a boy, you see him cringe his face. 
And whine aloud for mercy : Take him hence. 

Thyr. Mark Anthony, — 

Ant. Tug him away: being whipp'd. 

Bring him again : — This Jack of Caesar's shall 
Bear us an errand to him. — 

[Exeunt Attend, with Thyreus. 
You were half blasted ere I knew you : — Ha! 
Have I my pillow left unpress'd in Rome, 
Forborne the getting of a lawful race. 
And by a gem of women, to be abused 
By one that looks on feeders tf ? 

Cleo. Good my lord,—* 

Ant. You have been a boggier ever : — 
But when we in our viciousness grow hard, 
(O misery on't I) the wise gods seel j+ our eyes ; 
In our own filth drop our clear judgments ; 

make as 
Adore our errors ; laugh at us, while we strut 
To our confusion. 

Cleo. 0,is it come to this? 

Ant. I found you as a morsel, cold upon 
Dead Ceesar's trencher : nay, you were a frag-, 
ment [hours, 

Of Cneius Pompey's ; besides what hotter 
Unregister'd in vulgar fame, you have 
Luxuriously §5 pick'd out : — For, I am sure. 
Though you can guess what temperance should 
You know not what it is. [be, 

Cleo. Wherefore is this? 

Ant. To let a fellow that will take rewards. 
And say, God quit you I be familiar with 
My playfellow, your hand ; this kingly seal. 
And plighter of high hearts ! — O, that I were 
Upon the hill of Basan, to outroar 
The horned herd! for I have savage cause ; 
And to proclaim it civilly, were like [thank 
A haller'd neck, which does the hangman 
For being yareHlJ about him. — Is he whipp'd ? 
Re-enter k\XQ.n^\ziiiX%, with Thyreus. 

1 Att, Soundly, my lord. 

Ant. Cry'd he? and begged he pardon? 

1 Att. He did ask favour. 

Ant. If that thy father live, let him repent 
Thou wast not made his daughter ; and be thou 
To follow Caesar in his triumph, since [sorry 
Thou hast been whipp'd for following him : 

henceforth, 
The white hand of a lady fever thee, [Caesar, 
Shake thou to look on't. — Get thee back to 
Tell him thy entertainment : Look, thou say. 
He makes me angry with him : for he seems 
Proud and disdainful ; harping on what I am ; 
Not what he knew I was: ilem;ikes me angry; 
And at this lime most easy 'tis to do't ; 
When my good stars, that were my former 

guides. 
Have empty left their orbs, and shot their fires 



• Supposed to be an error for deputatlon/i. e., by proxy. + Obeyed. % Grant me the 

(avour. ^ Conquering. || Most complete and perfect. ^ Scramble. ** A term of coutempu 

1t Servants. 3:; Close up. jj Wantonly. 1|{| Ready, handy. 



826 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act JV 



Into the abism of hell. If he mislike 
My speech, and what is done; tell him, he has 
Hipparchug, my enfranchised bondman, whom 
He may at plensure whip, or hatig, or torture, 
As he shall like, to quit • me : Urge it thou : 
Hence, with thy stripes, begone. [feri^THYR. 

Cteo. Have you done yet? 

Ant, Alack, our terrene f moon 

Is how eclipsed ; and it portends alone 
The fall of Antony ! 

Cleo, I must stay his time. 

ilw^Toflatter Caesar, would you mingle eyes 
With one that ties his points ? 

Cleo. ISIot know me yet? 

Ant. Cold-hearted toward me? 

Cleo. Ah, dear, if I be so. 

From my cold heart let heaven engender hail, 
And poison it in the source ; and the first stone 
Drop in my neck : as it determinesj, so 
Dissolve my life ! The next Caesarion § smite ! 
Tiil, by degrees, the memory of mv^womb. 
Together with my brave Egyptians all. 
By the discandying|| of this pelleted storm, 
Liegraveless; till the flies and gnats of Nile 
Have buried them for prey ! 

Ant. I am satisfied. 

Caesar sits down in Alexandria ; where 
I will oppose his fate. Our force by land 
Hath nobly held ; our severed navy too 
Have knit again, and fleet H, threat'ning most 
sea-like. [thou hear, lady ? 

Where hast thou been, my heart? — Dost 
If from the field I shall return once more 
To kiss these lips, I will appear in blood ; 
I and my sword will earn our chronicle ; 



There is hope in it yeU 

Cleo. That's my brave lord ! 

Ant, I will be trehle-sinew'd, hearted, 
breathed, 
And fight maliciously : for when mine hours 
Were nice** and lucky, men did ransome lives 
Of me for jests ; but now, I'll set my teeth, 
And send to darkness all that stop me. — Come 
Let's have one other gaudy+t night: call to me 
All my sad captains, fill our bowls ; once more 
Let's mock the midnight bell. 

Cleo. It is my birth-day : 

I had thought, to have held it poor ; but, since 

my lord 
Is Antony again, I will be Cleopatra. 
Ant. We'll yet do well. 
Cleo, Call all his noble captains to my lord. 
Ant, Do so, we'll speak to them ; and to- 
night I'll force 
The wine peep through their scars. — Come on, 

my queen ; 
There's sap in't yet. The next time I do fight, 
I'll make death love me; for I will contend 
Even with his pestilent scythe. 

\^Exeunt Antony, Cleopatra, and 

Attendants. 

Eno. Now he'il out-stare the lightning. To 

be furious, [mood. 

Is, to be frighted out of fear: and in that 

The dove will peck the estridgejj; and I see 

A diminution in our captain's brain [still 

Restores his heart.: When valour preys on 

reason. 
It eats the sword it fights with. I will seek 
Some way to leave him. [Exit, 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. CaBsar's Camp at Alexandria. 

Enter CtESar, reading a Letter ; Agrifpa, 
MEC>ENAS,awd Ot Iters, 

CcES. He calls me boy ; and chides, as he 
had power 
To beat me out of Egypt : my messenger 
He hath whipp'd with rods ; dares me to per- 
sonal combat, 
Caesar to Antony : Let the old ruffian know, 
I have many other ways lo die; mean time, 
Lauc;h at his challenge. 

Mec. Caesar must think, 

When one so great begins to rage, he's hunted 
Even to falling. Give him no breath, but now 
Wake boot|J^ of his distraction : Never anger 
Made good gward for itself. 

C(Es. Let our best heads 

Know, that to-morrow the last of many battles 
We mean to fight : — Within our files there 

are 
Of those that served Mark Antony bat late. 
Enough to fetch him in. See it be done ; 
And feast the army : we have store to do't, 
And they have earn'd the waste. Poor Antony ! 

{^Exeunt. 



SCENE II. Alexandria. A Room In the 
Palace. 

Enter Antony, Cleopatra, Enobarbus, 
Charmian, Iras, Alexas, awrf Others. 

Ant. He will not fight with me, Domitius. 

Eno. . N o. 

A7it. Why should he not ? 

Eno. Ke thinks, being twenty times of bet- 
He is twenty men to one. [ter fortune. 

Ant. To-morrow, soldier. 

By .sea and land I'll fight : or I will live. 
Or bathe njy d^ing honour in the blood 
Shall make it live again. Woo't thou fight 

Eno, I'll strike; and cry. Take all. [well? 

Ant. Well said ; come on. — 

Call forth my household servants; let's to- 
night 

Enter Servants. 
Be bounteous at our meal. — Give me thy hand. 
Thou hast been rightly honest ;—»o hast 

thou ; 
And thou,~and thou,— and thou :— you have 

served me well, 
And kings have been your fellows. 

Cleo, What means this ? 



• Requite. + Earthly. % Dissolves. $ Her sou by Julius Caesar. |1 Melting. % FloaU 
•• Irifling. it Feasting. Xt Ostrich. ^j 1'ake advantage. 



Sr^ne //.] 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



27 



Eno. Tis one of those odd tricks, which 
sorrow shoots [Aside, 

Out of the miud. 

Ant. And thou art honest too. 

I wish, I could be made so many men ; 
And all of you clapp'd up together in 
An Antony ; that I might do you service, 
So good as you have done. 

Serv. The gods forbid ! 

Ant. Well, my good fellows, wait on me 
to-night : 
Scant not my cups ; and make as much of me. 
As when mine empire was your fellow too. 
And suffered my command. 

Cleo. What does he mean 1 

Eno. To make his followers weep. 

A:>t. Tend me to-night; 

May be, it is the j>eriod of your duty : 
Haply *, you shall not see me more ; or if, 
A mangled shadow : perchance, to-morrow 
You'll serve another master. 1 look on you. 
As one that takes his leave. Mine honest 

friends, 
I turn you not away ; but, like a master 
Married to your good service, stay till death : 
Tend me to-night two hours, I ask no more. 
And the gods yield f you for't! 
^ Eno. What mean you, sir. 

To give them this discomfort? Look, they 

weep ; 
A-nd I, an ass, am onion-eyed ; for shame. 
Transform us not to women. 

Ant^ Ho, ho, hot! 

Now the witch take me, if I meant it thus ! 
Grace grow where those drops fall ! My hearty 

friends. 
You take me in too dolorous a sense : 
I spake to you for your comfort ; did desire 
you [hearts. 

To burn this night with torches: Know, my 
I hope well^f to-morrow; and will lead you. 
Where rather Til expect victorious life, 
Tban death and honour. Let's to supper ; come. 
And drown consideration. \^Exeunt. 

SCENE in. TJie same. Before the Palace, 
Enter Tivo Soldiers, to their Guard* 

1 Sold. Brother, good night : to-morrow is 

the day. [well. 

2 Sold. It will determine one way : fare you 
Heard you of nothing strange about the streets? 

1 Sold, Nothing : What news ? 
"Z Sold. Belike, 'tis but a rumour : 

Good night to you. 

1 Sold. Well, sir, good night. 

Enter Ttvo other Soldiers. 

2 Sold. Soldiers, 
Have careful watch. 

3 Sold, And you : Good night, good night. 

{The first Two jplace themselves at 
their Posts. 

4 Sold. Here we : [They take their Posts.] 

^nd if to-morrow 
Our navy thrive, I have an absolute hope 
O ;r landmen will stand up. 



3 Sold. Tis a brave army. 

And full of purpose. 

[Music of Hautboys under the Stage. 
A. Sold. Peace what noise ? 

1 Sold. Llit, list ! 

ZSold. Hark I 
1 Sold, Music i' the air. 

3 Sold. Under the earth. 

4 Sold. It signs $ well, 
Does't not? 

3 Sold. No. 

1 Sold. Peace, I say. What should 

this mean 1 [tony loved, 

2 Sold. 'Tis the god Hercules, whom An- 
Now leaves him. 

1 Sold. Walk ; let's see if other watchmen 
Do hear what we do. 

[They advance to another Post, 

2 Sold. How now, masters ? 

Sold. How now? 

How now ? do you hear this ? 

[Several speaking together. 
1 Sold. . Ay ; Is't not strange f 

3 Sold. Do you hear, masters? do you hear < 
1 Sold. Follow the noise so far as we have 

quarter ; 
Let's see how't will give off. 
Sold. [Several speaking.] Content : 'Tis 
strange. lExeunt. 

SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the 

Palace, 
Enter Antony and Cleopatra ; Char 
MIAN, and Others, attending. 
Ant. Eros ! mine armour, Eros ! 
Cleo. Sleep a little. 

Ant, No, my chuck. — Eros, come; mine 
armour, Eros ! 
Enter Eros, with Armour, 
Come, my good fellow, put thine iron on ; — 
If fortune be not our's to-day, it is 
Because we brave her. — Come. 

Cteo, Nay, I'll help too. 

What's this for 1 

Ant. Ah, let be, let be ! thou art 

The armourer of my heart : — False, false ; this, 
this. 
Cleo. Sooth, la, Pll help : Thus it mast be. 
Ant. Well, well; 

We shall thrive now. — See*st thou, my good 
Go, put on thy defences. [tellow ? 

Eros. Briefly il, sir. 

Cleo. Is not this buckled well ? 
Ant. Rarely, rarely : 

He that unbuckles this, till we do pleas>e 
To dolTt ^ for our repose, shall hear a storm. 
Thou fumblest, Eros ; and my queen's a squire 
More tight •* at this, than thou : Despatch.— 
O love, [knew'>t 

That thou could'st see my wars to-day, and 
The royal occupation ! thou shouldstsee 

Enter an Officer, armed. 
A workman in't.- Good morrow to thee ; wel- 
come : [charge : 
Thou look'st like him that knows a warlike 



Perhaps. 

I Shortly. 



t Reward. 



Stop. 



Handy. 



$ Bodes. 



828 



SHAKSPFARE. 



[Acf !7 



To business that we love, we rise betime. 
And go to it with delight. 

1 iJg, A thousand, sir, 
Early though it be, have on their rivetted irmi*, 
^d at the port expect you. 

[Shout. Trumpets. Flourish, 
Enter other Officers, and Soldiers. 

2 Off, The morn is fair.— Good nior.row. 
All, Good morrow, general. [general. 
Ant, 'Tis well blown, lads. 

This morning, like the spirit of a youth 
That means to be of note, bei;ins betimes. — 
So, so ; come, give me that : this way ; well 

said. 
Fare thee well,dame, whatever becomes of me : 
This is a soldier's kiss : rebukable, [Kisses her. 
And worthy shametui check it were, to stand 
On nioi e mechanic compliment ; Til leave 
thee [fight, 

^ow, like a man of steel. — You, that will 
Follow me close; I'll bring you to't. — Adieu. 
[Extunt Antony, Eros, Officers, and 
Soldiers. 
Char, Please you retire to your chamber? 
Cleo. Lead me, 

He goes forth gallantly. That he and Caesar 
Determine this great war in single fight I [might 
Then, Antony, — But.Bow,— Well on. 

{Exeunt. 

SCENE V. Antony's Ctfwj? yiear Alexandria. 

Trumpets soujid. Enter Antony and 
Eros ; a Solciier rneetmg them. 

Sold, I'he gods make this a happy day to 
Antony ! [once prevail'd 

A7?t. 'Would, thou and those thy scars had 
To make me tight at land ! 

tS'o/d. Had'st thou done so, 

The kings that have revolted, and the soldier 
That lias this morning left thee, would have 
Follow'd thy heels. [stil> 

Aftt, Who's gone this morning? 

So/d. Who ? 

One ever near thee: Call for Enobarbus, 
He shall not hear thee ; or from Caesar's camp 
Say, I am none of thine. 

Ant. What say'st thou? 

Sold. Sir, 

He is with Caesar. 

Eros, Sir, his chests and treasure 

He has not with him. 

Ant. Is he gone ? 

Sold. Most certain. 

Ant. Go, Eros, send his treasure after; doit; 
Detain no jot, 1 charge thee : write to him 
(I will subscribe) gentle adieus, and greetinjjs: 
Say, that I wish he never find more cause 
To change a master. — O, my fortunes have 
Corrupted honest men ; — Eros, despatch. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE VI. Caesar's Camp before Alex- 
andria. 
Flourish, Enter Caesar, with Agrippa, 
Enobarbus, aTz^ Others, 
Cas. Go forth, Agrippa, and begin the fight : 



I Our will is, Antony be took iuve ; 
Make it so known. 
Agr, Caesar, I shall. [Exit Aorippa. 

Cces. The time of universal Deace is near : 
Prove this a prosperous day, 'he three-nook'd 
Shall bear the olive freely. [wor>d 

Enter a Messenger. 
Mess. Antony 

Is come into the field. 

CiBs. Go, charge Agrippa 

Plant those that have revolted in the van. 
That Antony may seem to spend his fury 
Upon himself. 

[Exeunt Caesar and his Train, 
Eno. Alexas did revolt; and went to Jewry, 
On affairs of Antony ; there did persuade 
Great Herod to incline himself to Caesar, 
And leave his master, Antony : for this pains, 
Caesar hath hangM him. Canidius, and the 
That fell away, have entertainment, but [real 
No honourable trust. 1 have done ill ; 
Of which I do accuse myself so sorely. 
That I will joy no more. 

Enter a Soldier o/' Caesar's. 
Sold, Enobarbus, Antony 

Hath after thee sent all thy treasure, with 
His bounty overphis : The messenger 
Came on my guard ; and at thy tent is now. 
Unloading of his mules. 
Eno. 1 give it you. 

Sold. Mock me not, Enobarbo*. 

I tell you true : Best that yon ? afed the bringer 
Out of the host; I must attend mine office. 
Or would have done' t myself. Your emperor 
Coutinues still a Jove. [Exit Soldier. 

Eno. 1 am alone the villain of the earth. 
And feel I am so most. O Antony, [paid 

Thou mine of bounty, how wouldst thou have 
My better service, when my turpitn<le 
Ihou dost so crown with gold I This blows t 

my heart : 
If swift thought break it not, a swifter mean 
Shall outstrike thought : but thought will dot, 

I feel. 
I fight against thee ! — No ; I will go seek 
Some ditch, wherein to die; the foul'st best fit* 
My latter part of life. [Exit. 

SCENE VII. Field of Battle between the 

Camps. 
Alartim, Drums and Trumpets, Enter 
Agrippa, and Others, 
Agr, Retire, vye have engaged ourselves too 
far : 
Caesar himself has work,and our oppression 
Exceeds what we expected. [Exeunt, 

Alarum, Enter Antony, awrf Scarus, 
wounded. 
Scar, O my brave emperor, this is fought 
indeed! [home 

Had we done so at first, we had driven them 
With clouts about their heads. 
Ant. Thou bleed'st apace 

Scar. I had a wonnd here that was like a T, 
Bui now 'lis made an H. 
Ant, They doretiie. 



Rivetted dregs, armojir 



t Swells. 



Sbene VII.] 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



889 



Scar. We'll beat 'em into bench-holes; 1 

Room for six scotches* more. [have yet 

Enter Eros. 

Eros. They are beaten, sir; and our ad- 
For a tair victory. [vantage serves 

Scar. Let us score their backs, 

And snatch *em up, as we take hares, behind; 
*Tis feport to maul a runner. 

Ant. I will reward thee 

Once for thy spritely comfort, and ten-fold 
For thy good valour. Come thee on. 

Scar. I'll halt after. [Exeimt. 

SCENE VIII. Under the Walls of 

Alexandria. 

Alarum. Enter Antony, marching; 

Scar us, and Forces. 
Ant. W§ have beat him to his camp ; Run 

one before, [morrow, 

And let the queen know of our guests.— To- 
Betbre the snn shall see us, we'll spill the blood 
That has to-day escaped. I thank you all ; 
For doughty t-handed are you; and have fought 
Not as you served the cause, but as it had been 
Each man's like mine; you have shewn all 

Hectors. 
Enter the city, clipj your wives, yourfriends. 
Tell them your feasts ; whilst they with joy- 
ful tears [kiss 
Wash the congealment from your wounds, and 
The honour'd gashes whole^ — Give me thy 

hand ; [To Scarus. 

Enter Cleopatra, attended. 
To this great fairy§ I'll commend thy acts. 
Make her thanks bless thee. — O thou day o'the 

world, [all, 

Chain mine arm'd neck; leap thou, attire and 
Through proof of harness || to my heart, and 
Ride on the pants triiiiuphing. [there 

Cli o. Lord of lords ! 

O infinite virtue ! comest thou smiling from 
The world's great snare uncaughf? 

Ant. My nightingale. 

We have beat them to their beds. What, girl? 

though grey [have we 

Do something mingle with our brown ; yet 
A brain thai nourishes our nerves, and can 
Get goal for goal of youth. Behold this man ; 
Commend unto his lips thy favouring hand; — 
Kiss it, my warrior: — -He hath fought to-day, 
As if a god, in hale of mankind, had 
Destroyed in such a shape. 

Cleo. I'll give thee, friend. 

An armour all ot gold ; it was a king's. 

Ant. He has deserved it, were it carbuncled j 
Like holy Phoebus' car. — Give me thy hand ; j 
Thronj^h Alexandria make a jolly march ; j 
Bear onr hack'd targets like the men that owe 
Had our great palace the capacity [theinlT : 
To camp tins host, we all would sup together; 
And drink carouses to the next day's fate, i 
Wbj' h promises royal peril. — Trumpeters, i 
With brazei* din blast you ihe city's ear ; j 

I * Cuts. t Brave. J Embrace. 

$ Beauty, united with power, was the popular characteristic of fairies. ^ Armoui of proot 
^ As becomes the brave warriors that own them. »♦ Small drums. +t Discharge, as 
sponge when squeezed discharges the inoisture it liid imbibed, j; Reached. 55 Solemnly 

4 B 



Make mingle with our rattling tabourines *♦ ; 
That heaven and earth may strike their sounds 

together. 
Applauding our approach. {Exeunt. 

SCENE IX. Caesar's Camj>. 
Sentinels on their Post, i^wifr Enobarbcs. 

1 Sold. If we be not relieved within this 

hour, [night 

We must return to the court of guard : The 
Is shiny ; and, they say, we shall embattle 
By the second hour i' the morn. 

2 Sold. This last day was 
A shrewd one to ns. 

Eno. O, bear me Mitness, night,— 

3 Sold. What man is this? 

2 Sold. Stand close, and list to him. 
Eno. Be witness to me, O thou blessed 

moon. 
When men revolted shall upon record 
Bear hateful memory, poor Enobarbus did 
Before thy face repent 1 — 

1 Sold. Enobarbus! 

3 Sold. Peace; 
Hark further. [choly, 

Eno. O sovereign mistress of true melan- 
The poisonous damp of night dispongett upon 
That life, a very rebel to my will, [me : 

May hang no longer on me: Throw my heart 
Against the flint and hardness of my fault ; 
Which, being dried with grief, will break to 

powder. 
And finish all foul thoughts, O Antony, 
Nobler than my revolt is infamous. 
Forgive me in thine own particular ; 
But let the world rank me in register 
A master-leaver and a fugitive: 
O Antony ! O Antoay I {Dies. 

2 Sold. Let* 8 speak 

To him. [speaks 

1 Sold. Let's hear him, for the things he 
May concern Caesar. 

3 Sold. Let's do so. But he sleeps, 

1 Sold. Swoons rather; for so bad a prayer 
Was never yet for sleeping. [as his 

2 Sold. Go we to him. 

3 Sold. Awake, awake, sir; speak to us. 

2 Sold. Hear you, sir"? 
1 Sold. The hand of death hath raught:;j him. 

Hark, the drums. [Drujn.s aJaroj[}'. 
Demurely §§ wake the sleepers. Let us bear 

him [hour 

To the court of guard ; he is of note : our 
Is fully out. 

3 Sold. Come on then ; 

He may recover yet. [Exeunt wHh the Body, 

SCENE X. Between the tuo Camps. 

Enter Antony and Scarus, tvith Forces, 

marching. 

Ant. Their preparation is to-day by sea ; 
We please them not by land. 

Scar, For both, my lord 



8. so 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Avi IV 



Ant, I would they'd fight i* the fire, or ia 
the air ; 
We'd fight there too. Bat this it is : Our foot 
Upon the hills adjoining to tlic city, 
Shall stay with us : order for sea is given ; 
They have put forth the haven: Further on, 
Where ihtir appointment we may best dis- 
And looli on thehr endeavour*. [cover, 

{Exeunt, 
Enter C.«sar and his Forces, marching. 
Cqs. But * being charged, we will be still 
by land. [force 

Whicli.'as I take't, we shall; for his best 
I« forth to man his galleys. To the vales. 
And hold our beat advantage. 

[Exeunt, 
Re-enter Antony and Scarus. 
Ant. Yet they're not join'd ; Where yonder 
pine doth stand, 
I shall discover all : I'U bring thee word 
Straight how 'tis like to go. [Exit, 

Scar. Swallows have built 

In Cleopatra's sails their nest : the augurers 
Say, they know not, — they cannot tell, — look 

grimly, 
And dare not speak their knowledge. Antony 
Is valiant, and dejected ; and, by starts. 
His fretted fortunes give him hope and fear. 
Of v;hat he has and has not. 

Alarum ujar off, as at a Sea Fight, 
iie-enter Antony. 
Ant. All is lost; 

This foul Egyptian hath betrayed me : 
>Iy fleet hath yielded to the foe; and yonder 
They cast their caps up, and carouse together 
Like friends long lost.— Triple-turn'd whore;! 

'tis thou 
Hast sold me to this novice; and my heart 
Makes only wars on thee. — Bid them all fly; 
For when I am revenged upon my charm, 
I have done all: — Bid them all fly, begone. 

[Exit Scarus. 
O sun, thy uprise shall I see no more : 
Fortune and Antony part here ; even here 
Do we shake hands. — All come to this?— The 

hearts 
That spaniel'd me at heels, to whom I gave 
'Iheir wishes, do discandy, melt their sweets 
• On blossoming Cassar ; and this pine is bark'd. 
That overtopp'd them all. Belray'd I am: 
O ihic false soul of Kgypt! this grave charm $, 
Whose eye beck'd || forth my wars, and call'd 

them home ; 
Whose bosom was my crownetlT, my chief end, 
l-4ke a right gipsy, hath, at fast and loose **, 
Beguiled me to the very heart of loss. — 
What, Eros, Eros ! 

Enter Cleopatra. 

Ah, thou spell I a vaunt 
Cleo, Why is my lord enraged against hi 
love 1 

• Discover their numbers, and see their motions. + Without. J Cleopatra first 

belon<;c;d to Julius Ccesar ; then to Antony; and now, as Antony supposes, to AMgusiiis. 
$ Deadly piece of witchcraft. || Was the motion for. ^ Finish. •• A cheating 

t:anie, at present named pricking at the belt. tt For the smallest piece of ntoiu) to 

clowii». ^ Hercnkft, {> The boy that brought the poisoued dtiiil to h^rcnu** 

Hi AjuxlWdinon for the shield of Achillea. %% Foaming at the Ui^/uih. ••• ^l>ia. 



Ant. Vanish; or I shall give thee thy de - 

serving, | 

And blemish Ca&sar's triumph. Let him take ' 

thee, ' 

And hoist thee up to the shouting plebeians : 
Follow his chariot, like the greatest spot 
Oi all thy sex ; most monsier-like, be shown 
For poor'st diminutives to dolts tt; and let 
Patient Octavia plough thy visage up , 

With her prepared nails. [Exit Cllo.] 'Tii I 

well thou'rt gone, * 

If it be well to live : But better 'twere 
Thou fell'st into my fury, for one death 
Might have prevented many. — Eros, ho ! — 
The shirt of Nestsus is upon me : Teach me, 
Alcides jj.thou mine ancestor, thy rage: 
Let me lodge Lichasjj on the horns o'the moon; 
And w ith those hands that grasp'd the heaviest 

club, • [die; 

Subdue my worthiest self. The witch shall 
To the Roman boy she hath sold me, and 1 fai' 
Under this plot: she dies for't. — Eros, ho ! 

[Elit 

SCENE XL Alexandria. A Room in tht 

Fa lace. 
Enter Cleopatra, Chakmian, Iras, and 
Mardian. 
Cleo. Help me, my women! O, he is more 
mad [Thessaly 

Than Telamon |11| for his shield ; the boar «f 
Was never so emboss'dllli. 

Char. To the monument; 

There lock yourself, and send him vvord yon 
are dead. [ing 

The soul and body rive **• not more in part- 
1 ban greatness going off. 

Cleo. To the monument : — 

Mardian, go tell him I have slain myself; 
Say that the last 1 spoke was Ant<»ny, 
And word it, pr'ylhee, piteously : Hence, 
Mardian ; and bring me how he takes my 

death.— 
To the monument. [Exeunt, 

SCENE Xll. The same. Another Room. 
Enter Antony and Eros. 
Ant. Eros, thou yet behold'st me? 
Eros. Ay, noble lord. 

Ant. Sometime, we see a cloud that's dra« 
gonish ; 
A vapour, sometime, like a bear, or lion, 
A tower'd citadel, a pendant rock, 
A forked mountain or blue promontory 
With trees upon't, that nod unto the world. 
And mock our eyes with air : Thou hast seen 

these bigus ; 
They are black vesper's pageants. 

Eros. Ay, my lord. 

Ant. That, which is now a horse, even with 
a thought. 



Scene XJJ,] 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



831 



f he rack * dislimns ; and makes it indistinct. 
As water is in water. 

Eros. It does, ray lord, [tain is 

Ant. My good knave t, Eros, now thy cap- 
Even such a body : here I am Antony ; 
Yet cannot hold this visible shape, my knave. 
I made these wars for Egypt ; and the queen, 
Whose heart I thought I had, for she had mine ; 
Which, whilst it was mine, had annex'd unto't 
A million more, now lost, — she, Eros, has 
Pack'd cards with Caesar, and false play'd my 
Unto an enemy's triumph. — [glory 

Nay, weep not, gentle Eros ; there is left us 
Ourselves to end ourselves. — O, thy vile lady ! 

Enter M\nDiAfi. 
She hast robb'd me of my sword. 

Mar. No, Antony ; 

My mistress loved thee, and her fortimes min- 
With thine entirely. [gled 

Ant. Hence, saucy eunuch ; peace ; 

She hath betray'd me, and shall die the death. 

Mar. Death of one person can be paid but 
once : [woiddst do, 

And that she has discharged : What thou 
Is done unto thj' hand ; the last she spake 
Was Antony! most noble Antony 1 
Then in the midst a tearing groan did break 
The name of Antony; it was divided 
Between her heart and lips : she render'd life, 
Thy name so buried in her. 

Ant. Dead then? 

Mar. Dead. 

Ant. Eros, unarm ; the long day's task is 
done, [hence safe, 

And we must sleep: — That thou depart'st 
Does pay thy labour richly ; Go.— Off, pluck 
off; — [Exit Marvia^. 

The sevenfold shield of Ajax cannot keep 
The battery from my heart. O, cleave, my 

sides! 
Heart, once be stronger than thy continent t, 
Crack thy fr^il case! — Apace, Eros, apace. — 
No more a soldier : — Bruised pieces, go ; 
You have been nobly borne. — From me a 
while. — [Ej:it Eros. 

I will o'ertake thee, Cleopatra, and 
W^eep for my pardon. So it njust be, for now 
All length is torture :— Since the torch is out, 
Licdown, and stray no further : Now all labour 
Mars what it does ; yea, very force entangles 
Itself with strength: Seal thenj, and :<11 is 
done. — [me : 

Eros !— I come, my queen : — Eros ! — Stay for 
Where souls do couch on flowers, we'll hand 
in hand, [?^ze : 

And with our sprightly port make the ghosts 
Dido and her iiCueas shall want troops, 
And all the haunt be ours. — Come, Eros, Eros ! 
He-enter Eros. 

Eros. What would my lord 1 

Ant. Since Cleopatra died, 

\ have lived in such dishonour, that the gods 
Detest my baseness. 1, that with my sword 
Quarter'd the world, and o'er green Neptune's 
back 



With ships made cities, condemn myself to 

lack 
The conrage of a woman; less noble mind 
Than she, which, by her death, our C^sar tell?, 
/, am conqueror of myself. Thou art sworn, 
Ero», [now 

That, when the exigent should come, Twhich 
Is come,indetd,) when I should see behind me 
The inevitable prosecution of 
Disgrace and horror, that, on my command. 
Thou then wouldst kill me: do't; the time is 

come : 
Thou strikest not me, 'tis Caesar thou defeat'st. 
Put colour in thy cheek. 

Eros. The gods withhold me! 

Shall I do that, which all the Parthian darts. 
Though enemy, lost aim, and could not? 

Ant. Eros, 

Wouldst thou be window'd in great Rome, and 
see [down 

Thy master thus with pleach'djj arms, bending 
His corrigible^ neck, his face subdued [seat 
To penetrative** shame; whilst the wheel'd 
Of fortunate Caesar, drawn before him, branded 
His baseness that ensued tt? 

Eros. I would not see't. 

Ajit. Come, then ; for with a wound I must 
be cured. [worn 

Draw that, thy honest sword, which thou hast 
Most useful for thy country. 

Eros. O, sir, pardon me. 

Ant. When I did rtiake thee free, sworest 
thou not then 
To do this when I bade thee? Do it at once; 
Or thy precedent services are all 
But accidents unpurposed. Draw, and come. 

Eros. Turn from me, then, that noble coun- 
tenance, 
Wherein the worshipijof the whole world lies. 

Ant. Lo thee. [Turning from liim. 

Eros. My sword is drawn. 

Ant. Then let it do at once 

The thing why thou hast drawn it. 

Eros. My dear master. 

My captain, and my emperor! let me say. 
Before 1 strike this bloody stroke, farewell. 

Ant. *Tis said, man; — and farewell, [now? 

Eros. Farewell, great chief. Shall I strike 

Ant, Now, Eros. 

Eros. Why, there then : [Falls on his Sivord, 
Thus do I escape the sorrow 
Of Antony's death. [Dies. 

Ant. Thrice nobler than myself! 

Thou teachest me, O valiant Eros, what [Eros 
I should, and thou couldst net. My queen and 
Have, by their brave instruction, got upon Kke 
A nobleness in record : But I will be 
A bridegroom in my death, and run into't 
As to a lover's bed. Come, then ; and, Eroe, 
Thy master dies thy scholar; to do thus 

[Falling on his Swo^d 
I learn'd of thee. How ! not yet dead i no* 
The guard !— ho ! — O, despatch me. [dead ? — 
Enter Dercetas and Guard. 

1 Guard. What's the noise' 



* The fleetitis: clouds. + Servant. J «. c. The thing that contains thee. $ Sbalinjr coin 
pletes a coatracL l| Folded. % Corrected. ** Penetrating. tt Followed. t* Ditjuiiy 



i32 



SHAKSPEABE. 



[Act IF, 



Ant. I have done my work ill, friends; O, 
Of \vli;tt 1 ha\e begun. [make an end 

2 Guard. The star is taHen. 
1 Guard. And time is at his period. 

All. Alas, and woe! 

Ant. Let hira that loves me, strike nie dead. 
1 Guard. I\ot 1. 

1 Guard. Nor I, 

3 Guard. Nor any one. [Exeunt Guard. 
Der. Thy death and fortunes bid thy fol 

lower? fly. [ings, 

This sword but shown to C^^ar, with this tid 
Shall enter me wiih him. 

Enter Diomedes. 
D'to. Where's Antony \ 
Der. There, Diomed, there. 

Du^. Lives he'.' 

Wilt thoM not answer man? [£Ir/^DF,RCE] as. 
Ant. Art thou there, Diomed? Draw thy 
Sufficing strokes for death, [sword, and y.ive me 
Dio. Most absolute lord, 

My mistress Cleopatra sent me to thee. 
Ant. When did she send thee? 
Dio. Now, my lord. 

Ant, Where is she? 

Vw. Lock'd in her monument. She had a 
prophesying fear 
Of what hath come to pass : for when she saw 
(Which never shall be found,) you did suspect 
She had disposed • with Caesar, and that your 
rage [was dead ; 

Would not be purged, she sent you word she 
But, fearing since h nv it mij^hi work, hath sent 
Me to proclaim the truth ; and I am come, 
I dread, too late. [.luard, I pr'ythee. 

yl«^. Too late, t;ood Diomed:— Call my 
Dio. What, ho! the emperor's guard! The 
Come, your lord calls. [guard, what, ho ! 

Enter some of the Guard. 
A7it. Pear me, good friends, where Cleo- 
patra bides ; 
Tis the last service that I shall command you. 
1 Guard. Woe are we, sir, you may not live 
All your true followers out. [to wear 

AU- Mo?t heavy day ! 

A?it. Nay, good my fellows, do not please 
sharp fate [come 

To grace it with your sorrows : bid that wel- 
Which comes to punish us, and we punish it 
Seeming to bear it lightly. Take me up: 
1 have led you oft ; carry me now, good friends, 
And have my thanks for all. 

{Exeunt bearing Antony. 

SCENB XIII. The same, A Monument. 

Enter above, Cleopatra, Charmian, 
and Iras. 

Cleo. O, Charmiin, I will never go from 

Char. Be comforted, dear madam, [hence. 

Clrn. No, I will not : 

All strange and terrible events are welcome. 
But comforts we despise ; our size of sorrow, 
Proportion'd to our cause, must be as great 

Enter Diomedes. 
As that which makes it.-^How now? is he dead? 

Dio. His death's upon him, but not dead. 



Look out o'the other side your monnment. 
His guard have brought him thither. 
AVjiftr Antony, borne by the Guard. 

Cleo. O thou sun. 

Burn the great sphere thou movest in! — dark- 
ling t stand 
The varying shore o'the world! — Antony! 
Antony! Antony I — Charmian, help ; help, Iras ; 
Help, friends below; let's draw him hither. 

Atit. Pddce: 

Not Caesar's valour hath o'erlhrown Antony, 
But Antonv's hath triumphed on it.-elf. 

CUo. Soilshould be, that none but Antony 
Should conquer Antony; but woe 'tis sol 

Ant. I am dying, t gypt, dyinjj; only 
1 here importune death a while, until 
Of many thousand kisses the poor last 
I lay upon thy lips. — 

Cleo. 1 dare not, dear 

(Dear my lord, pardon,) I dare not. 
Lest I be taken : not the imperious show 
Of the full-fortuned Caesar ever shall [have 
Be brooch'd % with me ; if knife, drugs, serpents. 
Edge, sting, or operation, I am safe : 
Your wife Octavia, with her modest eyes. 
And still conclusion ;, shall acquire no honour 
Demuring upon me. — But come, come, An- 
tony, [up;— 
Help me, my women, — we must draw thee 
Assist, good friends. 

Ant. O, quick, or I am gone. 

Cleo. Here's sport, indeed! — How heavy 
weighs my lord! 
Our strength is all gone into heaviness, 
That makes the weight: Had I great Juno'a 
power, [up. 

The strong-wing'd Mercury should fetch thee 
And set thee by Jove's side. Yet come a little, — 
Wishers were ever fools; — O, come, come, 
come; {They draw Antony up. 

And welcome, welcome I die, where thou h ist 
lived ; [power. 

Quicken II with kissing; had my lips that 
Thus would I wear them out. 

AIL. A heavy sightl 

Ant. I am dying, Egypt, dying: 
Give me some wine, and let nie speak a little. 

Cleo. No, let me speak ; and let me rail so 
high, [wiiet-l. 

That the false housewife Fortune break her 
Provoked by my offence. 

Ant. One word, sweet queen; 

Of Caesar seek your honour with your safety. 

Cleo. They do not go together. [— O! 

Ant. Gentle, hear me* 

None about Caesar trust but Proculeius. 

Cleo. My resolution, and my hands, 1*11 
None about Caesar. [trust; 

Ant, The miserable change now at my end, 
Lament nor sorrow at: but pleaseybur thouuhts 
In feeding them with those my fornier fortune* 
Wherein I lived the greatest prince o' th 

world. 
The noblest: and do now not basely die. 
Nor cowardly; put off my helmet, to 
My countryman, a Roman, by a Roman 



• Settled. t Without li;;ht. t Ornamented. $ Sedate determination. 



|B««t 



Scene XIJI.] 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



833 



Valiantly vanquish'd. Now, my spirit is going ; 
I can no more. [Dies. 

Cleo. Noblest of men, woo't die 1 

Hast thou no care of me? shall I abide 
In this dull world, which in thy ahsence is 
No better than a sty? — (), see, my women. 
The crown o' the earth doth melt : — My lord ! — 
O, withei''d is the garland of the war, [girls 
The soldier's pole isfnllen; young boys and 
Are level now with men: the odds is gone. 
And there is nothing left remarkable 
Beneath the visiting moon. {She faints. 

Char, O, quietness, lady ! 

Iras. She is dead, too, our sovereign! 
Char. Lady, — 

Jras. Madam, — 

Char. O madam, madam, madam I 
Iras, Royal Egypt ! 

Empress! 
Char. Peace, peace, Iras. [commanded 
Cleo. No more, but e'en a woman; and 
By such poor passion as the maid that milks. 



And does the meanest chares*. — Ji were for me 
To throw my sceptre at the injurious gods; 
To tell them that this world did equal theirs. 
Till they had stolen our jewel. All's but naught; 
Patience is sottish; and impatience does 
Become a dog that's mad : Then is it sin. 
To rush into the secret house of death, 
Ere death dare come to us? — How do yon, 

women? 
What, what? good cheer! Why, how now, 

Charmian? 
My noble girls! — Ah, women, women! look, 
Our lamp is spent, it's out: — Good sirs, take 

heart: — [To the Guard beloiv. 

W^e'll bury him t and then, what's brave, what's 
Let's do it after the high Roman fashion, [noble. 
And make death proud to take us. Come, away: 
This case of that huge spirit now is cold. 
Ah, women, women ! come ; we have no friend 
But resolution, and the briefest end, 

[Exeunt ; those above bearing ojf 
Antony's Body. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. Caesar's Camp before Alexandria. 

Enter Cms K-R, Agrippa, Doi.abella, Me- 
CjEN'aSjGallus, PROcuLEius,awdo?Aer*. 

C(PS. Go to him, Dolabella, bid him yield ; 
Being so frustratet, tell him, he mocks us by 
The pauses that he makes t. 
• Bol. Caesar, I shall. [JS!ri^ Dolab. 

Enter Dercetas, tvith the Sword of An- 
tony. 

CcBS. Wherefore is that? and what art thou. 
Appear thus to us ? [that darest 

Dec. I am call'd Dercetas ; 

Mark Antony I served, who best was worthy 
Best to be served : whilst he stood up, and 
He was my master ; and I wore my life, [spoke, 
To spend upon his haters : If thou please 
To take me to thee, as 1 was to him 
I'll be to CaRsar; if thou pleases not, 
1 yield thee up my life. 

C(ES. What is't thou say'st? 

Der. I say, O Caesar, Antony is dead. 

CcBS. The breaking of so great a thing should 
make [shook 

A greater crack : The round world should have 
Lions into civil streets, [tony 

And citizens to their detts: — The death of An- 
Is not a single doom ; in the name lay 
A moiety of the world. 

Der. He is dead, Caesar ; 

Not by a public minister of justice, 
Nor by a liired knife ; but that self hand. 
Which writ his honour in the acts it did, [it, 
Hath . with the courage which the heart did lend 
Splitted the heart. — This is his sword, 
J robb'd his wound of it ; behold it stain'd 
With his most noble blood. 

C(Es. Look you sad, friends? 

J'he gods rebuke me, but it is a tidings 
I'o wash the eyes of kings. 



Agr. And strange it is. 

That nature must compel us to lament 
Our most persisted deeds. 

Mec. His taints and honouri 

W^aged equal with him. 

Agr. A rarer spirit never 

Did steer humanity : but you, gods, will give ns 
Some faults to make us men. Caesar is touch'd. 

Mec. When such a spacious mirror's set be- 
He needs must see himself. [fore him, 

C(ES. O Antony ! 

I have follow'd thee to this ;— But we do lance 
Diseases in our bodies : 1 must perforce 
Have shown to thee such a declining day. 
Or look on thine ; we could not stall together 
In the whole world : But yet let me lament, 
With tears as sovereign as the blood of hearts. 
That thou, my brother, my competitor 
In top of all design, xny mate in empire, 
Friend and companion in the front of war. 
The arm of mine own body, and the heart 
Where mine his) thoughts did kindle, — that our 
Unreconcileable, should divide [stars. 

Our equalneps to this. — Hear me, good friends ; 
BuLl will tell you at some meeter season : 

Enter a Messenger. 
The business of this man looks out of him, 
We'll hear him what he says. — W^henre are 
you? [mistress. 

Mess. A poor Egyptian yet. The qut-en, my 
Confined in all she has, her monument. 
Of thy intents desires instruction ; 
That she preparedly may frame herself 
To the way she's forced to. 

CcES. Bid her have good heart; 

She soon shall know of us, by some of ours. 
How honourable and how kindly we 
Determine for her : for Caesar cannot live 
To be ungentle. 

Mtss . S o th e god s pises«r ve tb ee I [Exii 



Task work. 



t Frustrated. 



X He trifle? with ns. 
4 15 3 



$ Its. 



>34 



SHAKSPEAHE. 



Ceos. Come hither, Proculeins; Go, and say, 
We purpose her no shame: j;ive her >vliat com- 
forts 
I he quality of her passion shall require; 
Lest, in her greatness, by some mortal stroke 
She do defeat us : for her life in Rome 
Would be eternal in our triutnph : Go, [says. 
And, with your speediest, bring us what she 
And how you find of her. 

Pro, Caesar, I shall. [£"177 Procu LEI us. 

CtBs^ Gallns, go you along. — Where's Dola- 
beila. 
To second J'roculeius? [Exit Gallus. 

Agr. Mec. Dolabellal 

C(Ef;. Let him alone, for 1 remember now 
How he's employ'd ; he shall in time be ready. 
Go with me to my tent; where you shall see 
How hardly I was drawn into this war; 
How calm and gentle I proceeded still 
In all my writings : Go with me, and see 
What I can show in this. [Exeunt* 

SCENE IL Alexandria. A Room in the 

Monume7it . 
Enter Cleopatra, Charmian, and Iras. 

CAeo. My desolation does begin to make 
A better life : 'Tis paltry to be Caesar ; 
l<ot being fortune, he*s but fortune's knave*, 
A minister of her will; And it is great 
To do that thing that ends all other deeds; 
Which shackles accidents, and bolts up change; 
Which sleeps, and never palates more the 
The beggar's nurse and Caesar's. [d"ng. 

Enter, to the Gates of the Monumetit, Puo- 
cuLKius, Gallus, ayid Soldiers. 

Pro. Caesar sends greeting to the queen of 
Egypt; 
And bids thee study on what fair demands 
Thou mean'st to have him grant thee. 

Cleo. [Within.] What's thy name? 

Pro. My name is Proculeius. 

Cleo. [If-lthin.] Antony 

Did tell me of you, bade me trust you ; but 
I do not greatly care to be deceived, 
That have uo use for trusting. If your master 
Would have a queen his beggaV, you must tell 
That majesty, to keep decorum, must [him, 
No less beg than a kingdom : if he please 
To give me conquer'd Egypt for my son. 
He gives me so much of mine own, as I 
WMll kneel to him with thanks. 

Pro. Be of good ch^er ; 

You are fallen into a princely hand, fear 

nothing: 
Make your full reference freely to my lord, 
W ho is so full of grace, that it tlows over 
On all that need : I>».'t me report to hin. 
Your sweet depeudancy : and you shall find 
A conqueror, that will pray in aid for kindness, 
Where he for grace is kneei'd to. 

Cleo. [Pf ithif/.] Pray you, tell him 

I am his fortune's vassal, and I send him 
fhe greatness he has got. I hourly learn 
A doctrine of obedience; and would gladly 
Iniok him i' the face. 

Pro. This I'll report, dear lady : 



Have comfort; for I know, your plight is pitied 

Of liiin that caused it. [prised; 

Gul. You see how easily she may be sur 

[Here Proculeii;s, attd two of the 

Guard, ascend the JMonument by a 

Ladder placed against a WitidutVy 

and having descended, come behind 

CLtoPATRA. &oine oj the Guard utp- 

bar a7id open the Gates, 

Guard her till Caesar come. 

[To Proculeius and the Guard, 
[Exit Gallls» 
Iras. Royal queen I 

Char. O Cleopatra! thou art taken, queen!— 
Cleo, Quick, quick, good hands. 

[Drav i/ig a Dagger. 

Pro. Hold, worthy lady, hold : 

[Seizes and d sarms hir. 

Do not yourself such wrong, who are in this 

Relieved, but not betray'd. 

Cleo. What, of death too 

That rids our dogs of languish 1 

Pro. Cleopatra, 

Do not abuse my master's bounty, by 
The undoing of yourself : let the world see 
His nobleness well acted, which your death 
Will never let come forth. 

Cleo. Where art thou, death T 

Come hither, come! come, come, and take a 
Worth many babes and beggars! [queen 

Pro. O, teinperance, lady ! 

Cle >. Sir, I will eat no meat, I'll not drink. 
If idle talk will once be necessary, [sir ; 

I'll not sleep neither : This mortal house I'll 

ruin, 
Do Cajsar what he can. Know, sir, that I 
Will not wait pinion'dt at your master's court; 
Nor once be chastised with the sober eye 
Of dull Octavia. Shall they hoist me up. 
And show me to the shoutirig varletryj 
Of censuring Rome? Rather a diich in Egypt 
Be gentle grave to me! rather on Niliis' mud 
Lay me stark naked, and let the water-tlies 
Blow me into at)horring! rather make 
My country's high pyramids my gibbet, 
And hang me up in thains! 

Pro. You do extend 

These thoughts of horror further than you shall 
Find cause in Caesar. 

Enter Dola Bella. 
Dol. Proculeius, 

What thou hast done thy master Capsar knows. 
And he hath sent for thee : as for the queen, 
I'll take her to my guard. 

Pro. So, Dolabella, 

It shall content me best : be gentle to her. — 
To Caesar I will speak what you shall ple.^se. 
[To Cllopatra 
If you'll employ me tobini. 
Cleo. Say, I would die. 

[Exeunt Proci leius, a/»rf Soldiers. 
Dol. Most noble empress, yon have heard 
Cleo I cannot tell. [of me? 

Dol. Assuredly, you kno^- n>e. 

Cleo. No matter, sir, what I have heard, o 
known. 



• Servant. 



♦ Bound, confined. 



X Rabble. 



Sceiie 11.] 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



835 



Y'ou laugh, when boys or women tell their 
Is*t not your trick 1 [dreams ; 

JJol, I understand not, madam. 

Cleo. I dreara'd there was an emperor 
Antony ; — 
O, snch an another sleep, that I might see 
But such another man! 

Vol. If it might please you, — 

Cleo. His face was as the heavens; and 
therein stuck [and lighted 

A sun and moon ; which kept their course, 
The little O, the earth. 

Dol. Most sovereign creature, — 

Cleo, His legs bestrid the ocean : his rear'd 
arm 
Crested the world : his voice was propertied 
As all the tuned spheres, and that to friends; 
But when he meant to quail * and shake the orb, 
He was as rattling thunder. For his bounty. 
There was no winter in't; an autumn 'twas, 
That grew the more by reaping: His delights 
Were dolphin-like ; they show*d his back above 
The element they lived in : In his livery 
Walk'd crowns and crownets ; realms and 

islands were 
As platest dropp'd from his pocket. 

DoL Cleopatra, — 

Cleo. Think you, there was, or might be. 
As this I dreara'd oil [such a man 

Vol. Gentle madam, no. 

Cleo. You lie, up to the hearing of the gods ; 
But, if tnere be, or ever were one such, 
It*s past the size of dreaming: Nature wants 
stuflf [gine 

To vie strange forms with fancy ; yet, to ima- 
An Antony, were nature's piece 'gainst fancy. 
Condemning shadows quite. 

Vol. Hear me, good madam: 

Your loss is as yourself, great ; and you bear it 
As answering to the weii^ht : 'Would 1 might 
O'ertake pursued success, but I do feel, [never 
By the rebound of yours, a grief that shoots 
My very heart at root. 

Cleo. I thank you, sir. 

Know yon, what Cassar means to do with me ; 

Vol. I am loath to tell you what I would 

Cleo. Nay, pray you, sir, — [you knew. 

Vol. Though he be honourable, — 

(Ueo. He'll lead me then in triumph? 
Dol. Madam, he will 

I know it. 

W it.hin. Make way there, — Caesar. 
Enter C^sar, Gallus, Proguleius, Me- 
CiSNAS, Sei.eucus, and Attendants. 

CiFS. Which is the queen 

Of Egypt ? 

Vol. 'Tis the emperor, madara. 

[Cleopatra kneels. 

C(ps. Arise, 

You shall not kneel : 

I pray you rise ; rise, Egypt. 

Cleo, Sir, the gods 

Will have it thus; my master and my lord 
1 mujit obey. 

Cas. Take to yon no hard thoughts : 

The record of what injuries you did us. 



Though written in our flesh, we shall remem 
As things but done by chance. [ber 

Cleo. Sole sir of the worlds 

I cannot project J mine own cause so well 
To make it clear ; but do confess, I have 
Been laden with like frailties, which before 
Have often shamed our sex. 

C(ES. Cleopatra, know 

We will extenuate rather than entorce : 
If you apply yourself to our intents, 
(Which towards you are most gentle,) yoo 

shall tind 
A benetit in this change ; but if you seek 
To lay on me a cruelty, by taking 
Antony's course, you shall bereave yourself 
Of my good purposes, and put your children 
To that destruction which I'll guard them from. 
If thereon you rel>. I'll take my leave. 

Cleo. And may, through all the world : 'tis 

yours : and we [shall 

Your 'scutcheons, and your signs of eonqnesr. 

Hang in what place you please. Here, ray 

good lord. [patra. 

C<p.y. You shall advise me in all for Cleo- 

Cleo. This is the brief of money, plate, and 
jewels, 
I am possess'd of; *tis exactly valued ; 
Not petty things admitted. — Where's Seleucus 1 

Sel. Here, madam. [my »ord, 

Cleo, This is my treasurer; let him speak _, 
Upon his peril, that I have reserved 
To myself nothing. Speak the truth, Seleucus, 

Sel. Madam, 
I had rather seeH my lips, than, to my peril. 
Speak that which is not. 

Cleo. Whrit have I kept back ? 

Set. Enough to purchase what you have 
made known. 

C(TS. Nay, blush not, Cleopatra; I approve 
Your wisdom in the deed. 

Cleo. See, Czesar ! O, behold. 

How pomp is foUow'd ! mine will now be 
yours; [mine 

And. should we shift estates, yours would be 
The ingratitude of this Seleucus does [trust 
Even make me wild; — O slave, of no more 
Than love that's hired! — What, goest thou 
back? thou shalt [eyes. 

Go back, I warrant thee; but I'll catch thine 
Though they had wings; Slave, soul-less vil- 
O rartlyl} base! [lain dog. 

Ccc.s, Good queen, let us entreat >ou. 

Cleo. O Csesar, what a woundinp shame is 
That thou, vouchsafing here to visit me, [this ; 
Doing the honour of thy lordliness 
To one so meek, that mine own servant should 
Parcel U the sum of my disgraces by 
Addition t)f his envy! rSay, good Caesar, 
That I some lady trilles have reserved, 
Irninomerit toys, things of such dignity 
As we greet modirn friends** withal ; and say. 
Some nobler token I have kept apart 
For Llviatf, and Oclavia"^, to induce 
Their mediation ; most 1 be unfolded 
With one that 1 have bred? The gods! It 
smites me 



Crush. 



f Silver money % Shape or form. § Sew up. U Uncommonly 

% Add to. ♦* Common. ft Caesar's wife. Xt His siitei. 



83(5 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act V 



Beneath the fall 1 have. Pr'ythee, go hence ; 
{To Seleucus. 
Or I shall show the cinders* of my spirits 
Throiigli the a-shes of my chance : — Wert thou 
Thou wouUtst have mercy on me. [a mm, 

CcBs. Forbear, Seleucus- 

[Exit Skllucus. 

Cleo. Be it known, that we, the greatest, 
are misthought 
For things that others do ; and, ^^ hen we fall, 
We answer others' merits f in our name. 
Are therefore to be pitied. 

Cces, Cleopatra, 

Not what you have reserved, nor what ac- 
knowledged, [yours, 
Put we i'lhe roll of conquest : still be it 
Bestow it at your pleasure ; and believe, 
Caesar's no merchant, to make prize with you 
Of things that merchants sold. Therefore be 
cheer'd ; [queen ; 
Make not your thoughts your prisons : no, dear 
For we intend so to dispose you, as 
Yourselfshallgiveus counsel. Feed, and sleep: 
Our ca.re and pity is so much upon you, 
That we remain your friend ; And so adieo. 

Cleo. My master, ana my lord ! 

C€£s, Not so : Adieu. 

[Exeunt C^sar, and hh Trahi. 

Cleo. He words me, girls, he words me, 
that I should not 
Be noble to myself: but ^ark thee,Charmian, 
[U hispers C h a r m i a n . 

Iras. Finish, good lady ; the bright dny is 
And we are for the dark. [done, 

Cleo. Hie thee a^rain : 

1 have bpoke already, and it is provided ; 
Go, put it to the haste. 

Char. Madam, I will. 

Re-enter Dolabella. 

DoL Where is the queen ? 

Char. Behold, sir. [Exit Charmian. 

Cleo. Dolabella ? 

Vol. Madam, as thereto sworn by your com- 
Whichmylove makes religion to obey, [mand, 
I tell you this : Caesar through Syria 
Intends his journey ; and, within three days, 
You with your children will he send before : 
Make your best use of this : I have performed 
Your pleasure, and my promise. 

Cleo, Dolabella, 

I shall remain your debtor. 

fJol. I yonr servant. 

Adieu, good queen; I must attend on Caesar. 

Cleo. Farewell, and thanks. [Exit DoL.j 
Mow, Iras what think'st thou ? 
Thou, an Egyptian puppet, shall be shown 
In Rome as well as 1 : mechanic slaves 
With greasy aprons, rules, and hammers, shall 
Uplift us to the view ; in their thick breatha. 
Rank of gross diet, shall we be enclouded. 
And forced to drink their vapour. 

Jras. The gods forbid I 

Cleo. Nay, 'tis most certain, Iras : Saucy 
lictorsl; [rhymers 

Will catch at ns, like strumpets ; and scald 
Ballad us out o'tune : the quick $ comedians j 



• Fire. 
oy boj'i. 



f Merit? or demerits. 
\ Job oi Work. ♦• 



1 Beadh'S. 
Iucu:i;^tan( 



Extemporally will stage us, and present 
Our Alexandrian revels ; Antonv 
Shall be brought drunken forth, and 1 shall tee 
Some squeaking Chopatra l)0} |1 my ureitness 
1' the posture of a whore. 

Jras. O the good gixis ! 

Cleo. Nay, that is certain. 

Jras. Pli never see it ; for, I am sure, my 
Are stronger than mine eyes. [nails 

Cleo. ^^ hy, that's the way 

To fool their preparation, and to conquer 
Their most absurd intents. — Now, Charmian? 

Enter C h a r m i a n. 
Show me, my women, like a qneen ; — Go fetch 
My best attires ; — I am again for Cydnus, 
To meet Mark Antony : — Sirrah, Ira?, go. — 
Now, noble Charmian, we'll despatch indeed : 
And, when thou hast done this chare' , I'll give 
thee leave [all. 

To play till dooms-day. — Bring our crown and 
Wherefore's tbis noise? 

[Exit Iras. A Noise within. 
Enter one of the Guard. 

Guard. Here's a rural fellow 

That will not be denied your highness' pre- 
He brings you figs. [sence ; 

Cleo. Let him come in. How poor an in 
strument [Exit Guard. 

May do a noble deed ! he brings me liberty. 
M> lesolution's placed, and I have nothing 
Of woman in me : Now from head to foot 
I am marble-constant: how the fleeting** moon 
No planet is of mine. 

Kc-€7iter Guard, uith a Clown bringing a 
basket. 

Guard, This is the man. 

Cleo. Avoid, and leave him. [Exit Guard. 
Hast thou the pretty worm tt of Nilus there. 
That kills and pains not? 

Clown. Truly I have him : bnt I would not 
be the party that should desire you to touch 
him, for his biting is immortal ; those, that do 
die of it, do seldom or never recover. 

Cleo. Remember'st thou ai.y that have died 
on't? 

Clown. Very many, men and women too. 
I heard of one of them no longer than yester- 
day : a very honest woman, but something 
given to lie ; as a woman should not do, but 
in the way of honesty : how she died of the 
biting of it, what pain she felt. — Truly, she 
makes a very good report of the worm : 
But he that will believe all that they say, 
shall never be saved by half that they do : 
But this is most fallible, the worm's an odd 
worm. 

Cleo. Get thee hence ; farewell. 

Cloivn. I wish you all joy of the worm. 

Cleo. Farewell. 

[Clown sets down the Basket. 

Clown. You must think this, look you, tha 
the worm will do his kind jj. 

Clio. Ay, ay ; farewell. 

Clown. Look you, the worm is not to be 
trusted, but in the keeping of wise people ; for 
indeed^ there is no goodnes? in the worm. 

$ Lively. l| Female charafTers wit; |1 ly. d 
• t Serpent. *;. Act acioidin^^ to his ii.time 



Scene II.] 



ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA. 



837 



Cleo. Take thou no care; it shall be heeded. 
down. Very good : tiive it nolhiug, I pray 
yon, for it is not worth the feeding. 
Cleo. Will it eat mel 

Claum, You must not think 1 am so simple, 
but I know the devil himself will not eat a 
woman : I know, that a woman is a dish for 
the t;ods, if the devil dress her not. But, 
truly, these same whoreson devils do the gods 
great harm in their women ; for in every ten 
that they make, tlie devils mar five. 
Cleo. Well, get thee gone ; farewell. 
Clown. Yes, forsooth ; I wish you joy of 
the worm. [Exit. 

Re-enter Iras, with a Robe, Crown, 4c- 
Cleo. Give me my robe, put on my crown ; I 
Immortal longings in me : Now no more [have 
The juice of Egypt's grajJe shaU moist this lip: 
Yare, yare*, good Iras; quick. — JNIethinks 1 
Antony call; l see him rouse himself [hear 
To praise my noble act ; I hear him mock 
The luck of Caesar, which the gods give men 
Foexcuse tb.eir after wrath: Ilusbatid, I coir.e: 
Now to that name my courage prove my title ! 
I am -fire and air ; my other elements 
I give to baser life. — So, — l)ave you done? 
Come, then, and take the last warmth of my 
lips. [well. 

Farewell, kind Charmian ;— Iras, long fare- 
[Kis^es them. \kks falls and dies. 
Have I the aspic in my lips ? Dost fall ? 
If thou and n;iture can so gently part. 
The stroke of death is as a lover's pinch, [still ? 
Which hurts, and is desired. Dojt thou lie 
If thus thou vanishest, thou tell'st the world 
It is not worth leave-taking. 

Char. Dissolve, thick cloud, and rain ; thai 
The go<is themselves do weep 1 [I may say, 
Cleo. This proves me base : 

If she first meet the curled Antony, 
He'll make demand of her; and spend that 
kiss [wretch, 

Which is my heaven to have. Come, mortal 
\To the Asp, which she applies to her 
Breast. 
With thy sharp teeth this knot intrinsicate 
Of life at once untie : poor venomous fool. 
Be angry, and despatch. O, couldst thou 

speak I 
That I might hear thee call great Caesar, ass 
Uijpoliciedtl 
Chiir. O eastern star! 

Cleo. Peace, peace ! 

Dost thou not see my baby at my breast, 
That sucks the nurse asleep? 

Char. O, break ! O, break ! 

Cleo. As sweet as balm, as soft as air, as 
gentle, — 
^ O Antony !— Nay, I will take thee too : — 

[Applying another Asp to her Arm. 
What should I stny— [Falls on a Bed, 4 dies. 
Char. In this wild world 1 — So, fare thee 
well. — 
Now boast thee, death ! in thy possession Ii( » 
A lass unparallel'd. — Downy win(lov\s^ close; 
And golden Phcebus never be beheld 



Of eyes again so royal I Your crown's awry 
1*11 mend it, and then play. 

Enter the Guard, rushing in, 
1 Guard. VV here is the queen i 
Char. Speak softly, wake her not. 

1 Guard. Caesar haih stut — 
Char, Too slow a messenger. 

[Applies the Asp. 
O, come ; apace, despatch : I partly feel thee. 

1 Guard. Approach, oh! All's not well t 

Caesar's beguiled. [Caesar; — callhim« 

2 Guard. There's Dolabeila sent from 

1 Guard. What work is here 1 — Charmian, 

is this well done ? [princess 

Char. It is well done, and fitting for a 
Descended of so many royal kings. 
Ah, soldier ! [Dies, 

Enter Dolabella. 
Vol, How goes it here ? 

2 Guard. " All dead. 

Dot. Caesar, thy thoughts 

Touch their eflfects in this : Thyself art coming 
To see perform'd the dreaded act, which thoa 
So sought'st to hinder. 

Within. A way there, way for Caesar! 

Enter C^sar, and Attendants. 

Dot. O, sir, you are too sure an augurer; 
That you did fear, is done. 

C<Bs. Bravest at the last : 

She levell'd at our purposes, and being royal. 
Took her own way. — The manner of their 
I do not see them bleed. [deaths? 

Dol. Who was last with them f 

1 Guard. A simple countryman, that brought 
This was his basket. [her figs ; 

Ca:s. Poison'd then. 

1 Guard. O Caesar, 

This Charmian lived but now ; she stood, and 
I found her trimming up the diadem [spake : 
On her dead mistress; tremblingly she stood. 
And on the sudden dropp'd. 

CcBS. O noble weakness ! — 

If they had swallow'd poison, 'twould appear 
By external swelling : but she looks like sleep. 
As she would catch another Antony 
In her strong toil of grace ;. 

Dol. Here, on her breast. 

There is a vent of blood, and something blown : 
The like is on her arm. [li^-leaves 

1 Guard. This is an aspic's trail : and these 
Have slime upon them, such as the aspic leaves 
Upon the caves of Nile. 

CcEs. Most probable. 

That so she died ; for her physician tells me, 
She hath pursued conclusions j infinite 
Of easy ways to die. — Take up her bed ; 
And bear her women from the monument :— 
She shall be buried by her A.ntony : 
No grave upon the earth shall clip |j in it 
A pair so famous. High events as these 
Strike those that make them : and their story i« 
No loss in pity, than his glory, which 
Broug t them to be lamented. Our army shall 
In soiemu show, attend this funeral ; 
And then to Rome.— Come, Dolabella, see 
High order in this great solemnity. [Ruunt 



• Make haste. f Unpolitic, to leave me to myself. % Graceful appearance. 

^ Tried eAperiraents. Enfold. 



CYMBELINE. 



^9ct0oni9 reprc^enul^. 



Ctwbeiink, ITing of Britain, 

Cloten, son to the Queen by a former hus- 
band, 

Lbowatus Posthumds, a gentleman^ huS' 
bund to Imogen. 

Belarius, a baiihhcd lord y disguised under 
the 7iame of Morgan. 

^ sons to Cymbeline, disguised 

GuiDERius, N under the names of Poly- 

Arviragus, y dore and Cadual, sup- 
\. posed sons to Belarius, 

FHiL\Rio,frie/id to Posf humus. ( ,. u,.«^ 

I Kcn\T&o, friend to P hilar io, \ ^f «««>«. 

A French Gentleman, /rfe/?rf to Philario. 

Ca 1 us Luci IS, general of the Homan forces. 

A Roman Captain. Two British Captains. 

ViSKUXOf servant to Posthumus, 



CoRNELics, a physician. 
Two Gentlemen. 
Two Gaolers. 

Queen, unfe to Cymbeline, 

Imogen, daughter to Cymbeline by a former 

Queen. 
Helen, woman to Imogen. 

Jjords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, 
Apparitions, a Soothsayer, a Dutch 
Gentleman, a Spanish Gentleman, Mu- 
sicians, (Jjficers, Captains, Soldiers, 
Messengers, and other Attendants. 

Scene,— sometimes in Britain; sometimes 
in Italy, 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. Britain. The Garden behind 
Cymbfcline's Palace. 

Enter Two Gentlemen. 

1 Gent, You do not meet a man, but frowns : 
our bloods * 
No more obey tin- heavens, than oar courtiers ; 
Still seem, as does the king's. 

'2 Gent. But what's the matter? 

1 Gent. His daughter, and the heir of his 

kingdom, whom 
He purposed to his wife's sole son, (a widow. 
That late he married,) hath referr'd herself 
Unio a poor but worthy gentleman : She's 

wedded ; 
Her husband banish'd ; she imprison'd : all 
Is outward sorrow; though 1 think, the king 
Be touch'd at very heart. 

2 Gent. None but the king? 

1 Geiit. He. that hath lost her, too : so is 

the queen, [tier. 

That most desired the match: But not a cour- 
Although they wear their faces to the bent 
Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not 
Glad at th»i thing they scowl at. 

2 Gent. And why so ? [a thing 
1 Gent. He that hath miss'd the princess, is 

Too bad for bad report : and he that hath her, 
(1 mean, that married her, — alack, good man! 
And therefore banish'd) is a creature such 
As, to seek through the regions of the earth 
For one his like, there would be something 

failing 
(o him that should compare. I do not think, 



So fair an outward, and such stniF within. 
Endows a man but he. 
2 Gent. Yon speak him far t. 

1 Gent. I do extend him, sir, within him- 
Crush him together, rather than unfo.kl [seh ; 
His measure duly i. 

2 Gent. What's his name, and birth 1 
1 Gent. I cannot delve him to the root : 

His father 
Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour. 
Against the Romans, with Cassibtlan; 
But had his titles by Tenantius^, whom 
He served with glory and admired success : 
So gain'd the sur-addition, Leonatus : 
And had, besides this gentleman in question. 
Two other sons, who, in the wars o'lhe lime,^ 
Died with their swords in hand ; for wliich 

their father [ro\v\ 

(Then old and fond of issue.) took such fo» - 
That he quit being; and his gentle lady, 
Big of this gentleman, our theme, deceased 
As he was born. Th ; king, he takes the bah 
To his protection; calls him Posthumus; [ber 
Breeds him, and makes him of his bed-chan 
Puts him to all the learnings that his time 
Could make him the receiver of; which he 

took. 
As we do air, fast as 'twas minister'd ; and 
In his spring became a harvest : Lived \ix 

court, . [loved : 

("Which rare it is to do,) most praised, mos* 
A sample to the youngest ; to the more nu. 

ture, 
A glass that fealed U them ; and to the grjfvet, 

• Inclination, natural disposition. t i. e,. You praiso him exten?iv4ly. 

My prabe, however extensive, i>. within his merit. 5 The father of Cymlxl.o* 

U Forintd iheir manner*. 



Scene /.] 



CYMBELINE. 



833 



A child that guided dotards : to his mistress, 
For whom he now is banish'd, — her own price 
Proclaims how she esteem'd liim and his vir- 
By her election may be truly read, [tue ; 

What kind of man he is. 

2 Gent. 1 honour hira [me, 

Even out of your report. But, 'pray you, tell 
Is she sole child to the king? 

1 Gent. His only child. [ing. 
He had two sons, (if this be worth your hear- 
Mark it,) the eldest of them at three years old, 
I* the swathing clothes the other, from their 

nursery [knowledge 

Were stolen : and to this hour, no gness in 
Which way they went. 

2 Gent, How long is this ago? 

\ Gent. Some twenty years. [conveyM! 

2 Gent. That a king's children should be so 
So slackly guarded! And the search so slow. 
That could not trace them! 

1 Gent. Howsoe*er 'tis strange, 
Or that the negligence may well be laughed at. 
Yet is it true, sir. 

2 Gent. I do well believe you. 

1 Gent, We must forbear : Here comes the 
queen, and princess. \^Exeunt. 

SCENE TI. The same. 
Enter the Queen, Posth dm us, and Imogen. 

Queen. No, be assured, you shall uot find 
me, daughter. 
After theslander of most step-mothers, 
Evil-eyed unto you : you are my prisoner, but 
Your gaoler shall deliver yon the keys [mus. 
That lock up your restraint. For you, Posthu- 
So soon as I can win tLe offended king, 
I will be known your advocate: marry, yet 
The fire of rage is in him ; and 'twere good, 
You lean'd unto his sentence with what pa- 
Your wisdom may inform you. [tience. 

Post. Please your highness, 

1 will from hence toKlay. 

Queen. You know the peril : — 

I'll fetch a turn about the garden, pitying 
The pangs of barr'd affections; though the 

king 
Hath charged you should not speak together. 
{Exit Queen. 

Tmo. O 

Dissembling courtesy I How fine this tyrant 
Can tickle were she wounds! — JNJy dearest 
husband, [thing, 

I something fear my father's wrath ; but no- 
^'Always reserved my holy duty,) what 
His rage can do on me : You must be gone; 
And 1 shall here abide the hourly shot 
Of angry eyes ; not comforted to live. 
But that there is this jewel in the world. 
That I may see again. 

Post. I\f y qneen ! my mistress ! 

O, lady, weep no more ; lest I give cause 
To be snspej ted of more lenderness 
Than doih becomea man! I will remain 
The loy«l'>t husband that did e'er plight troth. 
"hly residence iu Rome, at one Philario's; 



Who to my father was a friend, to me 
Known but by letter : thither write, my queen^ 
And with mine eyes I'll drink the words yon 
Though ink be made of gall. [send. 

Re-enter Queen. 
Queen, Be brief, I pray you • 

If the king come, I shall incur I know not 
How much of his displeasure: yet I'll move 
him [Aside. 

To walk this way : I never do him wrong. 
But he does buy my injuries, to be friends; 
Pays dear for my offences. {Exit. 

Post. Should we be taking leave 

As loijg a term as yet we have to live. 
The loathness to depart would grow: Adieu! 

Jmo. Nay, stay a little : 
Were you but riding forth to air yourself. 
Such parting were too petty. Look here, love; 
This diamond was my mother's : take it 

heart ; 
But keep it till you woo another wife. 
When Imogen is dead. 

Post. How ! how ! another ?— 

You gentle gods, give me but this I have. 
And sear up* my embracements from a next 
With bonds of death ! — Remain thcu here. 

{Putting on the Ring. 
While sense t can keep it tn ! And sweetest, 

fairest. 
As I my poor self did exchange for you. 
To your so infinite loss ; so, in our trifles 
1 still win of you : For my sake, wear this ; 
It is a ntanacle of love; I'll place it 
Upon this fairest prisoner. 

{Putting a Bracelet on her Arm, 

Jmo. O, the gods! 

When shall we see again % 

Enter Cymbeline and Lords. 

Post. Alack, the king ! 

Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from 
my sight! 
If, after this command, thou fraught | the court 
With thy unworthiness, thou diest: Away ! 
Thou art poison to my blood. 

Post. The gods protect you ! 

And bless the good remainders of the court! 
1 am gone. {Exit. 

Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death 

More sharp than this is. 

Cym. O disloyal thing, 

That shouldst repair my youth ; thou heapest 
A year's age on me! 

Imo. I beseech you, sir. 

Harm not yourself with your vexation ; I 
Am senseless of your wrath ; a touch more 
Subdues all pangs, all fears. [rare> 

Cym. Past grace? obedience? 

Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, 
past grace. [of my queen! 

Cym. That might'st have had the soleU son 

Iwo. O ble*s'd, that I might not I I chose an 
And did avoid a pultockH. [eagle 

Cyn). Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst hav» 
made my th'one 
A %eat for baseness. 



* Close up. 
$ A more exquisite feeling. 



+ feenjation. 



J Fill. 
% A kite. 



840 



SHAKSPEARE. 



{Act /. 



Into, No; I rather added 

A Indtre to it. 

Cym. O thou vile one I 

Imo, Sir, 

It is your fault that I have loved Posthnnms: 
You bred hitii as my playfellow; and he is 
A man worth any womrui; overbuys me 
Almost the sum he pays. 

Cym. What! art thou mad? 

Jmo. Almost, sir: Heaven restore me! — 
Would I were 
A neat-herd's* dauc:hter ! and my Leonatas 
Our neighbour shepherd's son ! 
Reenter Queen. 

Cym, Thou foolish thing ! — 

They were again together: you have done 

[To the Queen. 
Not after onr command. Away with her. 
And pen her up. 

Queen. 'Beseech your patience : — Peace, 
Dear lady daughter, peace ; — Sweet sovereign, 
LeKve us to ourselves; and make yourself 
Out of your best advice f. [some comfort 

Cym. Nay, let her languish 

A drop of blood a day ; and, being aged, 
Die of this folly ! [Exit. 

Enter Pisanio. 

Queen. Fie, — you must give way ; 

Here is your servant. — How now, sir? What 
news'? 

Pis. My lord your son drew on my master. 

Queen. Ha! 

No harm, I trust, is done? 

Pis. There might have been, 

Ent that my master rather play'd than fought. 
And had no help of anger: they were parted 
By gentlemen at hand. 

Queen. I am very glad on*t. 

Jmo. Your son's my father's friend ; he 
takes his part. — 
To draw upon an exile I — O brave sir! — 
I would they were in Afric both together; 
Myself by with a needle, that 1 might prick 
The goer back. — Why came you from your 
master ? [me 

Pis. On his command : he would no* sufler 
To bring him to the haven : left these notes 
Of what commands I should be subject to, 
When it pleased you to employ me. 

Queen. This hath been 

Your faithful servant : I dare lay mine honour. 
He will remain so. 

Pis. 1 humbly thank your highness. 

Queen. Pray, walk a while. 

Jmo. About some half hour hence, 

I pray you, speak with me : you shall, at least. 

Go see my lord aboard : for this time, leave 

me. [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. A public Place. 

Enter Cloten, and Two Lords. 

1 Lord. Sir, T would advise you to shift a 

•liirt; the violence of action hath made you 

reck as a sacrifice : Where air comes out, air 



comes in : there's none abroad so wholesome 
as that yon vent. 

Clo. a my shirt were bloody, then to shift 
it — Have I hurt him 1 

2 I^ord. No, faith; not so much as his pa- 
tience. [Aside. 

1 Lord. Hurt him? his body's a passable 
carcass, if he be not hurt: it is a thoroui;hfare 
for sieel if it be not hurt. 

2 Lord. His steel was in debt ; it went o'the 
backside the town. [Aside^ 

Clo. The villain would not stand me. 
2 Lord. No ; but he fled forward still, to- 
ward your face. [Aside. 

1 l^ord. Stand you ! You have land enou;jh 
of your own: but he added to your having; 
gave you some ground. 

2 Lord. As many inches as you have oceans : 
Puppies! [AsUie, 

do. I would, they had not come between us. 

2 Lord. So would I, till you had measured 
how long a fool you were upon the ground. 

[Aside* 

Clo. And that she should love this fellow, 
and refuse, me ! 

2 Lord. If it be a sin to make a true elec- 
tion, she is damned. [Aside. 

1 Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her 
beauty and her brain go not together j: She's 
a good sign, but 1 have seen small reflection 
of her wit j. 

2 Lord. Sh€ shines not upon fools, lest the 
reflection should hurt her. [Aside. 

Clo. Come, ril to my chamber: 'Would 
there had been some hurt done 1 

i Lord. I wish not so ; unless it had been 
the fall of an ass, which is no great hurt. 

[Aside* 

Clo. You'll go with us? 

1 Lord. I'll attend your lordship. 
Clo. Nay, come, let's go together. 

2 Lord. Well, my lord. [Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. A Room in Cymbeline's Pa^ 

lace. 

Enter Imogen and Pisanio. 

Imo. I would thou grevy'st untotbt; shprea 
o'the haven. 
And question'dst every sail: if he should write. 
And 1 not have it, 'twere a paper lost 
As oft'er'd mercy is. What was the last 
That he spake to thee? 

Pi^. 'Twas, His qneeUf his queen! 

Jmo. Then waved his handkerchief? 

Pis. And kissed it, madam. 

Jmo. Senseless linen! happier therein thnu 
And that was all? [II— 

Pis. No, madam ; for so long 

As he could make me with this eye or ear 
Distinguish him from others, he did keep 
The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief 
Still waving, as the fits and stirs of his mind 
Could best express how slow his soul sail'd 
How swift his ship. [ou. 



• Cattle-keeper. + Consideration, | Her beauty and sense are not equal. 

To naderstand the force of this idea, it should be remembered that anciently almost every 

sign had a motto, or some attempt at a witticism uaderneatb it. 



Scene iy.\ 



CYMBELINE. 



841 



Into. Thou shouldst have made him 

As little as a crow, or less, ere left 
To after-eye him. 

Pis, Madam, so I did. 

Imo. I would have broke mine eye-strings; 
crack'd them, but 
To look upon him; till the diminution 
Of space had pointed him S'harp as my needle ; 
Nny, follow'd him, till he had melted from 
The smallness of a gnat to air ; and then 
Have turn'd mine eye, and wept. — But, good 
When shall we hear from him 1 [Pisanio, 

Pis, Be assured, madam, 

With his next vantage*. 

Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but 
had 
Most pretty things to say: ere I could tell him. 
How I would think on him, at certain hours, 
Such thoughts, and such ; or I could make 

him swear 
The shes of Italy should not betray [him, 

Mine interest, and his honour ; or have charged 
At the sixth hour of morn, at noon, at mid- 
night, 
To encounter me with orisons t, for then 
1 am in heaven for him : or ere I could 
Give him that parting kiss, which I had set 
Betwixt two charming words, comes in my 

father, 
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north. 
Shakes all our buds from g.rowing. 
Enter a Lady. 

Lady, The queen, madam, 

Desires your highness' company. 

Imo. Those things [ bid you do, get them 
I will attend the queen. [despatch'd. — 

Pis, Madam, I shall. 

[Exeunt. 

SCE^ E V. Rome. An Apartment in Phi- 

lario's House, 

Enter Philario, Iachimo, a Frenchman, 

a Dutchman, and a Spaniard. 

lack. Believe it, sir : I have seen him in 
Britain: he was then of a crescent notel, ex- 
pected to prove so worthy, as since he hath 
been allowed the name of: but I could then 
have looked on him without the help of ad- 
miration } though the catalogue of his endow- 
ments had been tabled by his side, and 1 to 
peruse him by items. 

Phi. You speak of him when he was less 
f'irnished§ than now he is, with that which 
makes |j him both without and within. 

French. I have seen him in France : we 
had very many there, could behold the sun 
with as firm eyes as he. 

lach. This matter of marrying his king's 
daughter, (wherein he must be weighed rather 
by her value, than his own,) words him, I 
doubt not, a great deal from the matter, 

French. And then his banishment : 

lach. Ay, and the approbation of those 



that weep this lamentable divorce, under lier 
colours, are wonderfully to extendi^ him; be 
it but to fortity her judgment, which else a» 
easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar 
without more quality. But how comes it, he 
is to sojourn with you t How creeps ae 
quaintance ? 

Phi, His father aind I were soldiers toge- 
ther; to whom I have been often bound for 

no less than my life : 

Enter Posthumus. 
Here comes the Briton : Let him be so enter- 
tained amongst you, as suits, with gentlemen 
of your knowing, to a stranger of his qualiiy. — ■ 
I beseech you all, be belter known to thia 
gentleman ; whom I commend to you as a 
noble friend of mine : How worthy he is, I 
will leave to appear hereafter, rather than 
story him in his own hearing. 

French. Sir, we have known together in 
Orleans. 

Post, Since when I have been debtor to 
you for courtesies, which I will be ever to 
pay, and yet pay still. 

French. Sir, you o*er-rate my poor kind- 
ness ; I was glad I did atone** my country- 
men and you ; it had been pity, you should 
have been put together with so mortal a pur- 
pose, as then each bore, upon importance tr of 
so slight and trivial a nature. 

Post. By your pardon, sir, I was then a 
young traveller: rather shunn'd to go even 
with what I heard, than in my every action to 
be guided by others* experiences : but, upon 
my mended judgment, (if I otfend not to say 
it is mended,) my quarrel was not altogether 
slight. 

French. 'Faith, yes, to be put to the arbi- 
trenient of swords ; and by such two, that 
would, by all likelihood, have confounded jj 
one the other, or have fallen both. 

Jach. Can we, with manners, ask what was 
the difference? 

French. Safely, I think : 'twas a contention 
in public, which may, without contradiction, 
suffer the report. It was much like an argu- 
ment that fell out last night, where each of us 
fell in praise of our country mistresses : This 
gentleman at that time vouching, (and upon 
warrant of bloody affirmation,) his to be more 
fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant qualified, 
and less attemptible, than any the rarest of our 
ladies in France. 

Jach. That lady is not now living ; or this 
gentleman's opinion, by this, worn out. 

Post. She holds her virtue still, and I my 
mind. 

lach. You must not so far prefer her 'fore 
ours of Italy. 

Post. Being so far provoked as I was in 
France, I would abate her nothing; though 1 
profess myself her adorer, not her friend $5. 

Jach, As fair, and as good, (a kind of hand- 



Opportunity, t Meet me with reciprocal prayer. t Increasing in fame. 

§ Accomplished. U Forms him. If Praise him, 

•* Reconcile. a Importunity, instigation. H Destroyed. 

§j Lover, — 1 speak of her aj a being I reverence, not at a beauty whom I tujuy . 

4C 



842 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Act L 



in-hand comparison,) had been something 
too fair, and too good, for any lady in Bri- 
lany. If she went before others I have seen, 
as that diamond of yours out-lustres many I 
have behold, 1 could not but believe she ex- 
celled many : but 1 have not seen the most 
precious diamond that is, nor you the lady. 

Post I praised her as I rated her : so do I 
my stone. 

Jacli. What do you esteem it at ? 

Post. More than the world enjoys. 

Inch. Either your unparagoned mistress is 
dead, or she's out-prized by a trifle. 

Post. You are mistaken : the one may be 
sold, or given; if there were wealth enough 
for tne purchase, or merit for the gift: the 
other is not a thing for sale, and only the gift 
of the gods. 

Jack. Which the gods have given you ? 

Post. Which, by their graces, I will keep. 

lach. You may wear her in title yours ; 
but, you know, strange fowl light upon neigh- 
bouring ponds. Your ring may be stolen too : 
so, of your brace of unprizeable estimations, 
the one is but frail, and the other casual ; a 
cunning thief, or a that way accomplished 
courtier, would hazard the winning both of 
first and last. 

Post* Your Italy contains none so ac- 
complished a courtier, to convince* the 
honour of my mistress; if, in the holding or 
loss of that, you term her frail. I do nothing 
doubt, you have store of thieves ; notwith- 
standing I fear not my ring. 

Plii. Let us leave here, gentlemen. 

Post. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy 
signior, I thank him, makes no stranger of 
me ; we are familiar at first. 

Jach. With live times so much conversation, 
I should gel ground of your fair mistress : 
make her go back, even to the yielding ; had 
I admittance, and opportunity to friend. 

Post. No, no. 

Jach. I dare, thereon, pawn the moiety of 
my estate to your ring; which, in my opinion, 
o'ervalues it something : But 1 make my wager 
rather against your confidence than ner repu- 
tation : and to bar your ofience herein too, I 
durst attempt it against any la(iy in the world. 

Post. You are a great deal abused+ in too 
bold a persuasion ; and I doubt not you sustain 
what you're worthy of by your attempt. 

Jach. What's that? 

Post. A rt'pnlse : Though your attempt, as 
you call it, deserve more: a punishment too. 

Phi. Gentlemen, enough of this : it came 
iH too suddenly ; let it die as it was born, and, 
1 pray yon, be better acquainted. 

larh. 'Would I had put my estate, and my 
neighbour's, on the approbation j of what I 
Lave spoke. 

Post. What lady would you choose to 
assail? 

Jach. Yours ; whom in constancy, you 
ihiuk, stands so safe. I will lay you ten thou- 
sand ducats to your ring, that, commend me 



to the court where your lady is, with no more 
advantage than the opportunity of a second 
conference, and I will bring from thence that 
honour of hers which you imagine so reserved. 

Post. I will wage against your gold, gold 
to it: my ring I hold dear as my finger; 'tis 
part of it. 

lach. YoD are a friend, and therein the 
wiser. If you buy ladies' flesh at a milliou 
a dram, you cannot preserve it from tainting : \ 
But, I see, you have some religion in you, that 
you fear. 

Post. This is but a custom in your tongue ; 
you bear a graver purpose, I hope. 

lach. I am the master of my speeches ; and 
would undergo what's spoken, I swear. 

Post. M'ill you 1 — I shall but lend ray dia- 
mond till your return: — Let there be covenants 
drawn between us : My mistress exceeds in 
goodness the hugeness of your unworthy think- 
ing : I dare you to this match : here's my ring. 

Phi, I will have it no lay. 

Jach, By the gods it is one : — If I bring 
you no suflicient testimony that I have en- 
joyed the dearest bodily part of your mistress, 
my ten thousand ducats are yours ; so is your 
diamond too. If I come off, and leave her in 
such honour as you have trust in, she your 
jewel, this your jewel, and my gold are 
yours : — provided 1 have your coramenda 
tion § for my more free entertainment. 

Post. I embrace these conditions ; let us 
have articles betwixt us: — only, thus far you 
shall answer. If you make your voyage upon 
her, and give me directly to understand you 
have prevailed, I am no further your enemy, 
she is not worth our debate : if she remain 
unseduced, (you not making it appear other- 
wise,) for your ill opinion, and the assault 
you have made to her chastity, you shall 
answer me with your sword. 

Jach. Your hand ; a covenant : We will 
have these things set down by lawful coun- 
sel, and straight away for Britain ; lest the 
bargain should catch cold, and starve; I 
will fetch my gold, and have our two wagers 
recorded. 

Post. Agreed. 

\^t:xev7it PosTHUMus and Iachimo. 

French. Will this hold, think you 1 

Phi. Signior Iachimo will not from it. 
Pray, let us follow 'em. [Exeunt, 

SCENE VI. Britain. A Room 191 CymbaWne^ 
Palace, 
Enter Queen, Ladies, cwef Cornelius. 
Queen. Whiles yet the dew's on ground, 
gather those flowers; 
Make haste : who has the note of them? 
1 Lady, I, madam. 

Queen. Despatch. [Exeunt Ladies 

Now, master doctor; have you brought those 
drugs? 
Cor. Ple^seth your highness, ay : here they 
are, madam : [Presenting a small Box 
But I beseech your grace, (without offence ; 



• Overcome. 



+ Deceived. 



: Proof. 



$ Recommendation 



Scene VI,] 



C¥MBELIi\E. 



843 



My conscience bids me ask-) whtrefore you 
have [pounds, 

Commanded of me these most poisonous com- 
\^ hich are the movers of a languishing death ; 
But, though slow, deadly J 

Queen. I do wondei, doctor. 

Thou ask'st me such a question : Have I not 
been [how 

Thy pupil long? Has thou not learn'd me 
To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so, 
That our great king himself doth woo me oft 
For my confections ? Having thus far pro- 
ceeded, [meet 
(Unless thou think'st me devilish,) is't not 
That I did amplify my judgment in 
Other conclusions*? I will try the forces 
Of these thy compounds on such creatures as 
We count not worth the hanging, (but none 

human,) 
To try the vigour of them, and apply 
Allaymenis to their act; and by them gather 
Their several virtues and effects. 

Cor, Your highness 

Shall from this practice but make hard your 

heart: 
Besides, the seeing these effects will be 
Boih noisome ana infectious. 

Queen. O, content thee. — 

Enter Pisanio. 
Here comes a flalterirlg rascal ; upon him 

\_Aside. 
Will I first work : he's for his master. 
And enemy to my son. — How now, Pisanio? — 
Doctor, your service for thih lime is ended ; 
Take your own way. 

Cot , 1 do suspect you, madam ; 

But you shall do no harm. [Aside. 

Queen, Hark thee, a word. — 

[ro Pisanio. 

Cor, {Aside.] I do not like her. She doth 
think she has 
Strantjelingeringpoisons: I do know her spirit. 
And will not trust one of hermaiice with 
A drug of such damn'd nature : Those she has 
Will stupify and dull the sense awhile: 
Which first, perchance, she'll prove on cats 

and dogs ; 
Then afterward up higher; but there is 
No danger in what show of death it makes, 
More than the locking np the spirits a time. 
To be more fresh, reviving. She is fool'd 
Willi a most false effect; and 1 the truer. 
So to be fabe with her. 

Queen. No further, service, doctor. 

Until I send for thee. 

Cor. I humblv take my leave. 

[Exit. 

Queen. "Weeps she still, say'sttbou? Dost 

thou think in time [enter 

She will not quench t ; and let instructions 

Where folly now possesses ? Do thou work ; 

When thou shalt bring me word she loves 

my son, 
I'll tell thee, on the instant, thou art then 
As great as is thy master: greater ; for 
His fortunes aii lie speechless, and his name 

• Experiments. t i. €., Grow 



Is at last gasp: Return he cannot, nor 
Continue where he is: to shift his being |, 
Is to exchange one misery with another ; 
And every day that comes, comes to decay 
A day's work in him: What shalt thou expect 
To be depender on a thing that leans ? 
Who cannot be new built ? nor has no friends, 
[The Queen drops a Box ; Pisanio 
takes it up. 
So mnch as but to prop him ?-^Thou takest up 
Thou know'st not what; but take it for thy 

labour : 
It is a thing I made, which hath the king 
Five times redeem'd from death: I do not 

know [it; 

What is n.ore cordial : — Nay, I pr'ythee, take 
It is an earnest of a further good 
That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how 
The case stands with her ; do't, as from thyself. 
Think what a chance thou changest on ; but 

think 
Thou hast thy mistress still; to boot, my son. 
Who shall take noti<;e of thee : I'll move the 

king 
To any shape of thy preferment, such 
As thou'lt desire ; and then myself, I chiefly 
That set thee on to this desert, am bound 
lo load thy merit richly. Call my women : 
Think on my words. [Eb:it Pisa.] — A sly 

and constant knave; 
Not to be shaked : the a^ent for his master ; 
And the remembrancer of her, to hold [that, 
The hand fast to her lord. — I have given him 
Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her 
Of liegers § for her sweet ; and which she, after. 
Except she bend her humour, shall be assured 

Be-e?iter Pisanio, and Ladies. 
To taste of too. — So, so ; — well done, well 

done : 
The violets, cowlips, and the primroses, 
Bear to my closet :— Fare thee well, Pisanio ; 
Think on my words. 

[Exeufit Quten and Ladies. 
Pis. And shall do: 

But when to my good lord I prove untrue, 
I'll choke myself: there's all Pil do for you. 

[Exit, 

SCENE VII. Another Boom in the same. 
Enter Imogen. 
Jmo, A father cruel, and a step-dame false; 
A foolish suitor to a wedded lady. 
That hath her husband banish'd;— O, that 
husband ! [peated 

My supreme crown of grief! and those re 
Vexations of it ! Had I been thief stolen. 
As my two brothers, happy I but most mi!f«- 

rable 
Is the desire that's glorious : Blessed be those. 
How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills. 
Which seasons comfort — Who may this be? 
Fie! 

Enter Pisanio and Iachimo. 
Pis. Madam, a noble gentleman of Rome; 
Comes from my lord with letters. 
lack. Change you, madam? 

X To change his abode. $ Ambassadors. 



M4 



SHAKSPEARE. 



Uct M. 



The worthy Leonattts is in safety. 
And greets your highness dearly. 

{Presents a Letter. 

Imo. Thanks, good sir : 

You are kindly welcome. 

luch. All of her, that is out of door, most 
rich ! \^Aside, 

If she be fiirnish'd with a mind so rare. 
She is alone the Arabian bird ; and I 
Have lostthe wager. B old ness be my friend ( 
"Arm me, audacity, from head to foot I 
Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; 
Rather, directly fly. 

Imo [Reads.]— ^c is one of the noblest 
note, to whose kindnesses I am most infi- 
niteii/ tied. Reject upon him accordingly, 
as you value your truest 

Leonatus. 
So far I read aloud : 
But even the very middle of my heart 
Is warmM by the rest, and takes it thankfully. 
You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I 
Have words to bid you; and shall find it so, 
in all th;rt I can do. 

Jach. Thanks, fairest lady. — 

Whatl are men mad? Hath nature given them 

eyes 
To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop 
Of sea atnl land, which can distinguish *twixt 
The fiery orbs above, and the twinn*d siones 
Upon the number'd beach 1 and can we not 
Partition make with spectacles so precious 
'Twixt fair and foul? 

Imo. What makes your admiration ? 

lach. It cannot be i'the eye; for apes and 

monkeys, [and 

Twixl two such shes, would chatter this way, 

Contemn with mows* the other : Nor i*the 

judsiment ; 
For idiots, in this case of favour, would 
Be wisely definite : Nor i'the appetite ; 
Sluttery, to snch neat excellence opposed. 
Should make desire vomit emptiness, 
Not so allured to feed. 

Jmo. What is the matter, trow ? 

1(1 ch. The cloyed will, 

(T hat sati ite yet unsatisfied desire, 
That tub both fiU'd and running,) ravening first 
Tlic lamb, longs after for the garbage. 

Imo. What, dear sir. 

Thus raps you ? Are yon well? 

luch. Thanks, madam; well: — 'Beseech, 
you, sir, desire [7V> Pisanio. 

My man's abode where I did leave him: he 
Is strange and peevish f. 

Pis. 1 was going, sir. 

To give him welcome- [blxit Pisa mo. 

Imo. Continues well my lord? His health, 

Jach. Well, madnm. ['beseech you? 

Jmo. Is he disposed to mirth? I hope, he is. 

Jach. Exceeding pleasant ; no<ie a stranger 
there 
So merry and so gamesome ; he is called 
The Briton reveller. 

Jmo, When h« was here 



He did incline to sadness ; and oft-times 
Not knowing why. 

Jach. I never law him wd 

There is a Frenchman his companion, one 
An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, muoh 
A Gallian girl at home : he furnaces [love* 
The thick sighs from him; whiles the jolly 
Briton [cries*, O ! 

(Your -lord, I mean,) laughs from's free hings. 
Can my sides hold, to think, that man, — 

who knoivs 
By history, report, or his own proof. 
What tvoman is, yea yWhat she cannot choose 
But must be, — will his free hours languish 
Assured bondage ? [for 

Jmo. Will my lord say so? 

Jach, Ay, madam; with his eyes in flood 
It is a recreation to be by, [with laughter. 
And hear him mock the Frenchman: But, 

heavens know. 
Some men are much to blame. 

Jmo. Not he, I hope. 

Jach. Not he; But yet heaven's bounty 
towards him might 
Be used more thankfully. In himself, 'tis 
much [lents, — 

In you, — which I count his, beyond all ta 
Whilst 1 am bound to wonder, 1 am bound 
To pity too. 

Jtno. What do you pity, sir? 

Jach. Two creatures, heartily. 

Jmo. Am I one, sir? 

Y'ou look on me ; What wreck discern you in 
Deserves your pity ? [me, 

Jach. Lamentable! What! 

To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace 
I'the dungeon by a snufi ? 

Imo, I pray you, sir, 

Deliver with more openness your answera 
To my demands. Why do you pity me? 

lach. That others do, 

I was about to say, enjoy your But 

It is an olfice of the gods to *venge it, 
Not mine to speak on't. 

Jmo. You do seem to knovr 

Something of me, or what concerns me ; 'Pray 

you, 
(Since doubting things go ill, often hurts more 
Than to be sure they do: For certainties 
Either are past remedies; or, timely knowing. 
The remedy then born,) discover to me 
What both you spur and stop J. 

Jach. Had I this cheek 

To bathe my lips upon; this hand, whose 
touch, [s(»"i 

Whose every touch would force the feeler's 
To the oath of loyalty ; this object, which 
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye. 
Fixing it only here : should I (damn'd then,) 
Slaver with lips as common as the stairs 
That mount the Capitol ; join gripes with hands 
Made hard with hourly falsehood (falsehood, aa 
With labour ;) then lie peeping in an eye. 
Base and nnlustrcus as the smoky light 
That's fed with stinking tallow ; it were fit. 



Shy and foolish. 



• Making months, 
t What yoo teem anxious to utter, and yet withhold. 



cene VII.] 



CYMBELINE. 



845 



Tt) It all the plagues of hell should at one time 
Eii 'onnter such revolt. 

1/710. My lord, I fear. 

Has forgot Britain. 

Jac'i. And himself. Not I, 

Inclined to this intelligence, pronounce 
The beggary of his change ; but 'tis your graces 
Ihat, from my mutest conscience, to my 
ClMims this report out. [tongue, 

Jmo, Let me hear no more. 

Jack. dearest soul ! your cause doth strike 
my heart 
With pity, thaudoth make me sick. A lady. 
So fair, and fastened toanempery*, [partner'd 
Would make the great'st king double! to be 
With tomboyst, hired with that self-exhibi- 
tion; [ventures, 
Which your own coflFers yield I with diseased 
That play with all infirmities for gold [stutf, 
Wliicii rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd 
As well might poison poison ! Be revenged ; 
Or slit;, thrtt bore you, was no queen, and you 
Recoil from your great stock. 

I mo. Revenged! 

How should I be revenged 1 If this be true, 
(As I have such a heart, that both mine ears 
Must liot in haste abuse,) if it be true. 
How should I be revenged? 

liC-. Should he make me 

Live 1 ke Diana's priest, betwixt cold sheets; 
Wiiiles he is vaulting variable ramps, [it. 

In your despite, upon your purse? Revenge 
I <lt*d»C'ite myself to your sweet pleasure ; 
More noble than that runagate to your bed ; 
And will continue fast to your affection, 
Still close, as sure. 

Imo. What ho, Pisaniol 

Juc/i. Let me my service tender on your lips. 

Jmo. Away 1 —I do condemn mine ears, that 
have [able, 

So long attended thee. — If thou wert hononr- 
Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue* 
not [strange. 

For such an end thou seek'st; as base as 
.Thou wrought a gentleman, who is as far 
From thy report, as thou from honour; and 
Solioit'st here a lady that disdains 
Thee and the devil alike. — What ho, Pisanio! — 
The king my father shall be made acquainted 
Of thy assault : if he shall think it fit, 
A saucy stranger, in his court, to mart 
As in a Romish stew, and to expound 
His beastly mind to us ; he hath a court 
He little cares for, and a dmghter whom 
He not respects ar, all. — What ho, Pisanio! — 

luch. O happy Leonatus ! I may say ; 
The credit, that thy lady hath of thee, [ness 
Deserves thy trust ; and thy most perfect t^ood- 
Her assured credit l^Biessed live you lon^ ! 
A lady to the worthiest sir, that ever 
Countiy call'd his! and you his mistress, only 
I'or tiie most worthiest fit I Give me your 
pardon. 



I have spoke this, to know if your affiance 
Were deeply rooted ; and shall make your lord. 
That which he is, new o'er : And he is one 
The truest mauner'd ; such a holy witch. 
That he enchants societies unto him: 
Half all men's hearts are his. 

Itno. You make amends. 

lach. He sits 'mongst men, like a descended 
He hath a kind of honour sets him off, [god : 
More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry. 
Most mighty princess, that I have adventured 
To try your taking of a false report; which 
hath [ment 

Honour'd with confirmation yonr great jndg. 
In the election of a sir so rare. 
Which you know, cannot err : The love I bear 
him [yt>"» 

Made me to fan§ you thus ; but the gods made 
Unlike all others, chafHess. Pray, your par- 
don, [court for yours. 

Tmo. All's well, sir: Take my power i'the 

Jack. My humble thanks. I had almost 
forgot 
To entreat your grace but in a small request. 
And yet of moment too, for it concerns 
Your lord ; myself, and other noble friends. 
Are partners in the business. 

Imo. Pray, what is't i 

lach. Some dozen Romans of us, and your 
lord, [sums, 

(The best feather of our wing) have mingled 
lo buy a present for the emperor ; 
Wliich I, the factor for the rest, have done 
In France : 'Tis plate, of rare device ; and 

jewels, 
Of rich and exquisite form ; their values great; 
And I am something curious, being strange Ij, 
To have them in safe stowage ; May it please 
To take them in protection ? [you 

Imo. Willingly; 

^nd pawn mine honour for their safety : since 
P&y lord hath interest in them, I will keep them 
In my bed-chamber. 

lack. They are in a trunk. 

Attended by my men : I will make bold 
To send them to you, only for this night ; 
I must aboard to-morrow. 

Imo. O, no, no. 

lach. Yes, I beseech ; or I shall short my 
By length'ning my return. From Gallia [word, 
1 cross'd the seas on purpose, and on promise 
To see your grace. 

Imo. I thank you for your pains ; 

But not away to-morrow ? 

lack. O, I must, madam : 

Therefore, I shall beseech you, if you please 
To greet your lord with writing, do't to-ni^ht; 
I have outstood my time ; which is material 
To the tender of our present. 

Imo, I will write. 

Send your trunk to me ; it shall safe be kept. 
And truly yielded you : You are very wel 
come. {Exeunt 



* Sovereign command. t Wantons. 

X Allowance, pemion. j To fan, is to winnow. || A strange*. 

4 C 3 



S46 



SHAKSPEARE. 



ACT 11. 



SCENE I. Court before Cyrabeline's 

Palace. 

Enter C LOT L.S, and Ttvo Lords. 

Clo. Was there ever man had such lack ! 

when I kissed the jack upon an up-cast*, to 

be hit away! I 4iad a hundred pound on't : 

And then a whoreson jackanapes must take 

me up for swearing ; as if 1 borrowed mine 

oaths of him, and might not spend them at my 

pleasure. 

1 Lord. What got he by that ? You have 
broke his pate with your bowl. 

2 Lord. If his wit had been like bim that 
broke it, it would have ran all out. [A'^ide. 

Clo. VV hen a i^enlleman is disposed to swear, 
it is not for any sianders-by to curtail bis 
oaths: Ha? 

•2 Lord. No, my lord ; nor [Aside.] crop 
the ears of them. 

Clo. Whoreson dog ! — I give him satisfac- 
tion ? 'Would, he hdcf been one of my rank : 

2 Lord. To have smelt like a fool. [Aside. 

Clo. I am not more vexed at any thing in 
the earth, — A pox on't ! I had rather not be 
so noble as I am ; they dare not fight with me, 
because of the queen my mother : every jack- 
slave hath his belly full of fighting, and 1 must 
go up and down like a cock that nobody can 
match. 

2 Lord. You are a cock and capon too ; and 
you crow, cock, with your comb on. [Aside. 

Clo. Sayest thou ? 

1 Lord, it is not fit, your lordship should 
andertake every companion t that you give 
otfence to. 

Clo. No, I know that : but it is fit, I should 
commit oflfence to my inferiors. 

2 Lord. Ay, it is fit for your lordship oigim^ 
Clo. Why, so I say. mlT 

1 Lord. Did you hear of a stranger, that's 
come to court to-night ? 

Clo. A stranger ! and I know not on't ! 

2 Lord. He's a strange fellow himself, and 
knows it not. [Aside. 

I Lord. There's an Italian come ; and, *tis 
thought, one of Leonatus' friends. 

Cld. Leonatus I a banished rascal ; and he's 
another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of 
this sir;«nger ? 

1 Lord. One of your lordship's pages. 

('lo. Is it fit 1 went to look upon him ? Is 
there no derogation in't ? 

1 Lord, \o^^ cannot derogate!, ™y lord. 
Clo. Not easily, I think. 

2 Lord. You are a fool granted ; therefore 
your issues being foolish, do not derogate. 

[Aside. 
Clo. Come, I'll go see this Itahan : W hat I 
have lost to-day at bowls, I'll win tonight of ; 
him. Come, go. I 



2 Lord. I'll attend your lordship. 

[Eaeunt Clot en ana j;rst Lord. 
That such a crafty devil as is his niother 
Should yield the world this ass ! a woman, that 
Bears all down with her brain ; and this her soa 
Cannot take two from twenty for his heart. 
And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, 
Thou divine Imogen, what ihou endurest ! 
JJetwixt a father by thy step-dame govern'd ; 
A mother hourly coining plots; a uoucr, 
More hateful than the foul expulsion is 
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act 
Of the divorce he'd make I The heavens hold 

firm 
The walls of thy dear honour ; keep unshaked 
That temple, thy fair mind ; that thou may'st 

stand, 
To enjoy thy bauish'd lord, and this great land ! 

[Exit. 

SCENE II. A Bed-chamber ; in one Part 

of it a Trunk. 

Imogen reading in her Bed ; a Lady at' 

le)iding. 

Into. Who's there? my woman Helen? 

Lady. Please you, madam, 

Imo. What hour is it? 

Lady. Almost midnight, madam. 

Jmo. I have read three hours then : nnne 
eyes are weak : — 
Fold down the leaf where I have left: To-bed : 
Take not away the taper, leave it burning; 
And if thou canst awake by four o'the clock, 
I pr'ythee, call me. Sleep hath seized nie 
wholly. [E.iit Lady« 

To your protection I commend me, gods I 
Frouj fairies, and the tempters of the night, 
Guard me, beseech ye! 

[Sleeps . I A c H I M o , from t he Tr u nk. 
lach. i he crickets sing, and man's o'er 
labonr'd sense 
Repairs itself by rest : Our Tarquin thus 
Did softly press the rushes 5 ere he waken'd 
The chastity he wounded. — Cytherea, [lily I 
How bravely thou becomest thy otd! fresh 
And whiter than the sheets ! lljat 1 might 

touch ! 
But kiss; one kiss I — Rubies unparagon'd, 
How dearly they do't 1— 'Tis her breathing that 
Perfumes the chamber thus: The flame o'lhe 
taper [lids. 

Bows toward her; and would under peep her 
To see the enclt)8efl lights, now canopied 
Under these windows: White and azure, 
laced [design? 

With blue of heaven's own tinctj]. — liut my 
To note the chamber : — I will write all down* 
Such and such pictures :— 'i'here the window : 

buch 
The adornment of her bed ;— The arras IT 
figures. 



• He is describing liis fate at bowls, the jack is the small bowl at which the others are aimed 
Fellow. I i. e.j Degrade yourself. ^ It was anciently the custom to str« w cl.un.berr 

with rushes. jj i.e., 1 he while skin i.iccd with biuc Nein.». ^1 Tipectrv. 



il 



Scene JJ.] 



CYMBELINE. 



847 



Why, such and such : — And the contents 

o*the story, — 
Ah, but some natural notes about her body, 
Above ten thousand meaner moveables 
Would testity, to enrich mine inventory : 
O sleep, thou ape of deatii, lie dull upon her I 
And be her sense but as a monument, 
Thus in a chapel lying ! — Come off, come 
oflf ; — [Tuhing off her Bracelet, 

As slippery as the (iordian knot was hard! 
•Tis mine ; and this will witness outwardly. 
As strongly as the conscience does within. 
To the madding of heUord. On her left breast 
A mole cinque-jipotted, like the crimson drops 
I'the bottom of a cowslip : Here's a voucher 
Stronger than ever law could make : this secret 
Will force him think I have pick'd the lock, 
and ta'en [what end 1 

The treasure of her honour. No more. — To 
Why should I write this down, that's rivetted, 
Screw'd to my memory ? She hath been read- 
ing late [down. 
The tale of Terens ; here the leaf's turn'd 
\Vhere Philomel gave up ; — I have enough : 
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of it. 
Svvift, ss^ifr,you dragons of the night! — that 

d I wiling 
May bare the raven's eye : I lodge in fear ; 
Though this a heavenly angel, hell i? here. 

[ Clock strikes. 
One, two, three, — Time, time ! 

{Goes into the Trunk. The Scene CiOScs. 

SCENE III. All Ante-Chamber adjoining 

Imogen's Ajartment. 

Enter CLovE^i and Lords. 

1 Lord. Your lordship is the most patient 
man in loss, the most coldest that ever turn'd 
up ice. 

Clo. It would make any man cold to lose. 

1 Lot d. But not every man patient, after 
the noble temper of your lordship; You are 
most hot and furious when you win. 

Cii). Winning would put any man into cou- 
rage : If I could get this foolish Imogen, I 
should have gold enough ; It's almost morn- 
ing, is't not ? 

1 Lord. Day, my lord. 

Clo. I would this music would come : I am 
a<l\ised to give her music o' mornings; they 
say, it will penetrate. 

E>iter Musicians. 
Come on ; tune : If you can penetrate her with 
your fingering, so ; we'll try with tonuue too : 
if none will do, let her remain ; but I'll never 
give o'er. First, a very excellent good-con- 
ceited thing ; after, a wonderful sweet air, 
with admirable rich words to it, — and then let 
her consider. 

SONG. 

Hark! hark! the lark at heaven*s gate 
And Phcebus *gins arise, [sings. 

His steeds to tvater at those springs 
On chaliced * jioivers that lies; 



And winking Mary'buds b^gin 
To ope t/ieir golden eyes ,• 
With enery thing that pretty bin: 
My lady street, arise ; 
A rise, arise. 
So, get you gone: If this penetrate, I will 
consider youi nnjsic the better f : if it do not, 
it is a vice in her ears, which horse hairs, and 
cats'-guts, nor the voice of unpaved eunuch to 
boot, can never amend. {Exeunt Musicians. 
Enter Cymbeline and Queen. 
2 Lord , Here comes the king. 
Clo. \ am glad I was up so late ; for that's 
the reason I was up so early : He cannot 
choose but take this service I have done, fa- 
therly. — Good morrow to your majesty, and 
to my gracious mother. 

Cym. Attend you here the door of our stern 
Will she not forth ? [daughter ? 

Clo. I have assailed her with music, but she 
vouchsafes no notice. 

Cym. The exile of her minion is too new ; 
She hath not yet forgot l.ini : some more time 
Must wear the print of his remembrance out. 
And then she's yours. 

Queen. You are most bound to the king ; 
Who let's go by no vantages, that may 
Prefer ynn to his daughter : Frame yourself 
To orderly solicits ; and be friended 
\\ ith aptness of the reason |: make denials 
Increase your services : so seem, as if 
YoM were inspired to do those (iuties which 
You t( nder to her ; that you in all obey her. 
Save ^'ht n command to ^ our dismission tends. 
And theiein you are senseless. 

Clo Senseless? not sOi 

Enter a Messenger. 
Mess, 'o like you, sir, ambassadors from 
The one is Caius Lucius. [Rome; 

Cyfn. A worthy fellow. 

Albeit he comes on angry purpose now ; 
But that's no fault oi his: We must receive 
According to the honour of his sender; [him 
And towards bimseif his goodness forespeut 

on us 
We must extend our notice. — Our dear soti, 
W hen you have given good morning to your 

mistress. 
Attend the queen and us ; we shall have need 
To employ you towards this Roman.— Come, 
our queen. 
[Exeu it Cym., Queen, Lords, and Mess. 
Clo. If she be up, I'll speak with her ; if not. 
Let her lie still, and dream. — By your leave 
ho! — [h'7iocks, 

I know her women are about her ; What 
If 1 do line one of their h:in(is ? 'Tis gold 
Which buys admittance ; ott it doth ; yea, and 

makes 
Piana's rangers false themselves, yield up 
Their deer to the stand of the stealer ; and 'tis 
gold [the thief : 

Which makes the true man kill'd, and saves 
In ay, sometime, hangs both thief and true 
man: What 



Cap*. 



t Will pay you more for it. J With solicitations not only proper but 
well-timed. 



848 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act II 



C;in it liot do, and undo? I will make 
(hie of her women law} er to me ; for 
I yet not undt island tlie case myself. 
By your leave. [Knocks. 

Enter a Lady. 

Lady, Who's there ttat knocks 7 

Clo, A gentleman. . 

Ludy. No more? 

Clo. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. 

Lady. 1 hat's more 

Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yonrs. 
Can justly boast of: What's your lordship's 
pleasure? 

Clo. Your lady's person : Is she ready? 

Lady. Ay, 

To keep her chamber. 

Clo. There's gold for you ; sell me your 
good report. [of you 

Lady. How I my good name? or to report 
What I shall think is good ? — The princess — 
Enter Imogen. 

Clo. Good morrow, fairest sister: Your 
sweet hand. [much pains 

Imo. Good morrow, sir : You lay out too 
For purchasing but trouble : the thanks 1 give 
Is telling you that I am poor of thanks. 
And scarce can spare them. 

CLo. Still I swear I love you. [with me: 

Imo. If you but said so, 'twere as deep 
If you swear still, your recompense is still 
That 1 regard it not. 

Clo. This is no answer. 

Imo. But that you shall not say I yield, 
being silent, [i'faith, 

I would not speak. I pray you, spare me : 
I shall unfold equal discourtesy [ing 

To your best kindness ; one of your great know- 
Should learn, being taught, forbearance. 

Clo. To leave you in your madness, 'twere 
I will not. [my sin : 

Jmo. Fools are not mad folks. 

Clo. Do you call me fool ? 

Imo. As I am mad, I do : 
If you'll be patient, I'll no more be mad ; 
That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, 
You put mc to forget a lady's manners. 
By being so verbal * : and learn now, for all. 
That I, which know my heart, do here pro- 
nounce. 
By the very truth of it, I care not for you ; 
And am so near the lack of charity, [rather 
(To accuse myself) 1 hate you: which I had 
You felt, than make't my boast. 

CLo. You sin against 

Obedience, which you owe your father. For 
The contract you pretend with that base wretch 
(One, bred of alms, and foster'd with cold 
dishes, [none: 

With scraps o'the court,) it is no contract. 
And though it be allow'd in meaner parties, 
(Yet who, than he, more mean ?) to kuit their 

souls 
(On whom there is no more dependency 
V\\\ brats and heggnry) in ?elf-figurcd knot + ; 
Yet you are curb'd from that enlargement by 



The consequence o'the crown: and must no4 

soil 
The precious note of it with a base slave, 
A hilding; for a livery, a squire's cloth, 
A panller, not so eminent. 

Imo. Profane fellow! 

Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more, 
But what thou art, besides, thou wert too base 
To be his groom : thou wert dignilied enough, 
Even to the point of envy, if 'twere made 
Comparative for your virtues, to be styled 
The under-haugnian of his kingdom ; and hated 
For being preferred so well. 

Clo. The south-fog rot him ! 

Imo. He never can meet more mischance, 
than come [ment. 

To be but named of thee. His meanest gar- 
That ever hath but clipp'd his body is dearer 
In my respect, than all the hairs al ove thee. 
Were they all made such men. — liow now, 
Pisanio ? 

Enter Pisa mo. 

Clo. His garment? ]Sow, the devil — 

Imo. To I)oroth> my woman hie thee pre- 

CLo. His garment? [sently : — 

Imo. I am sprighted j with a fool ; 

Frighted, and anger'd worse ; — Go, bid my 
Search lor a jewel, that loo casually [woman 
Hath left mine arm ; it waslhy master's : shrew 
If I would lose it for a revenue [me. 

Of any king's in Europe. I do think 
1 saw'l this morning: confirent I am 
Last night 'twas on mine arm ; 1 kiss'd it : 
I hope it be not gone to tell my lord 
That I kiss aught but he. 

Pis. 'Twill not be lost. 

Imo. I hope so : go, and search. \Exit Pis. 

CLo. You have abused me : — 

His meanest garment? 

Imo. Ay ; I said so, sir. 

If you will make't an action, call witness to't. 

CLo. I will inform your father. 

Imo. Y^our mother tc o : 

She's my good lady ; and will conceive, I hope 
But the worst of me. So I leave you, sir, 
To the worst of discontent. {Exif. 

CLo. I'll be revenged :— 

His meanest garment? — Well. [Edit, 

SCENE IV. Rome. An Apartment in 
Philario's House. 
Enter Posthumus and Philario. 
Post. Fear it not, sir : I would I were s4 
sure 
To win tlie king, as I am bold, her honour 
Will remain hers. 

Phi. VV hat means do you make to him * 
Post. Not any ; but abide the change o\ 
time ; 
Qnake in the present winter's state, and Mish 
J hat warmer days would come : In these fear'd 
I barely gratify your love ; they failing, [hopes, 
I nuisl die much your debtor. 
Phi. Your very goodness, and your com 
pany. 



• So verbose, so full of talk. f In knotg of their own tying. J A low fellow, only fit to 

wear a livery. ^ Haunted. 



CYMBELLINE. 



84d 



O'erpays all 1 can do. By this, your king 
H.jth heard of great Augustus : Caius Lucius 
Will do his commission throughly : And, I 

think, 
He'll grant the tribute, send the arrearages. 
Or look upon our Romans, whose remem- 
Is yet fresh in their grief. [brance 

Post, I do believe, 

(Statist* though I am none, nor like to be,) 
That this will prove a war ; and you shall hear 
The legions, now in Gallia, sooner landed 
In ou^ not-fearing Britain, than have tidings 
Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen 
Are men more order'd than when Julius Caesar 
Smiled at their lack of skill, but found their 

courage 
Worthy his frowning at : Their discipline 
(Now mingled with their courages) will make 

known 
To their approvers t, they are people such 
That mend upon the world. 

Enter Iachimo. 

Phi. See! Iachimo? 

Post. The swiftest harts h«ve posted you by 
land : 
And winds of all the corners kissed your sails. 
To make your vessel nimble. 

Phi. . Welcome, sir. 

Post. I hope the briefness of your answer 
The speediness of your return. [made 

lach. Your lady 

Is one the fairest that I have look'd upon. 

Post. And, therewithal, the best ; or let her 
beauty 
Look through a casement to allure false hearts, 
And be false with them. 

lach. Here are letters for you. 

Post, Their tenour good, I trust. 

Jach. 'Tis very like. 

Phi. Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court. 
When you were there 1 

lach. He was expected then. 

But not approach'd, 
^ Post. All is well yet.— 

Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not 
Too dull for your good wearing? 

lach. If I have lost it, 

I should have lost the worth of it in gold. 
1*11 make a journey twice as far, to enjoy 
A second night of «uch sweet shortness, which 
Was mine in Britain ; for the ring is won. 

Post. The stone's too hard to come by. 

lach. Not a whit. 

Your lady being so easy. 

Post, Make not, sir. 

Your loss your sport : I hope you know that 
Must not continue friends. [we 

lach. Good sir, we must. 

If you keep covenant : Had I not brought 
The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant 
We were to question further : but I now 
Profess myself the winner of her howour. 
Together with your ring : and not the wronger 
Of her, or you, having proceeded but 
By both your wills. 



Post. If you can make't apparcnl 

That you have tasted her in bed, ujy hand. 
And ring, is yours ; if not, the foul opinion 
You had of her pure honour, gains, or loses, 
Your sword, or mine ; or masterless leaves both 
To who shall find them. 

lack. Sir, my circumstances. 

Being so near the truth, as I will make them. 
Must first induce you to believe : whose 

strength 
I will confirm with oath ; which I doubt no^ 
You'll give me leave to spare, when you shall 
You need it not. [find 

Post, Proceed. 

lach. First, her bed-chamber 

(Where, I confess, I slept not ; but, profess, 
Had that was well worth watchinor,) It was 

hang'd 
With tapestry of silk and silver : the story 
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Roman, 
And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for 
The press of boats, or pride : A piece of work 
So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive 
In workmanship and value ; which I woa- 
Could be so rarely and exactly v/rought, [dcr'd 
Since the true life on't was 

Post. " This is trne , 

And this you might have heard of here, by me. 
Or by some other. 

lach. More particulars 

Must justify my knowledge. 

Post. So they must. 

Or do your honour injury. 

lach. The chimney 

Is south the chamber ; and the chimney- 
piece, 
Chaste Dian bathing : never saw I figures 
So likely to report themselves ; the cutter 
Was as another nature, dumb; outwent her. 
Motion and breath left out. 

Post. This is a thing 

Which you might from relation likewise reap; 
Being, as it is, much spoke of. 

lach. The roof o'the chamber 

With golden cherubims is fretted : her andi- 
rons J 
(I had forgot them,) were two winking cupids 
Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely 
Depending on their brands^. 

Post. This is her honour 1 

Let it be granted you have seen all this, (and 
praise [tion 

Be given to your remembrance,) the descrip- 
Of what is in her chamber, nothing saves 
The wager you have laid. 

lach. Then if you can, 

[Pulling out the Bracelet, 
Be pale ; I beg but leave to air this jewel : 

See !— 
And now 'tis up again : it must be married 
To that your diamond ; Til keep them. 

Post. Jove !— 

Once more let me behold it ; is it that 
Which I left with her ? 

lach. Sir, (I thank her,) that: 



Statesman. + To those who try them. I Ornamenred iron b -.r^ wluch 

fupporl wood burnt in chimneys. j Torches ui tlie hands of cupids.. 



j50 



SHAKSPEAHE. 



[Act JIT, 






Shestripp'cl it from her arm; I see her yet; 
Her pretty action did outsell her gift, [said, 
And yet enrich'd it too : She gave it me, and 
She prized it once. 

Post. May be, she plack*d it off. 

To pend it me. 

Jack. She writes so to you ; doth she? 

Post. O no, no, no ; 'tis true. Here, take 
this too ; [Gives the Ring. 

It is a basilisk unto mine eye. 
Kills me to look on't.— Let there be no honour. 
Where there is beauty ; truth, where sem- 
blance; love, [women 
Where there's another man. The vows of 
Of no more bondage be,to where they are made, 
Than they are to their virtues; which is no- 
O, above measure false ! thing ; 

Phi. Have patience, sir. 

And take your ring again : 'tis not yet won ; 
It may be probable she lost it; or. 
Who knows if one of her women, being cor- 
Hath stolen it from her. [rupted, 

Post. Very true ; 

And so, I hope, he came by't ; — Back my ring; 
Render to me some corporal sign about her. 
More evident than this ; for this was stolen. 

lach. By Jupiter, I h5d it from her arm. 

Post. Hark you, he swears ; by Jupiter, he 

swears. [sure, 

Tis true ; — nay, keep the ring — 'tis true : I am 

She would not lose it : her attendants are 

A\{ sworn and honourable : — They induced to 

steaUt! 
And by a stranger? — No, he hath enjoy'dher: 
The cognizance* of her incontinency [dearly. 
Is this— she hath bought the name of whore thus 
There, take thy hire ; and all the fiends of hell 
Divide themselves between you ! 

Phi. Sir, be patient : 

This is nut strong enough to be believed 
Of one persuaded well of 

Post. Never talk on't ; 

She hath been colted by him. 

ladu If you seek 

For further satisfying, under her breast 
( VV'orihy the pressing ) lies a mole, right proud 
Of that most delicate lodging. By my life, 
1 kiss'd it ; and it gave me present hunger 
To feed again, though full. You do remember 
This stain upon her? 

Post. Ay, and it doth confirm 

Another stain, as big as hell can hold. 
Were there no more but it. 

iach. Will you hear more? 

Post, spare your arithmetic ; never count 
Once, and a million ! [the turns ; 

Jack. I'll be sworn, 



Post, No swearing. 

If you will swear you have not done'i, you lie ; 
And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny 
Thou hast made me a cuckold. 

Juch. I will deny nothing. 

Post. O, that I had her here, to tear her 
limb-meal! 
I will go there, and do't ; i'the court ; before 
Her father : — I'll do something [t^xit. 

Phi. Quite be.-ides 

The government of patience ! — You have won : 
Let's follow him, and pervert the present wraih 
He hath against himself. 

Jach, With all my heart. 

lExeunt. 

SCENE V. The sume. Another Room in 
the same. 
Enter Post hum us. 
Post. Is there no way for men to be, but 

women 
Must be half- workers? We are bastards all ; 
And that most venerable man which I 
Did call my father, was I know not where 
When I was stamp'd; some coiner with his 

tools 
Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem'd 
The Dian of that time ; so doth my wife [geancel 
The nonpareil of this.— O vengeance, veu 
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrain'd. 
And pray'd me, oh, forbearance: did it witu 
A pudency t so rosy, the sweet view' on't 
Might well have warm'd old Saturn ; that I 

thought her [devils ! — 

As chaste as unsunned snow. — O, all the 
This yellow IachiiT)o,inanhour, — was't not? — 
Or less, — at first : Perchance he spoke not ; but, 
Like a fuli-acorn'd boar, a German one, 
Cry'd, oh 1 and mounted ; found no opposition 
But what he look'd for should oppose, and she 
Should from encounter guard. Could I find out 
The woman's part in me ! For there's no motion 
That tends to vice in man, but I athrrn 
It is the woman's part ; Be it lyins^, note it 
The woman's; flattering, hers ; deceiving, hers; 
Ambitions, covetings, change of prides.disdain, 
Nice longings, slanders, mutability, [knows. 
All faults that may be named, nay that hell 
Why, hers, in part, or all ; but, rather, all : 
For even to vice 

They are not constant, but are changing still 
One vice, but of a minute old, for one 
Not half so old as that. PU write againstthem. 
Detest them, curse them :— yet 'tis greater skill 
In a true hate, to pray they have their will : 
The very devils cannot plague them better. 

iExit, 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. Britain. A Room of State in 
Cynibfcline's Palace, 

Enter Cymbkline, Queen, Cloten, and 
]Air(]p,,af otie Door ; and at another, Caius 
Li cius, and Attendants. [with us? 



Lu€. When Julius Caesar (whose remem- 
brance yet [tongues, 
Lives in men's eyes; and will to ears and 
Be theme and henring ever,) was in this Bri 
And conquer'd it, Cassibebm, thine uncle, [taiD 



Cym. Now say, ^^ hat would Acgustus Caesar \ (Famous in Caesar's praises, t:^ whit less 
♦ The b:idge, the token. * Modesty. 



Scette L] 



CYMBETTNT\ 



S5l 



J'han in his feats deserving it,) for him, j 

And his succession, granted Rome a tribute, 
Yearly three thousand pounds; which by thee 
Is left antender*d. [lately 

Queen. And, to kill the marvel, 

Shall be so ever. 

Clo. There be many Caesars 

Ere such another Julius. Britain is 
A world by itself; and we will nothing pay 
For wearing our own noses. 

Queen. That opportunity, 

Which then they had to take from us, to re- 
sume 
We have again. — Remember^ sir, my liege. 
The kings your ancestors ; together with 
The natural bravery of yourisle; which stands 
Is T^eptune's park, ribbed and paled in 
With rocks unscaleable, and roaring waters; 
With sands, that will not bear your enemies* 
boats, [conquest 

But suck them up to the top-mast. A kind of 
Oaesar made here ; but made not here his brag 
'.)(, came, and *a'/-',and oi'trrawe/ with shame 
'The first that ever touch'd him,) he was car- 
ried [pingj 
From off our coast, twice beaten: and his ship- 
(Poor ignorant baubles!) on our terrible seas, 
Like egg-shells moved upon their surges, 

crack'd 
As easily 'gainst our rocks: for joy whereof. 
The famed Cassibelan, who was once at point 
(O giglot* fortune!) to master Caesar's sword, 
Made Lnd's town with rejoicing fires bright. 
And Britons strut with courage. 

Clo. Come there's no more tribute to be paid: 
Our kingdom is stronger than it was at that 
time ; and, as 1 said, there is no more such 
Caesars : other of them may have crooked 
noses; but, to owe such straight arms, none. 
Ci/m. Son, let your mother end. 
Clo. We have yet many among us can gripe 
as hard as Cassibelan : 1 do not say I am one ; 
but I have a hand. — Why tribute? why 
should we pay tribute? If Caesar can hide 
the sun from us with a blanket, or put the 
moon in his pocket, we will pay him tribute for 
light; else, sir, no more tribute, pray you now. 

Cym. You must know. 
Till the injurious Romans did extort 
Vhis tribute from us, we were free: Caesar's 
ambition, [stretch 

(Which svvell'd so much, that it did almost 
The sides o' the world,) against all colour, here 
Did put the yoke upon us ; which to shake off, 
BecoHies a warlike people, whom we reckon 
Ourselves to be. We do say then to Caesar, 
Vur ancestor was that Mulmutius, which 
\rdaia*d our laws; (whose use the sword of 
Caesar [franchise. 

Hath too much mangled ; whose repair, and 
Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed. 
Though Rome be therefore angry ;) Mulmutius, 
Who was the first of Britain which did put 
His brows within a golden crown, and call'd 
himself a king. 



Luc. I am sorry, Cymbiline, 

That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar 
(Caesar, that hath more kings his servants, ihau 
Thyself domestic officers,) thine enemy : [sion 
Receive it from me, then: — War and confu 
In Caesar's name pronounce 1 'gainst thee: look 
For fury not to be resisted : — Thus defied, 
I thank thee for myself. 

Cym. Thou art welcome, Caius. 

Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent 
Much under him ; of him I gather'd honour; 
Which he, to seek of me again, perforce, 
Behoves me keep at utterance + ; I am perfect Xi, 
Thai the Pannonians and Dalmatians, for 
Their liberties, are now in arms : a precedent 
Which, not to read, would show the Britons 
So Caesar shall not find them. [cold : 

Liuc. Let proof speak. 

Clo. His majesty bids you welcome. Liake 
pastime with us a day or two longer: If you 
seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall 
find us in our salt-water girdle : if you beat ns 
out of it, it is yours ; if you fall in the adven 
ture, our crows shall fare the better for you; 
and there's an end. 

L.UC. So, sir. [mine: 

Cyyn. I know your master's pleasure, and he 
All the remain is, welcome. [-Exeunt. 

SCENE II. Another Boom in the same. 
Enter Pisanio. 
P'is. How! of adultery? Wherefore write 
you not 
Wliat monster's her accuser? — Leonatus ! 
O, master! what a strange infection 
Is fallen into thy ear? What false Italian [vail'd 
(As poisonous tongued as handed) hath pre- 
On thy too ready hearing ? — Disloyal ? ]So ■. 
She's punish'd for her truth ; and undergoes. 
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assanlts 
As would take in § some virtue. — O, my master 
Thy mind to her is now <ts lovv, as were 
Thy fortunes. — flow! that I should murder her? 
Lpon the love, and truth, and vows, which I 
Have made to thy command? — 1, her? — her 
If it be so to do good service, never [blood 1 
Let me be counted serviceable. How look I, 
That I should seem to lack humanity. 
So much as this fact comes to? .Do*t : The 
letter [Reading. 

That 1 have sejit her^ by her o^on commnnd 
Shall give thee opjwrtunity : — O damn'd 
paper! [bauble 

, Black as the ink that's on thee ! Senseless 
Art thou a feodary j] for this act, and look'st 
So virgin-like without? Lo, here she comes. 

Enter Imogen. 
I am ignorant in what I am commanded. 
Jrno, How now, Pisanio? 
Pis. Madam, here is a letter from my lord 
Imo, W^ho? thy lord? that is my lord ? Leo 
O, learn'd indeed were that astronomer, [natus 
That knew the stars as I his characters; 
He'd lay the future open. — ^ ou good gods. 
Let what is here contain'd relish of love. 



* Strampet. + At the extremity of defiance. 

j To take in a town is to conquer it. 



t Well-infornied. 
B Confederate. 



852 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act III 



Of my lord's health, of his content, — yet not, 
That we two are asunder, let that grieve him, — 
(Some griefs are med'cinable:) that is one of 
For il doth physic love ; — of his content, [them, 
All but in' that!— Good wax, thy leave: — 

Bk'ss'd be, [Lovers, 

You bees, that make these locks of counsell 
And men in dangerous bonds pray not alike ; 
Though forfeiters you cast in prison, yet 
You clasp young Cupid's tables. — Good news, 

gods I [Reads. 

Justice, and your father's wrath, should 
he take me in his dominion, could not be so 
cruel to me, as you, O the dearest of crea- 
tures, would not even renew me with your 
eyes. Take notice, that 1 am in Cambria, 
at Milford-HavetK What your own love 
will, out of this, advise you, follow. So, he 
wishes you all happiness, that remains loyal 
to his vow, and your, increasing in love, 

Leonatus Posthumus. 
O, for a horse with wings ! — Hear'st thou, 

Pisanio 1 
He is at Milford-Haven : Read, and tell me 
How far 'tis thither : If one of mean atfairs 
May plod it in a week, why may not I 
Glide thither in a day? — Then, true Pisanio, 
(Who iong'st, like me, to see thy lord ; who 

long'st, — [Iong'st, — 

O, let me 'bate, — but not like me : — yet 
But in a fariuter kind ; — O, not like me; 
For mine's beyond beyond,) say, and speak 

thick*, [ing, 

(Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hear- 
To the smothering of the sense,) how far it is 
To this same blessed Milford : And, by the way. 
Tell me how Wales was made so happy, as 
To inherit such a haven : But, first of all. 
How we may steal from hence ; and, for the 

gap [going, 

That we shall make in time, from our hence- 
And our return, to excuse : — but first, how get 

hence : 
Why should excuse be born or e'er begot? 
We'll talk of that hereafter. Pr'ythee, speak. 
How many score of miles may we well ride 
'Twixt hour and hour? 

Pis. One score 'twixt sun and sun. 

Madam, 's enough for you ; and too much too. 

Jmo. Why, one that rode to his execution, 

man, [wagers. 

Could never go so slow: I have heard of riding 
Where horses have been nimbler than the sands 
That run i' the clock's behalf: But this is 

foolery : — 
Go, bid my woman feign a sickness ; say 
t iie'U home to her father: and provide me, 

presently, 
A riding suit ; no costlier than would fit 
A franklin's t housewife. 

Pi'i. Madam, your best consider. 

imo. I see before me, man, nor here, nor 

there, 
>»'or what eujuies; but have a fog In them, 
That I cannot look through. Away, 1 pr'ythee ; 



jDo as I bid thee : There's no more to «ay ; 
Accessible is none but Milford way. [BUeunt. 

SCENE in. Wales. A mount ainom'. 

Country, with a Cave. 
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Arvi 

RAGUS. 

JBel. A goodly day not to keep house, witb 

such [gHte 

Whose roofs as low as ours I Stoop, boys : ThiiA 

Instructs you how to adore the heavens ; and 

bows you 
To morning's holy office : The gates of monarchi 
Are arch'd so high, that giants may jetj through 
And keep their impious turbands on, without 
Good morrow to the sun. — Hail, thou fair 

heaven I 
We honse i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly 
As prouder livers do. 

Gui. Hail, heaven ! 

Arv. Hail, heaven! 

Bel. Now, for our mountain sport : Up to 
yon hill, [sider, 

Your legs are y onng^ ; I'll tread these flats. Con- 
When you above perceive me like a crow, 
1 hat it is place which lessens, and sets off. 
And you may then revolve what tales I have 

told you. 
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war: 
This service is not service, so being done,. 
But being so allow'd : To apprehend thus. 
Draws us a profit from all things we see : 
And often, to our comfort, shall we find 
The sharded^ beetle in a safer hoJd 
Than is the f'uU-wing'd eagle. O, this life 
Is nobler , than attending for a (Jieck ; 
Richer, than doing nothing for a babe ; 
Prouder, than rustling in unpaid-for siik : 
Such gain the cap of him, that makes them fine 
Yet keeps his book uncross'd : no life to ours|| 

Gui. Outof your proof you speak : we, poor 
unfledged, [know not' 

Have never wing'd from view o' the nest; nor 
Wha.t air's from home. Haply , this life is best. 
If quiet life be best ; sweeter to you, [ing 

That have a sharper known ; well ^orrespoud- 
With your stitF age ; but, unto us, it is 
A cell of ignorance ; travelling abed ; 
A prison for a debtor, that not dares 
To stride a limit IT 

Arv. Wnat should we speak of. 

When we are old as you? when we shall hear 
The rain and wind beat dark December, how 
In this our pinching cave, shall we discourse 
The freezing hours away? We have seen 

nothing: 
We are beastly ; subtle as the fox, for prey ; 
Like warlike as the wolf, for what we eat : 
Our valour is, to chase what flies; our cage 
We make a quire, as doth the prison bird. 
And sing our bondage freely. 

Bel. How you speak 

Did you but know the city's usuries. 
And felt them knowingly : the an o' the court 
As hard to leave, as keep; whose top to climb 



Crowd one word on another, aj» last as pnM»hlp. + A frefholder. t {^trut, walk prondly 
^ i.cdiy.v% jtigcd !• i. e.. Compared with ours. ^ To overpass his bound. 



7 1: /i/.J 



CYMBELIXE. 



853 



Is certain falling. or»o slippery, that 
The tear's as bad as falling: the toil of the war, 
A pain that only seems to seek out danger 
1* the name of fame and hanour; which dies 

i* the search ; 
And bath as ott a slanderous epitaph, 
As record of fair act; nay, many times. 
Doth ill deserve by doing well; what's worse, 
Must court'sy at the censure :— O, boys, this 

story 
The world may read in me: My body's inarkM 
Wiih Roman swords : and my report was once 
First with the best of note: Cymbeliue loved 

me; 
And when a soldier was the theme, my name 
Was not far off: Then was I as a tree, 
Whose boughs did bend with fruit; but in one 

night, 

A storm, or robbery, call it what you will, 

Shook down my mellow hangings, nay, my 

And left me bare to weather. ' [leaves, 

GuL Uncertain favour 1 

Bel, My fault being nothing (as I have told 

you oft,) [vaird 

But that two villains, whose false oaths pre- 
Beforemy perfect honour, swore to Cymbeline, 
I was confederate with the Romans: so, [years, 
Followed my banishment; and, this twenty 
This rock, and these demesnes, have been my 

world : 
Where I have lived at honest freedom ; paid 
More pious debts to heaven, than in all [tains ; 
The fore-end of my time. — But, up to the moun- 
Thisis not hunters' language: — He, that strikes 
The venison first, shall be the lord o' the feast; 
To him the other two shall minister; 
And we will fear no poison, which attends 
In place of greater state. I'll meet you in the 

valleys. [Exeunt Gui. a7id Anv. 

How hard it is, to hide the sparks of nature ! 
These boys know little they are sons to the 

king; 
Nor Cymbeline dreams that they are alive. 
They think they are mine: and, though train'd 

up thus meanly [do hit 

I* the cave, wherein they bow, their thoughts 
The roofs of palaces ; and nature prompts them, 
In simple and low things to prince it, much 
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore, — 
The heir of Cymbeline and Britain, whom 
The king his father c.ill'd Guiderius, — Jove! 
When on thy three foot stool 1 sit, and tell 
The warlike feats I have done, his spirits fly out 
Into my story: say, — IViiis mine enemy fell ; 
And thus I set. my foot on his neck ; even then 
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats. 
Strains his young nerves, and puts him-elf in 

posture [Cadwal, 

That acts my words. The younger brother, 
(Once, Arvirdgus,) in as like a figure, [more 
Strikes life into ray speech, and shows much 
Wis own conceiving. Hark! the game is 

ro'jsed! — [knows, 

O Cymbeline! heaven, and my conscience 
Thou didst unjustly banish me: whereon, 
i^l three, and two years old, I stole these babes ; 



Tb.inking to bar thee of succession, as 
Thou reft'si me of my lands. Euriphile, 
Thou wast their nurse; they took thee for their 

mother, 
And every day do honour to her grave : 
Myself, Belarius, that am Morgan caii'<l, 
They take for natural father. The game is up. 

SCENE IV. Near Milford-Haven. 
Enter Pisanio a7id Imogen. 
Imo. Thou told'st me when we came from 

horse, the place [so 

Was near at hand : — Ne'er long'd my mother 
To see me first, as I have now : — Pisanio! mani 
Where is Posthumus? What is in thy mind. 
That makes thee stare thus? Wherefore breaks 

that sigh [thus. 

From the inward of thee? One, but painted 
Would be interpreted a thing perplex'd 
Beyond self-explication : Pnt thyself 
Into a haviour* of less fear, ere wildness 
Vanquish my staider senses. What's the matter? 
Why tender'st thou that paper to me, with 
A look untender? If it be summer news. 
Smile to't before : if winterly, thou need'st 
But keep that countenancestill. — My husband's 

hand! 
That drug-damn'd Italy hath out-craftied him. 
And he's at some hard point. — Speak, maa; 

thy tongue 
May take off some extremity, which to read 
Would be even mortal to me. 

Pis. Please yon, read ; 

And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing 
The most disdain'd of fortune. 

Imo. [Reads.] Thy mistress^ Pisanio, hath 
played the strumpet in my bed; the testi' 
monies whereof lie bleeding in me. 1 speak 
not out of weak surmises ; from proof as 
strong as my grief, and as certain as J ex- 
pect my reveiige. That party thou Pisanio, 
7nust act for me, if thy faith be not tainted 
with tlie breach ofiiers. Let thine own hands 
take aivay her life: I shall give thee opportu- 
nities at Milford-Haven: slie hath my letter 
for the purpose : where, if thou fear tostrike, 
and to make me certain it is done, thou art 
the pander to her dishonour j and equally 
to me disluyal. 

Pis. What shall I need to draw my sword? 

the paper 
Hath cut her throat already, — No, 'tis slander; 
Whose edge is sharper than the sword , whose 

tongue [breath 

Out-venoms all the worms of Nile; whose 
Rides on the posting winds and doth belie 
All corners of theworld: kings, queens, and 

states. 
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of Ihe grave. 
This viperous slander enters. — What cheer, 

madam 1 
Imo. Fal?e to his bed ! What is it to be false? 
To lie in watch there, and to think on him? 
To weep 'twixt clock and clock? if sleep 

charge nature. 



* For behaviour. 



4P 



S54, 



MAKSPE-ARE. 



[Act II f 



To break it with a fearful dream of him, 
And cry myself awake? that's false to his bed ? 
la it? 
Pis, Alas, good lady! [lachimo, 

Jmo. 1 false? Thy conscience witness: — 
Thou didst accuse hiin of incontinency; [thinks. 
Thou then J-ook'dst like a villain ; now, me- 
Thy favour's good enough. — Some jay* of Italy, 
Whose mother was her painting f, hath be- 
tray 'd him : 
Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion ; 
And, for I am richer than to hang by the walls, 
I must be ripp'd: — to pieces with me!— O, 
Men's vows are women's traitors! All good 

seeming, 
By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought 
Put on for villany ; not born, where't grows ; 
But worn, a bait for ladies. 
Pis. Good madam, hear me. 

Imo. True honest men being heard, like false 
iEneas, [w^eeping 

Were, in his time, thought false : and Sinon's 
Did scandal many a holy tear; took pity 
From most true wretchedness : So, thou, Post- 
Wilt lay the leaven on all proper men ; [humus. 
Goodly and gallant, shall be false and perjured. 
From thy great fail. — Come, fellow, be thou 
honest: [him. 

Do thou thy master's bidding : when thou see'st 
A little witness my obedience: Look! 
I draw the sword myself: take it; and hit 
The innocent mansion of my love, my heart : 
Fear not; 'tis empty of all things, but grief: 
Thy master is not there; who was, indeed. 
The riches of it: Do his bidding; strike. 
Thou may'st be valiant in a better cause; 
But now thou seem'st a coward. 

Pis, Hence, vile instrument! 

Thou shalt not damn my hand. 

Inio. Why, I mnst die ; 

And if I do not by thy hand, thou art [tlaiighter 
No servant of thy master's : Against self- 
. There's a prohibition so divine, [ray heart; 
That cravens I my weak hand. Come, here's 
Something's afore't: Soft, soft; we'll no defence; 
Obedient as the scabbard. — What is here? 
The scriptures § of the loyal Leonatus, 
All turn'd to heresy? Away, away. 
Corrupters of my faith ! you shall no more 
Be stomachers to my heart! 1 hus may poor 
fools [ betray 'd 

Believe false teachers: Though those that are 
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor 
Ktands in worse case of woe. 
And thou, Posthumu£, thou that didst set up 
My disobedience 'gainst the king my father, 
And make me put into contempt the suits 
Of princely fellows, shalt hereafter find 
It is no act of common passage, but 
A strain of rareness : and I grieve myself. 
To think, when thou shalt be disedged by her 
That now thou tirest |i on, how thy memory 
Will then be pang'd by me. — Pr'ythee, de- 
spatch : [knife? 
The lamb entreats the butcher: Where's thy 



Thou art too slow to *o thy master's bidding. 
When I desire it too. 

Pis. O gracious lady, 

Since I received command to do this businesfc, 
I have not slept one wink. 

Jmo, Do't, and to bef^ then. 

Pis. Pll wake mine eye-balls blind first. 

Jmo. Wherefore thetj 

Didst undertake it? Why hast then abused 
So many miles with a pretence? this place? 
Mine action, and thine own? our horsts' la 

hour? 
The time inviting thee? the pertnrb'd rcurt. 
For my being absent : whcreunto I never 
Purpose return? Why hast thou gone so far, 
To be unbent, when thou hast ta'en thy stand. 
The elected deer before thee ? 

Pis. But to win time 

To lose 60 bad employment : in the w hich 
I have consider-'d of a course : Good lady. 
Hear me with patience. 

Jmo. Talk thy tongue weary ; speak : 

T have heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear. 
Therein false struck,can take no greater wound, 
ISior tent to bottom that. But speak. 

Pis. Then, madam, 

I thought you would not back again. 

Jmo. Most like; 

Bringing me here to kill me. 

Pis. Isot so, neither : 

But if I were as vvise as honest, then 
My purpose would prove well. It cannot be. 
But that my master is abused : 
Some villain, ay, and singular in his art. 
Hath done you both this cursed injury. 

Jmo. Some Roman courtezan. 

Pis. Iso, on my life. 

Pll give but notice you are dead, and send hiin 
Some bloody sign of it; for 'tis commanded 
I should do so : You shall be miss'd at court. 
And that will well confirm it. 

Jmo. Why, good fellow. 

What shall I do the while? Where bide? Hov^- 
Or in my life what comfort. When I am [live? 
Dead to my husband? 

Pis. If you'll back to the court, — 

j7no. No court, no father; nor no more ado 
\\ ith that harsh, noble, simpie, nothing: 
That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me 
As fearful as a siege. 

Pis. If not at court. 

Then not in Britain must you bide. 

Jf/io. Where then? 

Hath Britain all the sun that shines? Day, 
night, [volume 

Are they not but tn Britain? I' the world's 
Our Britain seems as of it, but not in it; 
In a great pool, a swan's nest : Pr'ythee, think 
There's livers out of Britain. 

Pis. I am most glad 

You think of other place. The embassador, 
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven 
To-morrow : Now, if you could wear a mind 
Dark as your fortune is; and but disguise 
That, which, to appear itself, must not yet be 



• Putta, in Italian, signifies both a jay and a whoi-e. + Likoncss. 

<i Ihe wri(it)i;8. || I't-edtst, or preys on. 



X CoWr.lB. 



Si:e7ie ir.] 



CYMBELINE. 



855 



But by self-danger ; you should tread a course 
Pretty, and fiiUof view: yea, haply, near 
The residence of Posthuinus : so nigh, at least, 
That though his actions were not visible, yet 
Report should render him hourly to your ear. 
As truly as he moves. 

Imo. O, for such means ! 

Though peril to my modesty, not death on't, 
I would adventure. 

Pis. Well then, here's the point : 

You must forget to be a woman ; change 
Command into obedience ; fear and niceness 
(The handmaids of all women, or, more truly. 
Woman its pretty self,) to a waggish courage; 
Ready in gibes, quick-answer'd, saucy, and 
As quarrellous as the weasel : nay, you must 
Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek. 
Exposing it (but, O, the harder heart! 
Alack, no remedy I) to the greedy touch 
Of common-kissing Titan * ; and forget 
Your laboursome and dainty trims, wherein 
You made great Juno angry. 

I??io. Nay, be brief: 

I see into thy end, and am almost 
A man already. 

Pis. First, make yourself but like one. 

Fore-thinking this, I have already fit, 
y'Tis in my cloak-bag,) doublet, hat, hose, all 
JThat answer to them : Would you, in their serv- 
And with what imitation you can borrow [ing, 
From youth of such a season, 'fore noble 

Lucius 
Present yourself, desire his service, tell him 
Wherein you are happy t, (which you'll make 

him know, 
If that his head have ear in music,) doubtless, 
With joy he will embrace you; for he's honour- 
able, [abroad 
A.nd, doubling that, most holy. Your means 
Yon have mej, rich; and I will aever fail 
Beginning nor supplyment. 

imo. Thou art all the comfort 

The gods will diet me with. Pr'ythee, away : 
rbwe's more to be consider'd ; but we'll even 
All that good time will give us: This attempt 
Pm soldiei to§, and will abide it with 
A prince's courage. Away, I pr'ythee. 

Pis. Well, madam, we must take a short 
Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of [farewell 
Your carriage from the court. My noble mis- 
Here is a box ; I bad it from the queen ; [tress. 
What's in't is precious ; if you are sick at sea. 
Or slomach-qualm'd at land, a dram of this 
Will drive away distemper. — To some shade, 
I And fit you to your manhood: — May the gods 
I Direct you to the best! 

< Jmo. Amen : I thank thee. 

[Ea:eunt. 

SCENE V. A Room in Cymbeline's Palace. 

Enter Cymbeline, Queen, Cloten, 

Lucius, awrf Lords. 

Cym. Thus far: and so farewell. 
, IjUc. Thanks, royal sir. 

j My emperor hath wrote; I must from hence 
1' And am right sorry, that I must report ye 



My master's enemy. 

Cym. Our subjects, sir. 

Will not endure liis yoke; and for ourself 
To show less sovereignty than they, must needs 
Appear unkinglike. 

Luc. So, sir, I desire of yoo 

A conduct over land, to Milford-Haven. — 
Madam, all joy befal your grace, and you! 

Cym. My lords, you are appointed for that 
The due of honour in no point omit : — [office ; 
So, farewell, noble Lucius. 

Luc, Your hand, ray lord. 

Clo. Receive it friendly ; but from this time 
I wear it as your enemy. [forth 

Luc. Sir, the event 

Is yet to name the winner; Fare you well. 

Cym. Leave not the worthy Lucius, good 
my lords. 
Till he have cross'd the Severn. — Happiness ! 
[Exeunt Lucius, a;/rf Lords. 

Queen. He goes hence frowning: but it ho- 
That we have given him cause. [uours us, 

Clo. 'Tis all the better ; 

Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it. 

Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the em- 
peror 
How it goes here. It fits us, therefore, ripely, 
Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness : 
The powers that he already hath in Gallia 
Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he 
His war for Britain. [moves 

Queen. 'Tis not sleepy business ; 

But must be look'd to speedily, and strongly. 

Cym. Our expectation that it would be thus. 
Hath made us forward. But, my gentle queen. 
Where is our daughter? She hath not appear'd 
Before the Roman, nor to us hath teuder'd 
The duty of the day : She looks ns like 
A thing more made of malice than of duty: 
We have noted it. — Call her before ns ; for 
We have been too slight in sufferance. 

[_Exit an Attendant. 

Queen. Royal sir. 

Since the exile of Po?thumus, most retired 
Hath her life been ; the cure whereof, my lord, 
'Tis time most do. 'Beseech your majesty. 
Forbear sharp speeches to her : she's a lady 
So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes. 
And strokes death to her. 

Re-enter an Attendant. 

Cym. Where is she, sir? How 

Can her contempt be answer'd? 

Attcn. Please you, sir, 

Her chambers are all lock'd ; and there's no 

answer [make. 

That will be given to the loud'st of noise we 

Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit 
her, 
She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close; 
Whereto constrain'd by her intirmity. 
She should that duty leave unpaid to you. 
Which daily she was bound ro proffer: this 
She wish'd me to make known ; but our great 
Ma-de me to blame in memory. [court 

Cym. Her doors lork'a f 



* The sun. f i. e., Wherein you are arcomflished. 

As for your subsistence abroad, you nmy rely on me j Equal to. 



856 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act in 



Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which 

I fear 
Prove false! [Exit. 

Queen. Son, I say, follow the king. 
Clo. That man of hers, Pisanio, her old 
I have not seen these two days. [servant, 

Queen. Go, look after.— 

[Exit Cloten. 
Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthumas ! — 
He hath a drug of mine: I pray, his absence 
Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes 
It is a thing most precious. But for her, [her; 
Where is she gone? Haply despair hath seized 
Or,wing'd with fervourof her love, she's flown 
To her desired Posthuraus : Gone she is 
To death, or to dishonour; and my end 
Can make good use of either: She being down, 
I have the placing of the British crown. 

Re-enter Cloten. 
How now, my son T 

Clo. *Tis certain shje is fled : 

Go in, and cheer the king; he rages ; none 
Dare come about him. 

Queen. All the better : May 

This night forestall him of the coming day! 

[Exit Queen. 
Clo. I love and hate her : for she's fair and 
royal ; [site 

And that she hath all courtly parts more exqui- 
Than lady, ladies, woman*; from every one 
The best she hath, and she, of all compounded, 
Outsells them all: I love her, therefore: But, 
Disdaining me, and throwing favours on 
The low Posthumus, slanders so her judgment, 
That what's else rare, is choked ; and in that 

point, 
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed. 
To be revenged upon her. For when fools 

Enter Pisanio. 
Shall — Who is here? What! are you packing, 
birrah? [lain, 

Come hither: Ah, you precious pander! Vil- 
Where is thy lavly f — In a word; or else 
Thou art straightway with the fiends. 

Pis. O, good my lord ! 

Clo. Where is thy lady ? or, by Jupiter 
I win not ask again. Close villain, 
Pll have this secret from thy heart, or rip 
Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthumus? 
From whose eo many weights of baseness can- 
A drara of worth be drawn. [not 

Pis. Alas, my lord 

Hew can she be with him? When was she 
He is in Rome. [miss'd? 

Clo. Where is she, sir? Come nearer; 

No further halting: satisfy me home. 
What is become of her? 

Pis. O, my all-worthy lord I 
Clo. All-worthy villain ! 

Discover where thy mistress is, at once, 
At the next word, — No more of worthy lord,— 
Speak, or thy silence on the instant is 
Thy condemnation and tiiy death. 

Pis. Then, sir, 

This paper is the history of my knowledge 
Touching her flight. [Presenthig a Letter 



Clo. Let's see't : — 1 will pursue her 

Even to Augustus' throne. 

Pis. Or this, or perish. "1 

She's far enough ; and what he learns f j • ,^ 
by this, >Asiae. 

May prove his travel, not her danger. J 

Clo. Humph ! 

Pis. I'll write to my lord «he's dead. O 
Imogen, 
Safe rnay'st thou wander, safe return again! 

[Aside. 

Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true ? 

Pis, Sir, as I think. 

Clo. It is Posthumus' hand; I know't. — 
Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain, but 
do me true service; undergo those employ- 
ments, wherein I should have cause to use 
thee, with a serious industry,— that is, what 
villany soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it 
directly and truly, — I would think thee an 
honest man : thou shouldest neither want ray 
means for thy relief, nor my voice for thy 
preferment. 

Pis. Well, my good lord. 

Clo. Wilt thou serve me? For since patiently 
and constantly thou hast stuck to the bare 
fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thou canst 
not in the course of gratitude but be a diligent 
follower of mine. Wilt thou serve me? 

Pis. Sir, 1 will. 

Clo. Give me thy hand, here's my purse. 
Hast any of thy late master's garments in thy 
possession? 

Pis. I have, my lord, at my lodging, th« 
same suit he wore when he took leave of my 
lady and mistress. 

Clo. The first service thou dost me, fetclr 
that suit hither : let it be thy first service ; go. 

Pis. I shall, my lord. [Etit, 

Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Haven : — I forgoa 
to ask him one think ; I'll remember*t anon; 
— Even there, thou villain, Posthumus, will I 
kill thee. — I would these garments were come. 
She said upon a time, (the bitterness of it I 
now belch from my heart,) that she held tbv 
very gfirment of Posthumus in more respect 
than my noble and natural person, togethei 
with the adornment of my qualities. With 
that suit upon my back, will I ravish her: 
First kill liini, and in her eyes ; there shall she 
see my valour, which will then be a torment 
to her contempt. He on the ground, my 
speech of insultment ended on his dead body, 
— and when my lust hath dined, (which, as I 
say, to vex her, 1 will execute in the clothe* 
that she so praised,) to the court I'll knock her 
back, foot her home again. She hath despised 
me rejoicingly, and I'll be merry in my re- 
venge. 

Re-eifter Pisanio, tvith the Clothes, 
Be those the garnients ? 

Pis. Ay, my noble lord. 

Clo. How long is't since she went to Mil 
ford- Haven ? 

Pis. She can scarce be there yet. 

Clo. Bring this apparel to my chamber 



♦ Than any lady, than all ladles, thr.n all womankind. 



Scene v.] 



CYMBELXNE. 



857 



that is the second thing that I have commanded 
fhee ; the third is, that thou sfialt be a volun- 
tary mute lO my design. Be but duteous, and 
true preferment shall tender itself to thee. — 
My revenge is now at Milford ; * Would I had 
wings to follow it! — Come, and be true. [Exit. 
Pis. Thou bidd*st me to my loss: for, true 

to thee. 
Were to prove false, which I will never be. 
To him that is most true. — To Milford go, 
And find not her whom thou pursuest. Flow, 

flow, [speed 

You heavenly blessings, on her I This fool's 
Be cross'd with slowness ; labour be his meed I 

[Exit, 

SCENE VI. Before the Cave o/Belariua, 
Enter Imogen, in Boy*s Clothes, 
Imo. I see, a man's life is a tedious one : 
I have tired myself; and for two nights to- 
gether [sick. 
Have made the ground my bed. I should be 
But that my resolution helps me. — Milford, 
When from the mountain-top Pisanio show'd 

thee. 
Thou wast within a ken : O Jove ! I think. 
Foundations fly the wretched; such, I mean, 
Where they should be relieved. Two beggars 

told me, 
I could not miss my way : Will poor folks He, 
Tliat have atilictions on them ; knowing 'tis 
A. punishment, or triaKf Yes ; no wonder, 
When rich ones scarce tell true : To lapse in 

fulness 
Is sorer, than to lie for need ; and falsehood 
Is worse in kings than beggars. — Mj dear 

lord! [on thee, 

Thou art one o'the false ones : Now I think 
My hunger's gone ; but even before, I was 
At point to sink for food. — But what is this 1 
Here is a path to it : 'Tis some savage hold: 
I were best not call; I dare not call: yet 

famine, 
Ere clean it o*etthrow nature, makes it valiant 
Plenty, and peace, breeds cowards; hardness 

ever 
Of hardiness is mother.— Ho 1 who's here? 
If any thing that's civil, speak ; if savage. 
Take, or lend. — Ho I — No answer? then I'll 

enter. 
Best draw my sword; and if mine enemy 
But fear the sword like me, he'll scarcely look 
Such a foe, good heavens I [on't. 

{She goes into the Cave. 
Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and Ar- 

V1RAQ*US. 

Bel. You, Polydore, have proved best wood- 
man*, and 
Are master of the f&ast : Cadwal and I 
Will play tlie cook and servant; 'tis our 

match t : 
The sweet of industry would dry, and die. 
But for the end it works to. Come; our 
stomachs [nei« 

Will make what's homely, savoury : Weari- 
Can snore upon the flint, when restive sloth 



Finds the down pillow hard. — Noav, peace be 
Poor house, that keep'st thyself! [here, 

Gui. I am throughly weary. 

Arv, I am weak with toil, yet strong \n 
appetite. [browze on that, 

Gui. There is cold meat i'the cave ; we'll 
Whilst what we have kill'd be cook'd. 
Bel. Stay ; come not in : 

[Looking in. 
But that it eats our victuals, I should think 
Here were a fairy. 
Gui, What's the matter, sir t 

Bel. By Jupiter, an angel ! or, if not. 
An earthly paragon ! Behold divineuess 
No elder than a boy ! 

Enter Imogen. 
Imo. Good masters, harm me not : 
Before I enter*d here, I call'd ; and thought 
To have begg'd, or bought, what I have took : 
Good troth, [I had found 

Ihave stolen nought; nor would not, though 
Gold strew'd o'the floor. Here's money for 

my meat: 
I would have left it on the board, so soon 
As I had made my meal ; and parted 
With prayers for the provider. 
Gui. Money youth ? 

Arv. All gold and silver rather turn to dirt! 
As *tis no better reckon'd, but of those 
Who worship dirty gods. 

Imo. I see you ar« angry : 

Know, if you kill me for my fault, 1 should 
Have died, had I cot made it. 
Bel. Whither bound? 

Imo. To Milford-Haven, sir. 
Bel. What is your namet 

Imo. Fidele, sir: I have a kinsman, who 
Is bound for Italy ; he embark'd at Milford ; 
To whom being going, almost spent with hun- 
I am fallen in:J this offence. [ger, 

Bel. Pr*ythee, fair youth, 

Think us no churls; nor meaeure our good 
minds [ter'd I 

By this rude place we live in. Well encoun- 
'Tis almost night : you shall have better cheer 
Ere you depart ; and thanks, to stay and eat 
Boys, bid him welcome. [it. — 

Gui. Were you a woman, youth, 

I should woo hard, but be your groom. — In 
I bid for you, as I'd buy. [honesty, 

Arv. I'll make*t my comfort, 

He is a man ; I'll love him as my brother: — 
And such a welcome as I'd give to him. 
After long absence, such as yours: — Most wel- 
come ! 
Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends. 

Imo. 'Mongst friends 

If brothers? — 'Would it had been so,^ 
that they [my prize I 

Had been my father's sons ! then had \ Aside, 
Been less ; and so more equal ballast- 
To thee, Posthumus. [ing J 

Bel. He wrings at some diatrpss. 

Gui. 'Would, I could free't! 
Arv. Or I ; whate'er it be. 

What pain it cost, what danger ! God^ ! 



• Best hunte ^ 



f Agreement. 



t In, for into. 
4 D 3 



858 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV. 



BeL Hark, boys. 

[Whispering. 

Imo. Great men, 

That hail a court no bigger than tJsis cave, 

Tliat did attend thtmselyes, and had the virtue 

Which their own conscience seal'd lhem,.(laj- 

ing by 
That nothing gift of differing* multitudes,) 
Couid not out-peer these twain. Pardon me, 

go<ls ! 
I'd change my sex to be companion with them. 
Since Leonatus* false. 
BeL It shall be so : 
Boys, we'll go dress our hunt.— Fair youth, 

come in : 
Discourse is heavy, fasting; when we have 

supp'd, 
We'll mannerly demand thee of thy story, 
So far as thou wilt speak it. 
Gai. Pray, draw near. 

Arv» The night to the owl, and morn to the 
Jmo, Thanks, sir. [lark, less welcome. 

Arv, I pray, draw near. [Exeunt, 



SCENE VII. Rome. 
Enter Tw9 Stnators aiid Tribunes. 

1 Sen^ This is the tenour of the emperor*a 

writ ; 
That since the common men are now in action 
'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians; 
And that the legions now in GalHa are 
Full weak to undertake our wars against 
The fallen off Britons ; that we do incite 
The gentry to this business : He creates 
Lucius pro-consul : and to you the tribunes. 
For this immediate levy, he commands 
His absolute commission. Long live Caesar I 
'7H. Is Lucius general of the forces ? 

2 Sen. Ay, 
Tri. Remaining now in Gallia? 

1 Sen. With those legiong 

Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy 
Must be suppliant: The words of your com 

mission 
Will tie you to the numbers, and the time 
Of their despatch. 

TrU We will discharge our duty. [Exeunt^ 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. The Forest, near the Cave, 

Enter Clot en. 
Clo, I am near to the place where they 
should meet, if Pisanio have mapped it truly. 
How fit his garments serve rnel Why should 
his mistress, who was made by him that made 
the tailor, not be tit loo? the rather (saving 
reverence of the word) forf 'tis said, a wo- 
man's fitness comes by fits. Therein I must 
play the workman. 1 dare speak it to myself, 
(for it is not vain-glory, for a man and his glass 
to confer; in his own chamber, I mean.) the 
lines of rny body are as well drawn as his ; 
CQ less young, more strong, not beneath him 
in fortunes, beyond hini in the advantage of 
the time, above him in birth, alike conversant 
in general services, and more remarkable in 
single oppositions j : yet this imperseverant 
thing loves him in my despite. What morta- 
lity is! Posthumus, thy head, which now is 
growing upon thy shoulders, shall within this 
hour be off; thy mistress enforced; thy gar- 
ments cut to pieces before thy face : and all 
this done, spurn her home to her father: who 
may, haply, be a little angry for my so rough 
usage : but my mother^ having power of his 
testinesis, ehall turn all into my commenda* 
tions. My horse is tied up safe: ()ut,.sword, 
and to a sore purpose ! Fortune, put them into 
my hand ! This is the very description of their 
meeting-place ; and tlie fellow dares not de- 
ceive me. [Exit, 

SCENE II. Before the Cave, 
Enter, from the Cave, Belarius, Guidl- 
Rius, Arviragls, and Imogen. 
Bel, You are not well: [To Imogen.] re- 
main here in the cave ; 



We'll come to you after hunting. 

Arv. Brother, stay here: [7b Imogen* 
Are we not brothers? 

Imo, So man and man should be ; 

But clay and clay differs in dignity, 
Whose dust is both alike, 1 am very sick, 

Gui. Go you to hunting, I'll abide with him. 

l7no. So sick 1 am not ; — yet 1 am not well : 
But not so ciiizen a wanton, as [me ; 

To seem to die, ere sick : bo please you leave 
Stick to your journal § course: the breach of 
custom [me 

Is breach of all. I am ill ; but your bein§ by 
Cannot amend me : Society is no comfort 
To one not sociable : I'm not very sick. 
Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me 

here : 
I'll rob none but myself; and let me die. 
Stealing so poorly. 

Gui. I love thee ; I have spoke it : 

How much the quantity, the weight as much. 
As I do love my father. 

Bel. What? howl how t 

Arv, If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me 
In my good brother's fault : 1 know not why 
I love this youth ; and I have heai d you say. 
Love's reason's without reason j the bier at 

door, 
And a demand who is't shall die, I'd say, 
Aly fathtr, not his youth. 

Bel. O noble strain I [Aside 

worthiness of nature I breed of greatness i 
Cowards father cowards, and base things sire 

base . f g.ruce. 

Nature hatl. meal, and bran; contempt^ and 

1 am nut their father; y^t who this should be. 
Doth miracle itself, lover before me. — 

'Tirt the ninth hour o'the morn. 



Uasteady, 



t i. e., Because. 

§ Keep your daily course. 



X J^ ungle combaL 



tl] 



CYMBELINE. 



859 



Arv. Brother, farewell. 

Imo. I wish ye sport. 

Aru, You health. — So please yoa, sir. 

Imo. [Aside,] These are kind creatures. 
Gods, what lies I have heard ! 
Oar courtiers say, all's savage but at eourt : 
Experience, O, thou disproves! report! [dish, 
The imperious* seas breed monsters ; for the 
Poor tributary rivers as sweet fish. 
I am sick still ; heart-sick : — Pisanio, 
I'll now taste of thy drug. 

Gui. I could not stir him ; 

He said, he was gentle t, but unfortunate ; 
Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest. [after 

Arr. Thus did he answer me : yet said,here- 
I might know more. 

Bel. To the field, to the fitld :— 

We'll leave you for this time ; go in, and rest. 

Arv. We'll not be long away. 

Bel. Pray, be not sick. 

For you must be our housewife. 

I»io. Well, or ill, 

I am bound to you. 

Bel. And so shalt be ever. [Exit Imogen^ 
This youth, howe'erdistress'd, appears, he hath 
Good ancestors. [had 

Arp, How angel-like he sings ! 

Giii. But his neat cookery ! He cut our roots 
in characters ; 
Aisd sauced our broths, as Juno had been sick, 
And he her dieter. 

Arv. Nobly he yokes 

A smiling with a sigh: as if the sigh 
Was thftt it was, for not being such a smile ; 
The smile mocking the sigh, that it would fly 
From so divine a temple, to commix 
With winds that sailors rail at. 

Gui. 1 do note, 

That grief and patience, rooted in him both, 
Mingle their spurs j together. 

A7-V, Grow, patience ; 

And let the stinking elder, grief, untwine 
His perishing root, with the increasing vine ! 

Bel. It is great morning. Come ; away. — 
Who's there ? 

Enter Cloten. 

Clo. I cannot find those, runagates ; that vil- 
Hath mock'd me ; — 1 am faint. [lain 

Bel. Those runagates ! 

Means he not us? I partly know him; 'tis 
Cloten, the son o'the queen. I fear some am- 
bush. 
I saw him not these many years, and 5'et 
I know *tis he ; — We are held as outlaws : — 
Hence. [search 

Gui, He is but one : You and my brother 
What companies are near; pray you, away; 
Let me alone with him. 

[Exeunt Belarius and Akyir.kgvs. 
Clo. Soft! What are you 

That fly me thus? some vMlain mountaineers? 
I have heard of such. — What slave art thou ? 

Gui. A thing 

M<^re slavish did 1 ne'er, thaa answering 
^ slave, without a knock. 



Clo. Thon art a robber, 

A law-breaker, a villain : Yield thee, thief. 

Gui. To who? to thee? What art thou 
Have not I 
An arm as big as thine? a heart as big? 
Thy words, 1 grant, are bigger ; for I wear no< 
My dagger in my muuth. Say, what thou art ; 
Why I should yield to thee ? 

Clo. Thou villain base, 

Know'st me not by my clothes? 

Gui. !No, nor thy tailor, rascal. 

Who is thy grandfather; he made those clothes. 
Which, as it seems, make thee. 

Clo. Thou precious varlet 

My tailor made them not. 

Gui. Hence then, and thant 

The man that gave them thee. Thou art sonw 
I am loath to beat thee. [fool , 

Clo. Thou injurious thief. 

Hear but my name, and tremble. 

Gui. What's thy name < 

Clo. Cloten, thou villain. 

Gui. Cloten, thou double villain, be thj 
name, [spider 

I cannot tremble at it ; were't toad, or adder 
'Twould move me sooner. 

Clo. To thy further fear. 

Nay, to thy mere confusion, thou shalt know 
I'm son to the queen. 

Gui. I'm sorry for't ; not seeming 

So worthy as thy birth. 

Clo. Ai t not afeard ? [the wise : 

Gui. Those that I reverence, those I fear^- 
At fools I laugh, not fear them. 

Clo. . Die the death; 

When I have slain thee with my proper hand., 
Pll foJlovv those that even now fled hence, 
And on the gates of Lud's town set your heads ;. 
Yield, rustic mountaineer. [Exeunt, JighCi/ig. 
Enter Belarius and Arviragus. 

Bel. No company's abroad. [him, sure. 

ArJK None in the world : Yoii did mislak* 

Bel. I cannot tell : Long is it since I sa>R 
him, [favour y 

But time hath nothing blurr'd those lines <^. 
Which then he wore ; the snatches in his voice. 
And burst of speaking, were as bis : I am ab 
'Twas very Cloten. [solute, 

Arv. In this place we left them , 

I wish my brother make good time with him. 
You say he is so fell. 

Bel. Being scarce made up, 

I. mean, to man, he had not apprehension 
Of roaring terrors; for the effect of judgmeirl 
Is oft the cause of fear : But see, thy brother. 
Re-enter GuiDERius,«i/'ACLOTEN's Head. 

Gui. This Cloten was a fool; an empty 
purse. 
There was no money in't : not Hercules 
Coaid have knock'd out his brains, for he 

had none : 
Yet I not doing this, the fool had borne 
My bead, as I do his. 

Bel. What hast thou done ? [ten's head 

Gui. I am perfect Ij, what : cut iifif one Cla- 



Jniperial. t Wellborn. % Spurs are the toots of tree*. 

j Coiintoaancc. (t I asu wcli-iiiforined wbaf. 



860 



SHAKSPEARE. 



lAci jr. ,, 



Son to the queen, after his own report ; 
Who oall'd me traitor, mountaineer; and 

swore, 
With hit own single hand he'd take us in •, 
Displace our heads, where (thank ihe gods!) 
And s€t ihtm on Lud's town, [they grow, 

Bel. We are all ortdone. 

Gui. Why, worthy father, what have we to 

lose, [law 

Bat. thftt he swore, to take our lives? The 

Protects not us *. Then why should we be 

tender. 
To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us ; 
Play judge, and executioner, all himself; 
Fort we do fear the law? What company 
Discover you abroad? 

Bel. No single soul 

Can we set eye on, but, in all safe reason. 
He must have some attendants. Though his 

humour 
Was nothing but mutation J; ay, and that 
From one bad thing to worse ; not frenzy, not 
Absolute madness could so far have raved. 
To bring him here alone: Although, perhaps. 
It may be heard at court, that such as we 
Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time 
May make some stronger head: the which he 

hearing, 
(As it is like him,) might break out, and swear 
He'd fetch us in : yet is't not probable 
To come alone, either he so undertaking, 
Or they so sntfering : then on good ground we 
If we do fear this body hath a tail [fear, 

More perilous than the head. 

Arv. Let ordinance 

Come as the gods foresay it: hovvsoe'er, 
My brother hath done well. 

Bel. I had no mind 

To hunt this day : the boy Fidele's sickness 
Did make my way long forth$. 

Gui. With his own sword, 

Which he did wave against my throat, I have 
ta'en [creek 

His head from him: I'll throw't into the 
Behind our rock ; and let it to the sea, 
And tell the tishes, he's the queen*sson, Cloten: 
That's all i reck||. [Ej.it. 

Bel. I fear, 'twill be revenged ; 

*Would, Polydore, thou had'st not done't! 
Becomes thee well enough. [though valour 

Arv. 'Would I had done't. 

So the revenge alone pursued me! — Polydore, 
I love thee brotherly ; but envy much. 
Thou hast robb'd me of this deed : I would^ 
revenges, [us through, 

That possible strength might meet, would seek 
And put us to our answer. 

Bel. Well, 'tis done :— 

We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger 
Where there's no profit. I pr'ythec, to our 
You and Fidele play the cooks : I'll stay [rock ; 
Till hasty Polyd<»re return, and bring ham 
To dinner presently. 

Arv. Poor sick Fidele ! 

I'll williii^y to him; To gain IT his colour. 



Pd let a parish of such Clo'ens blood. 

And praise myself for charity. {Exit, 

Bel. O thou goddess. 

Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou bla/on'st 
In these two princely boys ! They are as gentle { 
As zcpliyrs, blowiitjj; below the violet. 
Not wagging his sweet head : a'nd yet as rough. 
Their royal blood enchaf'd, a* the rudest wind. 
That by the top doth take the mountain pine. 
And make him stoop to the vale. *Tis won- 
derful. 
That an invisible instinct should frame them 
To royalty unlearn'd ; honour untaught ; 
Civility not seen from other ; valour. 
That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop 
As if it had been sow'd! Yet still it's strange 
What Cloten's being here to us portends; 
Or what his death will bring us. 

Re-enter Guiderius. 

Gui. >V he) e's my brother! 

I have sent Cloten'-s clotpoll down the stream. 
In embassy to his mother ; his body's hostage 
For his return. [Solemn Music. 

Bel. My ingenious instrument! 

Hark, Polydore, it sounds ! But what occa- 
sion 
Hath Cadwal now to give it motion 1 Hark I 

Gui. Is he at home ? 

Bel, He went hence even now. 

Gui. What does he mean ? since death of 
my dear'st mother 
It did not speak before. All solemn things 
Should answer solemn.accidents. The matter? 
Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys**. 
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys. 
Is Cadwal mad ? 

Re-enter Arviragos, bearing^ Imockn as 
dead fin his Arms. 

Bel. Look, here he comes. 

And brings the dire occasion in his arms. 
Of what we blame him for 1 

Arv, The bird is dead. 

That we have made so ranch on. 1 had rather 
Haveskipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, 
lo have turn'd my leaping time into a crutch. 
Than Lave seen this. 

Gui. O sweetest, fairest lily ! 

My brother wears thee not the one half so well. 
As when thou grew'st thyself. 

Bel. O, melancholy ! 

Who ever yet could sound thy bottom? tind 
The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish care +1 
Might easiliest harbour in? -Thou blessed 
thing? [made; but I, 

Jove knows what man tboo niighi'st have 
Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy I 
HjOW found yo» him ? 

Arif. Starkit, as you see : 

Thus smiling, as some fly had tickled sl-.imber. 
Not as death's dart, being laiigh'd at: his right 
Reposing on a cushion. [cheek 

Gui. Where? 

Arv. Othefleor; 

H»s arms ti>us leagued i I thought, he &Jept ; 
and put 



' Conquer, subdnc. f For, foi because. J Change, alterati:>r». i t)id make nty w>iik fet'ixwi 
U Care. ^ Rej^ain, restore. •♦ Trifle*. +t A slo'v sailing, upwieblly vessel- U 6ii&. 






Scene II.] 



CYMBELINE. 



S61 



My clouted brogues * from ofif my feet, whose 
Answer'd my steps too loud. [rudeness 

Gut. , Why, he but sleeps : 

If he be gone, he'll make his grave a bed ; 
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted. 
And worms will not come to thee. 

Arv. With fairest flowers, 

Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, 
ru sweeten thy sad grave : Thou shalt not lack 
The flower, that's like thy face, pale primrose ; 

nor 
The azured hare-bell, Hke thy veins ; no, nor 
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, 
Out-sweeten'd not thy breath; the ruddock t 

would, 
"With charirable bill (O bill, sore-shaming 
Those rich left heirs, that let their fathers lie 
Without a monument !) bring thee all this ; 
Yea, and furred moss besides, when flowers 
To winter-ground j thy corse. [are none. 

Gut. Pr'ythee, have done ; 

And do not play in wench-like words with that 
Which is so serious. Let us bury him. 
And not protract with admiration what 
Is now due debt. — To the grave. 
Arv. Say, where shall's lay him? 

Gui. By good Euriphile, our mother. 
Arv. Be't so: 

And let us, Polydore, though now our voices 
Have got the mannish crack, sing him to the 
ground, [words, 

As once our mother ; use like note, and 
Save that Euriphile must be Fidele. 

Gui. Cadwal, 
I cannot sing : I'll weep, and word it with 

thee: 
For notes of sorrow, out of tune, are worse 
Than priests and fanes that lie. 
Arv. We'll speak it then. 

JBel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less: 
for Cloten 
Is quite forgot. He was a queen's son, boys : 
And, though he came our enemy, remember. 
He wag paid § for that : Though mean and 

mighty, rotting 
Together, have one dust ; yet reverence, 
(That angel of the world,) doth make distinc- 
tion [princely ; 
Of place 'tween high and low. Our foe was 
And though you took his life, as being our foe. 
Yet bury him as a prince. 

Gui. Pray you, fetch him hither. 

Thersites* body is as good as Ajax, 
When neither are alive. 

Arv. If you'll go fetch him. 

We'll say our song the whilst. — Brother,begin. 
[Ea:it Belarius. 
Gui. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head 
to the east ; 
My father hath a reason for't. 

Arv. 'Tis true. 

Gui. Come on then, and remove him. 
Arv. So,— begin. J 



SONG. 

Gui. Fear no more the heat (/the sun. 

Nor the furious winter's rages ; 
Thou thy ivorldly task hast done, 

Home art gone^ and ta'en thy wages : 
Golden lads and girls all must. 
As chitnTiey-siveepers, come to dust. 
Arv. Fear no more the frotvn o'the great. 

Thou art past the tyrant's stroke ; 
Care no more to clothe and eat ; 
To thee the reed is as the oak : 
The sceptre, learning, physic, must 
All follow this, and come to dust. 
Gui. Fear no more the lightning-flash, 
Arv. Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone ; 
Gui. Fear not slander, censure H rash ; 
Arv. Thou hast finished joy and moan : 
Both. All lovers young, all lovers must 

Consigji IT to thee, and come to dust. 
Gui. No exorciser harm thee ! 
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee! 
Gui. Ghost unlaid forbear thee ! 
Arv. Nothing ill come near thee! 
Both. Quiet consum7nation have / 
And renowned be thy grave ! 
^e-e?^fer Belarius, tvith the Body of 

Cloten. 
Gui. We have done our obsequies : Come 

lay him down. 
Bel. Here's a few flowers, but about mid- 
night, more : [night. 
The herbs, that have on them cold dew o'the 
Are strewings fitt'st for graves. — Upon their 

faces : — 
You were as flowers, now withered : even so 
These herb'lets shall, which we upon you 

strow. — 
Come on, away : apart upon our knees. 
The ground, that gave them first, has them 

again ; 
Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. 
[^Exeunt Belarius, Guiderius, and 
Arviragus. 
Imo. {Awaking.] Yes, sir, to Milford Ha- 
ven ; Which is the way ^ — 
I thank you.— By yon bush? — Pray, how far 

thither? 
*Ods pittikins ** I — can it be six miles yet? 
I have gone all night : — 'Faith, I'll lie down 

and sleep. 
But, soft ! no bedfellow : — O, gods and god- 
desses 1 {Seeing the Body. 
These flowers are like the pleasures of the 
world ; [dream ; 
This bloody man, the care on't. — I hope I 
For, so, I thought I was a cave-keeper. 
And cook to honest creatures : But 'tis not so ; 
'Twas but a bol* *-*^ of nothing, shot at nothing. 
Which the braiix makes of tumes : Our very 
eyes [faith. 
Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. Good 



* Shoes plated with iron. t The red-brearst. 

I Probably a corrupt reading, for, wither round thy corse. $ Punished, 

II Judgment. ^ Seal the same contract. 

•• This diminutive adjuration is derived from God's my pity. ft An arrov* 



so 2 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Aci IV 



I tremble still with fear : Bat if there be 
Yet left in heavea as small a drop of pity 
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it I 
The dream's here still : even when I wake, it is 
Wituout me, as within me ; not imagined, felt. 
A headless man! — The garments of Posthu- 

mus! 
I know the shape of his leg : this is his Hand ; 
His foot Mercurial ; his Martial thigh ; 
The brawns of Hercules: but liis Jovial* 

face — [sanio, 

Murder in heaven ? — How 1 — *Tis gone. — Pi 
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, 
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, 
Conspired with that irregulous t devil, Cloten, 
Hast here cut off my lord. — ^To write, aud 

read, 
Be henceforth treacherous ! — damn'dPisanio — 
Hath with his forged letters, — damn'd Pisa- 

nio— 
From this most bravest vessel of the world 
Struck the main-top 1 — O, Posthumus ! alas, 
Where is thy head ? where's that ? Ah me ! 

w here's that ? 
Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, 
A.nd left this head on. — How should this be ? 

Pisanio? 
'Tis he, and Cloten : malice and lucre in them 
Have laid this woe here. O, 'tis pregnant, 

pregnant t! [cious 

The arug he gave me, which, he said, was pre- 
And cordial to me, have I not found it 
Murd'rous to the senses? That confirms it 

home: 
This is Pisanio's deed, and Cloten's : O ! — 
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood. 
That we the horrider may seem to those 
Which chance to find us : O, my lord, my 

lord! 
Enter Locius, a Captain, and other Offi- 
cers, and a Soothsayer. 
Cap, To them the legions garrison'd inGallia, 
After your will, have cross'd the sea : attending 
You here at Milford Haven, with your ships : 
They are here in readiness. 

Luc. But what from Rome? 

Caj). The senate hath stirr'd up the cdnfiuers. 
And gentlemen of Italy ; most willing spirits. 
That promise noble service: and they come 
L luler the conduct of bold lachimo. 
Sienna's brother. 
JLuc. When expect you them? 

Cup, With the next benefit o' the wind. 
Luc. This forwardness 

Makes our hopes fair. Command, our present 
numbers [sir, 

Bemuster'd; bid the captains lookto't. — Isow, 
What have you dream'd, of late, of this war's 
purpose ? 
Sootfi. Last night the very gods show'd mc 
a vision : [Thus : — 

([ fast, and pray'd, for their intelligence,) 
I saw Jove's bird, the llomau eagle, wing'd 
V\on\ the spongy south to this part of the 
west. 



There vanished in the saobeams : which por . 

tends, 
(Unless my sins abuse my divination,) 
Success to the Roman host. 

Luc, Dream often so. 

And never false. — Soft, ho ! what trunk is ' 
here, [time * 

Without his top ? The ruin speaks, that some- 
It was a worthy building.— How! a page! — 
Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead, rather: 
For nature doth abhor to make his bed 
With the defunct, or sleep upon the dead. — 
Let's see the boy *s face. 
Cap, He is alive, my lord, . 

Luc. He'll then instruct us of this body. — ' 
Young one. 
Inform us of thy fortunes ; for, it seems, 
They crave to be demanded : Who is this, 
Thou makest thy bloody pillow? Or who was he, 
That, otherwise than noble nature did. 
Hath alter'd that good picture? What's thy in- 
terest 
In this sad wreck? How came it? W^ho is it 
What art thou? 

Jmo, I am nothing : or if not, 

Nothing to be were better. This was my mas- 
A very valiant Briton, and a good, [ter. 

That here by mountaineers lies slain : — Alas ! 
There are no more such masters : I may wander 
From east to Occident §, cry out for service, 
Try many, all good, serve truly, never 
Find such another master. 

Luc. 'Lack, good youth I 

Thou movest no less with thy complaining, 

than [friend. 

Thy master in bleeding : Say his name, good 

Jmo. Richard du Champ. If 1 do lie, and do 

No harm by it, though the gods hear, 1 hope 

{Aside, 
They'll pardon it. Say you, sir? 

Luc, Thy name? 

Imo, Fidele. 

Luc. Thou dost approve thyself the very i 
same : [name. 

Thy name well fits thy faith ; thy faith, thy 
Wilt take thy chance with me? 1 w ill not Lay, I 
Thou ehalt be so well master'd; but, be sure, ! 
No less beloved. The Roman emperor's letters, j 
Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner ' 

Than thine own worth prefer thee: Go witk 
me. [the gods, 

Jmo. I'll follow, sir. But first, an't please 
I'll hide my master from the flies, as deep 
As these poor pickaxes |] can dig : and when 
With wild wood-leaves and weeds 1 have 

strew'd his grave. 
And on it said a century of prayers. 
Such as I can, twice o'er, I'll weep, and sigh ; 
Aud, leaving so his service, follow you, 
So please you entertain me. 

Luc. Ay, good youth; J 

And rather father thee, than master thee. — 
My friends. 

The boy hath taught us manly duties : Let u» • 
Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can. 



A face like .ove's. 



t Lawless, licentioun. 
) Tlje west 



X i.e., 'Tis a ready, appobitt 
Her fingers. 



conclusion. 



Scene IL] 



CYMBEJLIJVK. 



863 



And make him with our pikes aad partisans 
A grave : Come, arm him. — J^oy, he is pre- 

ferr*d 
By thee to us ; and he shall be interred 
As soldiers can. Be cheerful ; wipe thine eyes : 
{Some falls are means the happier to arise. 

lExeu?it. 

SCENE III. A Room in Cymbeline's 

Palace. 

Enter C ymbehne. Lords, and Pisanio. 

Cym. Again ; and bring me word, how 'tis 
with her. 
A fever with the absence of her son ; 
A madness, of which her life's in danger: — 
Heavens, [Imogen, 

How deeply you at once do touch me 1 
The great part of my comfort, gone : my queen 
Upon a desperate bed ; and in a time 
When fearful wars point at me; her son gone, 
So needful for this present : It strikes rae past 
The hope of comfort. — But for the«^. fello w. 
Who needs must know of her departure, and 
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee 
By a sharp torture. 

Pis. Sir, my life is yours, 

I humbly set it at your will: But, for my 

mistress, 
I nothing know where she remains, why gone, 
^'or when she purposes return. 'Beseech your 

highness, 
Hold me your loyal servant. 

1 Lord. Good, my liege. 

The day that she was missing he was here : 
I dare be bound he's true, and shall perform 
All parts of his subjection loyally. 
For Cloten, — 

There wants no diligence in seeking him, 
And will, no doubt, be found. 

Cym. The time's troublesome : 

We'll slip you for a season ; but our jealousy 
[_To Pis A MO. 
Does yet depend. 

1 JLord. So please your majesty. 

The Roman legion^ all from Gallia drawn. 
Are landed on your coast; with a supply 
Of Roman gentlemen, by the senate sent. 

Cym. Now for the counsel of my son and 
I am amazed with matter*. [queen ! 

1 Lord. . Good my liege. 

Your preparation can aflfront f no less 
Than what you hear of; come more, for more 
you're ready : [motion 

The want is, but to put those powers j in 
That long to move. 

Cym. I thank you: Let's withdraw: 

And meet the time, as it seeks us. We fear 
What can from Italy annoy us; but [not 

We grieve at chances here. — Away. [Exeunt. 

Pis. I heard no letter from my master, since 
I wrote him Imoi^en was slain: Tis strange: 
Nor hear 1 from my mistress, who did promise 
To yield me often tidings; Neither know i 
WImi is betid to Cloten; but remain 
Perpt^x'd in all. Tiie heavens fctill must work: 



' C<»«founded by a variety of business. t Encounter. 

J iSotice, H ilevoher*. - f An avcouuf- *« Noticing us. 



Wherein I am false, 1 aoi honest; not true 

to be true. [try, 

Taese present wars shall find I love my coun- 

Even to the note § o'the king, or Til fall in 

them. 
All other doubts, by time let them be clear'd: 
Fortune brings in some boats, that are not 
steer'd. [JExU, 

SCENE IV. Before the Cave. 

Enter Belarivs, GviDKRivs, and 

Arviragus. 

Gui. The noise is round about us. 

Eel. Let us from it. 

Arv, What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to 
From action and adventure ? [lock it 

Gui, Nay, what hope 

Have we in hiding us? this way, the Romans 
Must or for Britons slay us ; or receive us 
For barbarous and unnatural revolts |j 
During their use, and slay us after. 

Eel. Sons, 

We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. 
To the king's party there's no going; newness 
Of Cloten's death (we being not known, not 

muster'd 
Among the bands) may drive us to a render IT 
Where ue have lived ; and so extort from us 
That which we've done, whose answer would 
Drawn on with torture. [be death 

Gui. This is, sir, a doubt. 

In such a time, nothing becoming yoa. 
Nor satisfying us. 

Arv. It is not likely, 

Tuat when they hear the Roman horses neigh. 
Behold their quarter'd fires, have both their 

eyes 
And ears so cloy'd importantly as now, 
That they will waste theirtime upon our note**. 
To know from whence we are. 

Eel. Of I am known 

Of many in the army : many years. 
Though Cloten then but young, you see, not 

wore him - 
From my remembrance. And, besides, the king 
Hath not deserved my service, nor your loves ; 
Who find in my exile the want of breeding. 
The certainty of this hard life ; aye hopeless 
To have the courtesy your cradle promised. 
But to be still hot summer's tanlings, and 
The shrinking slaves of winter. 

Gui. Than be so 

Better to cease to be. Pray, sir, to the army • 
I and my brother are not known ; yourself. 
So out of thought, and thereto so o'ergrown. 
Cannot be question'd. 

Arv. By this sun that shines 

I'll thither : What thing is it, that I never 
Did see man die? scarce ever look'd on blood 
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and ve 

nison? 
Never besirid a horse, save one, that had 
A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel 
Nor iron on his heel 1 I am ashamed 
To look upon the holy sun, to have 

X Forces. 



SG4^ 



SHAKSPE4RE. 



ct r 



The benefit of his blessM beams, remaining 
So long a poor unknown. 

GuL By heavens, Pll go : 

If you will ble:5s me, sir, and give me leave, 
I'll take the belter care ; but if you will not. 
The liazard therefore due fall on me by 
The hands of Romans 1 

Arv. So say I; Amen. 

Bel. No reason I, since on your lives you 
set 



So slight a valuation, should reserve 

My crack'd one to more care. Have with 

you, boys : 
If in your country wars you chance to die. 
That is my bed too, lads, and there I'll lie : 
Lead, lead. — The time seems long ; their blood 

thinks scorn, {Aside, 

Till it fly out, and show thejn princes born. 

[^eunt. 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. A Field between the British 
and Roman Camps, 

Enter Posthdmus with a bloody 
Handkerchief. 
Post. Yea, bloody cloth, Fll keep thee ; 

for I wishM [ones, 

Thou shoiildst be coloured thus. You married 
If each of you would take this course, how 

many [selves, 

Must murder wives much better than them- 
For wrying* but a little 1 — O, Pisanio! 
Every good servant does not all commands : 
"No bend, bnt to do jnst ones. — Gods, if you 
Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I 

never 
Had lived to put on + this : so had you saved 
Tlie noble Imogen to repent ; and struck 
Me wretch more worth your vengeance. But, 

alack, [love. 

You snatch some hence for little faults ; that's 
To have them fall no more : you some permit 
To second ills with ills, each elder worse ; 
And make them dread it to the doer's thrift. 
But Imogen is your own : Do your best wills, 
And make me blessM to obey I — I am brought 
Among the Italian gentry, and to fight [hither 
Aijainst my lady's kingdom : *Tis enough 
That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress ; 

peace ! [heavens, 

Pll give no wound to thee. Therefore, good 
Hear patiently my purpose : I'll disrobe me 
Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself 
As docs a Briton peasant: so I'll fiijht 
Against the part I come with ; so I'll die 
F<»r thee, O Imogen, even for whom n)y life 
Is, every breath, a death : and thus, unknown, 
Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril 
Myself I'll dedicate. Let me make men know 
More valour in me, than my habits show. 
Gods, put the strength o'the Leonati in me I 
To shame the guise o'the world, I will begin 
The fashion, less without and more within. 

[Exit, 

SCENE II. The same. 
Enter, at one side, Lucius, Iachimo, and 
the Roman Artny ; at the other side, the 
British i4rwy,~LEONATUs Posthumus 
following it like a poor Soldier. They 
march every and go out. Alarums. Then 



enter again, in skirmish, Iachimo and 

Posthumus: he vanquisheth and dis- 

armeth Iachimo, and then leaves him. 

lach. The heaviness and guilt within my 

bosom 

Takes ofif my manhood : I have belied a lady, 

The princess of this country, and the air on't 

Revengingly enfeebles me ; or could this carl j, 

A very drudge of nature's, have subdued me, 

In my profession "? Knighthoods and honours, 

borne 
As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. 
If that thy gentry, Britain, go before 
This lout, as he exceeds our lords, the odds 
Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods. 

[Exit. 
The battle continues ; the Britonsy?y ; Cym- 
BELiNis is taken : then enter to his rescue, 
Belarius, Guidf.rius, and Arviragus. 
Bel. Stand, stand! We have the advantage 
of the ground; 
The lane is guarded : nothing routs us but 
The villany of our fears. 

Gui. Arv. Stand, stand, and fight! 

Enter 'PosrHijyivs,and seconds the Britons. 

They rescue Cymbeline, a?id exeunt. 

Then, enter Lucius, Iachimo, and 

Imogen. [thyself: 

Lvc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save 

For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such j 

As war were hood-wink'd. 

Jach. 'Tis their fresh supplies. 

Luc. It is a day turn'd strangely : or betimes i 
Lefs re-enforce or fly. [Exeunt. 

SCENE III. Another Part of the Field. 
Enter Posthumus and a British Lord. 
Lord. Camest thou from where they made 

the stand? 
Post. I flid : 

Though you, it seems, come from the fliers. 
Lord. I «if^- 

JPost. No blame be to you, sir ; for all was 
lost, 
But that the heavens fought : The king him&elf 
Of his wings destitute, the army broken. 
And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying 
Throut^h a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted. 
Lolling the tongue with slaughtering, having 
work 



•'Deviating from the right way. f Incite, instigate. X Clown. 



Scene IIJ,] 



CYMBELINE. 



SG5 



More plentiful than tools to do*t, struck down. 

Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some 

falling [damm'd* 

Merely throu"^ fear ; that the strain pass was 

With dead men, hurt behind, and cowards liv- 

To die with lengthened shaine. [ing 

Lord. Where was this lane? 

Post. Close by the battle, ditchM, and waU'd 

with turf; 

Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, — 

All honest one, I warrant ; who deserved 

So long a breeding, as his white beard came to, 

lu doing this for his country; — athwart the 

lane, 
He, with two striplings, (lads more like to run 
The country base t, than to commit such siaugh- 
With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer [ter ; 
Than those for preservation cased, or shame,) 
Made good the passage ; cry'd to those that fled. 
Our Britain's harts diejiying, not our men! 
To darkneasjieety souls thatjiy backwards : 

Stand ; 
Or we are Romans, and will give you that 
JLtike beasts y which you shun beastly ; and 
may save, [These three, 

But to look hack infrowii: stand, stand, — 
'i hree thousand confident, in act as many, 
(For three performers are the tile, when all 
The rest do nothing,) with this word, stand, 

stand, 
Accominodated by the place, more charming, 
With their own nobleness, (which could have 
A distatfto a lance,) gilded pale looks, [turnM 
Part, shame, part, spirit renew'd; that some, 

tnrn'd coward 
But by example (O, a sin in war, 
Daniu'd in the first beginners!) '^an to look 
The way that they did, and to grin like lions 
Upon the pikes o' the hunters, ihen began 
A stop i'the chaser, a retire ; anon, 
A rout, confusion thick: Forthwith they fly 
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd eagles; 
slaves, [cowards 

The strides they victors made : and now our 
(Like fragments in hard voyages,) became 
The life o'the need; having found the back- 
door open [wound ! 
Of the unguarded hearts, heavens 1 how they 
Some, slain before ; some, dying; soine, their 
friends [one, 
O'erborne i'lhe former wave : ten, chased by 
Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty: 
I'hose, that would die, or ere resist, are grown 
The mortal bugs; o'the field. 

Lord. This was a strange chance: 

A narrow lane! an old man, and two boys! 
Post. Nay, do not wonder at it : You are 
made 
Rather to wonder at the things you hear^ 
Thau to work any. Will you rhyme upon't, 
A.nd vent it for a mockery? Here is one: 
Two boy '^^ an old man., twice a boy, a lane. 
Preserved the Britons, was the Boman*s 
Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir. {bane. 

Post. 'Lack, to what end 1 



Who dares not stand his foe, I'll be his trieud : 
For if he'll do, as he is made to do, 
1 know, he'll quickly fly my friendship too. 
You have put me into rhyme. 

Lord. Farewell, you are angry. 

{Exit. 
Post. Still going?— This is a lord! O noble 
misery ! 
To be i'the field, and ask, what news of me ! 
To-day, how many would have givea their 

honours 
To have saved their carcasses? took heel to do't. 
And yet died too? 1, in mine own woecharm'd. 
Could not find death, where I did hear him 

groan ; [monster. 

Nor feel him, where he struck : Being an ugly 
'Tis strange, he hides him in fresh cups, soft 

beds, 
Sweet words ; or hath more ministers than we 
That draw his knives i'the war. — Well, I will 

find him : 
For being now a favourer to the Roman, 
No more a Briton, 1 have resumed again 
The part I came in: Fight I will no more. 
But yield me to the veriest hind, that shall 
Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaughteris 
Here made by the Roman; great tlie answer be 
Britons must take; For me, my ransome's 

death ; 
On either side I come to spend my breath ; 
Which neither here I'll keep, nor bear again. 
But end it by some means for Imogen. 
Enter Two British Captains, atia Soldiers. 

1 Cap. Great Jupiter be praised! Lucius is 

taken : [angels. 

'TIS thought, the old man and his sons weie 

2 Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly 

habit. 
That gave the affront § with them. 

1 Cap. So 'tis reported : 
But none of them can be found. — Stand ! who 

Post. A Roman; i is there? 

Who had not now been drooping here, if s«'- 
Had answer'd him. [conds 

2 Cop. Lay hands on him ; a dog ! 
A leg of Rome shall not return to tell 

What crows have peck'tl them here. He brags 

his service 
As if he were of note : bring him to the king. 
Enter Cymbeline, attendeU ; Bklarius, 
GuiDERius, Arviragus, Pisamo, and 
Roman Captives. The Captains present 
PosTHUMUs to Cymbeline, ivho delivers 
him over to a Gaoler : after which, all 
go out. 

SCENE IV. A Prison. 
iS'«?fr Post HUM us, and Two Gaolers. 

1 Gaol. You shall not now be stolen, you 

have locks upon you; 
So, graze, as you find pasture. 

2 Gaol. Ay, or a stomach. 

{Exeunt Gaolers. 

Post. Most welcome, bondage ! for thou art 

I think, to liberty : Yet am 1 belter [a way. 



• BlockM up. t A country game callrd friaoii bars vulgarly prison-base. 

X Terrots. j Encounter. 

4 a 



8 '56 



SHAKSPEARE. 



Act V. ' 



Than one that's sick o'tlie gont : since he had 
Croan so in perpetuity, than he cur'^d [rather 
hy the snre physician, dc-iih ; who is the key 
To unbar these locks. My conscience! thou 
art felter'd [gods, give me 

Moie than my shanks and wrists: You., good 
Tiie peniient instrument, to pick that bolt, 
Then, free for ever! Is't enough, T am sorry ? 
So ciiildren temporal fathers do appease; 
Gods are more full of mercy. Must 1 repent? 
I cannot do it better than in gyves*, 
Desired, more than constrain'd : to satisfy, 
If of my freedom 'tis the main part, take 
No stricter render of me, than my ail. 
I know, you are more clement than vile men, 
"Who of their broken debtors take a third, 
A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again 
On thtir abatement; that's not my desire: 
For Imogen's dear life, take mine ; and though 
*Tis not so dear, yet 'tis a life; you coin'd it: 
'Tween man and man, they weigh not every 

stamp; 
Though light, take pieces for the figure sake: 
You rather mine, being yours: And so, great 

powers. 
If you will take this audit, take this life. 
And cancel these cold bonds. O Imogen! 
I'll speak to thee in silence. [He sleeps. 

Soli mn Music f. Enter, as an Apparition, 
SiciLius Leonatus, Father to Posthu- 
Mus, an old Man, attired like a Warrior; 
hading in his Hand an ancieiit Matron, 
his Wife, and Mother to Posthumus, 
tvith Music before them. Then, after 
other Music, follow the Tuo Young Leo- 
nati. Brothers to Posthumus, with 
Wounds, as they died in the Wars- They 
circle Posthumus round, as he lies 
sleeping. 

Sici. No more, thou thunder master, show 
Thy spite on mortal flies: 
With Mars fall out, with Juno chide. 
That thy adulteries 

Rates and revenges. 
Hath my poor boy done an^ht but well, 

Whose face 1 never saw? 
1 died, whilst in the womb he stay'd 

Attending Nature's law. 
Whose father then (as men report, 

Thou orphans' father art,) 
Thou ehonklst have been, and shielded him 
Frore this earth-vexing smart. 
Moth. Lucina lent not me her aid. 
But took me in my throes; 
That from me was losihumus ript. 
Came crying 'mongst his foes, 
A. thing of pity I 
Sici. Creat nature, like his ancestry. 
Moulded th«? stuff so fair. 
That he «lcserved the praise o'the world, 
As great Sicilius' heir. 
1 Bro. When once he was mature for man. 
In Britain, where was he 
That could stand op his parallel; 
Or fruit/ui ooject be 



In eye of Imogen, that best 
Could dei^m his dignity 
Moth. With marriage wherefore was he 
'Jo be exiled and thrown [mock'tJ, 

From Leonati's seat, and cast 
From her his dearest one. 
Sweet Imogen? 
iSici. Why did you sutter lachimo, 
Slight thing of Italy, 
To taint his nobler heart and brain 

With needless jealousy ; 
And to become the geek 4: and scorn 
O' the other's villany ? 
2 Bro. For this, from stiller seats we came. 
Our parents, and us twain. 
That, striking in our country's cause, 

Fell bravely, and were slain; 
Our fealty, and Tenantius' right. 
With honour to maintain. 
1 Bro. Like hardiment i^osthumui hath 
To Cymbi'line perform'd : 
Then Jupiter, thou king of gods, 

Why hast thou thus adjcurn'd 
The graces for his merits due ; 
Being all to doloui s tnrn'd ? 
Sici. Ihy crystal window ope; look out; 
No longer exercise. 
Upon a valiant race, thy harsh 
And potent injuries. 
Moth. Since, Jupiter, our son is good. 

Take off his miseries. 
Sici. Peep through thy marble mansion 
Or we poor ghosts will cry [help I 

To the shining synod of the rest. 
Against thy deity. 
^ Bro. Help, Jupiter ; or we appeal. 
And from thy justice fly. 
Jupiter descends in Thunder and f.ignt' 
ning, sitting upon an Eagle ; h^ throus a 
Thunder-bolt. The Ghosts full on their 
knees, 
J up. No more, yon petty spirits of region low, 
Offend our hearing; bush! — Kow dare you 
ghosts, 
Accuse the thunderer, whose bolt you know, 

Sky-planted, battels all rebelling co;ists? 
Poor shadows of Elysium, hence: an<l rest 

Upon your never withering banks of tlowers: 
Be not with mort;il accidents opprest; 

No care of yours it is, you know, 'tis ours. 
Whom best 1 love, I cross; to make my gift. 

The more delay'd, delighted, lie content ; 
Your low-laid ?on our godhead will uplilt : 

His comforts thrive, his trials well are spent. 
Our Jovial star reign'd at his biith, and in 

Our temple was he married. — Ri.-e, and 
He shall be lord of lady Imogen, [fade! — 

And happier much by his affliction made. 
This tablet lay upon his breast ; wherein 

Our pleasure his full fortune doth confine ; 
And so, awaj : no further with your din 

P.xpress impatience, lest yon stir up mine.~- 
Mount, eagle, to my palace crystdline. 

[A'^cends. 
Sici. He carae in thunder ; his celestial breath 



► Fette 



+ This Scene is supposed not to be Shakspeare's, but fcisted in hy the Player* 
for mere show. t The fool. 



Se^ne /r.] 



CYMBELINE. 



867 



VVas sulphurous to smell ; the holy eagle 
StoopM, as to foot ns : his ascension is [bird 
More sweet than onr blessed fields : his royal 
Prunes the immortal win)<, and cloys his beak. 
As when his jjod is pleased. 
AIL. Thanks, Jupiter! 

Sici. The marble pavement closes, he is en- 
ter'd 
His radiant roof: — Away ! and, to be blest. 
Let us with care perform his great behest. 

[Ghosts vanish. 
. Post. [TVakhig.] Sleep, thou hast been a 

grandsire, and begot 
Affthertome: and thou hast created 
A mother and two brothers : But (O scorn !) 
Gone! they went hence so soon as they were 
born. [pend 

And so [ am awake. — Poor wretches that de- 
On greatness' favour, dream as 1 have done ; 
Wake, and find nothing. — But, alas, I swerve : 
Many dream not to find, neither deserve, 
And yet are steep'd in favours ; so am I, [why. 
That liave this golden chance, and know not 
What fairies haunt this ground? A book? O 

rare one ! 
Be not, as is onrfangled world, a garment 
Nobler ihan that it covers : let +hy effects 
So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers. 
As good as promise. 

[Reads.] H hen as a lion's tvhelp shall, to 
himself known, without seeking find, and 
be em'traced by a piece of tender air ; and 
when from a stately cedar shall be lopped 
branches, which, being dead many years, 
shall after revive, be jointed to the old 
stock, and freshly grow ; then shall Ppst- 
hnmus end his miseries, Britain be fortu- 
nate, and flourish in peace and plenty. 
'Tis still a dream ; or else such stuflf as madmen 
Tongue, and brain not: either both, or nothing: 
Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such 
As sense cannot untie. Be what it is, 
Jhe action of my life is like it, which 
ril keep, if but for sympathy. 

Re-enter Gaolers. 
Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready for death 1 
Post. Over-roasted rather : ready long ago, 
Gaol. Hanging is the word, sir; if you be 
ready for that, you are well cooked. 

Pf>s/. So, if I prove a good repast to the 
spectators, the dish pays the shot. 

Gaol. A heavy reckoning for you, sir: But 

the comfort i», you shall be called to no more 

oayments, fear no more tavern bills ; which 

> orien the sadness of parting, as the pro- 

ing of mirth: you come in faint for want 

v.f meal, depart reeling with too much drink; 

sorry that yon have paid too much, and sorry 

that you are paid too much; purse and brain 

both empty: the brain the heavier for being 

too light, the purse too light, beiisg drawn of 

heaviness: O .' of this contradiction you shall 

now be quit. — O the chari'y of a penny cord ! 

it sums up thousands in a trice : yon have no 

' ue debitor and creditor but it; of what's 

<H, is, and to come, the discharge : — Your 



neck, sir, is pen, book, and counters ; so the 
acquittance follows. 

Post. lam merrierto die,than thou art to live. 

Gaol. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels not 
the tooth-ach : But a man that were to sleep 
your sleep, and a hangman to help him to bed, 
I think, he would change places with his olfi- 
cer ; for, look you, sir, you know not which 
way you shall go. 

Post. Yes, indeed, do I, fellow. 

Gaol. Your death has eyes in's head then ; 
1 have not seen him so pictured : you must 
either be directed by some that take upon 
them to know; or take upon yourself that, 
which I am sure you do not know ; or jnmp * 
the after-inqniry on your own peril : and how 
you shall speed in your journey's end, I think 
you'll never return to tell one. 

Post. I tell thee, fellow, there are none 
want eyes to direct them the way I am going, 
but such as wink, and will not use them. 

Gaol. What an infinite mock is this, that a 
man should have the best use of eyes, to see 
the way of blindness! I am sure, hanging's the 
way of winking. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. Knock off his manacles ; bring your 
prisoner to the king. 

Post. Thou hi ingest good news; — I am 
called to be made free. 

Gaol. Pll be hanged then. 

Post, Thou shalt be then freer than a gaole 
no bolts for the dead. 

[Edcnnt PosTHUMus and Messenger 

Gaol. Unless a man wocild marry a gallows 
and beget young gibbets, I never saw one so 
prone t. Yet, on my conscience, there are 
verier knaves desire to li^e^ for all he be a 
Roman: and there be some of them too, that 
die against their wills ; so should I, if I were 
one. I would we were all of one mind, an*^ 
one mind good ; O, there were desolation oi 
gaolers, and gallowses? I speak against my 
present profit ; but my wish hath a prefer- 
ment in't. {Exeu7it. 

SCENE V. Cymbeline's Tent. 
Enter Cymbeline, Belarius, Guidk- 
Rius, Arviragus, PisANio, Lords, Ojti- 
cers, and Attendants. 

Cyni. Stand by my side, you whom the gods 
have made 
Preset vers of my throne. Woe is my heart. 
That the poor soldier, that so richly fought. 
Whose rags shamed gilded arms, whose naked 

breast 
Stepp'd before targe+of proof,cannot be found* 
He .shall be happy tlial can find him, if 
Our grace can make him so. 
j Bel. I never saw 

Such noble fury in so poor a thing ; 
Such precious deeds in one that promised 
; But bejgary and poor looks. [nought 

I Cym. No tidings of him 

j Pis. He hath been searchM among the deao 
But no trace of him. [and living 



H**sard. 



t Forward. 



t Targf t, shield. 



86S 



SHAKSPEARE 



[Act r. 



Ci//fi. To my grief, I am 

The heir of his reward : which I will add 
To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain, 
[To Bi:lar.,Guiu., and Arvir. 
By whom, I grant, she lives; 'Tis now the 
To ask or whence you are : — report it. [time 

Bei. Sir, 

In Cambria are we born, and gentlemen: 
Further to boast, were neither true nor modest. 
Unless I add, we are honest. 

Cym. Bow your knees : 

Aris^, my knights o'the battle : I create you 
Companions to our person, and will lit you 
With dignities becoming your estates. 
Enter Cornelius and Ladies. 
There's business in these faces: — Why so sadly 
Greet you our victory ? you look like Romans, 
And not o*the court of Britain. 

Cor. Hail, great king ! 

To sour your happiness, I must report 
The queen is dead. 

Cym. Whom worse than a physician 

Would this report become? But I consider. 
By medicine life may be prolong'd, yet death 
Will seize the doctor loo. — How ended she? 
Cor. With horror, madly d>ing, like her life; 
Which, being cruel to the world, concluded 
Most cruel to herself. What she confessed, 
I will report, so please you : These her women 
Can trip me, if I err : who, with wet cheeks. 
Were present when she fiuish'd. 

Cym. Pry'thee, say. 

Cor. First, she confess'd she never loved 
you ; only 
Affected greatness got by you, not you: 
Married your royalty, was wife to your place ; 
Abhorr'd your person. 

Cym. She alone knew this : 

And, but she spoke it dying, 1 would not 
Believe her lips in opening it. Proceed. 

Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in hand 
With such integrity, she did confess [to love 
Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life. 
But that her fliL;ht prevented it, she had 
Ta'en off by poison. 

Cym.. O most delicate fiend! 

Who is't can read a woman ? — Is there more ? 
Cor. More, sir, and worse. She did confess, 
she had 
For you a mortal mineral ; which, being took. 
Should by the minute feed on life, and, linger- 
ing, [posed. 
By inches waste you : In which dme,she pur- 
By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to 
O'ercome you with her show : yes, and in 
time, [work 
(When she had fitted you with her craft,) to 
Her son into the adoption of the crown. 
But failing of her end by his strange absence, 
Grew shameless desperate ; open'd, in despite 
Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented 
The evils she hatch'd were not effected ; go. 
Despairing, died. 

Cym. Heard you all this, her women? 

L,ad^, We did so, please your highness. 
Cj;m Mine eyes 

• Ready, doxterous. 



Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; 
Mine ears, that heard her flattery ; nor my * 

heart, [been vicious, 

That thought her like her seeming; it had 
To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter 1 
That it was folly in me, thou may'st say, 
And prove it in thy feeling. He? ';en mend all! 
Enter Lucius, Iachimo, the Soothsayer, 

and other Roman Prisoners, guarded; ^ 

PosTHUMus behind, and Imogen. 
Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute ; that 
The Britons have razed out, though with the 
loss [made suit, 

Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have 
That their good souls may be appeased with 
slaughter [granted ; 

Of you their captives, which ourself have 
So, think of your estate. [day 

Luc. Consider, sir, the chance of war: the 
Was yours by accident ; had it gone with us. 
We should not, when the blood was cool, have 
threatened [gwl* 

Our prisoners with the sword. But since the 
Will hive it thus, that nothing but our lives 
May be cali'd ransome, let it come: pnfliceth, 
A Roman with a Roman's heart can sutte-r : 
Augustus liveo to think on't : And so much 
For my peculiar care. This one thing only 
1 will entreat; My boy, a Briton born, 
Let him be ransomed : never master had 
A page so kind, so duteous, diliy;ent. 
So lender over his occasions, true, 
So feat*, so nurse-like: let his virtue join 
With my request, which, I'll make bold, your 

highness 
Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm. 
Though he have served a Roman : save him, sir. 
And spare no blood beside. 

Cym. I have surely seen hira : 

His favour t is familiar to me. — 
Boy, thou hast look'd thyself into my grace. 
And art mine own. — 1 know not why, nor 
wherefore, [live : 

To say, live, boy : ne'er thank thy master ; 
And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt. 
Fitting my bounty, and thy state, I'll give it; 
Yea, though thou do demand a prisoner. 
The noblest ta'en. 

Imo. I humbly thank your highness. 

JLuc. I do not bid thee beg my life, good 
And yet, I know, thou wilt. [lad ; 

Jmo. No, no: alack. 

There's other work in hand : I see a thing 
Bitter to me as death : your life, good master, 
Must shuffle for itself. 

Luc. The boy disdains me. 

He leaves me, scorns me : Briefly die their 
joys, [boys, 

That place them on the truth of girls and 
Why stands he so perplex'd? 

Cym, What wouldst thou, boy? 

I love thee more and more ; think more and 

more [on? speak, 

What's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st 

Wilt have him live ? Is he thy kin ? thy friend ? 

Imo. He is a Roman: no more kin tome, 

■f CounlenaucG. 



i Scene r.] 



CYMBELINE. 



869 



Than I to your highness ; who, being born i 

Am something nearer. [your vassal, 

Ci/m. Wherefore ey'st him so? 

Imo. I'll tell you, sir. in private, if you please 

To give me hearing. 

Cym. Ay, with all my heart, 

And lend my best attention. What's thy nnrae? 
Imo. Fidele, sir. 

Cy?7i, Thou art, my good youth, my page; 
1*11 be thy master; Walk with me; speak freely. 
'CvMBELiNE atid Imogen converse apart. 
Bel, Is not this boy revived from death 1 
Arv. One sand another 

Not more resembles : That sweet rosy lad. 
Who died, and was Fidele : — What think you 1 
Qui. The same dead thing alive. 
Bel. Peace, peace! see farther ; he eyes us 
not; forbear; 
Creatures may be alike: were't he, I am sure 
H« would have spoke to us. 

Gut. But we saw him dead. 

Bel. Be silent; let's see further. 
Pis. It is my mistress : 

\^Aside. 

Since she is living, let the lime run on, 

To i^ood, oi- bad. 

[C Y M B E L I N E and Imogen come forward. 

(^ym. Come, stand thou by our side; 

Make thy demand aloud. — Sn-,[7b [ACH.]step 

yon forth ; 
Give answer to this boy, and do it freely; 
Or, by our greatness, and the grace of it, 
Which is <>ur honour, bitter torture shall 
Winnow the truth from falsehood. — On, 
speak to him. 
Imo. My boon is, that this gentieman may 
Of whom he had this ring, [render 

Post. What's that to him \ 

{Aside. 
Cym, That diamond upon your finger, say. 
How came it yours? 

lack. Thou'lt torture me to leave unspoken 
Which, to be spoke, would torture thee, [that 
Cym. How! me? 

lach. I am glad to be constraint to utter 
that which 
Torments me to conceal. By villany 
i iiot this ring; 'twas Leonatns' jewel: 
Whom thou didst banish ; and (which more 
may grieve thee, 
5 it doth me,) a nobler sir ne'er lived 
' i wiKt sky and ground. Wiit thou hear more, 
i ym. AH that belongs to tiiis. [my lord? 
lack. That piragon.thy daughter, — 

F»>r whom my heart drops blood, and my false 

spirits 
Quail* to remember, — Give me leava^ I faint. 
Cym. My daughter! what of her? Renew 
thy strength : [will, 

I had rather thou shouldst livfi while nature 
Than die ere I hear more: strive man, and 
speak. 
lach. Upon a time, (unhappy vvhs the clock 
TKatstruckth hoBr!)it wasin llome,i'accursed 
The mnnsion where!) 'twas ai a feasi, (O 
'wyuld 



Our viands had been poison'd! or, at least. 
Those which I heaved to head !) the good 

Posthumus, 
(What should I say? he was too good, to be 
Where ill men were; and was the best of all 
Amongst the rarest of good ones,) sitting sadly 
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy 
For beauty that made barren the svvell'd boast 
Of him that best could speak: for feature, 
laming [nerva. 

The shrine of Venus, or straight-pight Mi- 
Postures beyond brief nature ; for condition, 
A shop of all the qualities that man 
Loves woman for; besides, that hook of 
wivingj 

Fairness which strikes the eye: 

Cym. I stand on fire : 

Come to the matter. 

lach. All too soon I shaP, 

Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. — Thi» 

Posthumus 
(Most like a noble lord in love, and one 
That had a royal lover,) took bis hint; 
And, notdispraising whom he praised, (therein 
He was as calm as virtue) he began 
His mistress' picture; which by his tongue 

being made, 
And then a mind put in't, either our brags 
Were crack'd of kitchen trulls, or his descrip- 
Proved us unspeaking sots. [tioa 

Cym. Nay, nay, to the purpose. 

lach. Your daughter's chastity — there it 
begins. 
He spake of her as Dian had hot dreams. 
And she alone were cold : Whereat, I, wretch! 
Made scruple of his praise ; and wager'd with 

him 
Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore 
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain [ring 

In suit the place of his bed, and win this 
By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight. 
No lesser of her honour confident 
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring ; 
And would so, had it been a carbuncle 
Of Phoebus' wheel ; and might so safely, had it 
Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britain 
Post I in tills design : Well may you, sir. 
Remember me at court, where 1 was taught 
Of your chaste daughter the wide ditierence 
*Twixt amorous and villauous. Being thug 

quench'd 
Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain 
'Gnn in your duller Britain operate 
Most vileiy ; for my vantage, excellent ; 
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd, 
That 1 return'd with simular proof enough 
To make the noble Leonatns mad, 
By wounding his belief in her renown 
With tokens thus and th.us; averring notes 
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her brace 

let, 
(O, cunning, howl got it!) nay,?o?T)e mark* 
Of secret on her person, tint he couid not 
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd 
j I haviucC ta'en the forieit. Vv h<ire«poji, — 
' Metliink?, i see him now, 



Sink jjitxj deJ'-rtion. 



4 E 3 



870 



SllAKSPEARE. 



[Act f 



Post* Ay, so ihon dost, 

[( omingjoi ward. 
Italian fiend ! — Ah me, most credulous tool. 
Egregious marderer, thief, any thing 
That's due to all the villains past, in being, 
To come ! — O, give me cord, or knife, or poison. 
Some upright justicer I Thou, king, send out 
For torturers ingenious : it is I 
That all the abhorred things of the earth amend, 
By being worse than they. I am Posthumus, 
That kill'd thy duighter: — villain-like, I lie; 
That caused a lesser villain than myself, 
A sacrilegious thief, to do't:— the temple 
Of virtue was she; yea, and she herself*. 
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set 
The dogs o* the street to bay me ; every villain 
Be cali'd Poslhumus Leonatus ; and 
Be villany less than 'twas ! — O Imogen ! 
My queen, my life, iny wife! O Imogen, 
Imogen, Imogen! 

Into, Peace, my lord ; hear, hear— 

Post. Shall's have a play of this? Thou 
scornful page. 
There lie thy part. [Striking her, she falls. 

Pis, O, gentlemen, help, help [mus ! 

Mine, and your mistress : — O, my lord Posthu- 
You ne'er killM Imogen till now: — Help, 
Mine honour'd lady! [help!— 

Cynu Does the world go round? 

Post, How come these staggers on met 

Pis. Wake, my mistress? 

Ci/m. If this be so, the gods do mean to 
To death with mortal joy. [strike me 

Pis. ilow fares my mistress? 

Imo. O, get thee from my si^ht ; [hence ! 
Thon gavest jne poison: dangerous fellow, 
Breathe not where princes are. 

Cijin. The tune of Imogen 1 

Pis. Lady, 
The gods throw stoner, of stilphnr on me, if 
That box I gave you was not thought by me 
A precious thing; I had it froin the queen. 

Cym. New matter still? 

Imo. It poison'd me. 

Cor. O Go(l5 !— 

I left out one thing which ihe queen confessed, 
Which must approve thr.e honest : If Pisanio 
Have,said8he,given his nistress that confection 
Which I gave him for a cordial, she is served 
As I would serve a 'at. 

Cym. What's this, Cornelius? 

for. The qoeen, sir, very oft importuned me 
To temperf poisons for her; still pretending 
The satisfaction of her knowledge, only 
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs 
Of no esteem : I, dreading that her ptirpose 
Was Pi more danger, did compound for her 
A certain stuff, which, being ta'en would cease 
Th« present power of life ; but, in short time, 
All offices of nature should again 
Do their due functions. — Have you ta'en of it ? 

Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead. 

Bel. My boys, 

There was our error. 

Gui. Thig is sure, Fidele. [from yon ? 

Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady 



Think, that you are upon a rock; and now 
Throw me again. [Emhracing kint 

Post. Hang there like fruit, my soul 

Till the tree die! 

Cym. How now, my flesh, my child » 

What, makest thou me a dullard in this act i 
Wilt thou not speak to me <. 

Imo. Your blessing, sir. 

[Kneeli/ig. 

Bel. Though you did love this youth,"' 

You had a motive for*t. [blame ye not ; 

\T0 GUIDERIUS flWrf Arvika(. us. 

Cym. My tears that fall 

Prove holy water on thee! Imogen, 
Thy mother's dead. 

Imo. I am sorry for't, my lord 

Cym. O, she was naught ; and *long of her 
was, 
That we meet here so strangely : But her io.i 
Is gone, we know not how, nor where. 

Pis. My lord 

TS'ow fear is from me, I'll speak troth. L«.cl 
Upon my lady's missing, came to me [Clot*-,:, 
With his sword drawn; foam'd at the nioi si,, 

and swore. 
If I discover'd not which way she was goiu , 
It was my instant death : By accident, 
I had a feigned letter of my master's 
Then in my pocket ; whi( h directed him 
To seek her on the mountains near to Milford ; 
Vv here, in a frenzy, in my master's garments'. 
Which he inforced from m.e, away he posts 
With unchaste purpose, and with oath to vir*- 
My lady's honour: what became of him, [Lite 
1 further know not. 

Gui. Let me end the story : 

I slew him there, 

Cym. Marry, the gods forfend ; ! 

I would not thy good deeds should from iwy 

lips 
Pluck a hard sentence : pr'ythee, valiant youth, 
Deny't again. 

Gui. I have spoke it, and I did it. 

Cijm. He was a prince. [did me 

Gui. A most uncivil one: The wrongs he 
Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke 
m.e [s< i. 

With language that would make me spurn th® 
If it could mar so to me : I cut ofi 's head ; 
And am right glad he is not standing here 
To fell this tale of mine. 

Cum. I am sorry for thee : 

By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and 

Endure our law : J hon art deid. [mu?«t 

Imo. That headless nnm 

I thought had been my lord. 

Cym. Bind the offender. 

And take him from our presence. 

Bel. Stay, sir king: 

This man is better than the man lie slew. 
As well descended as thyself; and hath 
More of thee merited than a hand of Cloiens 
Had ever scar for. — Let his arms alone ; 

[To the Guard 
They were not born for bond<ige. 

Cym. Wiiy, old soldier 



• Not only the tempU- of virtue, but virtm- Ik rself. t Mix, rompouod. 



Forbid. 



Scene F.J 



CYMBELINE. 



871 



Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for, 
By tasting of our wrath? How of descent 
As good as we? 

Arv. In that he spake too fer. 

Cym, And thou shait die for't. 
Bel. We will die all three : 

But I will prove, that two of us are as good 
As I have given out him. — My sons, 1 must. 
For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech, 
1 hough, haply, well for you. 

Arv. Your danger is 

Ours. 

Gill. And our good his. 
Bel. Have at it, then. — 

By leave; — Thou hadst, great king, a subject, 
Was call'd Belarius. [who 

Cym. What of him? he is 

A banish'd traitor. 

Bel. He it is, that hath 

Assumed this age : indeed, a banish'd man ; 
I know not how, a traitor. 

Cym. Take him hence ; 

The whole world shall not save him. 

Bel. Not too hot : 

First pay me for the nursing of thy sons ; 
And let it b-e confiscate all, so soon 
As I have received it. 

Cym. Nursing of my sons ? 

Bel. I am too blnnl, and saucy : Here's my 
Ere I arise, I will prefer my sons; [knee; 
Then, spare not the old father. Mighty sir, 
These two young gentlemen, that call me father. 
And think they are my sons, are none of mine ; 
They are the issue of your loins, my liege. 
And blood of your begetting. 

Cym. How! my issue? 

Bel. So sure as you your father's. 1, old 
Morgan, [nish'd: 

Am that Belarins whom you sometime ba- 
Your pleasure was my mere offence, my pu- 
nishment 
Itself, and all ray treason ; that I suffered, 
Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes 
(For such, and so, they are,) these twenty years 
Have I train'd up: those arts they have, as I 
Could put into them; my breeding was, sir, as 
Your highnesg knows. Their nurse, Euriphile, 
* Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these chil- 
Upon my banishment : 1 moved her to*t ; [dren 
Having received the punishment before. 
For that which I did then : Beaten for loyalty 
Excited me to treason : Their dear loss. 
The more of you 'twas felt, the more it shaped 
Unto my end of stealing them. But, gracious 
Htre are your sons again ; and I must lose [sir, 
1 wo of the sweet'st companions in the world ; 
The benediction of these covering heavens 
Fall on their heads like devvl for they are 
'Jo inlay heaven with stars. [worthy 

Cijm. Thou weep'st, and speak'st. 

The service that you tliree have done, is more 
Unlike than this thou tell'st: i lost my chil- 
If ttiese be ihey, I know not how to wish [dren ; 
A pair of worthier sons. 

Br I. Be please<l a while. — 

This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, 



Most worthy prince, as yours, is true, Guide- 
This gentleman, my Cadvval, Arviragus, [rius ; 
Your younger princely son ; he, sir, was lapp'd 
In a most curious mantle, wrought by the hand 
Of his queen mother, which, for more proba- 
I can with ease produce. [tion, 

Cym. Guiderius had 

Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine alar; 
It was a mark of wonder. 

Bel. This is he ; 

Who hath upon him still that natural stamp; 
It was wise nature's end in the donation. 
To be his evidence now. 

Cym. O, what am T 

A mother to the birth of three ? Ne'er mother 
Rejoiced deliverance more : — Bless'd may yoa 

be. 
That, after Ihis^lrange starting from your orbs, 
You may reign in them now ! — O Imogen, 
Thou hast lost by this a kingdom. 

Imo. No, my lord ; 

I have got two worlds by't. — O my gentle bro- 
Have we thus met 1 never say hereafter, [ther. 
But I am truest speaker : you call'd me brother. 
When I was but your sister ; I you brothers. 
When you were so indeed. 
Cym. Did you ere meet? 

Arv. Ay, my good lord. 
Giii. And at first meeting loved; 

Continued so, until we thought he died. 
C<r. By the queen's dram she swallovv'd. 
Cym. O rare instinct I 

When shall I hear all through? This fierce* 

abridgment 
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which 
Distinction should be rich inf. — Where? how 
lived you? [tive? 

And when came you to serve our Roman cap- 
How parted with your brothers? how first met 
them? [Th.ese, 

Why fled you from the court? and whither? 
And your three motives to the battle, with 
I know not how much more, should be de- 
And all the other by-dependancies. [manded ; 
From chance to chance ; but nor the time, nor 
Will serve our long intergatories. See, [place, 
Posthumus anchors upon Imogen; [eye 

And she, like harmless lightning, throws her 
On him, her brothers, me, her master; hitting 
Each object with a joy ; the counterchange 
Is severally in all. Let's quit this ground. 
And smoke the temple with ovjc sacrifices. — 
Thou art my brother ; So we'll hold thee ever. 
\To Belarius, 
Imo. You are my father too ; and did re- 
To see this gracious season. [lieve me, 

Cym. All o'erjoy'ci. 

Save these in bonds ; let them be joyful too, 
For they shall taste our comfort. 

Imo. My good master, 

I v\ i'l yet do you service. 

Luc. Happy be you I 

Cym. The forlorn soldier, that so nobly 
foti'/ht, [griicotl 

Tie -von id liHve well becomcd this place, aiid 
{ he il!tnkii!Si> ot a king. 



Vehement, raoid. 



t i. e., Whi.'h o:i^hl to be reiwit :ed (ii>iinct by an ample narrative 



872 



SHAKSPKARE. 



[Act r. 



Post. I am, sir, 

The soldier that did company these three 
In poor beseeming ; 'twas a litmeut for 
The purpose I then followM ; — That 1 was he, 
Speak, lacliimo ; I had you down, and might 
Have made you finish. 

lach. I am down again : 

[K/ieeiifig. 

But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee, 

As then your force did. Take that life, 'beseech 

you, 
Which I so often owe : but, your ring first ; 
And here the bracelet of the truest princess 
That ever swore her faith. 

Post. Kneel not to me ; 

The powi r that I have on you, is to spare you ; 
The malice towards you, to forgive you: Live, 
And deal with others better. 

C'y?n. Kobly rtooniM : 

We'll iearn our freeness of a son-in-law ; 
Pardon's the word to all. 

Arv. You holp us, sir. 

As you did mean indeed to be our brother ; 
Joy'd are we, that you are. [lord of Rome, 
Post. Your servant, princes.— Good my 
Call forth your soothsayer : As I slept, me- 
Great Jupiter, upon his ea^iie back, [thought, 
Appear'd to me, with other sprilely shows * 
Of mine own kindred : when 1 waked, I found 
This \dhrA (m my bosom; whoRe containing 
Is so from sense in hardness, that 1 can 
Make no collection of it ; let him show 
His skill in the construction. 

IjUC. Pliiiarmouns, 

Sooth, Here, my good lord. 
JjUC. Read, and declare the meaning. 

Sooth. [Reads.] kVhen as a liofi's whelp 
shall, to hiinseifuukiioivn, without seek'uig 
find, and be enibraced by a piece of tender 
air ; and tvheiijroni a stately cedar .shall 
be lopped branches^ivhivh, being dead many 
years shall ajter revive , be jointed to the 
old stock, and freshly gioiv; then shall 
Posthumus eud his miseries, Britain he for- 
tunate, and fiovrish in peace and plenty. 
Thou, Leonauis, art the lion's whelp; 
The fit and apt coustruciiou of thy name, 

• Ghostly appearances. 



Being Leo-natus, doth import so much : 
The piece of tender air, thy virtuous daughter 
{To Cymbkline, 
Which we call mollis atr ; and mollis ntr 
We term it mulier ; which mulier I divine, 
Is this most constant wife ; who, even now, 
Answering the letter of the oracle. 
Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about 
With this most tender air. 

Ci/7n. This hath some seeming. 

Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, 
Personates thee : and thy lopp'd branches point 
Thy two sons forth : who, by Belarius stolen. 
For many years thought dead, are now revived. 
To the majestic cedar join'd ; whose issue 
PromLses Britain peace and plenty. 

Cym. Well, 

My peace we will begin : — And, Cains Lucius, 
Althoui^h the victor, we submit to Czesar, 
And to the Roman empire ; promising 
To pay our wonted tribute, from the which 
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen; 
Whom heavens, in justice, (both on her and 
Have laid most heavy hand. [hers,) 

Sooth. The fingers of the powers above do 
The harmony of tills peace, i he vision [tt\ne 
Which I made known to Lucius, ere the slrok« 
Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant 
Is full accomplish'd : For the Roman easile, 
From south to west on wing soaring aloft, 
Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o'the sun 
8o vanish'd . which foresiiow'd our princely 
The imperial Caesar, should again unite [eagle. 
His favour wiih the radiant Cymbeline, 
WhicJi shines here in the west. 

Cym. Laud we the gods ; 

And let our crooked smokes climb to their 

nostrils 
From our bless'd altars! Publish wethis peac« 
To all our subjects. Set we forward: Let 
A Roman and a British ensign wave 
Fiiendly together: so through Lud's fowa 
And in the temple of great Jupitor [march: 
Our peace we'll ratify ; seal it with feasts. — 
Set on there: — Kever was a war did cease. 
Ere bloody hands were wash'd, with such a 
peace. [Exeunt, 

t Embraced. 



This play has many just sentiments, gome natnral dialoguea, and some pleasing scenee, bnt 
they are oMained at the expense of much incongruity. To remark the folly of the fiction, 
the absurdity of the conduct, the confusi«)n of the names, and manners of difterenf limes, 
and the inij ossibility of the events in any system of life, were to waste criticism upon un- 
resuting imbecility^ apoa faultfl too evident for detectioOj and too gross for aggravation. — 

JOUNSUN, 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



i^er^ons; reprc^cnteti* 



Saturnin7s, son to the late Emperor of 
Rome, and afterwards declared Empe- 
ror himself. 

Bassianus, brother to Satv/rninus; in love 
with Lavinia. 

Titus Andronicus, a noble Romafi, gene- 
ral against the Goths. 

MARcvsAfiBROKicvSytribune of the people, 
and brother to Titus. 

Lucius, Quintus, Martius,Mutius,*o«5 
to Titus Andronicus. 

Young Lucius, a buy, son to Lucius. 

Pu BLius, son to Marcus y the tribune. 

xiiMiLius, a noble Roman, 



Alarbus, 1 

Chiron, \sons to Tamora, 

Demetrius,} 

Aaron, « Moor, beloved by Tamora. 

A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clown 

Romans. 
Goths and Romans. 
Tamora, Queen of the Goths, 
Lavinia, daughter to Titus Andronicus, 
A Nurse, and a Black Child. 
Kinsmen of Titus, Senators, Tribunes, OJi 
cers, Soldiers, and Attendants, 

Scene, Rome, and the country near it. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. Rome. Before the Capitol, 

Tht'. Tomb of the Andronici appearing : the 
Tribunes and Senators aloft, as in the 
Senate. Enter, below, Saturninus and 
his Followers, on one side ; and Bassia- 
nus and his Follouers, on the other : 
with Drum and Colours, 

Sat. Noble patricians, patrons of my right, 
Defend the justice of my cause with arms ; 
And, countrymen, my loving followers. 
Plead my successive title* with your swords : 
I am his first born son, that was the last 
That ware the imperial diadem of Rome; 
Then let my father's honours live in me. 
Nor wrong mine age with this imlignity. 

JBas. Romans, — friends, followers, favourers 
of my right, — 
If ever Bassianus, Caesar's son. 
Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, 
Keep then this passage to the Capitol ; 
And suffer not dishonour to approach 
The imperial seat, to virtue consecrate. 
To justice, continence, and nobility: 
But let desert in pure election shine ; 
And, Romans, fight for freedom in your choice. 

Enter Marcus Andronicus aloft, tvith 
the Crown. 

Mar. Princes, that strive by factious and 
by friends 
Ambitiously for rule and empery, — 
Know that the people of Rome, for whom 

we stand 
A special party, have, by their common voice, 
In election for the Roman empery, 



* i €., My title to the succession. 



Chosen Andronicus, snrnamed Pius, 

For many good and great deserts to Rome ; 

A nobler man, a braver warrior. 

Lives not this day within the city walls : 

He by the senate is accited f home, 

From weary wars against the barbarous Goths 

That, with his sons, a terror to our foes, 

Hath yoked a nation strong, traiu'd up in arms. 

Ten years are spent since first he undertook 

This cause of Rome, and chastised with arms 

Onr enemies' pride. Five times he hath re- 

turn'd 
Bleeding to Rome, bearing his valiant sons 
In coffins from the field ; 
And now, at last, laden with honour's spoils. 
Returns the good Andronicus to Rome, 
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms. 
Let us entreat, — By honour of his name, 
Whom, worthily, you would have now succeed. 
And in the Capitol and senate's right. 
Whom you pretend to honour and adore, — . 
That you withdraw you, and abate your 

strength ; 
Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should. 
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness. 

Sat. How fair the tribune speaks to calm 
my thoughts ! 

Ras. Marcus Andronicus, so I do affy 
In thy uprightness and integrity. 
And so I love and honour thee and thine. 
Thy nobler brother Titus, and his sons, [all 
And her, to whom my thoughts are humbled 
Cracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament. 
That I will here dismiss my loving friends; 
And to my fortunes, and the people's favour, 

t Summcncd. 



874 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act A 



Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'd. 
[Exeunt the Followers ©/"Bassianus. 
Sat. Friends that have been thus forward in 
my right, 
1 thank you all, and here dismiss you all ; 
And to the love and favour of my country 
Commit myself, my person, and the cause, 

[Exeunt the Followers o/Saturninus. 
Rome, be as just and gracious unto me. 
As I am confident and kind to thee. — 
Open the gates, and let me in. 
Bus. Tribunes! and me, a poor competitor. 
[Sat. and Bas. go into the Capitol, and 
exeunt with Senators, Marcus, 4^. 

SCENE II. The same. 
Enter a Captain, and Others. 
Cap. Romans, make way; the good An- 
dronicus. 
Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion. 
Successful in the battles that he fights, 
With honour and with fortune is return'd. 
From where he circumscribed with his sword, 
And brought to joke, the enemies of Rome. 
Flourish of Trumpets, S^c, enter Mutius 
and Martius : after them, two Men 
hearing a Coffin covered tvith black ; 
then Q (T I N Tu s and Lu ci r s. After them, 
TiTLS Andronicus; andthenTh^ovik, 
with Alarbus, Chiron, Demetrius, 
Aaron, and other Goths, prisoners 
Soldiers and People, following. The 
Bearers set down the Coffin, and Titus 
speaks. 
Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourning 
waedsl ;;fraught *, 

Lo, as the bark that hath discharged her 
Returns with precious lading to the bay, 
From whence at first she weigh'd her an- 
chorage, 

Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel boughs. 
To re-solnte his country with his tears; 
Tears of true joy for hts return to Rome. — 
Thou great defender of this Capitol t. 
Stand gracious to the rites that we intend!— 
Romans, of five-andtvrenty valiant sous, 
lUIf of the number that king Priam had. 
Behold the poor remains^ alive, and dead ! 
These, that survive, let Roaie reward with 

love; 
These, that I bring unto their latest home. 
With burial amongst thtir ancestors; 
Here Goths have given me leave to sheath 

my sword. 
Titus, unkmd, and careless of thine own, 
Why suffcr'st thou thy sons, unburied yet. 
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx ? — 
Make way to lay them by their brethren. 

\The Tomb is opened. 
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont, 
And sleep in peace, slain in your country's 
O sacred receptacle of my joys, [wars! 

Sweet cell of virtue and notility, 
How many sons of mine hasl tln.u in store. 
That thou wilt never reiide. to me more? 



JLuc. Give us the proudest prisoner of itie 
Goths, 
That we may hew his limbs, and, on a pile. 
Ad manes fratrum sacrifice his flesh. 
Before this earthly prison of their bones; 
That so the shadows be not unappeased. 
Nor we disturbed with prodigies on earth J. 

Tit. I give him you; the noblest that sur- 
vives. 
The eldest son of this distressed queen 

Tarn. Stay, Roman brethren ;—GracioUi 
conqueror, 
Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, 
A mother's tears in passion § for her son : 
And, if thy sons were ever dear to thee, 
O, think my son to be as dear to me. 
Sufficeth not, that we are brought to Rome, 
To beautify thy triumphs, and return. 
Captive to thee, and to thy Roman yoke ; 
But must my sons be slaughter'd in the streets. 
For valiant doings in their country's cause *? 
O! if to fight for king and common weal 
Were piety in thine, it is in these. 
Andronicus, stain not thy tomb with blood : 
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods 
Draw near them then in being merciful : 
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge ; 
Thrice noble Titus, spare my first-born son. 

Tit. Patient yourself, madam, and pardon 
me. [beheld 

These are their brethren, whom you Goths 
Alive, and dead ; and for their brethren slain, 
Religiously they ask a sacrifice : 
To this your son is mark'd ; and die he must, 
To appease their groaning shadows that are 
gone. [straight; 

Luc. Away with him ! and make a fire 
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood. 
Let's hew his limbs, till they be clean con- 
sumed. 
[Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, Martius, 
a/^rf Mutius, wi^A Alarbus. 

Tarn. O cruel, irreligious piety ! 

Chi. Was ever Scythia half so barbarous? 

Dem. Oppose not Scythia to ambitious 
Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive [Rome. 
To tremble under Titus's threatening look. 
Then, madam, stand resolved ; but hope 
withal, [Troy 

The self-same gods, that arm'd the queen of 
With op^iortunity of sharp revenge 
Upon theThracian tyrant in his tent. 
May favour Tamora, the queen of Goths, 
(When Goths were Goths, and Tamora was 

queen,) 
To quit tlie bloody wrongs upon her foes. 
Re-enter Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and 
Muti us, with their Swords bloody. 

Luc. See, lord and father, how we have 
perform'd 
Our Roman rites : Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd. 
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire, 
Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the 

sky. 
Remainclh nought, but to inter our brethren 



Freight. + Jn^)itcr, to whom the Capitol was sacred. % It was supposed that the 

gho6ts of uuburicti people ;ii>pv. tie;! to solicit l!ie rites of funeral, § Sunering 



\ 



Siene J I.] 



TITLS AADllOi>*I€U!S. 



875 



AuU with loiui Maruuis welcome them to 
Rome. 

Tit. Let it be so, and let Andronicus 
Make this his latest farewell to their souls. 

[Trumpets soumUd, and the Coffins 
laid in the Tomb. 
]n peace and honour rest you here, my sous ; 
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here, 
Secure from worldly chances and mishaps 1 
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells. 
Here grow no damned grudges; here, are no 

storms, 
No noise, but silence and eternal sleep: 

Enter Lwinia. 
Id peace and honour rest you here, my sons! 

Lav. In peace and honour live lord Titus 
long ; 
My noble lord and father, live in fame I 
Lo ! at this tomb my tributary tears 
I render, for rny brethren's obsequies ; 
And at thy feet I kneel with tears of joy 
Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome: 
O, bless me here with thy victorious hand, 
Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud. 

Tit. Kiud Rome, that hast thus lovingly 
reserved 
The cordial of mine age to glad my heart I — 
Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days, 
And fame's eternal date, for virtue's praise*! 
Zi/e^tr Marcus Andronicus, Saturn IN us, 
Bassianus, and Others. 

Mar. Long live lord Titus, my beloved 
brother. 
Gracious trinnipher in the eyes of Ro«ne! 

Tit. Thanks, gentle tribuuQ, noble brother 
Marcus. [cessful wars, 

Mar. And welcome, nephews, from suc- 
You that survive, and you that sleep in fame. 
Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all. 
That in your country's service drew your 

swords: 
But safer triumph is this funeral pomp, 
That hath aspired to Solon's happiness t. 
And triumphs over chance, in honour's bed. — 
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, 
Wiiose friend in justice thou hast ever been. 
Send thee by me, their tribune and their trust, 
This paliiamentl of white and spotless hue; 
And name thee in election tor the empire. 
With these our late-deceased emperor's sons 
Be cundidatus then, and put it on. 
And help to set a head on headless Rome. 

Tit. A better head her glorious body fits 
Than bis, that shakes for age and feebleness : 
What! should 1 don^ this robe, and trouble 
Be chosen with proclamations to-day ; [you? 
To-morrow, yield up rule, resign my life. 
And set abroad new business for you all? 
Rome, 1 have been thy soldier forty years. 
And buried oue-and-twenty valiant sons. 
Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms. 
In right and service of their noble country : 
Give me a staff of honour for mine age. 
But not a sceptre to control the wori4 : 



Upright he held it, lords, that neld it last. 

Mar, Titus, thou shah obtain and ask the 
empery. [thou tell ?— 

Sat. Froud and ambitions tribune, canst 

Tit. Patience, prince Saturnine. 

Sat. Romans, do me right ; — 

Patrician:, draw your swords, and sheath 

them not 
Till Saturniaus be Rome's emperor: — 
Andronicus, 'would thou wert shipp'd to hell. 
Rather than rob me of the people's heart*. 

Luc, Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the 
good 
That noble-minded Titus means to thee! 

Tit. Content thee, prince; I will restore to 

thee [themstlves. 

The people's hearts, and wean thein from 

Bas. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee. 
But honour thee, and will do till I die; 
My faction, if thou strengthen with thy 

friends, 
I will most thankful be : and thanks, to men 
Of noble minds, is honourable meed. [here. 

Tit. People of Rome, and people's tribunes 
I a k your voices, and your suffrages; \c\x%1 
Will you bestow them friendly on Androiii- 

Tri. To gratify the good Andronicus, 
And gratulate his safe return to Rome, 
The people will accept whom he admits. 

Tit, Tribunes, I thank you : and this suit I 
make, 
That you create your emperor's eldest son. 
Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope, 
Hetlect on Rome, as Titan's Ij rays on earth. 
And ripen justice in this comjiion-weal : 
Then if you will elect by my advice, [perorf 
Crown him, and say,— Long lire our em- 
Mar, With voices and applause of every 
Patricians, and plebeians, we create [sort. 
Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor; 
And say, — Long live our emperor Saturnine! 
[A long Flourish. 

Sat. Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done 
To us in our election this day, 
1 give thee thanks in part of thy deserts. 
And will with deeds requite thy gentleness : 
And, for an onset, Titus, to advance 
Th}' name, and honourable family, 
Lavinia will 1 make my emperess, 
Rome's royal mistress, ndstress of my heart. 
And in the sacred Pantheon her espouse: 
Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please 
thee? [match. 

Tit. It doth, my worthy lord ; and, in this 
I hold me highly honour'd of your grace: 
And here, in sight of Rome, to Saturnine,— 
King and command er of our comujon-weal. 
The wide world's emperor, — do I consecrate 
My sword, my chariot, and my prisoners; 
Presents, well worthy Rome's imperial lord: 
Receive Ihem then, the tribute that I owe. 
Mine honour's eusiirns humbled at thy feet. 

Sat. Thanks, noble Til us, father of my life 
How proud I am of thee, and of thy gifts. 



• He wishes that her life may be longer than his, and her praise longer than fame 

^ The maxim alluded to is, that no man can be pronounced happy before his death. 

X A robe. j i, e., Do on, put it on. \ The sun. 



57G 



SHAKSFKAUE. 



Vlf/i. 



^oiijf shall record; and, when I do forget 
i'hf least of the{>e unspeakable deserts, 
Komans, forget your fealty to me. 

Tit. Now, madam, are you prisoner to an 
emperor; [y'oTAMORA. 

To him, tliat for your honour and your state, 
Will use you nobly, and your followers. 

Sat. A goodly lady, trust me ; of the hoe 
Thai I would choose, were I to choose anew. 
Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance; 
Though chance of war hath wrought this 

change of cheer. 
Thou corneal not to be made a scorn in Rome : 
Princely shall be thy usage every way. 
Kest on my word, and let not discontent 
Daunt all your hopes; Madam, he comforts 

yon. 
Can make yon greater than the queen of Goths. 
Lavinia, you are not displeased with this f 

Lav. Not I, my lord ; silh* trne nobility 
WarrMnts these words in princely courtesy. 
Sat. Thanks, sweet Lavinia. — Romans, let 
us go ; 
Ransomless here we set our prisoners free : 
Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and 
drum. 
Bus. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid 
is mine. {Seizing 'LkYvnw. 

Tit. How, air? Are you in earneet then, my 

lord? 
Bas. Ay, noble Titus; and resolved withal, 
To do myself this reason and this right. 

[The Ein'peror cowr?* Tamora in dumb 
shotv. 
Mar. Suum cuiqve is onr Roman justice: 
This prince in justice seizeth but his own. 
IjUC. And that he will, and shall, if Lucius 
live. [peror's guard ? 

Tit. Traitors, avaunt I Where is the em- 
freasun, my lord; Lavini:» is surprised. 
Sur. Suiprised! By whom? 
Bas. By him that justly may 

Bear bis belroth'd from ail the world away. 

[Exeunt Marcus and Bassianus, 
iiith Lavinia. 
Mut. Brothers, help to convey her hence 
away, 
And with my sword Pll keep this door safe. 
[Exeunt Lucius, Quintus, and 
Martius. 
Tit. Follow, my lord, and I'll soon bring 

her back. 
Alut, My lord, you pass not here. 
T\t. VV'hat, villain boyl 

Barr'st me my way in Rome? 

[Titus kills Mutius. 
Mut, Help, Lucius, help. 

Reenter Lucius. 
L,uc. My lord, you are unjust : and, more 
than so, 
In wrongful quarrel yon have slain your son. 
Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of 
My sons would never so dishonour me : [mine : 
Trattor, restore Lavinia to the emperor. 

Luc. Dead, if you will: but not to be his 
wife. 



That isanoiheiV lawful promised love. [Kiit l 

^af-. No, Titus, no; the emperor needs her 
Not her, nor thee, nor any ot thy stock : not 
I'll irutt, by leisure, him that mocks me once ; 
Ihee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons, 
C onfederates all thus to dishonour me. [of. 
Was there none else in Rome to make a stalet 
But Saturnine? lull well, Andronicus, 
Agree these deeds with that proud bras; of thin^. 
That said'st, I begg'd the empire at thy hands. 

Tit. O monstrous ! what reproachful words 
are these? [ing piece 

Sat. But go thy ways; go, give thatchaug- 
To him that tiourish'd for her with his sword : 
A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy ; 
One tit to bandy with thy lawless sons, 
To ruffle J in the commonwealth of Rome. 

Tit. These words are razors to my wounded 
heart. [of Goihs, — 

Sat. And tJierefore, lovely Tamora, queen 
That, like the stately Pheebe 'mongst her 

nymphs. 
Dost overshine the gallant'st dames of Rome, 
If thou be pleased with this my sudden choice. 
Behold, 1 choose ihee, Tamoi a, for my bride. 
And will create thee emperess of Rome. 
Speak, queen of Goths, dost thou applaud nay 

choice? 
And here I swear by all the Roman gods, — 
Sith priest and holy water are so near, 
And tapers burn so bright, and every thing 
In readiness for Hymeneus stand, — 
1 will notre-«alute the sireets of Rome, 
Or climb my palace, till from forth this place 
1 lead espoused my bride alou<; with me. 

lam. And here, in sight of heaven, to Rome 
I swear. 
If Saturnine advatice the qneen of Goths, 
She will a handmaid be to his desires, 
A loving nurse, a mother to his youth. 

Sat. Ascend, fair queen, Pantheon: — Lords, 
accompany 
Your noble emperor and his lovely bride. 
Sent by the heavens for prmce Saturnine, 
Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered: 
There shall we consummate our spousal rites, 
[Exennt Satu rn in us, and his Fot' 
lotvers : Tamora, and ht r Sons ; 
Aaron, Uhd Goths. 

Tit, I am not bid § to wail upon this bride ; 
Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone. 
Dishonoured thus, and challenge*! of wrongs? 
Jie-etiter Marci s, Lucius, Quintus, and 
Mar 1 1 us. 

Mar. O, Titus, see, O, see, what thou hast 
In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son. [done ! 

Tit, No, foolish tribune, no ; no son of 
miue, — 
Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed 
That hath dishonour'd all our family ; 
Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons! 

JjUC. But Ivt us give him burial, as becomes ; 
Give Mutius burial with our brethren, [tomb. 

Tit, Traitors, away ! be rests not in this 
This monument five hundred years hath. stood 
Which i h^ive sumptuously re-edified : 



• Siace« 



t A italkiBg-borse. 



X A rufller was a bully. 



$ Invited. 



Scene 11.] 



TITUS AISDJiOJNICiS. 



877 



Keie none but soldiers, and Rome's servitors, 
KepDse in fame ; none basely slain in brawls: | 
Bur> him where you can, he comes not here. 

Mar. My lord, this is impiety in you : 
M> nephew Muiius' deeds do plead for him; 
He must be buried with his brethren. 

Quin. Mart. And shall, or him we will ac- 
company, [that word? 

Tit. And shall ? What villain was it spoke 

Quin. He that would youch't it in any place 
but here. [spite 1 

Tit. What, would you bury him in my de- 
Mar. !No, noble Titus; but entreat of thee 
To pardon Mutius, and to bury him. [crest. 

Tit. Marcus, even thou h<ist struck upon my 
And, with these boys, mine honour thou hast 

wounded : 
My foes I do repute you every one; 
So trouble me no more, but get you gone. 

Mart. He is not with himself; let us with- 
draw. 

Quin. Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried. 
[Marcus a;/rf the Sons o/ Tirus kneel. 

Mar. Brother, for in that name doth nature 
plead. [speak. 

Quin. Father, and in that name doth nature 

Tit. Speak thou no more, if all the rest 
will speed. [soul, — 

Mar. Renowned Titus, more than half my 

Luc. Dear father, soul and substance of us 
all,— 

Mar. Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter 
His nol)le nephew here in virtue's nest. 
That died in honour and Lavinia's cause. 
Thou art a Roman, be not barbarous. 
The Greeks, upon advice, did bury T^jax 
That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son 
Lid graciously plead for his funerals. 
Let nut young Mutms then, that was thy joy. 
Be barr'd his entrance here. 

Tit. Rise, Marcus, rise : — 

The dismall'st day is this, thai e'er 1 saw. 
To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome! — 
Well, bury him, and bury me the next. 

[M UTi L'S i* put into the Tomb. 

JLuc. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, 
with thy friends. 
Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb ! — 

All. No man shed tears for noble Mutius; 
He lives in fame that die»l in virtue's cause. 

Mur. My lord,— to step out of these dreary 
dumps, — 
How comes it that the subtle qneen of Goths 
Is of a sudden thus advanced in Home? [is; 

Tit. 1 know not, Marcus ; but, 1 know, it 
Whether by device, or no, the heavens can 
^ Is she not then behohlen to the mati [tell : 
That brought her fur this high good turn so far? 
'^ es, and will nobly him remunerate. 
Flourish. Ke-enter, at one side, Satur- 

tiihvs, af tended ; Tamora, CftiRCN, De- 

i\ MET Hits, and Aaron : At the Other, 
' B A s s I A N u s. La v 1 M A , and Others. 
Sat. So Bassiauus, you have play'd your 
I prize ; 

God give )ou joy, sir, of your gallant bride. 



Has, And you of yours, my lord ; 1 say no 
more. 
Nor wish no less ; and so I take my leave. 

Sat. Traitor, if Rome have law, or we have 
power. 
Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape. 

£as. Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize 
my own, 
My true-betrothed love, and now ray wife ? 
But let the laws of Rome determine all ; 
Mean while I am possess'd of that is mine. 

Sat. *Tis good, sir : You are very short 
with us ; 
But, if we live, we'll be as sharp with you. 

Bas. My lord, what I have done, as best I 
may, 
Answer I must, and shall do with my life. 
Only thus much I give your grace to know. 
By all the duties that 1 owe to Rome, 
This noble gentleman, lord Titus here. 
Is in opiiiion, and in honour, wron^'d ; 
That, in the rescue of Lavinia, 
With his own hand did slay his youngest son. 
In zeal to you, and highly moved to wrath 
To be cohtroli'd in that he frankly gave : 
Receive him then to favour, Sriturnine; 
That hath express'd himself, in all his deeds, 
A father and a friend, to thee and Rome. 

Tit. Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my 
deeds ; 
'Tis thou, and those, that have dishonour d me ; 
Rome and the righteous heavens be my jud^e 
How I have loved and honour'd Saturnine ! 

Tatn. My worthy lord, ir ever Tamora 
Were gracious in those princely eyes ot thine. 
Then hear me speak indilierently for all ; 
And at my suii,3\Neet, pardon what is past. 

Sat. What! madam 1 be dishonour'd openly. 
And basely put it up without levenge? 

Tarn. Not so, my lord; The gods of Rome 
forefend * 
I should be author to dishonour you 1 
But, on mine honour, dare 1 undeitake 
For good lord Titus' innocence in all, 
Whose fury, not dissembled, speaks his griefs ; 
Then, at my suit, look graciously on him ; 
Lo^e not so noble a friend on vain suppose, 
Not with sour looks afnict his gentle heart.-— 
My lord, be ruled by me, be won af^ 

last, [tents : 

Disseuible all your griefs and discon- 
\ou are but newly planted in your 
throne ; [too. 

Lest then the people, and patricians 
Upon a just survey, take Tiius* part, 
And so supplant us for ingratitude, 
(Which Rome reputes to be a heinous l a^j^ 
sin,) [alone: '^^'^^ 

Yield at entreats, and then .et me 
I'll ftnd a day to massacre them all. 
And raze their faction, and their 
family, [sons. 

The cruel father, and his traitoiou.s 
To whom 1 sued for my dear son's 
life; [let a queeu 

And make them know, what 'lis to ^ 



Fo»bid. 



4F 



h'.'i 



SlIAKSPKAllE. 



[Act J J, 



Kneel in the streets, and beg for grace ) ^ ;^^^ 

in vain. — > 

Come, come, sweet emperor, — come, Amlro- 

nicus. 
Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart 
That dres in tempest ot thy angry frown. 
Sat. Rise, Titus, rise; my empress -hath 

prevail'd. [lord : 

Tit. 1 thank your majesty, and her, my 

These words, these looks, infuse new life in B?e. 

Tarn. Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, 
A Roman now adopted happily, 
And must advise the emperor for his good. 
This day all quarrels die, Andronicus ;— 
Anc] let it be mine honour, good my lord, 
That I have reconciled your friends and you. — 
For you, prince Bassianus, 1 have passM 
My word and promise to the emperor. 
That you will be more mild and tractable. — 
And fear not, lords, — and you, Lavinia ; — 
By njy advice, all humbled on your knees. 
You shall ask pardon of his majesty. 

Ij21C. We do ; and vow to heaven, and to 

his highness. 
That, what we did, was mildly, as we might. 



TeudMng our KiRtriV. honour, an<i our own. 

3Iar. That on inme honour herv- i do protest. ^ 

Sot. Away, and talk not; trouble us no \ 
more.— 

Tarn. Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all 
be friends : 

The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace ; j' 
I will not be denied. Sweet heart, look back. ^ 

Sat. Marcus, for thy sake, and thy brother's t 
And at my lovely Tamora's entrea^ts, [here, 
I do remit these young men's heinous faults. 
Stand up. 

Lavinia, though you left me like a churl, 
I found a friend ; an^i sure as death 1 swore, 
I would not part a bachelor from the priest. 
Come, if the emperor's court can feast two 

brides. 
You are my guest, Lavinia, and your friends:* 
This day shall be a love-day, Tamora. 

Tit. To-morrow, an it please your majesty 
To hunt the panther and the hart with me, 
With horn and hound, we'll give your grace 
bonjour. 

Sat, Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too. 

[Kieunt. 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. The same. Before the Palace, 
Enter Aaron. 
Aar, Now climbeth Tamora Olympus* top, 
Safe out of fortune's shot : and sits aloft, 
Secure of thunder's crack, or lightning's flash; 
Advanced above pale envy's thieat'ning reach. 
As when the golden suii salutes the morn. 
And, having gilt the ocean with his beams. 
Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach. 
And overlooks the highest-peering hills ; 

So T imora. 

Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait. 
Anil virtue stoops and trembles at her frown. 
Then, Aaron, arm thy heart, and fit thy thoughts 
I'o mount aloft with thy imperial mistress, 
And mount her pitch ; whom thou in triumph 

long 
Hast prisoner held,fetter'd in amorous chains ; 
And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes, 
I'han is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. 
Away with slavish weeds, and idle thoughts I 
I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold, 
To wait upon this new-made emperess. 
To wait, said I ? to wanton with this queen. 
This goddess, this Semiramis ; — this queen. 
This siren, that will charm Rome's Saturnine, 
And see his shipwreck, and his commouweal's. 
Holla I what siorm is this ? 
Enter Chii^on arid Demetrius, bravi?ig. 
Dem. Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit 

wants edue 
And manners, to intrude where I am graced; 
And may, for anght thou know'st affected be. 

Chi. Demetrius, thou dost overween in all ; 
And so in this to bear me down with braves. 



'Tis not the difference of a year or two 
Makes me Jess gracious, thee more fortunate : 
I am as able, and as fit, as thou 
To serve, and to deserve my mistress' grace * ; 
And that my sword upon thee shall approve. 
And plead my passions for Lavinia's love* 

Aar. Clubs, clubst! these lovers will not 
keep the peace. [advised, 

Dew. Why, boy, although our mother un- 
Gave you a dancing-rapier I by your side. 
Are you so desperate grown, to threat your 

friends 1 
Go to ; have your lath glued within your sheath. 
Till you know better how to handle it. [have, 

Chi. Mean while, sir, with the little skill I 
Full well sb.altthou perceive how much I dare. 

Dem. Ay, boy, grow ye so brave \ 

[They draw. 

Aar, Why, how now, lords ? 

So near the emperor's palace dare you draw, . 
And maintain such a quarrel openly ? 
Full well I wot ^ the ground of all this grudge ; 
I would not for a million of gold, [cerns : 

The cause were known to them it most con- 
Nor would your noble mother, for much more. 
Be so dishonour'd in the court of Rome. 
For shame, put up. 

Dem. Not I ; till I have sheath'd 

My rapier in his bosom, and, withal, [throat, 
Ihrust these reproachful speeches down his 
That he hath breathed in my dishonour here. 

Chi. For that 1 am prepared and full re- 
solved, — [tongue 
Foul-.opoken coward ! that thunder'st witli thy 
And with thy weapon nothing darest perlorm 

Aar. Away, 1 say. — 



• Favour. 



t This was the usual outcry for assistance, when any riot in the street bappeneil 
I A sword worn in dauciiig. j Know. 



Scene J.] 



in t; is A :\ d u o m c l s . 



H79 



"Now, by the gods that warlike Goihs a<10ie. 
Tills petty bi auole will undo us all.— 
Why, lords, — and think you noihowdaugcrous 
It is to jut upon a prince's right { 
What, is Laviiiia tiicn become so loose, 
Or Bassianus so degenerate, 
That for her love such quarreia may be broach'd 
Wiihout controlmeat, justice, or revenge/ 
Young lords, beware ! — an should the empress 
know [please. 

This discord's ground, the music would not 
. Chi. I care not, I, knew she and ail the 

world ; 
I love Lavinia more than all the world. 
Dem. Youngling, learn thou to make some 
meaner choice : 
Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope. 

Aai\ Why, are ye mad? or know ye not, 
How furious and iinpaiient they be, [in Rome 
And cannot brook competitors in love .' 
I tell you, lords, you do but plot your deaths 
By this device. 

Chi. Aaron, a thousand deaths 

Would I propose, to achieve her whom I love. 
Aar. To achieve her! — How? 
Dem. Why makest ihou it so strange? 

She is a woman, therefore may be woo'd; 
She is a woman, therefore may be won ; 
She is Lavinia, therefore must be loved. 
W hat, man ! more water glideth by the mill 
Than wots the miller of; and easy it is 
Of a cut loaf to steal a shive *, wt know : 
Though fiassiaaius be tlie emperor's brother, 
Better than he have yet worn YuU-an's badge. 
Aur, Ay, and as good as Saturninus may. 

[Aside. 
Dem. Then why should he despair, that 
knows to couit it 
With words, fair looks, and liberality? 
What, hast thou not full often struck a doe, 
, And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose? 
Aur. Why then, it seems, some certain 
Would serve your turns. [snatch or so 

Chi. Ay, so the turn were served. 

Dem. Aaron, thou hast hit it. 
Aar. 'Would you had hit it too ; 

Then should not we be tired with this ado. 
W^'iy, hark ye, hark ye, — And are you such 

fools, 
To square t for this 1 Would it offend you then 
That both should speed ? 

Ciii. I'faith, not me. 

Dem. Nor me. 

So I were one. [that you jar. 

Aar. For shame, be friends; and join for 
'Tis policy and stratagem must do 
That you affect ; and so must you resolve ; 
Thai what you cannot, as you would, achieve, 
You must perforce accomplish as you may. 
Take this oi me, Lucrece was not more chaste 
Th -in this Lavinia, Bassianus' love. 
A Si-'cedier course than lingering languishment 
Must we pursue, and 1 have found the path. 
My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand ; 
There will the lovely Roman lilies troop : 
The forest walks are wide and spacious ; 



And mauj unirequenied plots there are. 
Fitted by kind ; lor rape and villany : 
.Mngie you thither tiien this dainty doe, 
And ati ike her home by force,if not by wordt: 
This way, or not at all, stand you in hope. 
Come, come, our empress, with her sacred^ 
To villany and vengeance consecrate, v/i^ 
Will we acquaint with all that we intend ; 
And she shall file our engines with advice 
That will not suffer yoa to square yourselves. 
But to your wishes' tieiglit advance you both. 
The emperor's court is like the house of fame. 
The palace full ot tonguea, of eyes, of ears : 
The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and 
dull ; [your turns : 

There speak, and strike, brave bo>s, and take 
There sei ve your last, shadow'd from heaven's 
x^nd revel in Lavinia's treasury. [sye, 

Chi. Try counsel, lad, smells of no cowar- 
dice. [stream 

Dem. Sit fas aut nefas, till I find the 
To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits. 
Per StygUy yer manes vehor. [Eaeunt 

SCENE II. A Forest near Romt. A Lodge 

seen at a distance. Horns, and cry of 

Hoiuids heard. 
Enter Tvrvb Andronicus, with Hunters, 

6fc. Marcus, Lucius, Quintus, and 

Mart us. 

Tit. The hunt is up, the morn is bright and 
grey, [green . 

The fields are fragrant, and the woods are 
Uncouple here, and let us make a bay, 
And wake the emperor and his lovely bride. 
And rouse tiie prince ; and ring a hunter's peal. 
That all the court may echo with the noise. 
Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours. 
To tend the emperor's person carefully : 
1 have been troubled in my sleep this night. 
But dawning day new comfort hath inspired. 
Horns icind a Peal. Enter S a t u r m n l s, 

Tamora, Bassianus, LwiNiA, Chiro.n, 

Demetrius, and Attendants. 

Tit. Many good morrows to your majesty ; 
Madam, to you as many and as good I — 
I promised your grace a hunter's peal. 

Sat. And you haverunjiit lustily, my loids. 
Somewhat too early ior nevv-mairied ladies. 

Bas. Lavinia, how say you? 

Lav. I say, no; 

1 have been broad awake two hours and more. 

Sat. Come on then, horae and chariots let 
us have, 
And to our sport: — Madam, now shall >e 8«e 
Our Roman hunting. [To Tamora, 

Mar. I have dogs, my lord. 

Will ronse the proudest panther in the chase. 
And climb the highest promontory top. 

Tit. And I have horse will follow where the 

game [plain.. 

Makes way, and ran like swallows o'er the 

Dem. Chiron, we hunt not, we, with hoise 

nor hound, 

But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground. 

[Exeunf 



* Slice. t Quarrel. | By nature. 5 Sacred \\ete s'xgmfiG^ accursed i a Litiuism 



sso 



SHAKSPEALIE. 



[Act 



SCENE III. A dasertpurt oftke Forest, 

Enter Aaron, tvitli a Bag of Gold, 

Aar. He, that had wit, would think that I 
To bury so much gold under a tree, [had none 
And never after to inherit* it. 
Lei him, that thinks of me so abjectly. 
Know, that this gold must coin a stratagem ; 
Which, cunniu'^ly etfected, will beget 
A very excellent piece of villany : 
And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest+, 
[Hides the Gold. 
That have their alms out of the empress' chest. 
Enter T a mora. 
Tarn, My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st 
thou sad. 
When every thing doth make a gleeful boast? 
The birds chant melody on every bush; 
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun; 
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind. 
And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground : 
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, 
And, — whilst the babbling echo mocks the 

hounds. 
Replying shrilly to the well-tuned horns. 
As if a double hunt were heard at once, — 
Let us sit down and mark their yelling noise : 
And, — after conflict such as was supposed 
The wandering prince of Dido once enjoyM, 
When with a happy storm they were surprised, 
And curtain'd with a counsel-keepins; cave, — 
We may, each wreathed in the other's arms. 
Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber; 
Whiles hounds, and horns, and sweet melodi 
Be unto us, as is a nurse's song [ous birds. 
Of lullaby, to bring her babe asleep. 

Aar. Madam, though Venus govern your 
Saturn is dominator over mine: [desires, 

"What signities my deadly-standing eye. 
My silence, and my cloudy melancholy? 
My fleece of woolly hair that now uncurls. 
Even as an adder, when she doth unroll 
To do some fatal execution ? 
No, madam, these are no venereal signs; 
Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, 
Blood and revenge are hammering in my head. 
H»rk, Tamora, — the emprefs of my soul, 
"Which never hopes more heaven than rests in 
This is the day of doom for Bassianus ; [thee, — 
His Philomel J must lose her tongue to-day; 
Thy sons make pillage of her chastity. 
And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood. 
Seest thou this letter? take it up, I pray thee, 
And give the king this fatal-plotted scroll :— 
><ow question me no more, we are espied; 
Here comes a parcel) of our hopeful booty. 
Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction. 
Tarn. Ah, my »weet Moor, sweeter to tne 
than life I [comes: 

Aar. No more, great empress, B;issianus 
Be cross with him, and I'll go fetch thy sons 
To back thy quarrels, whatsoe'er they be. {Exit. 
Enter Bassianus and Lavinia. 
Bus. Who have we here? Rome's royal 
emperess, 



• Pos6e&8. 



t Disquiet. 



Uniurniijh'd of her well-beseeming Iroo^) ? 
Or is it Dian, habited like her ; 
Who h tth abandoned her holy groves, 
To see the general hunting in this forest? 

Turn. Saucy controller of our private steps! 
Had 1 the power that some say Dian had. 
Thy temples should be planted presently 
With horns, as was Actieon's ; and the nounds 
Should drive upon thy new transformed limbs. 
Unmannerly intruder as thou art ! 

Lav. Under your patience, gentle empress, 
'Tis thou<4ht you have a goodly gitt in horning; 
And to be doubted, that your ^Joor and you 
Are singled forth to try eX[)eriments : 
Jove shield your husband from his hounds to- 
'Tis pity they should take him for a stag, [day I 
Bas. Believe me, queen, your swarth Cim- 
merian 
Doth make your honour of his body's hue. 
Spotted, detested, and abominable. 
Why are you sequestered from all your train? 
Dismounted from your snow-white goodly 
And wander'd hither to an obscure plot, [steed. 
Accompanied with a barbarous Moor, 
If foul desire had not conducted you ? 

Lav. And being intercepted in your sport. 
Great reason that my noble lord be rated 
For sauciness. — 1 pray you, let us hence. 
And let her 'joy her raven-coloured love ; 
This valley fits the purpose passing well. 
Bus. The king, my brother, shall have note 
of this. [noted long : 

Lav. Ay, for these slips have made him 
Good king! to be so mightily abused! 

Tarn. Why have I patience to endure all this? 

Ente> Chiron and Dk-viitkius. 
Dem. How now, dear sovereign, and our 
gracious mother, 
Why doth your highness look so pale and wan? 
Tarn. Have I not reason, think you, to look 
pale ! 
These two have 'ticed me hither to this place, 
A barren, detested vale, you see, it is : 
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and lean, 
O'ercoine with moss, and baleful misletoe. 
Here never shines the sun ; here nothing breeds 
Unless the nightly owl, or fatal raven. 
And, when they show'd me this abhorred pit, 
They told me, here, at dead time of the night, 
A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes. 
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many iirchinsjl, 
Would make such fearful and contused cries. 
As any mortal body, hearing it, 
Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly. 
No sooner had they told this hellish tale. 
Put straight they told me they would bind me 
Unto the body of a dismal yew ; [here 

And leave me to this. miserable death. 
And then they called me, foul adulteress, 
Lascivious Goth, and all the bitterest terms 
That ever ear did hear to such efl'ect. 
And, had you not by wondrous fortune come. 
This vengeance on me had they executed : 
Revenge it, as you love your mother's life. 
Or be ye not henceforth called my children. 

X See Ovid's Metamorphoses, Book VL 
II Hedge-hogs* 



Scene IIL] 



TITUS ANDROMCUS. 



881 



JJem, This is a \iritDess that I am thy son. 

[Stobi BXSSIANUS. 
Chi. And this for me, struck home to show 
my strength. [Stabbing him likewise, 
hav. Ay, come, Semiramis, — nay, barbar- 
ous Tamora ! 
For no name fits thy nature but thy own ! 
Tarn. Giveraethypoinard; you shall know, 
my boys, [wrong. 

Your mother's hand shall right your mother's 
Dem, Stay, madam, here is more belongs 
to lier ; [straw : 

First, thrash the corn, then after burn the 
This minion stood upon her chastity, 
Upon hernuptial vow, her loyalty, [mightiness : 
And with that painted hope braves your 
And shall she carry this unto her grave? 
Cki. And if she do, 1 would 1 were an 
eunuch. 
Drag hence her husband to some secret hole, 
And make his dead trunk pillow to our lust. 
Tarn. But when you have the honey you 
desire. 
Let not this wasp outlive, us both to sting. 
Chi, I warrant you, madam ; we will make 
that sure. — 
Come, mistress, now perforce we will enjoy 
That nice- preserved honesty of yours, [face. — 
Lav. O Tamora I thou bear'st a woman's 
Tam, 1 will not hear her speak ; away with 
her. [a word. 

Lav. Sweet lords, entreat her hear me but 
Dem. Listen, fair madam : let it be your 
glory 
To see her tears : but be your heart to them, 
4.S unrelenting flint to drops of rain, [the dam? 
Lav. When did the tiger's young ones teach 
O, do not learn her wrath ; she taught it thee : 
The milk thou suck*dst from her, did turn to 

marble ; 
Even at thy teat thou hadst thy tyranny. — 
Yet every mother breeds not sons alike ; 
Do thou entreat her shew a woman pity. 

\To Chiron. 
Chi, What ! wonldst thou have me prove 
myself a bastard ? [lark : 

Lav. 'TIS true ; the raven doth not hatch a 
Yet I have heard, (O could I find it now !) 
The lion moved with pity, did endure 
To have his princely paws pared all away. 
Some say that ravens foster forlorn children. 
The whilst their own birds famish in their nests : 
O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no, 
Nothing so kind, but something pitiful I 
Tarn. I know not what it means ; away 
with her. [sake. 

Lav. O, let me teach thee : for my father's 
That gave thee life, when well he might have 

slain thee, 
Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears. 

Tarn, Had thou in person ne'er offended me, 
Even for his sake am I pitiless : — 
Remember, boys, I pctir'd forth tears in vain. 
To save your brother from the sacrifice ; 
But fierce Andronicufc would not relent, [will ; 
'3 herefo>e away wi4h her, and use her as you 
Tne -fO'-'K V Vir the better lovt d of me. 
^,uu»j. C Tjr^rv ^ be cail'd a geulie q.iueij. 



And with thine own hands kill me in thi? place : 
For 'tis not life that I have begg'd so J</ng ; 
Poor I was slain when Bassianus died. 
Tarn. W hat begg'st thou then ; fond woman, 
let me go. '^ [more. 

Lav. *1 is present death I beg; and one thing 
That womanhood denies my tongue to tell : 
O, keep me from their worse than killing lust, 
And tumble me into some loathsome pit ; 
W here never man's eye may behold my body : 
Do this, and be a charitable murderer. 

Tarn. So should I rob my sweet sons of their 

No, let them satisfy their lust on thee. [fee : 

Dem. Away, for thou hast staid us here too 

long. [ly creature! 

Lav. No grace? no womanhood? Ah, beast- 

The blot and enemy to our general name ! 

Confusion fall [thou her husband ; 

Chi^ Nay, then I'll stop your mouth : Bring 

[Dragging ojj Lavi n ia . 

This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him. 

[ Ex< unt. 
Tarn. Farewell, my sons ; see that you make 
her sure : 
Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed. 
Till all the Andronici be made away. 
Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor, 
And let my spleenful sons this trull deflour. 

[Exit. 
SCENE IV. The same. 
Enter A ARoSyZvithQvi JiTVs andMARTivs, 
Aar. Come on, my lords ; the better foot 
before : 
Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit. 
Where I cspy'd the panther fast asleep. 

Quin. My sight is very dull, whate'er it 

bodes. [for shame. 

Mart. And mine, I promise you ; wer't not 

Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile. 

[Martius/«^^* into the Pit, 

Qwin. What art thou fallen? What subtle 

hole is this, [briers ; 

Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing 

Upon whose leaves are drops of new-shed 

blood. 
As fresh as morning's dew distill'd on flowers ? 
A very fatal place it seems to me : — [fall ? 
Speak, brother, hast thou hurt thee with the 
Mart. O, brother, with the dismallest object 
That ever eye, with sight, made heart lament. 
Aar. [Aside.'] Now will 1 fetch the king to 
find them here; 
That he thereby may give a likely guess. 
How these were they that made away his bro- 
ther. [Exit Aaron. 
Mart. Why dost not comfort me, and help 
me out 
From this unhal!ow*d and blood-stained hole? 
Quin. I am surprised with an uncouth fear; 
A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints , 
My heart suspects more than mine eye can see. 
Mart. To prove thou hast a true-divining 
heart, 
Aaron and thou look down into this den. 
And see a fearful sight uf blood and death. 
Quin. Aaron is fc,one ; ai!<l my fomp .s.-iioo 
ale Utrai 1 

4 K a 



882 



SHAK8PEARE. 



[Act J I. 



Will not permit mine eyes once to behold 
The thing, whereat it trembles by surmise: 
O, lell me how it is ; for ne'er till now 
"Was I a child, to fear I know not what. 

Mart. Lord Bassianns lies embrev^ed here. 
All on a heap, like to a slauti;hter'd lamb» 
In this detested, dark, blood-drinking pii. 

Quin, If it be dark, how dost thou know 
'tis ho ? 

Mart, Upon his bloody finger he doth wear 
A precious ring, that lightens all the hole. 
Which, like a taper in some monument, 
Doth shine upon the dead man's earthy cheeks. 
And shows the ragged entrails of this pit : 
So pale did shine the moon on Pyramus, 
W^hen he by niiiht lay bath*d in maiden blood. 

! rother, help me with thy fainting hand, — 
If fear hath made thee faint, as me it hath, — 
Out of this fell-devouring receptacle. 

As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth. 

Quhn. Reach me thy hand, that I may heip 
thee out ; 
Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, 

1 may be pluck'd into the swallowing womb 
Of this deep pit, poor Bassianus* grave. 

I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink. 
Mart. >Jor I no strength to climb without 
thy help. [again, 

Quin. Thy hand once more ; I w ill not loose 
Till iliou art here aloft, or I below : 
ThoQ canst not come to me, I come to thee. 
{Falls in. 
Enter Saturninus and Aaron 
Sat. Along with me : — I'll see what hole is 
here. 
And what he is, that now is leap'd into it. 
Say, who art ihou, that lately didst descend 
Into this gaping hollow of the earth ? 

Mart. The unhappy son of old Andronicus; 
Brought hither in u most unlucky hour, 
lo tind thy brother l^assianus dead. 

Sut. My brother dead ? I know thou dost 
but jest : 
He and his lady 'both are at the lodge, 
Upon the north side of this pleasant chase ; 
•'lis not an hour since 1 left him there, [alive, 
Mart. We know not where you left him all 
But, out alas! here have we found him dead. 
tlnter Iamoka, nitk Attendants; Tixus 
Andronicus, and Lucius. 
Tarn. W here is n^.y lord, the king? 
Sat. Here, Taniora ; though grieved with 

killing grief. 
I'am. Where is thy brother BassianasT 
Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search 
my wound ; 
Poor Bassianushcre lies murdered. 

Tarn. Then all too late 1 bring this fatal writ, 
[diving a Letttr. 
The complot of this timeless * tragedy; 
And wonder greatly, that man's face can fold 
In pleisiag smiles such murderous tyranny. 
Sat. [Read*.] An if we miss to nuet him 
hand some ly^ — 
S'ifft huntsman., liassiavus 'tis^wemean. 
Do thou no much os dig fhc grate for him ; 



Thou kvow'st our meaning : Look for thy 

reicard 
Among the nettles at the elder tree. 
If hich overshades the month of that same 
Where we decreed to bury Bassianus. [p /, 
Do this, and purchase us thy lasting 

friends. 
0, Tamora! was ever heard the like? 
This is the pit, and this the elder tree : 
Look, girs, if you can find the huntsman out. 
That should have murder'd Bassianns here. 

Aar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of 
gold. [Shewing it. 

Sat. Two of thy whelps, [To Tri.] fell curf 
of bloody kind, 
Have here bereft my brother of his life : — 
Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison ; 
There let them bide, until we have devised 
Some never heaid-of torturing pain for them. 

Tafn. What, are they in this pit 1 O won 
drous thing! 
How easily murder is disccvered! 

Tif. High emperor, upon my feeble knee 
I beg this boon, with tears not lichtly shed. 
That this fell fault of my accursed sons, 
Accur.sed,if the fault be proved in them, 

Sat. If it be proved ! you see, it is apparent. 
Who found this letter 1 Tamora, was it you? 

Tarn. Andronicus himself did take it up. 

Tit. I did, my lord : yet let me be their bail : 
For by my father's reverend tomb, I vow, 
Ihey shall be ready at your highness' will. 
To answer their suspicion with their lives. 

Sat. Ihou shalt not bail them: see, thou 

follow me. [derer-s: 

Some bring the murder'd body, some tht- mur- 

Let them not speak a word, the guilt is plain ; 

For, by my soul, were there worse end than 

de.ah. 
That end upon them should be executed. 

Tarn. Andronicus, I will entreat tlie king ; 
Fear not thy sons, they shall do well enough. 

Tit. Come, Lucius, come; stay not lu talk 
with them. [Eieuht seieruily. 

SCENE V. The same. 
^w^er Demetrius and Chiron, with La- 
viNiA, ravished ; her Hands cut o^, and 
her Tongue cut out. 

Dcm. So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can 
speak, " [thee. 

Who 'twas that cut thy tongue, and ravish'd 
Chi. Write down thy mind, bewray thy 
meaning so ; 
Ani,if thy .^tumps will let thee, play the srribe. 
Dem. See, how with signs and tokens she 
can scowl. [thy hands. 

Chi. Go home, call for sweet water, wash 
Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hand* 
to wash ; 
And so let'e leave her to her silent walks. 
Chi. An 'twere my case, J should go hang 

myself. 
D^m. If thou hadst hands to help thee kui» 
the cord. 
\Exi unt Di.MF.TRii » ii^'J Chirun 



• Untimely. 



6cen€ v.] 



TITLS ANmOiViCUS. 



883 



Enter Marcus. 
Mar. Who's this, — my niece, that flics away 

so fast 1 
Cousin, a word ; Where is your htibband ? — 
If I do dream, 'would ail my wealth would 

wake me ! 
If I do w .ike, some planet strike me down, 
That I may slumber in eternal sleep ! — 
Speak, gentle niece, what stern ungentle hands 
Have lopp'd, and hew'd, and made thy body 

bare 
Of her two branches'? (hose sweet ornaments. 
Whose circling shadows kings have sought to 

sleep in ; 
And might not gain so great a happiness. 
As half thy love? Why dost not speak tome? 
Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, 
Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind. 
Doth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, 
Coming and goini; witli thy honey breath. 
Btit, sure, some Tereus hath deflour'd thee ; 
And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy 

tongue. 
Ah, now thou turn'st away thy face for shame ! 
And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, — 
As from a conduit with three issuing spouts, — 
Yet do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face, 
Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud. 
Shall I bpeak for thee 1 shall I say, 'tis so % 



' O, that 1 knew thy heart ; and knew the 

beast, 
That I might rail at him to ease my mind I 

j Sorrow concealed, like an oven stop-p'd, 
Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. 
Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue, 
And in a tedious sampler sew'd her mind : 
But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee ; 
A craftier Tereus hast thou met withal. 
And he hath cut those pretty tingers off. 
That could have better sewed than Philomel. 
O, had the monster seen those lily hands 
Tremble, lite aspen leaves, upon a lute, 
And make the silken strings delight to kiss 
them; [life: 

He would not then have touch'd them for his 
Or. had he heard the heavenly harmony, 
V» hich that sweet tongue hath made, [asleep 
He would have dropp'd his knife, and tell 
As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's * feet. 
Come, let us go, and make thy father blind : 
For such a sight will blind a father's eye: 
One hour's storm will drown the fragrant 
meads ; [«iy^s '\ 

What will whole months of tears thy father's 
Do not draw back, for we will mourn with 

thee ; 
O, could our mourning ease thy misery! 

{Exeunt. 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. Rome. A Street. 
Enter Senators, Tribunes, and Officers of 
Justice, with, Marti us and Quint us, 
bound, passing on to the Place of Execu- 
tion: Ti'iUis goi7ig before, pleariifig. 
Tit. Hear me, grave fathers ! noble tri- 
bunes, stay ! 
For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent 
In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept ; 
For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel shed ; 
For all the frosty nights that 1 have watchM ; 
And for these bitter tears, which now you see 
JPilling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks ; 
Be pitiful to my condemned sons. 
Whose so)ds are not corrupted as 'tis thought! 
For two and twenty sons I never wept, 
i5ecanse they died in honour's lofty bed. 
For these, these tribunes, in the dust 1 write 

'T.iroiving li'nns( If on the Ground. 
My heart's deep languor, and my soul's sad 

tears. 
Let my tears st:;unch the earth's dry appetite ; 
Aly sons' sweet blood will make it shame and 
blush. 
[Exeunt Senators, Tribunes, 4c«» ^**^^ the 
Prisoners. 

earth, I will befriend thee more with rain, 
That shall distil from these two ancient urns, 

1 hanyouthful April shall with all his showers : 
In summer's drought, I'll drop upon thee still ; 
In winter, with warm tears I'll melt the snow. 



And keep eternal spring-time on thy face. 
So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood. 

Enter Lucius, ivHh his sivord draivn. 
O, reverend tribunes ! gentle aged men ! 
Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death ; 
And let me say, that never wept before, 
iMy tears are now prevailing orators. 

Luc. O, noble father, you lament in vain ; 
The tribunes hear you not, no man is by. 
And you recount your sorrows to a stone. 
Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me 
plead : 
Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of ^u. 
Ltic. My gracious lord, no tribune hears 

you speak. 
Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man : if they did 
hear, [mark. 

They would not mark me; or, if they did 
All bootless to them, they'd not pity me. 
1 herefore I tell my sorrows to the stones ; 
Who, though they cannot answer my distress. 
Yet in some sort they're better than the tri- 
bunes. 
For that they will not intercept my tale r 
When I do weep, they hur)ibly at my feet 
Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me » 
And, were they but attired in g- ave weeds, 
Rome could atfbrd no tribune like to thes-e 
A stone is soft as wax, tribunes more hard 

than stones : 
A stone is silent, and offendeth not ; [death. 
And tribunes with their tongues doom men tf> 



* Orphtus. 



884 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act III. 



Bat wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon 
drawn ? 

Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their 
death : 
For which atlempt,the judges have prononnced 
My everlasting doom of banishment. [thee. 

Tit. O happy uian! they have befriended 
Why, fooUsh Lucius, dost thou not perceive 
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? 
Tigers must prey ; and Rome affords no prey. 
But me and mine : How happy art thou then, 
From these devourers to be banished 1 
But who comes with our brother Marcus here ? 
Enter Marcus and Lavinia. 

Mar. Titus, prepare thy noble eyes to weep ; 
Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break ; 
1 bring consuming sorrow to thine age. 

Tit. Will it consume me? let me see it then. 

Alar. This was thy daughter. 

Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is. 

Luc. Ah me ! this object kills me ! 

Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look upou 
her : — 
Speak, my Lavinia, wh.it accursed hand 
Hath made thee handless in thy father's sight ? 
What fool hath added water to the sea? 
Or brouglita fagot to bright-burning Troy ? 
My grief was at the height before thou earnest. 
And now, like Nilus*, it disdaineth bounds. — 
Give me a sword, I'll chop off my hands too4 
For they have fought for Rome, and all in 

vain ; 
And they have nursed this woe, in feeding life; 
In bootless prayer have they bten held up. 
And they have served me to effectless use : 
Now, all the service I require of them 
Is, that the one will help to cut the other. 
'Tis well, Lavinia, that thou hast no hands ; 
For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain. 

Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath mar- 
tyr'd thee J [thoughts, 

Mar. O, that delightful engine of her 
That blab'd them with such pleasing eloquence. 
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage : 
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung 
Sweet varied notes, enchanting every ear ! 

Luc. O say thou for her, who hath done 
this deed? [park, 

Mar. O, thus I found her, straying in the 
Seeking to hide herself, as doth the deer. 
That hath received some unrecuring wound. 

Tit. It was my deer, and he, that wounded 
her, [dead ; 

Hath hurt me more, than had he kill'd me 
{•'or now I stand as one upon a rock^ 
ll.iviron'd with a wilderness of sea; [wave, 
^v ho marks the waxing tide grow wave by 
i^K peeling ever when some envious surge 
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. 
I his way to death my wretched sons are gone ; 
Here (ktands my other son, a banish'd man ; 
:.ud here, my brother, weeping at my woes ; 
lint that which gives my soul the greatest 

spuin, 
I^ dear Lavinia, dearer than my sonl. — 
Hid i but seen Ihy pictuie in this plight, 



It would have madded me : What shall I do 
Now I behold thy lively body so ? 
Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears ; 
Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyr'd 

thee : 
Thy husi)and he is dead ; and, for his death. 
Thy brothers are condemn'd, and dead by 

this :— 
Look, Marcus I ah, son Lucius, look on her! 
When I did name her brothers, then frerh 

tears 
Stood on her cheeks ; as doth the honey dew 
Upon a gather'd lily almost wither'd. 
Mar. Perchance, she weeps because they 
kill'd her husband : 
Perchance, because slie knov.'s them innocent. 
Tit. If they did kill thy husband, then b« 
joyful. 
Because the law hath ta'en revenge on them. 
No, no, they would not do so foul a deed ; 
Witness the sorrow that their sister makes. — 
Gentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips ; 
Or make some sign how I may do thee ease : 
Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, 
And thou, and I, sit round about some fountain; 
Looking all downwards, to bthold our cheeks 
How they are stain'd? like meadows, yet not 
With miry slime left on them by a flood 1 [dry 
And in the fountain shall we gaze so long. 
Till the fresh taste betaken from that clearness. 
And made a brine-pit with our bitter te irs? 
Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine'? 
Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb 
Pass the remainder of our hateful days? [showg 
What shall we <io i Ictus, that have our tongues, 
Plot some device of further misery. 
To make us wondtr'd at in lime to come. 
Luc. Sweet father, cease your tears ; for, at 
your grief. 
See, how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. 
Mar. Patience, dear niece :— good I'itus, dry 
thine eyes. [vvott. 

Tit. Ah, Marcus, Marcus! brother, well I 
Thy napkin; cannot drink a tear of mine. 
For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with thin* 
own. 
Luc. Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy 
cheeks. [her signs:) 

Tit. Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand 
Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say • 
That to her brother which 1 said to thee; • 

Ilia napkin, with his true tears all bewet, 
Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeks, 
O, what a sympathy of woe is this? 
As far from help as limbo is from bliss! 
Enter Aaron. 
Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor 
Sends thee this word, — That, if thou love thy 
Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, [sons - 
Or any one of you, chop off your hand, 
And sejid it to the king: he for the same, 
^\ ill send thee hither both thy sons alive ; 
And th.it shall be the ransomc for their fault. 

Tit. O, gracious emperor ! O gentle Aaron ^' 
Did ever raven sing ?o like a lark, 
Ihat gives sweet tidings of the tun's uprise T 



ih»: river Nile. 



t Know. 



Handkej chief. 



dcene A] 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



885 



With ali my heart, Pll send the emperor 
My hand : 

Good Aaron, wiU thou help to chop it off? 
Luc. Stay, fnther; for that noble hand of 
thine, 
That hath tlirown down so many enemies, 
Sh-vil iiol be Sfiit: my hand will serve the turn: 
My youth can better spare my blood than you ; 
And therefore mine shall save my brotl>ers' 
lives. [fended Rome. 

Mar. Which of yonr hands hath not de 
And learM aloft the bloody battle-axe. 
Writing destruction on the enemy's castle? 
O, none of both but arc of high deseit: 
My hand hath been but idle; let it serve 
To ransonie my two nephews from their death ; 
Tiien havi' J kept it to a worthy end. 

Aiir. Nay, come agree, whose hand shall go 
along, 
For fear they die before their pardon come. 
Mor, My hand shall go. 
L,iie. By heaven it shall not go. 

TU. Sits, strive no more; such wither'd 
herbs a? these 
Are meet for plucking itp, and therefore mine. 
Luc. Sweet father, if 1 shall be thought thy 
son. 
Let me rtdeem my brothers both from death. 
Mar. And, for our father's sake, and mo- 
ther's care, 
Now let me show a brother's love to thee. 
Tit. Agree between you ; 1 will spare my 
Luc. Then I'll go fetch an axe. [hand. 

Mar, But 1 will use the axe. 

[Exeunt Lucius and Marcus. 
Tit, Come hither, Aaron ; I'll deceive them 
both ; 
Lfnd me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. 
Aar. If that be call'd deceit, 1 will be 
honest. 
And never, whilst I live, deceive men so : — 
But I'll deceive you in another sort, 
Aiid that you'll say, ere half an hour can pass. 

[Aside. 
[He cuts ojf Titus's Hand. 
£'rtf€r Lucius «/irf Marcus. 
Tit, l*Jow, slay your strife; what shall be, is 
despatch'd. — 
Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand : 
Tell him, it was a hand that warded him 
From thousand dangers ; bid him bury it ; 
More hath it merited, that let it have. 
As for my sons, say, I account of them 
As jewel* purchased at an easy price; 
And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. 
Aar. I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand, 
Look by and by to have thy sofls with thee : — 
Their heads, 1 mean. — O, how this villany 

[A.ndt. 
Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it ! 
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace, 
Aaron will have his soul black like his face. 

[Exit. 
Tit. O, here I lift this one hand np to heaven. 
And bow this feeble ruin tc« the earth : 
If any power pities wretched tears, 



To that I call;— What, wilt thou kneel with 

me? [To Lavinia. 

Do then, dear heart ; for heaven shall hear our 

prayers ; 
Or with our sighs we'll breathe the welkin dim, 
And stain the sun w ith f(<g, as sometime clouds, 
When they do hug liinj in their melting bosom*. 

Mar. O! brother, speak with possibilities. 
And do not break into these deep extremes. 

Td. Is not my sorrow deep, having no 
bottom ? 
Tlien be my passions* bottomless with them 

Mar, Eut yet let reason govern thy lament 

Tit. If there were reason for these miseries 
Then into liuiits could I bind my woes: 
When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth 

o'erflow 1 
If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, 
Threai'ning the w elkint with his big-swoln face! 
And wilt thou have a r^-ason foi this coil;? 
I am the sea ; hark, how her sighs do blow ! 
She is the weeping welkin, I the earth : 
Then iTiust my sea be moved with her sighs; 
Then must my earth with her continual tears 
Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd : 
For why? my bowels cannot hide her woes. 
But like a drunkard must I vomit them. 
1 hen give me leave ; for losers will have leave 
To ease their stomachs with their bitter tongues. 
Enter a Messenger, with Tico Heads and 
a Hand, [paid 

Mes.<!, Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou re- 
For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor. 
Here are the heads of thy two noble sons; 
And here's thy hand,in scorn to thee sent back; 
Thy griefs their sports, thy resolution mock'd : 
That woe is me to think upon thy woes. 
More than remembrance of my father's death. 

[Exit, 

Afar. "Kow let hot JEtnn cool in Sicily, 
And be my heart an ever-burning hell ! 
These miseries are more than may be borne! 
To weep with them that weep doth ease some 

deal. 
But sorrow flouted at is double death. 

Luc. Ah that this sight should make so deep 
a wound, 
And yet detested life not shrink thereat I 
That ever death sliould let life bear his name. 
Where life hath no mere interest but to breathe! 
[Lavinia kisses him. 

Mar. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfort- 
As frozen water to a starved snake. [less. 

Tit. When will this feaiful slumber have au 
end ? [nicus ; 

Mar. Now, farewell, flattery : Die, Andro- 
Thou dost not slumber : see, thy two sons' heads; 
Thy warlike hand ; thy mangled daughter here; 
Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight 
Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother 1, 
Even like a stony imige, cold and numb. 
Ah! now no more will I control tjiy griefs: 
Rent off thy silver hair, thy other hand (sigh 
Gnawing with thy teeth ; and be this dismal 
The closing up of our most wretched e^'es ! 
Now is a time to storm ; why art thou stiUI 



• Sufferings. 



t The sky. 



X Stir, bustle, 



B86 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act Hi 



Tit. Ha, ha, ha I [this hour. 

Mar* Why dost thon laugh? it fits not with 

TU, Why I have not another tear to shed : 
Besides this sorrow is an enemy, 
And would usurp upon my waCery eyes, 
And make them blind with tributary tears; 
rhen which way shall 1 find revenge's cave? 
For the>e two heads do seem to speak to me ; 
And threat me, I shall never come to bliss, 
Till all these mischiefs be retnrned again, 
Even in their throats that have committed them. 
Come, let me see what task I have to do. — 
You heavy people, circle me about ; 
That I may turn me to each one of yoa, 
And swear unto my soul to right your wrongs. 
The vow is made. — Come, brother, take a head; 
And in this hand the other will I bear: 
Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things; 
Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between thy 

teeth. 
As for thee, boy, go, get thee from my sight; 
Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay : 
Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there: 
And, if you love me, as I think you do, 
Let's kiss and part, for we have much to do. 
[Exeunt 1 itus, Marcus, and Lavinia. ] 

Luc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble father; 
The woefull'st man tliat ever lived in Romei 
Farewell, proud Rome ! till Lucius come again, 
Pie leaves his pledges dearer than his life. 
Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister; 
O, 'would thou wert as thou 'tofore hast been ! 
But now nor Lucius, nor Lavinia lives 
But in oblivion, and hateful griefs. 
If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs; 
And make proud Saturninus and his empress 
Beg at the .gates, like Tarquin and his queen. 
Now will I to the Goths, and raise a power. 
To be revenged on Rome and Saturnine. {Exit, 

SCENE II. A Room in Titus's House, A 

Banquet set out, 
£nter TiTVS,MxRCvs,L\YiiiiA,a?id young 
Lucius, a Boy. 
Tit, So, so ; now sit : and look, you eat no 
more 
Than will preserve just so much strength in us 
As will revenge these bitter woes of ours. 
Marcus, unknit that sorrow-wreathen knot ; 
Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our 
And cannot passionate our tenfold grief [hands 
"With folded arms. This poor right-hand of 
Is left to tyrannise upon my breast ; [mine 
And when my heart, all mad with misery. 
Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh. 
Then thus I thump it down. — 
Thou map of woe, that thus dost talk in signs! 
[To La YIN I A. 
When thy poor heart beats with outrageous 

beating. 
Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still. 
Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; 
Or get some little knife between thy teeth, 
And just against thy heart make thpu a hole ; 
That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall, 
M^/ run into that sink, and soaking in, 



• An allusion to brewing. 



Drown the lamenting fool in sea salt tears. 
Mar. Fie, brother, fie I teach her not thu? 

to lay 
Such violent hands upon her tender life. 
Tit. How now I has sorrow made thee dote 

already? 
Why, Marcus, no man shouW be mad but T. 
What violent hands can she lay on her life! 
Ah, w^herefore dost thou ur^e the name of 
To bid Tineas tell the tale twice o'er, [hands. 
How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable? 
O, handle not the theme, to talk of hands ; 
Lest we remember still, that we have none.— 
Fie, fie, how franticly I square my talk! 
As if we should forget we had no hands. 
If Marcus did not name the word of hands ! — 
Come let's fall to ; and, gentle girl, eat this : — 
Here is no drink! Hark, Marcus, what she 

says : — 
1 can interpret all her martyr'd signs ; 
She says, she drinks no other drink but tears. 
BrewM with her sorrows, mesh'd upon her 

cheeks * : — 
Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought; 
In thy dumb action will I be as perfect. 
As begging hermits in their holy prayers : 
Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to 

heaven. 
Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign. 
But I, of these, will wrest an alphabet. 
And, by stillf practice, learn to know thy 

meaning. [laments : 

Boy. Good grandsire, leave these bitter deep 

Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. 

Mar. Alas, the tender boy, in passion moved. 

Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. 

Tit. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made 

of tears. 
And tears will quickly melt thy life away. — 
[Marcus strikes the Dish uith a Knife, 
What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy 

knife? [a Ay* 

Mar. At that that I have kill'd, my lord ; 
Tit. Out on thee, murderer ! thou kili'st my 

heart ; 
Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny ; 
A deed of death, done on the innocent. 
Becomes not Titus' brother : Get thee gone ; 
I see, thou art not for my company. 
3far, Alas, my lord, I have but killM a fly. 
Tit, But how, if that fly had a father and 

mother? 
How would he hang his slender gilded wings. 
And buz lamenting doings in the air? 
Poor harmless fly! 

That with his pretty buzzing melody, 
Came here to make us merry ; and thou hast • 

kill'd him. 
Mar. Pardon me, sir ; 'twas a black ill- 
favoured fly, [him 
Like to the empress' Moor; therefore I kill'd 

Tit, O, O, O, 
Then pardon me for reprehending thee. 
For thou hast done a charitable deed. 
Give me thy knife, I will insult on him ; 
Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor, 

t Constant or continual practice. 



gO^ne 11.] 



TITUS ANDRONTCUS. 



887 



Come hither purposely to poiion me. — 
I'here's for thyself, and thnt's for Tamora. — 
Ah, sirrah* ! — 

Yet I do think we are not brought so low, 
Bui that, between us, we can kill a fly, 
That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. 
Mar. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought 
on him, " 



He takes false shadows for true substances 

Tit. Come, take away. — Lavinia, go with 
Pll to thy closet ; and go read with thee [me ; 
Sad stories, chanced in the times of old. — 
Come, boy, and go with me ; thy sight is 

young. 
And thou shalt read, when mine begins to 

dazzle. [^Kieuntm 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. 



The same. Before Titus*s 
House* 

Enter Iitus and Marcus. Then enter 
younghvcivs,hkviKiArunning ajter him. 

Boy. Help, grancsire, help ! my aunt La- 
vinia 
Follows me every where, I know not why : — 
Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes! 
Alas, sweet aunt, 1 know not what you mean. 
Mar. Stand by me, Lucius; do not feat 
thine aunt. [harm. 

Tit. She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee 
Boy. Ay, when my father was in Rome, she 
did. [these signs? 

Mar. What means my niece Lavinia by 
Tit. Fear her not, Lucius : — Somewhat doth 
she mean : [thee : 

See, Lucius, see, how much she makes of 
Somewhither would she have thee go with her. 
Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care 
Read to her sons, than she hath read to thee, | 
Sweet poetry, and Tully's O. atort. [thus ? j 
Canst thou not guess wherefore she plies thee : 
Boy. My lord, I know not, I, nor can I i 
gness. 
Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her: ' 
For I have heard my grandsire say full oft, 
Extremity of griefs would make men mad ; 
And I have read that Hecuba of Troy [fear ; 
Ran mad through sorrow: That made me to 
Although, my lord, I know, my noble aunt 
Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did, 
And would not, but in fury, fright ray youth: 
Which made me down to throw my books, 
and fly ; [aunt : 

Causeless, perhaps: But pardon me, sweet 
And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, 
I will most willingly attend your ladyship. 
Mar. Lucius, I will. 
[Lavinia turns over the books which 
Lucius has let fall. 
Tit. How now, Lavinia? — Marcus, what 
means this? 
Some book there is that she desires to see :— 
Which is it, girl, of these? — Open them, 

boy. — 
But thou art deeper read, and better skill'd ; 
1 Come, and take choice of all my library, 
And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens 
Reveal the damn'd contriver of this deed. — 
"^Vhy lifts she up her arms in sequencel thus? 



Mar. I think, she means, that there was 

more than one 

Confederate in the fact : — Ay, more there was : 

Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge^ 

Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth 

so? 
Boy. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid'f Metamorphosis ; 
My mother gave't me. 

Mar. For love of her that's gone. 

Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest. 

Tit. Soft ! see, how busily bhe turns the 
Help her: — [ieavesJ 

\V hat would she find? — Lavinia, shall 1 read? 
This is the tragic tale of Philomel, 
And treats of Tereus' treason, and his rape ; 
And rape, 1 fear, was root of thine annoy. 
Mar. See, brother, see ; note, how she 
quote* § the leaves. [girl, 

Tit. Lavinia, wert thou thus surprised, sweet 
RavishM and wrong'd, as Philomela was, 
Forced in the ruthlessy, vast, and gloomy 

See, see! [woods? — 

Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt, 
(O, had we never, never, hunted there!) 
Patterned by that the poet here describes. 
By nature made for murders and for rapes. 

Mar. O, why should nature build so foul a 
Unless the gods delight in tragedies ! [den. 
Tit. (live signs, sweet girl, — for here are 
none but friends, — 
What Roman lord it was durst do the deed : 
Or slunk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erst, 
Ihat left the camp to sin in Lucrece' bed? 
Mar. Sit down, sweet niece ; — ^brother, sit 
down by me. — 
Apollo, Pallas, Jove, or Mercury, 
Inspire me, that I may this treason find! — 
My lord, look here; — Look here, Lavinia: 
This sandy plot is plain ; guide, if thou canst, 
This after me, when I have writ my name 
Without the help of any hand at all. 

IHe writes his Name uith his S^aff, and 
guides it with his Feet and Mouth, 
Cursed be thatheart that forced us to this shift ! 
Write thou, good niece ; and here display, at 

last. 
What God will have discover'd for revenge: 
Heaven guide thy pen to print thy sorrows 

plain, 
That we may know the traitors, "^d the truth! 
[Site takes the Staff in he', Mouthy and 
guides it with her stumps, ajid zvrites* 



* This was formerly not a disrespectful expression. 
TuUy's Treatise on Eloquence, entitled Orator. J Succession, j To quote is to observe. 

i Pitiless. 



888 



SHAKSPEARE. 



Uct IV. 



Tit. 0,do yon read, my lorrJ,^hat she hath 
Stwprum — Chiron y— Demetrius. [writ ? 

Mar. What, what! — the lustfal sons of 
Tamora 
Performers of this heirwus, bloody deed? 

Tit. Magne Domiiiator poll, 
Tom lentils audit sceiera ? tarn lentits tides f 
Mar. (), calm thee, gentle lord ! although, I 
Thf re is enough written upon this earth, [know. 
To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts. 
And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. 
Wy lord, kneel down with me ; Lavinia, kneel ; 
Aiid kneel, sweet boy, the Roman Hector's 
hope ; [feere*, 

Jtnd swear with me, — as with the woful 
An<l father, of that chaste dishonoured dame, 
Lord Junius Brutus, sware for Lucrece* rape, — 
I'hat we will prosecute, by good advice, 
Mortal revenge upon these traitorotis Goths, 
And see their blood, or die with this reproach. 

7//. 'Tis sure enough, an you knew how, 
But if you hurt these hear-whclps,then beware: 
The dam will wake ; and, if she wind you once, 
She's w ith the lion deeply still in lea^iue. 
And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back, 
And, when he sleeps, will she do what she list, 
"i ou're a young huntsman, Marcus ; let it alone; 
And, cume, 1 will go get a leaf of brass. 
And with a gad+ of steel will write these words, 
And lay it by : the angry northern wind 
Will blow these sands, like Sibyl's leaves, 
abroad, [say yon? 

And Where's yonr lesson then? — Boy, what 
Boy. I say, my lord, that if I were a man. 
Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe 
Fore these bad-bondmen to the yoke of Koine. 
Mar. Ay, that's my boy ! thy father hath 
full oft 
For this ungrateful coontry done the like. 
B*^y. And, uncle, so will I, an if 1 live. 
Tit. Come, go with me into niine armory ; 
Lucius, I'll fit thee ; and vtithal, my boy 
Shall carry from me to the empress' sons 
Presents, that I intend to send them both : 
Oome, come ; thou'lt do thy message, wilt thou 
not ? [grandsire. 

Boy. Ay, with my dagger in their bosoms, 
Tit. No, boy, not so ; I'll teach thee ano- 
ther course. 
JLavinia, come : — Marcus, look to my honse ; 
LuciiM and I'll go brave it at tbe court ; (on. 
Ay, marry, will we, sir : and we'll be waited 
[Exeunt Titus, Lavinia, awr/ Boy. 
Mar. O heavens, can you hear a good man 
Ann not relent, or not compassion him? [groan, 
Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy ; 
That hath mt re scars of sorrow in his heart, 
Than foe men's matks upon hi!» battrr'd shield: 
But yet so just , that he will not revenge • — 
Revenge the heavens for old Andronicus! 

{Exit. 

SCENE U. The same. A Room in the 

Fulace. 

Cnfer Aaron, Chiron, and Demetrius, 

at one Door , at another Door, young 

• Ho^banO. ♦ Tlie point of a spear. 



Luc I IS, and an Attendant, nutk a Bundle 
of Weapons, and Verses writ upon them, 
Chi. Demetrius, here'j* the son of Lucius ; 
He hath some message to deliver to us. 
Aar. Ay, some mad message from his mad 
grandfather. ["'^yt 

Boy, My lords, with all the humbleness I 
I greet yonr hoivour? from Andronicus: — 
And pray, the Roman gods confound yoa 
both. [Aside, 

Dem. GramercyJ, lovely Lucius: what's 
the news ? [the news. 

Boy, That you are both deciphered, that** 
For villains mark'd with rape. [Aside.'] — May 

it please you, 
My grandsire, well advised, hath sent by me 
The goodliest weapons of his armory, 
To gr;!tify your honourable youth. 
The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say; 
And so I do, and with his gifts present 
Your lordships, that, whenever yon have need. 
You may be armed and appointed well: 
And so I leave you both. [Aside,'] like bloody 
villains. [Eieunt Boy and Attendant. 
Dem, What's here? A scroU; and written 
Let's see ; [round aboutl 

Integer tif^, scelerisaue purus^ 
Non eget Mauri jaculis, nee arcu. 

Chi, O, 'tis a verse in Horace ; I koow it 
I read it in the grammar long ago. [well: 

Aar. Ay, just I — a verse in Horace: — right, 
you have it. 
Now, what a thing it is to be an assi 
Here's no sound jest! the old man ] 
hath foJind their guilt; j 

And sends the weapons wrapp'd about I 
with lines, f 

That wound beyond their feeling, to ' ^ .-^ 
the quick: ^^^* 

But were our witty empress well / 
afoot, 1 

She would applaud Andronicus' con- I 
ceit. I 

But let her rest in her unrest awhile. — >' 
And now, youig lords, vras't not a happy star 
Led us Xo Rome, strangers, and, more ihan so. 
Captives, to be advanced to this height? 
It did me good, betore the Palace gate 
To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing. 
Dem. But me more good, to see so great a 
Basely insinuate, and send us gifts. [lord 

Aar. Had he not reason, lord Demetrius? 
Did you not use his danuhter very friendly? 
Dem. I would we had a thousand Roman 
dames 
At such a bay, by itjm to serve oar lust. 
Chi. A charitable wish, and full of love. 
Aar, Here lacks but your mother for to say 
amen. [sand more. 

Chi. And that would she for twenty thou- 
Dem. Come, let us go; and pray to all the 
Fo»" our beloved mother in her pains. [gods 
Aar. Pray to the devils; the gods hive 
given us o'er. {A^^idc. Flourish, 

D^m. Why do the emperor's trumpets floo- 
ri»h thus ? 

t i. e , Grand merci ; jjreat thank?. 



^ctne I/.] 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



88! 



C/ii. Belike, for joy the emperor hath a son. 
Dejn. Soft; who coMies here? 
Enter a Nurse, uith a Black-a^moor 
CI Li Id in hfr Arms. 
Nur. Good morrow, lords: 

O, tell me, did yoa see Aaron the Moor. 
Aur, V/ell, more or less, or ne'er a whit 
at all, 
Here Aaron is: and what with Aaron nowT 
Nur. O gentle Aaron, we are all undone! 
Kow help, or woe betide thee evermore I 
Aar. VSAhy, what a caterwauling dost thou 
keep? [arms? 

What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine 
Nur. O, that which I would hide from hea- 
ven's eye, [grace ; — 
Our empress* shame, and stately Rome's dis- 
She isdeliver'd, lords; she is deliver'd. 
Aar. To whom? 

Nur. I mean she's brought to bed. 

Aar. Well, God 

Give her good rest ! what hath he sent her? 
Nur. A devil. 

Aar. Why then she's the devil's dam ; a 

joyful issue. 
Nur. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrow- 
ful issue : 
Here is the babe, as loathsome as a toad 
Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime. 
The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, 
And bids thee christen it with Ihy daager's 
point. 
Aar. Out, out, you whore ! is black so base 
a hue? — [sure. 

Sweet blowse, yon are a beauteous blossom, 
Deni. Villain, what hnst thou done? 
A.ar. Done ! that which thou 

Canst not undo. 
Chi. Thou hast undone our mother, 

Aar. Villain, 1 have done thy mother. 
Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast 
undone. [choice I 

Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed 
Accursed the offspring of so foul a fiend ! 
Chi. It shall not live. 
Aar, It shall not die. 

Nur. Aaron, it must : the mother wills it 
so. [man but I, 

Aar. What, must I, nurse? then let no 
Do execution on my flesh and blood. 
Dem. I'll broach* the tadpole on my rapier's 
point ; [despatch it. 

Nurse, give it me ; my sword shall soon 
Aar. Sooner this sword shall plough thy 
bowels up. 
{Takes the Child from the Nurse, and 
draivs. [brother ? 

Stay, murderous villains ! will you kill your 
Now, by the burning tapers of the sky, 
That shone so brightly when this boy was got, 
He dies upon my scinjitar's sharp point, 
That touches this, my first-born son and heir I 
I ttll you, younglings, not Enceladust, 
With all hisihreai'ning bandof Typhon's brood. 
Nor great Alcides ;, nor the god of war. 



Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands 
What, what, ye sanguine shallow-he^rte* 
boys ! [signs 

Ye white limed walls ! ye alehouse painte* 
Coal black is better than another hue. 
In that it scorns to bear another hue : 
For all the water in the ocean 
Can never turn a swan's black legs to white. 
Although she lave them hourly in the flood. 
Tell the empress from me, 1 am of age 
To keep mine own ; excuse it how she can. 
Dtm. Wilt thou betray thy noble mistres' 
thus? [myself 

Aar. My mistress is my mistress, thi« 
The vigour and the picture of my youth : 
This, before all the world, do I prefer ; 
This, maugre$ all the world, will I keep safe 
Or some of you shall smoke for it in Rome. 
Dem. By this our mother is for eve* 
shamed. [escape 

Chi. Rome will despise her for this fou 
iVwr.. The emperor, in his rage, will doom 

her death. 
Chi. I blush to think upon this ignomy |j. 
Aar. Why, there's the privilege your beantj 
bears : [blushing 

Fie, treacherous hue! that will betray with 
The close enacts and counsels of the heart ! 
Here's a young lad framed of another leer IT : 
Look how the black slave smiles upon the 

father ; 
As who should say. Old lad^ I am thine own. 
He is your brother, lords ; sensibly fed 
Of that self-hlood that first gave life to you ; 
And from that womb, where you imprison'd 

were. 
He is enfranchised and come to light : 
Nay, he's your brother by the surer side. 
Although my seal be stamped in his face. 
Nur. Aaron, what shall I say unto the em- 
press? [done. 
Dem. Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be 
And we will all subscribe to thy advice; 
Save thou the child, so we may all be safe. 
Aar. Then sit we down, and let us all con- 
sult. 
My son and I will have the wind of you : 
Keep there : Now talk at pleasure of your 
safety. [Theif sit on the Ground, 
Dem. How many women saw this child of 
his? [join in league, 
Aar. Why so, brave lords? when we all 
I am a lamb : but, if you brave the Moor, 
The chafed boar, the mountain lioness. 
The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms.— 
But, say again, how many saw the child ! 

Nur. Cornelia, the midwife, and myself 
And no one else, but the deliver'd empress. 
Aar. The empress, the midwife, and your- 
self: [away. 
Two may keep counsel when the third's 
Go to the empress ; tell her, this I said :— 

[Stubbing het 
Weke, wekel— so cries a pig, prepared t« tbu 
spit. 



• Spit. t A giant, the son of Titan and Terra, t Hercules, 

Ij i. e.f Igtt J xLiLy, ^1 Cdmplexioiu 



§ In ?pite of. 



4 6 



890 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Actir 



Dem. What mean'st thou, Aaron? Where- 
fore oidst tlioii this 1 

Aar. O lord, sir, 'tis a deed of policy : 
Shall she live to betray this gnilt of ours 1 
Along-tonpued babbling gossip ! no, lords, no. 
And now be it known to you my full intent. 
Kot far one Muliteus lives, my countryman. 
His wife but yesternight was brought to bed; 
His child is like to her, fair as you are : 
Go pack* with him, and give the mother gold. 
And tell them both the circumstance of all ; 
And how by this their child shall be advanced, 
And be received for the emperor's heir. 
And substituted in the place of mine. 
To calm this tempest whirling in the court ; 
And let the etnperor dandle him for his own. 
Hark ye, lords ! ye see that I have given her 
physic, [Pointing to the >*urse. 

And you must needs bestow her funeral; 
The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms: 
This done, see that you take no longer days. 
But send the midwife presently to me. 
The midwife and the nurse well made away. 
Then let the ladies tattle what they please. 

Chi. Aaron, 1 see thou wilt not trust the air 
With secrets. 

JJem. For this care of Tamora, 

Herself and hers are highly bound to thee. 
[Eieunt Dem. and Chi. bearing off the 
Nurse. 

Aar, Now to the Goths, as swift as swal- 
low flies ; 
There to dispose this treasure in mine arms. 
And secretly to iireet the empress' friends. — 
Come on, you thick-lipp'd slave, I'll bear you 

hence ; 
For it is you that ruts us to our shifts : 
I'll make you feed on berries and on roots. 
And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat, 
And cabin in a cave; and bring you up 
To be a warrior, and command a camp. 

[EJiit. 

SCENE III. The same. A public Place. 
Enter Titus, bearing Arrows, with Letters 

at the ends of them; with him Marcus, 

young Lucius, and other Gentlemen, 

with Bows. 

Tit. Come, Marcus, come ; — Kinsmen, this 
is the way : — 
Sir boy, now let me see your archery; 
Look ye draw home enough, and 'tis there 

straight: 
Terras A.sfraa reliqnit : 
Be you remember'd, Marcus, she's gone, she's 
fled. [shall 

Sir, take you to your tools. You, cousins, 
G^) sound the ocean, and cast your nets; 
Happily you may find her in the sea ; 
Yet there's as little justice as at land : — 
No ; Pnblius and Sempronius, you must do it ; 
'TIS you must dig with mattock and with spade. 
And pierce the inmost centre of the earth : 
Then, when you come to Pluto's region, 
I pray you, deliver him this petition : 



Tell him it is for justice and for aid ; 
And that it comes from old Andronicus, 
Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Rome. — 
Ah, Rome! — W^ell, well! I made thee ml 

serable, 
W^hat time I threw the people's snfi'rages 
On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me. — 
Go, get you gone ; and pray be careful all, 
And leave you not a man-of-war unsearch'd; 
This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her 
hence, [tice, 

And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for jus. 
Mar. O, Publius, is not this a heavy case 
To see thy noble uncle thus dtistract? 

Pub. Therefore, my lord, it highly us con 
cerns, 
By day and night, to attend him carefully ; 
And feed his humour kindly as we may. 
Till time beget some careful remedy. 

Mar. Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy 
Join with the Goths ; and with revengeful wai 
Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude. 
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine. 

Tit. Publius, how now ; how now, my 
Have you met with her? [masters 1 What 
Pub. No, my good lord ; but Plutus send? 
you word 
If you will have revenge from hell, you shall ; 
Marry, for Justice, she is so employ 'd. 
He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere 

else. 
So that perforce you must needs stay a time. 
Tit. He doth me wrong, to feed me with 
I'll dive into the burning lake below, [delays. 
And pull her out of Acheron by the heels. — 
Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we; 
No big-boned men, framed of the Cyclop's size : 
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back; 
Yet wrung t with wrongs, more than our backs 

can bear : 
And siih j there is no justice in earth nor hell. 
We will solicit heaven ; and move the gods. 
To send down justice for to wreak § our >% roiigs: 
Come, to this gear||. You are a good archer, 
Marcus. [He gives them the Arrotvs, 
Ad Jovim, that's for you: — Here, ad Apol- 
Ad Alar te7n, that's for myself; — [lincni: — 
Here, boy, to Pallas :— Here, to Mercnry : 
To Saturn, Cains, not to Saturnine, — 
You were as good to shoot against the wind. — 
To it, boy. Marcus, loose when I bid: 
O* my w ord, I have written to eftect ; 
There's not a god left unsolicited, [the court: 
Mar. Kinsmen, shoot all your shafts into 
We will afflict the emperor in his pride. 
Tit. Now, masters, draw. [They shoot.'] O, 
well said, Lucius! 
Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it Pallas, [moon ; 
Mar. My lord, 1 aim a mile beyond the 
Your letter is with Jupiter by this. [done! 
Tit. 11a! Publius, Publius, what hast thou 
See, 8ee,tho-u hast shot oft one of laurus' horns. 
Mar. This was the sport, my lord: when 
Publius shot, 
The bull being gali'd, gave Aries such a knock 



Contrive, bargain with. 



+ Strained. 
[ Dress, furniture. 



t Since. 



$ Revenge* 



Scene III.] 



TITUS ANDKONICUS. 



891 



That down fell both the ram's horns in the 

conrt ; [villain ? 

And who should find them but the empress* 

She laugh'd, and told the Moor, he should not 

choose 
But yive them to his master for a present. 

Tit. Why, there it goes: God give your 
lord,«hip joy. 

Enter a Clown, tvith a Basket and Two 

Pigeons. 

News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is 

come. 
Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters? 
Shall 1 hav€ jusiice? what says Jupiter? 

Clo. Ho! the gibbet-maker? he says, that he 
hath taken them 'lown again, for the man must 
not be hanged till the next week. 

Tit, But what says Jupiter, 1 ask thee? 

Clo. Alas, sir, 1 know not Jupiter; I never 
drank with him in all ray life. 

Tit. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier? 

Clo. Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else. 

Tit. Why, did&t thou not come from heaven ? 

Clo, From heaven? alas, sir, I never came 
there : God forbid, I should be so bold to press 
to heaven in my young days. Why, I am going 
with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs*, to 
take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle 
and one of the emperial's men. 

Mar. Why, sir, 'that is as fit as can be, to 
g6rve for your oration ; and let him deliver the 
pigeons to the emperor from you. 

Tit. Tell me7 can you deliver an oration to 
the emperor with a grace? 

Clo. Nay, truly, sir, I could never say grace 
in al! my life. 

Tit. Sirrah, come hither : make no more ado. 
But give your pigeons to the emperor: 
By me thou shall have justice at his hands. 
Hold, hold; — mean while, here's money for 
Irive me a pen and ink- — [thy charges. 

Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a suppli- 

Clo. Ay, sir. [cation? 

Tit. Then here is a supplication for you. 
And when you come to him, at the first ap- 
proach, you must kneel; then kiss his foot; 
then deliver up your pigeons; and then look 
for your reward, Til be at hand, sir: see you 
do it bravely. 

Clo. I warrant you, sir ; let me alone, [^ee it. 

Tit, Sirrah, hast thou a knife? Come, let me 
Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration ; [pliant : — 
For thou hast made it like an humble sup- 
And when thou hast given it to the emperor. 
Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. 

Clo. God be with you, sir; I will. 

Tit. Come, Marcus, let's go: — Publius, fol- 
low me. {Exeunt . 
SCENE IV. The same. Before the Palace. 
Enter Saturninus,Tamora, Chiron, Dk- 

MKiRius, Lords, and Others: Saujkni- 

Nus icith the Arroius in his Hand, that, 

Titus shot. | 

^at. Why, lords, what wrongs are these?! 

Was ever seen 1 



An emperor of Rome thus overborne. 

Troubled, confronted thus : and, for the extent 

Of egalf justice, used in such contempt? 

My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods. 

However these disturbers of our peace [pass'd. 

Buz in the people's ears, there nought hath 

But even with law, against the wilful sons 

Of old Andronicus. And what an if 

His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits. 

Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks. 

His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? 

And now he writes to heaven for his redress: 

See, here's to Jove, and this to Mercury; 

This to Apollo ; this to the god of war : 

Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome! 

What's this, but libelling against the senate. 

And blazoning our injustice every where? 

A goodly humour, is it not, my lords? 

As who would say, in Rome no justice were. 

But, if I live, his feigned ecstasies 

Shall be no shelter to these outrages : 

But he and his shall know that justice lives 

In Saturninus' health ; whom, if she sleep. 

He'll so awake, as she in fury shall 

Cut off the proud'st conspirator that lives. 

Tarn. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine^ 
Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts. 
Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age. 
The effects of sorrow for his valiant sons. 
Whose loss hath pierced him deep, and acarr'd 

his heart; 
And rather comfort his distressed plight. 
Than prosecute the meanest, or the best, [come 
For these contempts. Why, thus it shall be- 
High-witted Tamora to gloze i with all : {Aside.. 
But, litus, I have touel/d thee to the quick. 
Thy life-blood out : if Aaron now be wise. 
Then is all safe, the anchor's in the port. — 

Enter Clowu. 

How now, good fellow? wouldst thou spe-ak 

with us? [imperial. 

Clo. Yes, forsooth, an your mistership be 

Tarn. Empress I am, but yonder sits the 

emperor. 
Clo. *Tis he. — God, and saint Stephen, give 
you good den : — I have brought you a letter, 
and a couple of pigeons here. 

[Saturninus reads the Letter. 
Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him pre- 
sently. 
Clo. How much money must I have? 
Tarn. Come, sirrah, you must be hang'd. 
Clo. Hang'd ! By'r lady, then I have brought 
up a neck to a fair end. [Exit, guarded. 
Sat. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! 
Shall I endure this monstrous villauy? 
I know from whence this same device proceeds; 
May this be borne? — as if his traitorous sons. 
That died by law for murder of our brother. 
Have by my means been butcher'd wrongfully. 
Go, drag the villain hither by the hair; 
Nor age, nor honour, shall shape privilege: — 
For this proud mock, I'll be thy slaughter.man ; 
Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make nie 

great. 
In hope thyself should govern Rome and me. 



j Tlic Clown ine^ns to say pli;beian tribune, i, i\, tribiuie vS the peoiilc. t Equal. ; Flaller 



899 



SHAKSPEARE. 



{Aci r. , 



Enter Mmh.ivs. 
What news with thee,^uiiliu.s? [morecaase! 

j£miL Arm, arm, my U)ids; Rome never had 
The Goths have gatheiM head; and with a 
Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil, [power 
They hither marcli amain, under coaduct 
Of Lncius, son to old Andronicas; 
Who threats, in course of this revenge, to do 
As much as ever Coriolanus did. 

Sat, Is warlike Lucius general. of the Goths? 
These tidings nip jiie ; and I hang tlie head 
As flowei s with frost, or grass beat down with 

storms. 
Ay, now be^in our sorrows to approach: 
I'is he the common people love so much; 
ivlyseif halh often over heard them say, 
(When I have walked like a private man,) 
That Lucius* banishtneut was wrongfully. 
And they have wish'd ihat Lucius were their 
emperor. [eUy strong? 

Tarn. Why simuld you fear? is not youi 

Sat. Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius; 
And will I evolt from me to succour him. 

Tarn. King, be thy thoughts imperious*, 
iike thy name. 
Is the sun dimniM, that gnats do fly in it? 
The eagle sutiers little birds to sing. 
And is not careful what (hey mean thereby ; 
Xuowing that with the shadow of his wings, 
He can at pleasure stint t their melody : 



Even so roay'st thou the giddy men of Boip«>. 

Then cheer tliy spirit : for know, thou emperor, 
I will enci^aiit the old Anaronicus, [geious. 
With words more sweet, and yet more dan- 
Than baits to fish, or honey stalks to sheep ; 
When as the one is wounded with the bait, 
'J'he other rotted with delicious feed. 

Sat. But he will not entreat his son for us. 

Turn. If Tamora entreat him, then he will: 
For 1 can smooth, and 611 his aged ear 
W ith golden promises ; that were his heart 
Almost impregnable, his old cars deaf. 
Yet should both ear and heart obey my tongn«. 
Go thou before, be our ambassadcn- ; 

[7'0 iEMILIUS. 

Say, that the emperor requests a parley 

Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting, * 

Even at his father's house, the old Andronicus, 

Sat. j^miiiu?,do this message honourably; 
And if he stand on hostage for his safely, [t)est 
Bid him ilemand what pleds^e will please him 

jiLJ/iU. \our bidding shall I do etiectually. 
[tait iE-MiLius 

Tam, Now will 1 to that old Andronicus ; 
And temper him with all the art I have. 
To pluck proud Lucius from the w arlike Goths. 
And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again. 
And bury all thy fear in my devices. 

Sat. Then go successfully, and plead to him. " 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. Plains near Rome. 
Enter Lucius, and Goths, with Drum and 
Colours. 
Luc. Approved warriors, and my faithful 
friends, 
1 have received letters from great Rome, 
Whii h signify, what hate ihey bear their em- 
peror, 
And how desirous of our sight they are. [ness, 
Tlierefore, great h)rds. be, as your titles wit- 
Liiptrious, aiul impatient of yonr wrongs ; 
And wherein Rome hatii done you any scath^. 
Let him make treble satisfaction. 

i Got/i. Brave slip, sprung from the great 
Andronicus, [comfort ; 

Whose name was once our terror, now our 
Whose hiuh exploits, and honourable deeds, 
Ingrateful Rome req"'les with foul contempt, 
Pe bold in us : we'll follow where thou lead'st, 
Like stinging bees in honest summer's day, 

-ed by tluir master to the flower'd tields, — 
And be avenged on cursed Tamora. [him. 

Cloths. And, as he saitli, so say we all with 
Lur. I lujnUly thank him, in<l 1 thank you 
But who comes here, led by a lusty Gotlt I [all. 
Enter a Goth, ^efi/t'Hg Amion, with his 
Child in h\<i Arms. 
1 Goth. Ren'>wtiert Lucius, from our troops 
to ga2f up<-n a i tiiuDUs monastery ; [I 6tr.t\*d, 
And ao I earnpstlv <lid fix mine eye 



Upon the wasted building, suddenly 
I heard a child cry underneath a wall : 
1 made unto the «oi.^e ; when soon I heard 
The crying babe controlTd with this discoursci 
PeacCi taivny slave , halj'me, and hulj thy 

dam ! 
Did not thy hue betvray whose brat thou art 
Had nature lent thi e but thy mother's look 
Villain, thou might*st have beeii an em 

') eror : [white 

But where the bull and cow are both milk 
They never do beget a coaUhlack calf. 
PeavCy villain, peace ! — even thus he rate 

the babe, — 
For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth ; 
Who, when he knows thou art the empress 

babe. 
Will hold thee dearly for thy mother^s sake 
With this, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upo» 

him. [hither. 

Surprised him suddenly ; and brought hiii> 
To use as yon think needful oi the man. 
Luc. O'wortiiy Goth ! this is the iucarnatt 

devil, 
That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand : 
This is the pearl that pleased your empress 

exej ; 
And lure's the base fruit of his burning Inst.— 
Say, wall-eyed slave, whither would^t iho 

convey 
This growing image of thy fieiwl-like fat 



j Al.udi.ii; lo t,h» protrb, 



I Stop. t Harm. 

• a bUck ai«u ii a ^'cail in a tan woman'* eye.' 



Sceng J.] 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



893 



Why dost not speak ? What! deaf? No; not 

a word ? 
A halter, soldiers; hang him on this tree. 
And by his side his frait of bastardy. 

Aar. Touch not the boy, he is of royal blood. 
Luc. Too like the sire for ever being good. 
First, hang the child, that he may see it sprawl ; 
A sight to ve:< the father's soul withal. 
Get me a ladder. 

[A Ladder brought^ which Aakon is 
obliged to ascend. 
Aar Lucius, save the child ; 

And bear it from me to the empress. 
If thou do this, I'll show thee wondrous thing*, 
That highly may advantage thee to hear: 
Jf thou wilt not, befall what may befall, 
I'll speak no more ; But vengeance rot you all! 
Luc. Say on ; and, if it please me which 
thou speak'st, • 
Thy child s^i all live, and I will see it nourished. 
Aar. An if it please thee? why, assure thee, 
Lucius, 
'Twill vex thy soul to hear what T shall speak ; 
For I must talk of murders, rapes, and massa- 
Acts of black night, abominable deeds, [cres, 
Coinpiots of mischief, treason; villanies 
Rurhful to hear, yet piteously perform'd: 
And this shall all be buried by my death. 
Unless thou sAvear to me, my child shall live. 
Luc. Tell on thy mind ; I say, thy child shall 
live. [begin. 

Aar. Swear, that he shall, and then I will 
Luc. Who should I swear by ? thou believest 
no god ; 
That granted, how canst thou believe an oath ? 
Aar. What if I do not? as, indeed, I do not : 
Vet, — for 1 know thou art religious. 
And hast a thing within thee, call^^d conscience ; 
With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies. 
Which I have seen thee careful to observe, — 
Therefore I urge thy oath ; — For that, 1 know. 
An idiot holds his bauble for a god, [swears; 
And keeps the oath, which by that god he 
To that I'll urge him: — Therefore, thou shalt 
By that same god, what god soe'er it be, [vow 
That thou adorest and hast in reverence, — 
To save my boy, to nourish, and bring him up ; 
Or else I will discover nought to thee. 
Luc. Even by my god, i swear to thee, I 
will. [empress. 

Aar. First, know thou, I begot him on the 
IjUC. O most insatiate, luxurious woman ! 
Aar. Tut, Lucius! this was but a deed of 
charity. 
To that which thou shalt hear of me anon, 
•Twas her two sons that murder'd Bassianus : 
They cut thy sister's tongue, and ravish'd her. 
And cut her hands ; and tiiuaa'd her as thou 
savv'st. [trimming? 

JjUc. O, detestable villain ! call'st thou that 
y^ar. Why, she was wash'd, and cut, and 
trimui'd; and 'twas 
Trim sport for them that had the doing of it. 
JjUC. O, barbarous, beastly villains, like 
thyself! • [them; 

Aar. indeed, I was their tutor to instruct 
Thar codding spirit had they from their mother, 
A& sure a card aa ever won the set; 



That bloody mind, I think, they learn'd of me. 
As true a dog as ever fought at head. — 
Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth. 
I train'd thy brethren to that gruileful hole. 
Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay : 
I wrote the letter that thy father found, 
And hid the gold within the letter mention'd. 
Confederate vviih the (pieen, and iier two sons ; 
And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue. 
Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it ? 
I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand ; 
And, w^hen I had it, drew myself apart. 
And almost broke my heart with extreme 

laughter. 
I pry'd me through the crevice of a wall. 
When, for his hand, he had his two sons' heads ; 
Beheld his tears, and laugh'd so heartily. 
That both mine eyes were rainy like to his ; 
And when I told the empress of this sport. 
She swounded almost at my pleasing tale. 
And, for my tidings, gave me twenty kisses. 
Goth. What ! canst thou say all this, and 

never blush ? 
Aar. Ay, like a black dog, as the saying is. 
Luc. Art thou not sorry for these heinous 
deeds ? [more. 

Aar. Ay, that I had not done a thousand 
Even now I curse the day, (and yet I think. 
Few come within the compass of my rse,) 
Wherein I did not souiC notorious ill . 
As kill a man, or else devise his death ; 
Ravish a maid, or plot the way to do it ; 
Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself 
Set deadly enmity between two friends; 
Make poor men's cattle break their necks ; 
Set fire on barns and hay-stacks in the night, 
And bid the owners quench them with their 
tears. [graves. 

Oft have I digg'd up dead men from their 
And set them upright at their dear friends* 

doors. 
Even when their sorrows almost were forgot ; 
And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, 
Have with my knife carved in Roman letters. 
Let not your sorrow die., though I am dead. 
Tut, 1 have done a thousand dreadful things, 
As willingly as one would kill a fly ; 
And nothing grieves me heartily indeed. 
But that 1 cannot do ten thousand more. 
Luc. Bring down the devil ; for he must not 
die 
So sweet a death, as hanging presently. 
* Aar. If there be devils, 'would 1 were a 
To live and burn in everlasting tire; [devil. 
So I might have your company in hell, 
But to torment you with my bitter tongue ! 
Luc. Sirs, stop hi:*, mouth, aud let him speak 
no more. 

Enter a Goth. 
Goth. My lord, there is a messenger from 
Rome, 
Desires to be admitted to your presence. 
Luc. Let him come near. — 
Enter ^Emilius. 
Welcome, -(Emilius, what's the news from 
Koine? [Goths, 

j^mil. Lord Lucius, and you princes of the 
The Roman empeior greats you ail by me ; 
4G3 



894 



SHAKSPEA&E, 



Act y 



And, for he understands you are in arms, 
He craves a parley at your father's bouse 
Willing you to demand your hostages, 
And they sh4ll be immediately deliver'd. 
1 Goth. Vv hat says oar general ? [pledges 
Luc» j^i'imiliuB, let the emperor give his 
Unto my father and my uncle Marcus, 
And we will come. — March away *. 

\^Exeunt* 

SCENE II. Rome. Before Titus's House. 
Enter Tamora, Chiron, and Demetrius, 

disguised. 

Tarn. Thus, in this strange and sad habili- 
I will encounter with Andronicua ; [nient. 
And say, 1 am Revenge, sent from below. 
To join with him, and right his heinous wrongs. 
Knock at his study where, they say, he keeps, 
To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge; 
Tell him. Revenge is come to join with him. 
And work confusion on his enemies. 

[They knock. 
Enter Titus, above. 

Tit. Who doth molest my contemplation? 
Is it your trick, to make me ope the door ; 
That so my sad decrees may fly away, 
And all my study be to mo effect ? 
You are deceived : for what I mean to do, 
See liere, in bloody lines I have set down ; 
And what in written shall be executed. 

Tarn. Titus, I am come to talk with thee. 

TU. No ; not a word : How can 1 grace my 
Wanting a hand to give it action 1 [talk. 

Thou hast the odds of me, therefore no more- 
yam. If thou didst know me, thou wouldst 
talk with me. [enough : 

Tit. I am not mad ; I know thee well 
Witness this wretched stump, these crimson 
lines ; [care ; 

Witness these trenches, made by grief and 
Witness the tiring day, and heavy night ; 
Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well 
For our proud empress, mighty Tamora : 
Is not thy coming for my other hand ? [mora ; 

Tarn. Know, thou sad man, I am not Ta- 
She is thy enemy, and 1 thy friend : [dom, 
I am Revenge ; sent from the infernal king- 
To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind. 
By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes. 
Come down, and welcome me to this world's 

light; 
Tonfer with me of murder and of death : 
Chere's not a hollow cave, or lurking-place. 
No vast obscurity, or misty vale, 
Where bloody murder, or detested rape. 
Can couch for fear, but I will tind them out ; 
i^nd in their ears tell them my dreadful name. 
Revenge, which makes the foul offender quake. 

T/t. Art tliou Revenge ? and art thou sent to 
To be a torment (o mine enemies? [me, 

Tata. I am ; therefore come down, and 
welcome me. [thee. 

l^it. Do me some service, ere I come to 
ho, by ihy side were Rape, and Murder, j 
stands ; I 

Kpwgive some 'surance that thou art Revenge, 1 



Stab them, or tear them on thy chariot wheels; 
And then I'll come, and be thy waggoner, 
And whirl along with thee about the globes. 
Provide thee proper palfries, black as jet. 
To hale thy vengeful waggon swift awH^v, 
And find out murderers in their guilty caves : 
And, when thy car is leaden with their heads, 
I will dismount, and by the waggon wheel 
Trot, like a servile footman, all day long; 
Even from Hyperion's rising in the east, 
Until his very downfall in the se^. 
And day by day I'll do this heavy task. 
So thou destroy Rapine and Murder there. 

Tarn. These are my ministers, and com, 
with me. [call'd . 

Tit. Are they thy ministers? what are they 

Tarn. Rapine and Murder ; therefore called 

so, [men. 

'Cause they take vengeance of such kind of 

7'it. Good lord, how like the empress' sons 
they are I 
And you, the empress ! But we worldly men 
Have miserable, mad, mistaking eyes. 

sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee : 
And, if one arm's embracement will content 

1 will embrace thee in it by and by. [thee, 

[Exit Tit vs, from above. 

Tarn. This closing with him fits his lunacy : 
Whate'er I forge, to feed his brain-sick fits, 
Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches. 
For now he firmly takes me for Revenge ; 
And, being credulous in this mad thought, 
I'll make him send for Lucius, his son ; 
And, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure, 
I'll find some cunning practice out of hand, 
To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths, 
Or, at the least, make them his enemies. 
See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme. 
Enter Titus. 

Tit. Long have I been forlorn, and all for 
thee : 
Welcome, dread fury, to my wofiil house ; — 
Rapine, and Murder, you are welcome too :— • 
How like the empress and her sons you arc I 
Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor : - 
Could not all hell afford you such a devil 1 — 
For, well I wot, the empress never wags. 
But in her company there is a Moor ; 
And, would you represent our queen aright. 
It were convenient you had such a devil : 
But welcome, as you are. What shall we do t 

Tarn. What wouldst thou have us do, An- 
dronicus? [him. 

Dem. Show me a murderer, I'll deal with 

Chi. Show me a villain, that hath done a 
And I am sent to be revenged on him. [rape, 

7'am. Show me a thousand, that hath <»on« 
thee wrong, 
And I will be revenged on them all. 

Tit. Look round about the wicked streets of 
Rome ; 
And when thou find'st a man that's like thyself. 
Good Murder, stab him ; he's a murderer. — 
Go thou with him ; and when it is thy hap« 
To find another that is like to thee. 
Good Rapine, slab him ; he is a-avisher* 



* Pcrhapb this is a stage direotion, crept into the Uxt. 



Scene II.] 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



895 



Go thou with them; and in the emperor's 
Thert is a queen, attended by a Moor ; [conrt 
Well may'st ihou know hei by thy own pro- 
portion, 
For up and down she doth resemble thee; 
1 pray thee, do on them some violent death, 
The} have been violent to me and mine, [we do. 
Tarn. Well hast thou lesson'd us; this shall 
But would it please thee, good Androuicus, 
To send for Lucius, thy thrice valiant son, 
Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike 

Goths, 
And bid him come and banquet at thy house ; 
When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, 
I will bring in the empress and her sons. 
The emperor himself, and all thy foes ; 
And at thy mercy shall they stoop and kneel. 
And on them slialt thou ease thy angry heart. 
What says Androninus to this device? [calls. 
Tit, Marcus, my brother ! — 'tis sad 'Jitus 
Enter Marcus. 
Go, gentle Marcus, to Ihy nephew Lucius ; 
Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths : 
Bit him repair to me, and bring with him 
Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths ; 
Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are : 
Tell him, the emperor and the empress too 
Feast at ray house : ziv\ he shall feast with 

them. 
This do thou for my love ; and so let him, 
As he regards his aged father's life. 
Mar. This will I do, aiJ^d soon return again. 

Iblxit. 
Tarn. Now will I hence about thy business, 
And take my ministers along with me. 

Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder slay 
with me ; 
Or else Pll call my brother I ack again. 
And cleave to no revenge but Lucius. 

Tain. VVhat say you, boys? will you abide 
Whiles I go tell Uiylord the emperor, [with him, 
How I have govern'd our determined jest? 
Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him 
fair, [Aside. 

Aod tarry with him, till I come again. 
Tit. 1 know them all, though they suppose 
me mad ; 
And will o'er-reach them in their own devices, 
A pair of cursed hell-hounds, and their dam. 

[Aside. 

Dem. Madam, depart at pleasure, leave us 

here. [goes 

Tarn. Farewell, Andronicus: Revenge now 

To lay a complot to betray thy foeg. 

[£ai^ Tamora. 
Tit. I know thou dost; and, sweet Revenge, 

farewell. 
Chi. Tell u», old man, how shall we be em- 
ploy'd? [do. — 

Tit. Tut, I have work enough for you to 
Poblius, come hither, Caius, and Valentine! 
Ef'ter PuKLius,«;zd Others. 
Pub. What's your will ? 
Ttt. Know you these two? 

Pub. Th' empress' »ons, 

take them, Chirou and Demetrius. 



Tit. Fie, Publius, fie! thou art too roucii 

deceived ; 
The one is Murder, Rape is the other's name: 
And therefore bind them, gentle Publiu*; 
Caius, and Valentine, lay hands on them : 
Oft have you heard me wish for such an hour. 
And now I find it ; therefore bind them sure ; 
And stop their mouths, if they begin to cry. 
lExii Titus. — Publius, 4c., Icey hold on 

Chiron and Demetrius. 
Chi. Villains, forbear : we are the empre-ss* 

sons. [commanded. — 

^ Pub. And therefore do we what we are 
Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a 

word : [fast. 

Is he sure bound ? look, that you bind them 

He-enter Tim & Andronicus, tvith Lavi- 

NiA ; she bearing a Basin , and he a Knife. 

Tit. Come, come, Lavinia; look, thy foes 

are bound ; — {me ; 

Sirs, stop their mouths, let them not speak to 
But let them hear what fearful words I utter. 
O villains, Chiron and Demetrius! 
Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd 

with mud ; 
This goodly summer with your winter mix'd. 
Youkill'd herhusbmd; aud, for that vile fault. 
Two of her brothers were condemnM to death : 
My hand cutotf, aud made a mtrry jest: 
Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and that, 

more dear 
Than hands or tongue, herspolltss chastity. 
Inhuman traitors, you coustrain'd and forced. 
What would you .say, if 1 should let you 

speak? [grace. 

Villains, for shame you could not beg for 
Hark, wretches, how I mean to martyr you. 
This one hand yet is left to cut your throats ; 
Whilst that Lavinia 'tween her stumps doth 

hold 
The basin, that receives your guilty blood. 
You know, your mother means to feast with 

me, [mad, — 

And calls herself. Revenge, and thinks me 
Hark, villains ; I will grind your bones to dust. 
And with your blood and it, I'll make a 
And of the paste a coffin * I will rear, [paste ; 
And make two pasties of your shameful heads ; 
And bid that strumpet, your unhallow'd dam. 
Like to the earth, swallow her own increase. 
This is the feast that 1 have bid her to. 
And this the banquet she shall surfeit on ; 
For worse thanPhilomel you used my daughter. 
And worse than Progne 1 will be revenged : 
And now prepare your throats.— Lavinia, 

come, \lle cuts their tiiroats. 

Receive the blood : and, when that they are 

dead, 
Let me go grind their bones (o powder small. 
And with this hateful liquor temper it ; 
And in that paste let their vile heads be baked. 
Come, come, be every one officious [prove 
To make this banquet; which I wish may 
More stern and bloody than the Centaur's feasu 
So, now bring them in, for 1 will play *.he 

cook. 



CruBt of raised pie. 



896 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r 



And see them ready 'gainst their mother comee. 
{Extunt, bearing the dead bodies. 

SCENE III. The same, A Paiilion,W'th 

Tables, ^c. 
£nter LvcmSf Marci's, avd Goths, tcith 
A A RUN, P 71 A oner, 
Luc. Uncle Mnrcus, since 'tis my father's 
That I repair to Rome, I am content, [mind, 
1 Goth. And ours, with thine, befall what 
fortune will. [Moor, 

Luc, Good nmle, take yoo in this barbarous 
This ravenons ti^er. this accursed devil ; 
Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him, 
lill he be brought unto the empress' face. 
For testimony of her foul proceedings : 
And see the ambush of our friends be strong : 
1 fear, the ern[)eror mems no uood to us. 

Aar. Some devil whisper curses in mine ear. 
And prompt me, that my tongue may utier 

forth 
The venomous mdice of my swelling heart ! 

Luc. Avvay,inliumHndog ! unhallow'd slave! 
Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. — 

[Exeunt Goths, ivitn Aaron. Flourish. 
The trumpets show the emperor is at hand. 
JSnter S a i urn in us andT \mor.\, with Tri- 
bunes, Senators, and Others. 
iSat. What, hath the firmament more suns 
th;in one ? Tsun 1 

Lvc. What boots • it thee, to call thyself a 
Mar. iiome's emperor, and nephevi^, break t 
the paile ; 
These quarrels mirst be quietly debated. 
The feast is ready, which the cnreful Titus 
Hath ordained to an honourable end, [Rome : 
For peace, for love, for league, and good to 
Please you, therefore, draw nigh, and take 
Sat. Marcus, we will. [your places. 

[Hauthays sound. The Company sit down 

at Table. 
Enter Tirus, dressed like a Cook, Lavi- 
NiA, veiled, i/02ing Itvcivs, and Others. 
Titus j. laces the Dishes on the Table. 
Tit. Welcome, my gracious lord : wel- 
come, dread queen ; [cius ; 
Welcome, ye warlike Goths ; welcome, Lu- 
And welcome, all ; although the cheer be 
poor, [it. 
'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of 
Hat. Why art thou thus attired, Androni- 
cns? [well, 
Tit. Because 1 would be snre to have all 
To entertain your highness, and your enipress. 
Tarn. We are beholden to you, good Andro- 
nicus. [you were. 
Tit. An if your highness knew my heart. 
My lord the emperor, resolve me this; 
Was it well done of rash \ ir^inius. 
To slay his daughter with his own right-hand, 
Because she was enforced, stain'd, and de- 
Sat. It was, Andronicus. [flour'd ? 
Tit. Your reason, mighty lord! 
Sat. Because the giii should not survive 
her shame, 
Aiid by her presence still renew his sorrows. 

• Advantage, benefit. 



Tit, A reason mighty, strong, and elfectaal; 
A pattern, pre<"edent, and lively warrant, 
For me, most wietched to perform the like : 
Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee; 

[He k'lls Lavinia. 

And, with thy shame, thy father's scrrow die! 

Sat, What hast thou done, unnatural, and 

unkind? 
Tit. Kill'd her, for whom my tears have 
made me blind. 
I am as woful as Virginius was : 
And have a thousand times more cause than he 
To do this outrage ;— and it is now done. 
iVa?. What, was she ravisli'd? tell, who did 
the deed. [highness feed ? 

Tit.WiW' please you eat? will't please >our 
Tam. W hy hast thou slain thine only daugh- 
ter thus ? 
Tit. Not I ; 'twas Chiron and Demetrius : 
They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue, 
And they, 'twas they, that did her all this 
w rong. 
Sat. Go, fetch them hitherto us presently. 
Tit. Why, there they are both, baked in that 
Whereof their mother dainlily hath fed, [pie; 
Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred. 
*Tis true, 'lis true ; witness my knife's sharp 
point. [Killing Tamora, 

Sat, Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed 
deed. [KillingTirvs, 

Luc. Can the son's eye behold his father 
bleed? [deetl. 

There's meed for meed, death for a deadly 
[Kills Saturninus. A great Tumult, 
The People in cotfusion disperse, 
Marcus, Lucius, and their Parti- 
sans ascend the Steps before Titus's 
House. 
Mar. You sad-faced men, people and sons 
of Rome, 
By uproar severed, like a flight of fowl 
Scatterd by winds and hit;;h tempestuous gusts, 
O, let me teach you how to knit again 
This scatter'd corn into one mutual sheaf. 
These broken limbs again into one body, 

Se7i. Lest Rome herself be bane unt<» herself; 
And she, whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to. 
Like a forlorn and desperate cast away. 
Do shameful execution on herself. 
But if my frosty signs and chaps of age, 
Grave witnesses of true experience. 



Cannot induce you to attend iriy words,- 
. _ . . - - ■ 'fol 

erst our ancestor, 



Speak, Rome's dear friend; [To Lucius.] atf 



When w ith his solenm tongue he di»l discourse 
T© love-sick Dido's sad attending ear, 
Ihe story of that baleful burning night. [Troy; 
When subtle Greeks surprised king Priam's 
Tell us, what Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears. 
Or who hath brought the fatal engine in, 
That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civi* 

wound. — 
My heart is not com pact of flint, nor steel ; 
Nor can I utter all our bitter gi ief. 
But floods of tears will drown my oratory. 
And break my very utterance ; eveu i'tbe tim« 

t i, e,. Begin the parley- 



Scene III.] 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



89" 



When it should move you to attend me most, 
Lending your kind commiseration : 
Here is a captain, let him tell the tale ; 
Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him 
speak. [you, 

Jbuc. Then noble auditory, be it known to 
That cnrsed Chiron and Demetrius [tber ; 

Were they that murdered our emperor's bro- 
And they it were that ravished our sister: 
For their fell faults our brothers were behead- 
ed ; [zen*d 
Our father's tears despised ; and basely co- 
Of that true hand, that fought Rome's quarrel 
And sent her enemies unto the grave. [out. 
Lastly, myself unkindly banished. 
The gates shut on me, and turn'd weeping out. 
To beg relief among Rome's enemies; 
Who drown'd their enmity in my true tears, 
-And oped their arms to embrace me as a friend : 
And I am the turn'd-forth, be it known to yon. 
That have preserved her welfare in my blood ; 
And from her bosom took the enemy's point. 
Sheathing the steel in my advent'rous body, 
Alas! you know I am no vaunter, I; 
"My scars can witness, dumb although they are. 
That my report is just, and full of truth. 
But, soft ; methiuks, I do digress too much. 
Citing my worthless praise : O, pardon me ; 
For when no friends are by, men praise them- 
selves, [child. 

Mar. Now is my turn to speak ; Behold this 
[Pointing to the Chitd in the arms of 
an Attendant, 
Of this was Tamora delivered; 
The issue of an irreligious Moor, 
Chief architect and plotter of these woes j 
The villain is alive in Titus' house, 
Damn'd as he is, to witness this is true. 
Now judge, what cause had Titus to revenge 
These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience. 
Or more than any living man could bear. 
Now you have heard the truth, what say you, 

Romans? 
Have we done aught amiss? Show us wherein. 
And, from the place where you behold us now. 
The poor remainder of Andronici 
Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us down, 
And on the ragged stones beat iorth our brains. 
And make a mutual closure of our house. 
Speak, Romans, speak ; and, if you say, we 

shall, 
Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will fall. 
' JEmil. Come, come, thou reverend man of 

Rome, 
And bring our emperor gently in thy hand, 
Lucius oar emperor; for, well I know. 
The common voice do cry, it shall be so. 

Rom. [Several speaJc.] Lucius, all hail ; 
Rome's royal emperor ! 
Lucius, 4c. descejid. 

Mar. Go, go into old Titus' sorrowful house ; 
[To an Attendant. 
And hither hale that misbelieving Moor, 
To be adjudged some direful slaughtering death. 
As punishment for his most wicked life. 

liom. [Several speak.] Lucius, all hail ; 
Rome's gracious governor ! 



Luc. Thanks, gentle Romans : May I govern 
so. 
To heal Rome's harms, aiid wipe awjiy ner woei 
But, gentle people, give me aim awhile, — 
For nature puts me to a heavy task; — 
Stand all aloof: — but, uncle, drav, you near. 
To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk : — 
O, take this warm kiss on thy pale cold lips, 
[Kt.sses Titus. 
These sorrowful drops upon thy bluod-stain'd 
The last true duties of thy nob'e son! [face. 

Mar. Tear for tear, and loving kiss for kiss. 
Thy brother Marcus tenders on ihy lips: 
O, were the sum of these that I should pay 
Countless and infinite, yet would I pay themf 

LiUC. Come hither, boy ; come, come, and 
learn of us [well: 

To melt in showers : Thy grandsire loved ihee 
Many a time he danced thee on his knee, 
Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow ; 
Many a matter hath he told to thee. 
Meet, and agreeing with thine infancy ; 
In that respect then, like a lovingchild, [spring. 
Shed yet some small drops from thy tender 
Because kind nature doth require it so : [woe : 
Friends should associate friends in grief and 
Bid him farewell ; commit him to the grave ; 
Do him that kindness, and take leave of him. 

Boy. O grandsire, grandsire! even with all 
my heart 
Would I were dead, so you did live again ! — 

lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping 
My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth. 

Enter Attendants, tvith Aaron. 
1 Rom. Yon sad Andronici, have done with 
Give sentence on this execruble wretch, [woes. 
That hath been breeder of these dire events. 
L,uc. Set him breast-deep in earth, and fa- 
mish himi 
There let him stand and rave, and cry for food I 
If any one relieves or pities him. 
For the oflfence he dies. This is our doom : 
Some stny, to see him fastened in the earth. 
Aar. O, why should wrath be mute, and 
fury dumb? 

1 am no baby, I, that, with base prayers, 
I should repent the evils 1 have done; 
Ten thousand worse, than ever yet I did, 
Would I perform, if I might have my will 
If one good deed in all my life I did, 

I do repent it from my very soul. 
Luc. Some loving friends convey the em- 
peror hence, 
And give him burial in his father's grave: 
My father, and Lavinia, shall forthwith 
Be closed in our household's monument. 
As for that heinous tiger, Tamora, 
No funeral rite, nor man in mournful weeds, 
No mournful bell shall ring her burial; 
Butthrow her forth to beasts and birds of prey 
Her life was bea?t-like, and devoid of pity ; 
And, being so, shall have like want of pity. 
See justice done to Aaron, that damn'd Moor 
By whom our heavy haps had their beginning , 
Then afterwards, to order well the state ; 
That like events may ne'er it rainate. 

[Kveunt 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



^er^ott?; tcprcgenteti^ 



Antiochus, King of Antioch. 
pRRicLEs, Prince of Tyre, 

S I M o N I D Es, King of PentapoUs, 
Cleon, governor of Tharsus. 
Lysimackus, governor of Mitylene, 
Cerimon, a Lord of Ephesus, 
Thaliard, a Lord of Antioch. 
Philemon, servant to Cerimon, 
Leonine, servant to Dionyza, 
Marshal. 
A Pander, and his Wife. 



BouLT, their servantm 
GrOWER, as Chorus, 

The Daughter of Antiochus, 

Dionyza, wife to Cleon, 

Thais A, daughter to Simonides, 

Marina, daughter to Pericles and ThaUa n 

hYcuoRiDX, nurse to Marina, Diana. ' 

Lords, Ladies, Knights, Gentlemen, Sailors, 
Pirates, Fishermen, Messengers, ^c. 

Scene,-^dispersedly in various countries. 

That the reader may know tnrough how many regions the scene of this drama is dis- 
persed, it is necessary to observe, that Antioch was the metropolis of Syria; Tyre, a city of 
PhcEnicia, in Asia ; I'arsus, the metropolis of Ciiicia, a country of Asia Minor ; Mitylene, 
the capital of Lesbos, an island in the ^gean sea; and Ephesus, the capital of Ionia, a 
coantry of the Lesser Asia. 



ACT I. 



Enter Gower*. 
Before the Palace of Antioch, 
To sing a song of oldf was sung. 
From ashes ancient Gower is come ; 
Assuming man's infirmities. 
To glad your ear, and please your eyes. 
It hath been sung at festivals. 
On ember-eves, and holy ales j; 
And lords and ladies of their lives 
Have read it for restoratives : 
'J'urpose to make men glorious; 
Et quo antiquius, eo melius. 
If you, born in these latter times, 
"When wit*s more ripe, accept my rhymes. 
And that to hear an old man sing. 
May to your wishes pleasure bring, 
I life would wish, and that 1 might 
Waste it for you, like taper-light.— 
This city then, Antioch the great 
Built up for his chlefest seat; 
The fairest in all Syria; 
(I tell you what mine authors say :) 
This king unto him took a pheerej. 
Who died and left a female heir. 
So buxom, blithe, and full of face, 
As heaven had lent her all his grace; 
With whom the father liking took. 
And her to incest did provoke ; 
Bad father ! to entice his own 
To^evil, should be done by none. 



By custom, what they did begin. 

Was, with long use, account [j no sin* 

The beauty of this sinful dame 

Made many princes thither frame. 

To seek her as a bed-fellow. 

In marriage-pleasures play-fellow : 

Which to prevt-nt, he made a law, 

(To keep her still, and men in awe,) 

That whoso ask'd her for his wife, 

His riddle told not, lost his life : 

So for her many^ wight did die. 

As yon grim looks do testify ^. 

What now ensues, to the judgment of your 

eye 
I give, my cause who best can justify. 

[Exit. 

SCENE I. Antioch. A Room in the 
Palace, 

Enter Antiochus, Pericles, and At- 
tendants. 

Ant, Young prince of Tyre, you have at 
large received 
The danger of the task you undertake. 

Per. 1 have, Antiochus, and with a soul 
Embolden'd with the glory of her praise, 
Think death no hazard, in tliis enterprise. 

[Music 
Ant. Bring in our daughter, clothed like a 
bride. 



Ohorus. in the character of Gower, an ancient English Poet, who has related the story of 
this play in his Confessio Amantis, f i.e., That of old. J Whitsun-ales, &c. 

% Wife, the word signifies a mate or companion. Accounted. 

% Pointing to the scene of the palace-gate at Antioch, on which the heads of those unfortunate 

wights were fixed. 



gcene I.] 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



S99 



For the embraceraents even of Jove himself;. 
At whose conception, (till Lucina reign'd,) 
J^atnre this dowry gave, to glad her presence. 
The senate- house of planets all did sit. 
To knit in her their best perfections. 
Enter the Danghter of Antiochus. 
Per. See, where she comes, apparell'd like 
the spring, 
Graces her subjects, and her thoughts the king 
Of every virtue gives renown to men ! 
Her face, the book of praises, where is read 
Nothing but curious pleasures, as from thence 
Sorrow were evei rased, and testy wrath 
Could never be her mild companion. 
Ye gods that made me man, and sway in love, 
That have inflamedylesire in my breast. 
To taste the fruit of you celestial tree. 
Or die in the adventure, be my helps, 
As I am son and servant to your will. 
To compass such a boundless happiness I 

Ant. Prince Pericles, 

Per. That- would be son to great Antiochus. 
Ant. Before Ihee stands this fair Hesperides, 
With golden fruit, but dangerous to be touch'd ; 
For death-like dragons here affright thee hard : 
Her face, like heaven, enliceth thee to view 
A countless glorj', which desert must gain : 
And which, without desert, because thine eye 
Presumes to reach, all thy whole heap must 

die. 
Yon sometime famous princes, like thyself. 
Drawn by report, advent'rous by desire. 
Tell thee with speechless tongues, and sem- 
blance pale. 
That, without covering, save yon field of stars. 
They here stand martyrs, slain in Cupid's 

wars ; 
And with dead cheeks advise thee to desist. 
For going on death's net, whom none resist. 

Per. Antiochus, I thank thee, who hath 
My frail mortality to know itself, [taught 

And by those fearful objects to prepare 
This body, like to them, to what I must: 
For death remember'd, should be like a mir- 
ror, [error. 
Who tells us, life's but breath ; to trust it, 
I'll make my will then ; and as sick men do. 
Who know the world, see heaven, but feeling 

woe, 
Gripe not at earthly joys, as erst they did ; 
So I bequeath a happy peace to you, 
And all good men, as every prince should do ; 
My riches to the earth from whence they came ; 
But my unspotted fire of love to you. 

[To the Daughter o/" Antiochus. 
Thus ready for the way of life or death, 
I wait the sharpest blow, Antiochus, 
Scorning advice. 

Ant. Read the conclusion then ; 

Which read and not expounded, 'tis decreed, 
Aa these beforp thee thou thyself shall bleed. 
X>augh. In all, save that, may'st thou prove 
prosperous ! 
[n all, gave that, I wish thee happiness ! 
Per, Like a bold champion, I assame the 
lists. 



• Rising to a top or head. 



Nor ask advice of any other thought 

But faithfulness, and courage. 

[He reads the Riddle.] 
/ am no viper ^ yet I feed 
On mother's Jtesh, which did me breed: 
J sought a husband, in which laooter, 
J found that kindness in a father. 
He's father, son, and husband mild, 
J mot her y wife, and yet his child. 
How they may be, and yet in two. 
As you will live, resolve it you. 

Sharp physic is the last : but, O you powers I 
That give heaven countless eyes to view men's 

acts. 
Why cloud they not their sights perpetually. 
If this be true, which makes me pale to read 

it? 
Fair glass of light, I loved you, and could still, 
\Takes hold of the hand of the princess. 
Were not this glorious casket stored with ill : 
But I must tell you, — now, my thoughts re- 
volt ; 
For he's no man on whom perfections wait. 
That knowing sin within, will touch the gate. 
You're a fair viol, and your sense the strings : 
Who, finger'd to make man his lawful music. 
Would draw heaven down, and all the gods to 

hearken ; 
But, being play'd upon before your time. 
Hell only danceth at so harsh a chime : 
Good sooth, 1 care not for you, Pife* 

Ant. Prince Pericles, touch not, upon thy 
For that's an article within our law. 
As dangerous as the rest. Your time's expired; 
Either expound now, or receive your sentence. 

Per. Great king, 
Few love to hear the sins they love to act ; 
'Twould 'braid yourself too near for me to 

tell it; 
Who has a book of all that monarchs do. 
He's more secure to keep it shut than shown ;i 
For vice repeated, is like the wand'ring wind. 
Blows dust in others' eyes, to spread itself; 
And yet the end of all is bought thus dear, 
'llie breath is gone, and the sore eyes see clear : 
To stop the air would hurt them. The blind 

mole casts [is wrong'd 

Copp'd* hills towards heaven, to tell, the earth 
By man's oppression ; and the poor worm 

doth die for't. 
Kings are earth's gods : in vice their law's 

their will ; 
And if Jove stray, who dares say, Jove doth 
It is enough you know ; and it is fit, [ill? 

What being more known grows worse, to 

smother it. 
All love the womb that their first beings bred. 
Then give my tongue like leave to love my > 

head. 
Ant. Heaven, that I had thy head! he has 

found the meaning ; — 
But I will glozet with him. {Aside.'\ Young 

prince of Tyre, 
Though by the tenour of our strict edict. 
Your exposition misinterpreting, 



t Flatter, insinnale. 



900 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act I J 



We might proceed to cancel of your days*; 
Yet hope, sticceeding- from so fair a tree 
As 5'oiir fair self, doth tune ns otherwise : 
Forty days longer we do respite you ; 
If by which time our secret be undone. 
This mercy shows, we'll joy in such a son; 
And until then, your entertain shall be,. 
As doth berit our honour, and your worth. 

{Exeunt Antiochuis, his Daughter, 
and Attendants. 
Per. How courtesy would seem to cover 
When what is done is like an hypocrite, [sin ! 
The which is good ia nothing but in sight. 
If it be true that I interpret false. 
Then were it certain, you were not so bad, 
As with foul incest to abuse your soul ; 
Where + now you're both a father and a son, 
By your untimely claspings with your child, 
(Which pleasure rits an husband, not a father;) 
And she an eater of her mother's flesh. 
By the defiling of her parent's bed; 
And both like serpents are, who though they 

feed 
On sweetest flowers, yet they poison "breed. 
Antioch, farewell ! for wisdom sees, those men 
Blush not in actions blacker than the night. 
Will shun no course to keep them from the 

light. 
One sin, 1 know, another doth provoke ; 
Murder's as near to lust, as flame to smoke. 
Poison and treason are the hands of sin. 
Ay, ^nd the targets, to put oflF the shame : 
Then, lest my life be cropp'd to keep you 

clear, 
By flight I'll shun the danger which I fear. 

lExit 
Re-enter Antiochtts. 
Ant. He hath found the meaning, for the 
To have his head. [which we mean 

He must not live to trumpet forth my infamy, 
Nor tell the world, Antiochus doth sin 
In such a loathed manner: 
And therefore instantly this prince must die; 
For by his fall my honour must keep high. 
Who attends on us there ? 

Enter TaA.Li ART). 
Thai. Doth your highness call ? 

Ant. Thaliard, you're ot our chamber, and 
our mind 
Partakes her private actions to your secresy ; 
And for your faithfulness we will advance you. 
Thaliard, behold, here's poison, and here's- 
gold ; [kill him ; 

We hate the prince of Tyre, and thou must 
It tits thee not to a»k the reason why. 
Because we bid it. Say, is it done ? 

Thai. My lord, 

*Tis done. 

Enter a Messenger. 
Ant. Enough ? [haste. 

Lest your breath cool yourself, telling your 
Mess. My lord, prince 'Pericles is fled. 

{Exit Messenger. 
Ant. As thou 

Wilt live, fly after : and, as an arrow, shot 
From a well-experienced arclier, hits the mark 



His eye doth level at, so ne'er return, 
Unless thou say, prince Pericles is dead. 

ThaL My lord, if I 
Can get him once within my pistol's length, 
I'll make him sure ; so farewell to your high- 
ness. [Exit 
Ant. Thaliard, adieu ! till Pericles be dead. 
My heart can lend no succour to my head. 

I Exit 

SCENE 11. Tyre. A Room in the Palace, i 
Enter Pericles, Helicanus, and other 
Lords. 
Per. Let none disturb us : Why this change i 

of thoughts? 
The sad companion, dull-ey*d melancholy. 
By me so used a guest is, ndt an hour. 
In the day's glorious walk, or peaceful night, 
(The tomb where grief should sleep,) can 

breed me quiet ! [eyes shun them, , 

Here pleasures court mine eyes, and mine 
And danger, which I feared, is at Antioch, 
Whose arm seems far too short to hit me here: 
Yet neither pleasure's art can joy my spirits, 
Nor yet the other's distance comfort me. 
Then it is thus : the passions of the mind. 
That have their first conception by mis-dread, j 
Have after- nourishment and life by care; 
And what was lir.st but fear what might b« 

done. 
Grows elder now, and cares it be not done. 
And so with me ; — the great Antiochus 
('Gainst whom I am too little to contend, 
Since he's so great, can make his will his act,} 
Will think me speaking, though I swear to 

silence ; 

Nor boots it me to say, I honour him. 
If he suspect I may dushonour him : 
And vi^at may uiake him blush in being known. 
He'll stop the course by which it might be 

known ; 
With hostile forces he'll o'erspread the land. 
And with the ostent of war will look so huge. 
Amazement shall drive courage from the state; 
Our men be vanquish'd, ere they do resist. 
And subjects punish'd, that no'er thought 

off"ence : 
Which care of them, not pity of myself, 
(Who am no more but as the tops of trees. 
Which fence the roots they grow by, and de« 

fend them,) ^ [guish, 

Makes both my body pine, and soul to laa 
And punish that before, that he wouM punish. 

1 Lord. Joy and aU comfort in 'orr sacred 

breast ! [turn to us, 

2 Lord. And keep your mind, till you re- 
Peaceful and comfortable 1 

Hel. Peace, peace, my lords, and give ex- 
perience tongue. 
They do abuse the king, that flatter him : 
For flattery is the bellows blows op sm ; 
The thing the which is flatter'd, but a spark,' 
To which that breath gives heat and stronger 

glowing; 
Whereas reproof, obedient, and in order. 
Fits kings, as they are men. for they may eit' 



• To the destruction of vour life. 



*■ Whereas. 



Scene 7/0 



PERICLES, PRINCE *OF TYRE. 



901 



When siguior Sooth here does* proclaim a 

peace, 
He flatters yoa, makes war upon your life : 
Prince, pardon me, or strike me, if you 

please ; 

I cannot be much lower than my knees. 

Per. AH leave us else; but let your cares 

o'erlook [heaven, 

What shipping, and what lading's in our 

And then return to us. [Exeunt Lords.] Heli- 

canus, thou 
Hast moved us : what seest thou in cur looks 1 
Uel. An angry brow, dread lord, [frowns, 
Per. If there be such a dart in princes' 
How durst thy tongue move an^er to our face? 
HeL How dare the plants look up to haven, 
from whence 
Tliey have their nourishment 1 

Per. Thou knowest I have power 

lo take thy life. [myself; 

Hel. [Kfieding.] I have ground the axe 
Do you but sti-ike the blow. 

Per. Rise, pr'ythee rise ; 

Sit down, sit down ; thou art no flatterer : 
I thank thee for it ; and hij^h heaven forbid 
That kings should let their ears hear their 

faults hid ! 
Pit counsellor, and servant for a prince. 
Who by thy wisdom m ikest a prince thy ser- 
What woulds* thou have me do ? [vant, 

Hel. "" With patience bear 

Such griefs as you do lay upon yourself. 

Per. Thou speak'st like a physician, Heli- 
Who rainister'st a potion unto me, [canus ; 
That thou wouldst tremble to receive thyself. 
Attend me then : I went to Antioeh, [death, 
Where, as thou know'st, against the face of 
I sought the purchase of a glorious beauty. 
From whence an issue I might propagate. 
Bring arms to princes, and to subjects joys. 
Her face was to mine eye beyond all wonder ; 
The I est (hark in thine ear.) as black as incest ; 
Which by my knowledge found, the sinful 
father [know'st this, 

Seem'd not to strike, but smooth : but thou 
'lis time to fear, when tyrants seem to kiss. 
Which fear so grew in me, I hither fled. 
Under the covering of a careful night, 
Who seem'd my good protector; and being 
here, [ceed. 

Bethought me what was past, what might suc- 
1 knew him tyrannous ; and tyrants' fears 
Decrease not, but grow faster than their years : 
And should he doubt it, (nsno doubt he doth,) 
That 1 should open to the listening air, 
How many worthy princes' bloods were shed, 
I To keep his bed of blackness unlaid ope, — 
I To lop that doubt, he'll fill this land with arms, 
And make pretence of wrong that I have done 
him ; 
I ^Vhen all, for mine, if I may call't offence, 
I Must feel war's blow, who spaies not inno- 
cence : 
liich love to all (of which thyself art one, 

ho no'v reprovest me for it) 

flel. Alas, air 1 

♦ In our different sphere*. 



Per. Drew sleep out of mine eyes, blood 

from my cheeks, 
Musings into my mind, a thousand doubts 
How I might stop this tempest, ere it came ; 
And finding little comfort to relieve them, 
I thought it princely charity to grieve them. 
Hel. Well, my lord, since you have givea 

me leave to speak. 
Freely I'll speak. Antiochus you fear. 
And justly too, I think, you fear the tyrant. 
Who either by public war, or private treaswi 
Will take away your life. 
Therefore, my lord, go travel for a while. 
Till that his rage and anger be forgot. 
Or Destinies do cut his thread of life. 
Your rule direct to any ; if to me, 
Daj' serves not light more faithful than I'll be. 

Per. I do not doubt thy faith ; 
But should he wrong my liberties in absence— 
Hel. We'll mingle bloods together in the 

earth 
From whence we had our being and our birth. 
Per. Tvre, 1 now look from thee then, and 

to Tharsns 
Intend my travel, where I'll hear from thee; 
And bj'^ whose letters. I'll dispose myself. 
The care I had and have of subjects' govd. 
On thee I lay, whose wisdom's strength caa 

bear it. 
I'll take thy word for faith, not ask thine oath ; 
Who shuns not to break one, will sure crack 

both : 
But in our orbs* we'll live so round and safe. 
That lime of both this truth shall ne'er con- 
vince t. 
Thou show'dst a subject's shine, I a true prince. 

[Exeuut, 

SCENE III. Tyre. An Ante.chamber in the 

Palace. 

Enter TiiKLikKTf. 

Thai. So, this is Tyre, and this is the court. 
Here must I kill king Pericles ; and if I do 
not, I am sure to be hang'd at home : tta 
dangerous. — Well, I perceive he was a wise 
fellow, and had good discretion, that being bid 
to ask What he would of the king, desired he 
might know none of his secrets. Now do I 
see he had some leajon for it: for if a king 
bid a man be a villain, he is boun-d by the in- 
denture of his oath to be one. — Hush, here 
come the lords of Tyre. 
Enter Helicanus, Escanes, and other 
Lords. 

Hel. You shall not need, my fellow peeri 
of Tyre, 
Further to quesUon of your king's departure. 
His seal'd commission, left in trust with me. 
Ih)th speak sufficiently, he's gone to travel. 

That. How ! the king. <;one ! {Aside, 

Ht'l. If further yet you will be satisfied. 
Why, as it were unlicensed of your loves, 
He would depart, I'll give some light unto yon 
Being at Antloch 

Thai. What from Antiooh t 

lA6iii4 

t Overcome. 
4H 



s»02 



SJIAKSPEARE. 



[Act JA 



Hel. Royal Antiocfius (on what cause I 
know not,) [judged so : 

Took some displeasure at him; at least he 
And <i()ubtiiii; lest thai he had eirM or sinn'd, 
To show liis sorrow, would correct himself; 
So puts himstlf unto the shipman's toil, 
With whom each minute threatens life or 
death. 

Thai. Well, 1 perceive [Aside. 

1 shall not he hang'd now, although I would; 
B»!t siuce he's gone, the kiny; ii sure iiiust please, 
lie 'scaped the land, to perish on the seas. — 
But 1*11 present me. i eace to the Loids of 
T} re ! [come 

Hel. Lord Thaliard from Antiochus is wel- 

T/iul. From him I come 
With messige unto princely Pericles ; 
But, since my landing, as I have understood 
Your lord has took himself to unknown travels. 
My mess.tge must return from whence it came. 

Hei. We hrtve no raa&on to desire it, since 
Commendt^d to our master, no* to us : 
Yet, ere you shall depart, this we desire,— 
As friends to Antioch, we may feast in 'lyre. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. Tharsus. A Room in the 

Governor's House, 
Enter Cleon, Dionyza, and Attendants. 

Cle» My Dionyza, shall we rest us here. 
And by relating tales of others* griefs, 
See if 'twill teach us to tbrget our own ? 
Dio. That were to blow at fire, in hope to 

quench it ; 
For who digs hills because they do aspire, 
Tkrows down one mountain, to cast up a 

hither. 
O my distressed lord, even such our griefs ; 
Here thiy're but felt, and seen with mistful 

eyes, [rise. 

But like to groves, being topp'd, they higher 
Cle. O Dionyza, [it, 

M he wanteth food, and will not say he wants 
Or can conceal his hunger, till he famish? 
Our ongufs aud sorrows do sound deep our 

woes 
Into the air ; our eyes do weep, till lungs 
Fetch breath that may proclaim them louder ; 

that. 
If heaven slumbor, while their creatures want. 
They may awake their helps to comfort them. 
1*11 then discourse our woes, felt several years, 
And wanting breath to speak, help me with 
Dio. IMl do my best, sir. [tears. 

CLe, 1 his Tharbus, o'er which I have govern- 
ment, 
(A city on whom plenty held full hand,) 
For riches, strew'd herself even in the streets; 
Who«e towers bore heads so high, they kiss'd 

the clouds. 
And strangers ne'er beheld, but wonder'd at; 
W hose men and dames so jetted* and aHorn'd, 
Like one anolhtr's glass to trimt them by ; 
Their tables were stored full, to glad the sight. 
And not so much to feed on, as delight ; 



yVU poverty was scorn'd, and pride so z^^-^^t 
The name of help grew odious to reptat. 

Dio, O, 'tis too true, [our change,! 

Vie. But see what heaven can do! By this! 
These mouths, whom but of late, earth, sea,i 

and air. 
Were all too little to content and please, ' 

Although they gave their creatures in abund- 
As houses are defiled tor want of use, [ance^i 
They are now starved for want of exercise ; 
Those palates, who not yet two summers 

younger. 
Must have inventions to delight the taste. 
Would now be glad of bread, and beg for it ; 
Those mothers who, to nouslej up their babes. 
Thought nought too curious, are ready now. 
To eat those little darlings whom they loved. 
So sharp are hunger's teeth, that man and wife 
Draw lots, who first shall die to lengthen life : 
Here stands a lord, and there a lady weeping'; 
Here many sink, yet those which see them 

fall. 
Have scarce strength left to give them burial, 
[s not this true? [it. 

Dio. Our cheeks and hollow eyes do witness 

Cle, O, let those cities, that of Plenty's cup 
And her prospenties so lartiely taste, 
With their superfluous riots, hear these tears! 
The misery of Tharsus niiiy be theirsu 
Enter a Lord. 

Lord. Where's the lord governor? 

Cle. Here. [haste. 

Speak out thy sorrows which thou briug'st, in 
For comfort is too far for us to expect. 

Lord. We have descried, upon our neigh- 
bouring slioie, 
A portly sail of ships make hitherward. 

Cle. I thought as much. 
One sorrow never comes, but brings an heir. 
That n)ay succeed as his inheritor ; 
And so in ours: some neighbouring nation, 
Taking advantage of our misery, [power$, 

Hatli stuflf'd these hollow vessels with their 
To beat us down, the which are down already ; 
And make a conquest of unhappy me. 
Whereas no glory** eot to overcome. 

Lord. 'J'hat's the least fear: for, by the sem- 
blance [peace. 
Of their white flags display'd, they bring us 
And come to us as favourers, not as fees. 

Cle. Thou speak'st like him's untutor'd to 
repeat, [deceit. 

Who makes the fairest show, means mos; 
But bring they what they will, what need we 
fear ? [there. 

The ground's the low'st, and we are half way 
Go tell their general, we attend him here. 
To know for what he comes, and whence he 
And what he craves. [comes, 

Lord. I go, my lord. [Exit, 

Cle. Welcome is peace, if he on peace con 

If wars, we are unable to resist. [sistj!; 

Enter Pericles, 7/7<A Attendants. 

Per, Lord governor, for so we hear you «.re 
Let not our ships and number of our men. 



I 



• To Jet is to strut, to walk proudly. 
,X Norse fondly. j Fortes. 



t To drew them by. 

U If he stands on peace. 



Scene JV.] 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



903 



Be, like a beacon fired, to amaze your eyes. 
We have heard your miseries as far as Tyre, 
And seen the desolation t>f your streets : 
Nor c«me we to add sorrow to your tears. 
But to relieve them of their heavy load ; 
And these our ships you happily* may think 
Are, like the Trojan horse, war stuff'd within, 
"With bloody views, expecting overthrow, 
I Are stored with corn, to make your needy 
I bread, [half dead. 

I And give them life, who are hunger-starved, 
I All. The gods of Greece protect you 1 
I Aiid we'll pray for you. 
i /'cr. Rise I pray you, rise ; 



We do not look for reverence, but for love. 
Andharbouraiijeforourself, our ships, and mea. 
Cle. The which when any shall not gratify 
Or pay you with unthankfulness in thought. 
Be it our wives, our children, or ourselves, 
The curse of heaven and men succeed their 

evils! 
Till when, (the which^ I hope, shall ue'er be 

seen,) 
Your graceis welcome to our town and us. 
Per. Which welcome we'll accept ; fea&l 
here a while. 
Until OQf stars that frowD, lend us a smile. 

^Exeunt. 



ACT II. 



Enter Gower. 
Gotv. Here have you seen a mighty king 
His child, I wist, to incest bring ; 
A better prince, and benign lord. 
Prove awful both in deed and word. 
Be quiet then, as men should be. 
Till he hath pass'd necessity. 
I'll show you those in trouble*£ reign, 
loosing a n)ite, a mountain gain. 
The good in conversation j 
(To whom I give my benizon$,) 
Is still at Tharsus, where each man 
Thinks all is writ he spoken can: 
And, to remember what he does. 
Gild his statue glorious : 
But tidings to the contrary 
Are brought your eyes; what need speak I? 

Dumb Show. 
Enter at one door Pericles, talking with 
Cleon; all the train with them. Enter 
at another door, a Gentleman with a Letter 
to Pericles; Pericles shows the Letter 
to Cleon ; then gives the Messenger a re- 
ward, a7id knights him. Exeunt Pericles, 
Cleon, ^c, severally. 

Gow. Good Helicane hath staid at home, 
Not to eat honey, like a drone. 
From others' labours; forth he strive 
To killen bad, keep good alive ; 
And, to fulfil his prince' desire 
Sends word of all that haps in Tyre: 
How Thaliard came full bent with sin, 
And hid intent to murder him ; 
And that in Tharsus was not best 
Longer for him to make his rest : 
He knowing so, put forth to seas, 
Where when men been, there's seldom ease ; 
For now the wind begins to blow; 
Thunder above, and deeps below, 
Make such unquiet, that the ship 
Should house him safe, is wreck'd and split; 
And he, good prince, having all lost. 
By waves from coast to coast ia tost : 
All perishen of man, of pelf, 
Ne aught escapeu but himself; 
Till fortune, tired with doing bad. 
Threw him ashore, to give him glad : 



And here be comes: what shall be next. 
Pardon old Gower; this long's the text. 

[Exit, 
SCENE I. Pentapolis. An ojxen Place by 
the Sea side. 
Enter Pericles, luet. 
Per. Yet cease your ire, ye angry stars of 
heaven ! [man 

Wind, rain, and thunder, remember, earthly 
Is but a substance that must yield to you ; 
And I, as fits my nature, do obey you ; 
Alas, the sea hath caisf me on the rocks, 
Wash'd me from snore to shore, and left mc 
Nothing to think on, out ensuing death : [breath 
Let it suffice the greatness of your powers. 
To have bereft a prince of all his fortunes ; 
And having thrown him from your wal'ry 

grave, 
Here to have deain in peace, is all he'll crave. 
Enter three Fishermen. 

1 J^/^/j. What,ho, Pilcliel 

2 Fish, Ho! come, and bring away the nets. 
1 Fish. What Patch-breech, I say ! 

3 Fish. What say you, master? 

1 Fish. Look how thou stirrest now! come 
away, or I'll fetch thee with a wannion. 

3 Fish. 'Faith, master, I am thinking of the 
poor men tbat were cast away before us, even 
now. 

I Fish. Alas, poor souls ! it grieved my heart 
to hear what pitiful cries they made to us, to 
help them, when, well-a day, we could scarce 
help ourselves. 

3 Fish. Nay, master, said not I as much, 
when I saw the porpus, how he bounced and 
tumbled t they say, they are half fish, half flesh : 
a plague on them, they ne'er come, but I look 
to be washed. Master, 1 marvel how the fishes 
live in the sea. 

1 Fish. Why as men do a-land; the great ones 
eat up the little ones : 1 can compare our rich 
misers to nothing so fitly as to a whale ; 'a play* 
and tumbles, driving the poor fry before him, 
and at last devours them all at a mouthful. 
Such whales have I heard on a* the land, who 
never leave gaping, til! they've swallow'd the 
whole parish, church, steeple, bells and all. 

Per, A pretty moral. 



Perhaps. 



f Know 



X <• €,f Conduct, behaviour. 



$ Blessing. 



904 



SHAKSPEAHE. 



[Act IL 



% Fish. Bat, master, if I had been the sexton, 
I wouhl have been that day in the belfry. 

2 Fisli. Why, man ? 

3 Fi^h. Because he should have swallow'd 
me too : and when 1 had been in his belly, I 
■would have kep.! such a jangling of the bells, 
that he should never have le!t,till he cas* bells, 
steeple, church, and parish, up again. But if 
the good king Simonides were of my mind 

Per. Simonides? 

3 Fish. We would purge the land of these 
drones, that rob the bee of her honey. 

Per. How from the finny subject of the sea 
These fishers tell the infirmiries of men; 
And from their wat'ry empire recollect 
All that may men approve, or men detect! 
Peace be at your labour, honest tishermen. 

2 Fish. Honest! good fellow, what's that? if 
it be a day fits you, scratch it out of the calen- 
dar, and nobody will look after it. 

Per. Nay, see, the sea hath cast upon your 
coast — 

2 Fish. What a drunken knave was the sea ; 
to cast thee in our way 1 

Per. A man whom both the waters and the 
wind, 
In that vast tennis-court, hath made the ball 
For them to play upon, entreats you pity him ; 
He asks of you, that never used to beg. 

1 Fish. No, friend, cannot you beg ? here's 
them in our country of Greece, gets more with 
begging, than we can do with working. 

2 Fish. Canst thou catch any fishes, then? 
Per. I never practised it. 

2 Fish, Nay, then thou wilt starve sure ; for 
here's notliing to be got now-a-days, unless 
thou canst fish for't. 

Per. What 1 have been, I have forgot to 
know ; 
But what 1 am, want teaches me to think on ; 
A mm shrunk up with cold : my veins are chill, 
And have no more of life, than may suffice 
To give my tongue that heat, to ask your help ; 
Which if you «ihall refuse, when 1 am dead. 
For J am a man, pray see me buried. 

1 Fish. Die, quoth-a? Now gods forbid! I 
have a gown here ; come, put it on ; keep thee 
warm. Now, afore me, a handsome fellow! 
Come, thou shalt go home, and we'll have flesh 
for holidays, fish for fasting-days, and moreo'er 
puddings and flap-jacks*, and thou shalt be 
welcome. 

Per. I thank you, sir. 

2 Fish. Hark you, my friend, you said you 
could not beg. 

Per. I did but crave. 

2 Fish. But crave? Then I'll turn craver 
©0, and so I shall 'scape whipping. 

/'er. Why, are all your beggars whipp'd then? 

2 Fish. O, not ail my friend, not all ; for if 
all your beL^gars were whipp'd, I would wish 
Bo better office, than to be beadle. But, master, 
I'll go draw up the net. 

[kxeunt two of the Fishermen. 

Per. How well this honest mirth becomes 
their labour 1 



1 Fish. Hark you, sir! do you know where 
you are? 

Per. Not well. 

1 Fish. Why I'll tell you : this is called Pen- 
tapolis, and our king, the good Simonides. 

Per. The good king Simonides, do you call 
him? 

1 Fish. Ay, sir; and he deserves to be so 
call'd, for his peaceable reign, and good go- 
vernment. 

Per. He is a happy king, since from his 
subjects [mem. 

He gains the name of good, by his govern- 
How far is his court distant from this shore? 

1 Fish. Marry, sir, half a day's journey; 
and I'll tell you he hath a fair daughter, and 
to-morrow is her birth-day ; and there are prin- 
ces and kniehts come from all parts of the 
world, to just and tourney t for her love. 

Per. Did but my fortunes equal my desire*, 
Pd wish to make one there. 

1 Fish, O, sir, things must be as they may; 
and what a man cannot get, he may lawfully 
deal for — his wife's soul. 

Re-enter the Tivo Fishermen, drawing 
up a Net. 

2 Fish. Help, master, help; here's a fish 
hangs in the net, like a poor man's right in the 
law; 'twill hardly come out. Ha! bots on't, 'tis 
come at last, and 'tis turn'd to a rusty armour. 

Per. An armour, friends! 1 pray you let 
me see it. 
Thanks, fortune, yet, that after all my crosses. 
Thou givest me somewhat to repair myself; 
And, though it was mine own, part of mine 

heritage. 
Which my dead father did bequeath to me. 
With this strict charge, (even as he left his 

life,) 
BTeep it, my Pericles, it hath been a shield 
'Tuixt me and death; (and pointed to this 
brace j:) Uitj/t ' 

For that it saved me, keep it ; in like neces- ' 
ff hfchgvds protect thee from ! it may defend 
It kept where I kept, I so dearly loved it ; [thee. 
Till the rough seas, that spare not any man, . 
Took it in rage,though calni'd,they give't again: 
I thank thee for't; my shipwreck's now no ill. 
Since I have here my father's gift by will. 
1 Fish. What mean you, sir? 
Per. To beg of you, kind friends, this coat 
For it was sometime target to a king ; [of worth, 
I know it by this mark. He loved me dearly. 
And for his sake, I wish the having of it ; 
And that you'd guide me to your sovereign's 

court. 
Where with't I may appear a gentleman; 
And if that ever my low fortune's better, 
I'll pay your bounties; till then, res.t your 
debtor. 
1 Fish. Why wilt thon tourney for the lady? 
Per. I'll show the virtue 1 have borne in 
arms. 

1 Fish. Why, do ye take it, and the gods 
give thee good on't! 

2 Fish.^Ay, but hark you, my friend •* s 



* Paocakee. 



t To tilf, mock fight. 



X Armour for the arm. 



^ene JI.] 



PERICLES, PHINCE OF TYRE. 



905 



we that made up this garment through the rough j 
seams of the waters : there are certain con- 
doienients, certain vftils. I hope, air, if you 
thrive, you'll remember from whence you had 
it. 

Per. Believe't, I will. [steel; 

Now, by your furtherance, I am clothed in 
And spite of all the rupture of the sea. 
This jewel holds his biding* on my arm; 
Unto thy value will 1 mount myself 
Upon a courser, whose delightful steps 
Shall make the gazer joy to see him tread. — 
Only, my frieiirt, I yet am unprovided 
Of a pair of basest. 

2 Fish. We'll sure provide: thou shalt have 
my best gown to make thee a pair; and I'll 
bring thee to tiie court mvself. 

Per. Then honour be but a goal to my will ; 
This day I'll rise, or else add ill to ill. [Exeunt. 

SCENE II. The same. A public Way, or 

Platform, leading to the Lists. A Pavi- 
lion oy the side of it, for the reception of 

the King, Princess, Lords, S^^c. 

Enter Simonides, Thaisa, Lords, and 
Attendants. 

Sim. Are the knights ready to begin the 

1 Lord. They are, my liege ; [triumph? 
And stay your coming to present themselves. 

Sim. Ueturn them j, we are ready ; and our 
1 * daughter. 

In honour of whose birth these triumphs are, 
Sits here, like beauty's child, whom nature gat 
For men to see, and seeing wonder at. 

{Exit a Lord. 

Thai. It pleaseth you, ray father, to express 
My commendations great, whose merit's less. 

Sim. 'Tis fit it should be so; for princes are 
A model, which heaven makes like to itself: 
As jewels lose their glory, if neglected, 
So princes their renown, if not respected. 
Tis now your honour, daughter, to explain 
The labour of each knight, in his device $. 

Thai, Which, to preserve mine honour, I'll 
perform. 
Enter a Knight : he passes over the Stage, 

and his * Squire presents his Shield to the 

Prificess. 

Sim. Who is the first that doth prefer || him- 
self ? [fHther ; 

Thai. A knight of Sparta, my renowned 
And the device he bears upon his shield 
Is a black iEthiop, reaching at the sun; 
The word If, Lux tua vita mihi. 

Sim. He loves you well that holds his life 
of you. [The second Knight passes. 
Who is the second that presents himself ? 

Thai. A prince of Macedon, my royal father ; 
And the device he bears upon his shield 
Is an arm'd knight that's conquer'd by a lady : 
The motto thus, in Spanish, Piu per dulgara 
que perfuerga **. 

[The third Knight passes, 

Sim. And what's the third 1 



* Keeping. 
Emblem on a shield. 



Thai. The third of Amioch ; 

And his device a wreath of chivalry : 
The word, Me pompee provexit apex, 

[The fourth Knight passes, 
Sim, What is the fourth 1 [Aovm ; 

Thai. A burning torch that's turned upside 
The word, Quod me alit, me extinquit, 
Sim. Vvhich shows that beauty hath bit 
power and will. 
Which can as well inilame as it can kill. 

[The fifth Knight passes. 

Thai. The fifth an hand environed with 

clouds ; [tried : 

Holding out gold that's by the touchstone 

The motto thus. Sic spectanda fides. 

[The sixth Knight passes, 
Sim. And what's the sixth and last, which 
the knight himself 
With such a graceful courtesy deliver'd? 

Thai. He seems a stranger ; but his present is 
A withered branch that's only green at top ; 
The motto, In hac spe vivo. 

Sim. A pretty moral ; 
From the dejected state wherein he i£. 
He hopes by you his fortunes yet may flourish. 

1 Lord. He had need mean better than his 
outward show- 
Can any way speak in his just commend : 
For, by his rusty outside, he appears 
To have practised more the whipstock +t than 

the lance. [comes 

2 Lord. He well may be a stranger, for he 
To an honoured triumph strangely furnished. 

3 Lord. And on set purpose let his armour 
Until this day to scour it in the dust. [rust 

Si?n. Opinion's but a fool, that makes us scan 
The outward habit by the inward man. 
But stay, the knights are coming ; we'll witlv 

draw 
Into the gallery. [Eveunt. 

[Great shouts ; and all cry. The mean 
Knight. 

SCENE III. The same. A Hall of State. 

A Banquet prepared. 
Enter Simonides, Thaisa, Lords, Knights, 
and Attendants. 
Sim. Knights, 
To say you're welcome were superfluous. 
To place upon the volume of your deeds, 
As in a title-page, your worth in arms, 
Were more than you expect, or more Ihan's fit. 
Since every worth in show commends itself. 
Prepare for mirth, for mirth becomes a feast : 
You are my guests. 

Thai. But you, my kniaJit and guest ; 

To whom this wreath of victory I give, 
And crown you king of this day's happiness. 
Per. 'lis more by fortune, lady, than my 
merit. [yours; 

Sim. Call it by what you will, the day is 
And here, I hope, is none that envies it. 
; In fratniiig artists, art hath thus decreed, 
i To make some good, but others to exceed ; 

+ A kind of loose breeches. % i. €., Return them notice. 

JOifer. II The motto. ♦*«. e.. More by sweetness than by force* 
tt Handle of a whip. 

4H3 



906 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act 11. 



Andyuu're her labour'ri scholar. Coiue, queeo Unto a stranger knight to be so bold; 

o'lhe feast, [place : He may my profJer lake for an ottencc, 

(For, daughter, so yon are,) here take your Since men take women** gifts for impudence. 



Marshal the rest as ihey deserve their i^race, 

A flights. We are honoured much by i;ood 
JSimonides. (we lo\e, 

Sim. Your presence glads onr days ; honour 
For who hates honour hates the gods above. 

Maj\ Sir, yond's your place. 

Pe): Some other is more fit, 

1 Knight, Contend not, sir ; for we are 
gentlemen, 
That neitlier in our hearts, nor outward eyes, 
tnvy the creat, nor do the low deapise. 

Per. You are right courteous knights. 

Sim. Sit, sit, sir; sit. 

Per. By Jove, 1 wonder, that is king of 
thotights. 
These cates resist me *, she not thought upon. 

7Viai. By Juno, that is queen 
Of marriage, all the viands that I eat 
iJo feetni unsavoury, wishing him my meat ; 
Sure he's a gallant {gentleman. 

Sim, He's but 

A country gentleman ; [done; 

He has done no more than other knights have 
Broken a statf or so ; so let it pass. 

Thai. To me he seems like diamond to 
glass. [ther*s picture, 

Per. Yon king's to me, like to my fa- 
'^^'hich tells me in that glory once he was ; 
Had princes sit like stars about his throne. 
And he the sun for them to reverence. 
Mone that beheld him, but like lesser lights, 
Did vail t their crowns to his supremacy ; 
'Where now his son's a glow-worm in the night. 
The which hath fire in darkness, none in light; 
W hereby I see that time's the king of men. 
For he's their parent, and he is their grave. 
And gives them what he will, not what they 
crave. 

Sim. What, are yon merry, knights? 

1 Kiiiglit. Who can be other in this royal 
presence? 

Sim. Here, with a cup that's stored onto 
the brim, 
(As you do love, fill to your mistress* lips,) 
We drink this health to you. 

Kirights. We thank your grace. 

Sim. Yet pause a while ; 
Yon knigiit, methinks, doth sit too melancholy. 
As if the entertainment in our court 
Had not a show might countervail his worth. 
Note it not you, Thaisa ? 

Thai, What is it 

To inc, my father? 

Sim. O, attend, my daughter : 

Princes, in this, should live like gods ahove, 
W ho freely give to every one tluit comes 
To honour them : and princes, not doing 90, 
Are like to L'nats, which makea sound, but kill'd 
Are wond« r'd at. (s^y, 

rherefi>re, to make's entrar>ce more sweet, here 
We drink this slaniling bowl of wine to him. 

Thai. Ala^s, my father, it befits not me 



Sim. Howl 
Do as 1 bid you, or you'll move me else. 

'lliai. Now, by the gods, he could not please; 
me better'. \^A}>iae.\ 

Sim, And further tell him, we desire to know,ci 
Of \\ hence he is, his name and parentage. 

Thai. The king, my father, sir, has drunk 

Per. I thank him. [to yoa. 

Thai. Wishing it s.o much blood unto ^ouri 
life. [hiui freely. 

Per. I thank both him and yon, and pledt;e 

Tliai, And further lie desires to know of > ou, f, 
Of whence you are, your name and parentage. 

Per, A gentleman of Tyre— (ray name f 
Pericles, 
My education being in arts and arms ;) — 
Who, looking for adventures in the world, 
W as by the rough seas reft of ships and men, ) 
And, after shipwreck, diiven upon this shore. 

Thai. He thanks your grace ; names himself 
A gentleman of Tyre, wlio only by [Pericles, 
Misfortune of the seas has been bereft 
Of shipa and men, and cast upon this shore. 

Sim. Now, by the gods, i pity his mis- 
fortune, 
And w ill awake him from his melancholy. 
Lome, gentlemen, we sit too long on trities. 
And waste the time, which looks for otlier 

revels. 
Even in your armours, as you are address'd J, 
\\ ill veiy well become a soldier's dance. 
1 will not have excuse, with saying, this 
Loud music is too harsh for ladies' heads; 
Since they love men in arms, as well as bedg. 

[^Tne Knights dance, i 
So, this was well ask'd, 'twas so well perform'd. |j 
Come, sir; 

Here is a lady that wants breathing too: 
And i have otten heard, you knights of Tyre 
Are excellent in niaking ladies trip; 
And that ttieir measures $ are as excellent. 

Per, In those that practise them, they are, 
my lord. 

Sim. O, that's as much, as you would be de- 
ny'd ['i he Knights and Ladies dauce* 
Of your fair courtesy. — Linclasp, unclasp; 
Thanks, gentlemen, to all; all have done well. 
But you the best. [To Vericlls.] Pages and 
lights, conduct [Yours, sir 

These knijiJit-s unto their several lodgings; 
We have given order to be next our own. 

Per. I am at your grace's pleasure. 

Sim,. Princes, it is too late to talk of love. 
For that's the mark 1 know jou level at: 
Therefore each one betake him to his rest; 
To morrow, all for bpeeding do their best. 

[Ea^^eunt, 

SCENE IV. Tyre. A Boom in the 

Governor's House. 
Tenter Helicanus and Esca^i gs. 
Hel, N o, no, my Escanes ; know tbuot me,— 



• ».*., These delicacies go against my stomach. 

I Prepared for combat. $ Dances. 



[+ liowcr. 



. Setmr jv.y 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



90 



Antiochus from incest^ lived not free; 

For which the most high gods cot minding 

longer. 
To withliold the vengeance that they had in 
Doe to this l.ein-ons capital otfence, [store, 
Even in the height and pride of all his glory, 
When he was seated, and his daughter with 
In a chariot of inestitnable Value, [him, 

A fire from heaven came, and shrivel'd up 
Their bodies, even to loathing ;forihe> so stunk. 
That all those eyes adored them * ere their fall. 
Scorn now their hand should give them bnricl. 
Esca. Twas very strange. 
Hel. And yet but just; for though 

This king were great, his greatness was no 

guard 
To bar heaven's shaft, but sin had his reward. 
Esca. "lis very true. 

Enter three Lords. 
1 Lord, See,notamanin private conference. 
Or council, has respect witli him but he. 
It Lord. It shall no longer giieve without 
reproof. [it. 

' "S Lord. And curst be he that will not second 
^ Lord. Follow me, then: Lord Helicane, 
a word. [my lords. 

Hel. With me? and welcome: Happy day, 
1 Lord. Know that our griefs are risen to 
the top, 
And now at length they overflow their ba-nki . 
Het. Your griefs, for what? wronsj not the 
prince you love. [Helicane; 

1 Lord. W rong not yourself, then, noble 
But if the prince do live, let us salute him. 
Or know what ground's made happy by his 

breath. 
If in the world he live, we'll seek him out ; 
If in his grave he rest, we'll find him there; 
And be resolved t, he lives to govern us. 
Or dead, gives cause to mourn his funeral, 
Aiid leaves us to our free election. 

2 Lord. Whose death's indeed, the strongest 

in our censure + : 
And knowing this kingdom, if, without a head, 
(Like goodly buildings left without a roof,) 
Will soon to ruin fall, your noble self, 
Ihat best know'st how to rule, and how to 
We thus submit unto, — our sovereign, [reign, 
All. Live, noble Helicane! [frages : 

Hel. Try honour's cau?e, forbear your suf- 
If that you love prince Pericles, forbear. 
fake I your wish, I leap into the seas, 
Where's hourly trouble for a minute's ease. 
A twelvemonth longer, let me then entreat yon 
To forbear choice i' the absence of your king; 
If in which time expired he not return, 
1 Bhall with aged patience bear your yoke. 
But if I cannot win you to this love, 
Go search like noblemen, like noble subjects. 
And in your search epend your adventurous 

worth ; 
W^hom if you find, and win unto return, 
\"ou shall like d'amonds sit about his crown, 
i Loi d. lo wisdom he's a fool that will not 
And since Lord Helicane enjoineth as, [yield; 
We with our travels will endeavour it. 



Hel. Then you love as, we yoa, and we'll 

clasp hands ; 
When peers thus knit, a kingdom ever stand*. 

{EaeuTit. 

SCENE V. Pentapolis. A Room in the 

Palace, 

Enter Simonides, reading a Letter y the 

Knights Jneet liim. 

1 Knight. Good morrow to the good Simo- 

nides. [y«» know, 

Sitff. Kniiihts, from ray daughter this 1 let 
That for this twelvemonth, she'll not undertake 
A manied life. 

Her reason to herself is only known. 
Which from herself by no means can I get. 

2 Knight. May we not get access to her, my 

lord? [tied her 

Sim, 'Faith,by no means; she hath so strictly 
To her chamber, that it is impossible, [livery ; 
One twelve moons more she'll wear Diana'a 
This by the eye of Cynthia hath she vow'd, 
An<l on her virgin honour will not break it. 

3 Ktdght. Though loath to bid farewell, we 

take our leaves. [Kreunt. 

Sim. So [ter's letter: 

They're well despatch'd; now to my daugh- 
She tells me here, she'll wed the stranger 

knight. 
Or never more to view nor day nor light. 
Mistress, 'tis well, your choice agrees with 

mine ; 
I like that well : — nay, how absolute she's in't. 
Not minding whether I dislike or nol 
Well, I commend her choice; 
And will no longer have it be defay'd. 
Soft, here he comes :— I must dissemble it. 
Enter Pericles. 

Per. All fortune to the good Simonides! 

Sim. To you as much, sir I I am beholden 
to you. 
For your sweet music this last night : my ears, 
I do protest, were never better led 
With such deligt.tful pleasing harmony. 

Per. It is your grace's pleasure to commeno ; 
Not my desert. 

Sim. Sir, you are music's master, [lord. 

Per. The worst of all her scholars, my good 

Sim. Let me ask one thing. What do yon 
My daughter? [think sir, of 

Per, As of a most virtuous princess. 

Sim. And she is fair too, is she not ? [fair. 

Per. As a fair day in summer; wondious 

Sim.^y daughter,sir,thinks very well of you; 
Ay, so well, sir, that you must be her master. 
And she'll your scholar be; therefore look to it. 

Per. Unworthy I to be her schoolmaster. 

Sim, She thinks not so; peruse this writing 

Per. What's here ! [else. 

A letter, that she loves the knight of Tyre? 
'i is the king's subtiity, to have my lite. {AsidCm 
O, seek not to entrap, niy gracious lord, 
A stranger and distressed gentkman, [ter. 

That never aini'd so high, to love your daugh- 
But bent all otbce* to honour her. 

Sim. Thou hast bewitch'd my daughter, and 
A villain. thou ii"* 



♦ Which adored tbem. 



t Satisfied. 



J Jndgment, opinion. 



908 



SHAKSPEARE. 



\Art rir. 



Per, By the gods, I have not, sir. 
lifverdid thought of mine levy offence; 
"Nor never did my actions yet commence 
A deed mi^ht gain her love, or your displea- 

Sim. Traitor, thou liest. [sure. 

Per. Traitor I 

Sim. Ay, traitor, sir. 

Per. Even in his throat, (unless it be the 
That calls rae traitor, 1 return the lie. [king^ 

Sim. Now, by the g^ds, I do applaud his 
coarage. {Aside. 

Per. My actions are as noble as my thoughts. 
That never relish'd of a base descent. 
3 came unto your court for honour's cause. 
And not to be a rebel to her state; 
An<\ he that otherwise accounts of me. 
This sword shall prove he's honour's enemy. 

Sim. No! — 
Here comes my daughter, she can witness it. 
Enter Thaisa. 

Per. Then, as you are as virtuous as fair, 
Besolve your angry father, if my tongue 
Did e'er solicit, or my hand subscribe 
To any sy liable that made love to you? 



Thai. Why, sir, say if you had. 
Who takes otfence at that would make me glad. 

Sim. Yea, mistress, are you so peremptory ? 
I am glad of it with ali my heart. [Aside.] V\\ 
I'll bring you in subjection — ^'^amw you ; 
Will you, not having my consent, bestow 
Your love and your atfections on a air-4nger? 
(Who, for aught I know to the contrary. 
Or think, may be as great in blood as I.) [Aside, 
Hear, ther-efore, mistress; fiame your will to 
mine, — [me. 

And you, sir, bear you. — Either be ruled by 
Or 1 will make you— man and wife. — [too.- — 
Nay, come; your hands and lips must seal it 
And being join'd, I'll thus your hopes destroy ; 
And for a further grief, — God give you joy ! 
What, are you both pleased? 

Thai. Yes, if you love me, sir. 

Per. Even as my life, my blood that fosters 

Sim. What, are you both agreed 1 [it. 

Both, Yes, please your majesty. 

Sim. It pleaseth me so well, I'll see you wed ; 
Then, with what haate you can, get you to bed. 

[Exeunt- 



ACT III. 



Enter Gower. 

Gow. Now sleep yslaked* hath the rout; 
No din but snores, the house about. 
Made louder by the o'er-fed breast 
Of this most pompous marriage-feast. 
The cat, with eyne of burning coal. 
Now couches 'foie the mouse's hole; 
And crickets sing at th' oven's mouth. 
As the blither for their drouth. 
Hymen hath brought the bride to bed. 
Where, by the loss of maidenhead, 
A babe is moulded; — Be attent. 
And time that is so briefly spent. 
With your fine fancies quaintly echef; 
What's dumb in show, I'll plain with speech. 
Dumb Show. 
Muter Pericles and Simonides at one 
door, with Attendants ; a Messenger meets 
them, k?ieels,a?id gives Pericles a letter. 
Pericles shoivs it to Simoniues; the 
Lords kneel to the former. Then enter 
Thaisa with child, and Lychorida. Si- 
moniues shows his daughter the tetter ; 
she rejoices: she and Pericles take 
leave of her father, and depart. Then 
Simon IDES, S(c., retire. 

Gow. By many a dearn|and painful perch$ 
Of Pericles the careful search 
By the four opposing coignes||, 
Which the world together joins. 
Is made, with all due diligence. 
That horse, and sail, and high expense. 
Can stead the questlF. At last from Tyre 
(Fame answering the most strong inquire,) 
To the couit of king Simonides 
Are letters brought; the tenour these: 



Antiochus and his daughter's dead; 

The men of Tyrus, on the head 

Of Helicanns would set on 

The crown of lyrc^ but he will none: 

The mutiny there he hastes t' appease; 

Says to them, if king Pericles 

Come not, in twice *ix moons, home. 

He, obedient to their doom. 

Will take the crown. The sum of this, 

Brouijht hither to Pentapolis, 

Y-ravished the regions round, 

And every one with chips *gan sound. 

Our heir apparent is a king: 

Who dreani'^dfivho thought ofsttch a thmgT 

Brief, he must hence depart to Tyre : 

His queen, with child, makes her <lesire 

(Which who shall cross?) along to go; 

(Omit we all their dole and woe;) 

Lychorida, her nurse, she takes. 

And so to sea. Their vessel shakes 

On Neptune's billow; half the flood 

Hath their keel cut; but fortur»e's mood** 

Varies again ; the grizzled north 

Disgorges such a tempest forth. 

That, as a duck for life that dives. 

So up and down the poor ship drives. 

The lady shrieks, and well-a-neart+1 

Doth fall in travail with her fear: 

And what ensues in this fell storra. 

Shall, for itself, itself perform. 

1 nill Jt relate; action may 

Conveniently the rest convey: 

Which might not what by me is told. 

In your imagination hold 

This stage the ship, upon whose deck 

The sea-tost prince appears to speak. {Eait» 

•Quenched. + Eke out. J Lonely. $ A measure. || Corners. 

% Help, or assist the search. *♦ Disposition. tf Aa exclamation equivalent to well-a-daji 

I; I shdll not. 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



909 



SCENE I. 
Enter Pericles, on a ship at sea. 

Per. Thou god of this great vast*, rebuke 
these surges, [that hast 

Which wash both heaven and hell; nnd thou, 
^pon the winds command, bind them in brass, 
Having called them from the deep ! O still thy 
deafning, [nimble. 

Thy dreadful thunders ; gently quench thy 
Sulphureous flashes! — O how, Lychorida, 
, How does my queen? — Thou storm thou ! ve- 
nomously! 
Wilt thou spit allthyself ? The seamaifs Whistle 
Is as a whisper in the ears of death. 
Unheard. — Lychorida! — Luciuaj, O 
Divinest patroness and midwife, gentle 
To those that cry by night, convey thy deity 
Aboard our dancing boat ; make swift the pangs 

Of my queen's travails! — Now, Lychorida 

Enter IjYcuoridk, with aninfant. 

Lye. Here is a thing 
Too young for such a place, who if it had 
Conceit^ would die as I am like to do. [queen. 
Take in your arms this piece of your dead 

Per. How! how, Lychorida I [storm. 

Lye, Patience, good sir; do not assist the 
Here's all that is left living of your queen, — 
A little daughter; for the sake of it. 
Be manly, and take comfort. 

Per. O you gods ! 

-Why do you make us love your goodly gifts. 
And snatch them straight away ? We, here 

below, 
L Recall cot what we give, and thei'ein may 
Vie honourjl with yourselves. 

Lye. Patience, good sir, 

Even for this charge. 

Per. Now, mild may be thy life! 

For a more blusterous birth had never babe; 
Qniet and gentle thy conditions! 
For thou*rt the rudeliest welcomed to this 
world, [lows! 

That e'er was prince's child. Happy what fol- 
Thou hast as chiding IT a nativity. 
As fire, air, vvater, earth, and heaven can make, 
Toheraldtheefrom the womb : even at the first, 
Thy loss is more than can thy portage quit**. 
With all thou canst find here. — Now the good 
Throw their best eyes upon it! [gods 

Enter two Sailors. 

1 Sail. What courage, sir? God save you. 

Per. Courage enough : I do not fear the 
flaw H ; [love 

It hath done to me the worst. Yet, for the 
Of this poor infant, this fresh-new seafarer, 
I would, it would be quiet. 

1 Sail. Slack the bolins jj there; thou wilt 
not, wilt thou? Blow, and split thyself. 

'2, Sail. But sea-room, an the brine and cloudy 
billow kiss the moon, I care not. 

1 Suit. Sir, your queen must overboard ; the 
•ea works hiuh, the wind is loud, and will not 
lie till the ship be cleared ot the dead. 



Per. That's your superstition. 

1 Sail. Pardon us, sir ; with us at sea it stilJ 
hath been observed ; and we are strong in 
earnest. Therefore brietiy yield her; for she 
must overboard straight. 

Per. Be it as you think meet. — Most wretched 
Lye. Here she lies, sir. [queen I 

Per. A terrible child-bed hast thou had, 
my dear. 
No light, no fire : the unfriendly elements 
Forgot thee utterly : nor have I time 
To give thee hallo w'd to thy grave, but straight 
Must cast thee, scarcely cothn'd.in the ooze; 
Where, for a monument upon thy bones. 
And aye-remaining §§ lamps, the belching 

whale. 
And humming water must o'erwhelm Xhy 
Lying with simple shells. Lychorida, [corpse. 
Bid Nestor bring me spices, ink, and paper. 
My casket and my jewels; and bid Nicander 
Bring me the satin coffer: lay the babe 
Upon the pillow ; hie thee whiles I say 
A priestly farewell to her: suddenly, woman. 
{Exit Lychorida. 

2 Sail. Sir, we have a chest beneath the 
hatches, caulk'd and bitumed ready, [is this? 

Per. 1 thank thee. Mariner, say what coast 

2 Sail. We are near Tharsus. 

Per. Thither, gentle mariner. [reach itt 
Alter thy course for Tyre. When canst thou 

2 Sail. By break of day, if the wind cease. 

Per. O make for Tharsus. 
There will I visit Cleon, for the babe 
Cannot hold out to Tyrus; there I'll leave it 
At careful nursing. Go thy ways, good ma- 
riner ; 
I'll bring the body presently. {Exeunt, 

SCENE II. Ephesus. A Room in Cerimon's 

House. 
Enter Ckrimon, a Servant, and some per 
sons who have been shipwrecked, 
Cer. Philemon, ho! 

Enter Philemon. 
Phil. Doth my lord call ? 
Cer. Get fire and meat for these poor men; 
It has been a turbulent and stormy night. 

Serv. I have been in many ; but such a night 

Till now I ne'er endured. [as this, 

Cer. Your master will be dead ere you return; 

There's nothing can be minister'd to nature. 

That can recover him. Give this to the 'po- 

thecary. 
And tell me how it works. {To Philemon. 
{Exeunt Philemon, Servant, and those 
who had been shipwrecked. 
Enter Ttvo Gentlemen. 

1 Gent. Good morrow, sir. 

2 Gent. Good morrow to your lordship. 
Cer. Gentlemen, 

Why do you stir so early 1 

1 Gent. Sir, 
Our lodgings, standing bleak upon the sea. 



• This wide expanse. + Maliciously. % The goddess of child-bearing. 

§ Thought. II Contend with you in honour. H As noisy a one. 

•• Than thy entrance into life can requite. +t Blast. JJ Bowlines » ropes of the sails 

i^ Ever-buruiag. 



910 



SHAKSFEARE. 



{Act III 



Shook, as the earth did qaake; 
The very principals* did seem to rend. 
And all to topple t; piue surprise and fear 
Made me to quit the house. 

2 Gent. Thai is the i,ause we trouble yon so 
*Ti» not our husbandry J. [early; 

Cer, O, yon say well. 

1 Gent. Fut I much marvel that your lord- 

ship, having 
Rich tire^ about you, should at these early 

hours 
Shake off the golden slumber of repose. 
It is most strange, 

Nature should be so conversant with pain, 
Being thereto not compell'd. 

Cer, I held it ever, 

Virtue and cunningH were endowments greatet" 
Thau nouleness and riches : careless heirs 
May the two latter darken and expend ; 
Bnt immortality attends the former, 
Making a man a tiod. 'Tis known, I ever 
Have studied physic, through which secret art, 
By turning o*er authorities, 1 have 
(Together with my practice,) made familiar 
To me and to my aid, the blest infusions 
That dwell in vegetives, in metals, stones; 
And I can speak of the disturbances 
That nature works and of her cures ; which 

give me 
A more content in course of true delight 
Than to be thirsty alter tottering honour. 
Or tie my treasure up in silken bags. 
To please the fool and death. 

2 Gent. Your honour has through Ephesus 

pour'd forth 
Yonr charity, and hundreds call themselves 
Your creatui es, who by you have been restored: 
And not your knowledge, personal pain, but 

even 
Your purse, still open, hath built lord Cerimon 

Such strong renown as time shall never 

Enter Two Servants with a Chest, 

Serv, So ; lift there. 

Cer. What is that? 

Seri\ Sir, even now 

Did the sea toss upon our shore this chest ; 
Tis of some wreck. 

Cer. Set 't down, let's look on it. 

^Gent, Tis like a coffin, sir. 

Cer. Whatever it be, 

Tis wondrous heavy. Wrench it open straight; 
If the sea's stomach be o'ercliarged with gold, 
It is a good constraint of fortune, that 
It belches upon us. 

2 Gent. 'Tis so, my lord. 

Cer. How close 'tis caulk'd and bitnmed! — 
Did the sea cast it up ? 

Serv. 1 never saw so hnge a billow, sir, 
As toss'd it upon shore. 

Cer. Come, wrench it open ; 

Soft, soft!— it smells most sweetly in my sense. I 

2 Gent. A delicate odour. j 

Cer. As ever hit my nostril ; so, — up with it. 
O you most potent god ! what's here? a corse I 

1 Gent. Mos strange I I 



Cer. Shrouded in cioth of itdte ; \t%\m*4 
and entreas'jre'l 
With hags of spice* full I A p-'sspo'^ too! 
Apollo, perfect m« i't«ie Cijarfccter^! 

[Unjolds a scroll. 

Here Jgivs fo understand, [Reads 

(Ife*er this coffin drive a-land,) 

7, ki7ig Pericles, have lost 

This queen, worth all our mundane^ c^t. 

Who finds her, give her burying ^ 

She was the daughter of a king ; 

Besides this treasure Jor ajee. 

The gods requite his charity ! 

If thon livest, Pericles, thou hast a heart 
That even cracks for woe ! — This chanced t»> 
night. 
2 Gent. Most likely, sir. 
Cer. Nay, certainly to-night ; 

For look, how fresh she looks ! — They were 

too rou^h, 
That threw her in the sea. Make fire within; 
Fetch hither all the boxes in my closet. 
Death may usurp on nature many hours. 
And yet the fire of life kindle again 
The overpressed spirits. 1 have heard 
Of an Egyptian had nine hours Jien dead, 
By good appliance was recovered. 
Enter a Servant, with boxeSj napkins, and 

fire. 
Well said, well said ; the fire and the cloths.— 
The rough and woful music that we have. 
Cause it to sound, 'beseech jou. 
The vial once more ; — How thou stirr'st, thoa 

block!— 
The music there. — I pray you, give her air : — 
Gentlemen, 

This queen will live : nature awakes ; a warmth 
Breathes out of her ; she hath not been en- 
tranced 
Above five hours. See, how she 'gins to blow 
Into life's fiower again ! 

1 Gent. The heavens, sir. 
Through you, increase our wonder, and set up 
Your fame for ever. 

Cer. She is alive ; behold 

Her eye-lids, cases to those heavenly jewels 
Which Pericles haih lost, 
Begin to part their fringes of bright gold ; 
The diamonds of a most praised water 
Appear, to make the world twice rich. Olive, 
And make us weep to hear your fate, fair 

creature. 
Rare as you seem to be ! [She moves. 

Thai. O dear Diana, 

Where am I ? Where's my lord ? What world 

2 Gent. Is not this strange ! [is this! 
1 Gent. Most rate. 

Cer. Hush, gentle neighbours ; 

Lend me your hands: to the next chamber 

bear her. 
Get linen : now this matter must be look'd to, 
Foi htr relapse is mortal. Come, come, come; 
And .^sculapiiis guide u« ! 

[Exeunt, carrying Thais a away. 



IT ihe prinrfpftl.f are the strongest rafters in the roof of a bnildinp. 
J <.e., kcouomical prudence, earl) rising. 9 Atiire. || Knowledge. 



t Tumble. 
U Worldly 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



911 



SCENE lii. Tharsiis. A Rooin in Cleon'8 , 
House, I 

Enter Pericles, Cleon, Diontza, Lt- 
CHORIDA, and Marina. 

Per, Most honour'd Cleon, I must needs 
be gone ; [stands 

My twelve months are expired, nnd Tyrus 
111 a litigious peace. You, and your lady, 
Take from my heart all thankfulness ! The gods 
Make up the rest upon you ! [yon mortally, 

CLe, Your shafts of fortune, though they hurt 
Yet glance full wand'ringly on us. 

Dion. O your sweet queen ! 

That the strict fates had pleased you had 
To havebless'd mine eyes! [brought her hither, 

F^er. We cannot but obey 

The powers above us. Could I rage and roar 
As doth rhe sea she lies in, yet the end 
Must be as 'tis. My babe IVIarina (whom. 
For she was born at sea, I have named so,) here 
I charge your charity withal, and leave her 
The infant of your care; beseeching you 
To give her princely training, that she maybe 
Manner'd as she is born. 

Cle. Fear not, my lord : [corn. 

Your grace *, that fed my country with your 
(For which the people's prayers still fall upon 
you,) [tion 

Must in your child be thought on. If negle<:- 
SShould therein make me vile, the common 

body t. 
By you refieved, wmild force me to my duty : 
But if to that my nature need a spur, 
7 he gods revenge it upon me and mine. 
To the end of generation ! 

Per. I believe you ; [dit, 

Your honour and your goodness teach me cre» 
Without your vows. Till she be married, ma. 
Uy bright Diana, whom we honour all, [dam, 
UusciBsor'd shall this hair of mine remain. 



Though 1 show will j in't. So I take my leave. 
Good madam, make me ble«sed in yoor care 
In bringing up my ehild. 

Dion. I have one myself. 

Who shall not be m'.re dear to my respect 
Than yours^ my lord. 

Per, Madam, my thanlcs and prayerg. 

Cle. We'll bring your grace even to the edge 
o'the shor'e ; 
Then give you up to the mask'd Neptune$, and 
The gentlest winds of heaven. 

Per. I will embrace 

Your offer.— Come, dear's! madam. — O no 
Lychorida, no tears : [tears. 

Look to your little mistress, on whose grace 
You may depend hereafter. — Come, my lord. 
{Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. Ephcsus. A Room in Cerimon'ft 

House. 

Enter Cerimon ewrfTHAisA. 

Cer, Madam, this letter, and some certain 
jeweli, 
L^y with you in your coffer : which are now 
At your command. Know you the character? 

Thai. It is my lord's. 
That I was shipp'd at sea, I well remember. 
Even on my yearning || time ; but whether theri 
Delivered or no, by the holy gods, 
I cannot rightly say : But since king Pericles, 
My wedded lord, I ne'er shall see again, 
A estal livery will 1 take me to, 
And never more have joy. 

Cer. Madam, if this you purpose as yon 
Diana's temple is not distant far, [speak. 

Where you may 'bide until your date expire. 
Moreover, if you please, a niece of mine 
Shall there attend you. 

Thai. My recompense is thanks, that's all ; 
Yet my good will is great, though the gift small, 
I ^Exeunt . 



ACT IV. 



Enter Gower. 
Gow. Imagine Pericles at Tyre, 
Welcomed to his own desire. 
His woful queen leave at Ephess, 
To Diau there a votaress. 
Kow to Marina bend your mind. 
Whom our fast growing scene most find 
At Tharsng, and by Cleon train'd 
In music, letters ; who hath gain'd 
Of education all the grace, 
Which makes her both the he^rt and place 
Of general wonder. But alack! 
That monster envy, oft the wrack 
Of earned praise, Marina's life 
Seeks to take off by treason's knife. 
And in this kind hath our Cleon 
One daughter, and a wench full grown. 
Even ripi.' for marriage fight ; this maid 
HightH Philoten: and it is said 



For certain in our story, she 

Would ever with Marina be : 

Bc't when she weaved the sleided •* silk 

with fingers, long, small, white as milk ; 

Or when she would with sharp neeld+f wound 

The cambric, which she made more sound 

By hurting it ; or when to the lute 

She sung, and made the night-bird mntc. 

That still records jj with moan ; or when 

S*he would with rich and constant pen 

Vail to her mistress Dian ; still 

This Philoten contends in skill 

With absolute 5J Maiina : so 

With the dove of Paphos might the crow 

Vie feathers white. Marina gels 

All praises, which are paid as debts. 

And not as given. This so darks 

In Phileton all graceful marks. 

That Cleon*s wife, with envy rare. 



> Favour. + The common people. t Appear wilful, perverse by such condnei 

^, Insidious waves that wear a treacherous smile. j| Groaning. IT Caliei). 

•♦ Untwisted, tt Needle. jJ S/ngs. $§ Accornplished, perfect. 



912 



SHAKSPEAHE. 



[Act IF 



A present marderer does prepare 

For good Manua, that her daughter 

Mii^ht stand peerless by ihis slaughter. 

The sooner her vile thoughts to stead, 

liychorida, onr nurse, is dead; 

Aud cursed Dionyza hath 

The pregnant ♦ instrument of wrath 

Prestf for this blow, The unborn event 

I do commend to your content : 

Only I carry winged time 

Post on the 1 ime feet of my rhyme ; 

Which never could I so convey. 

Unless your thouo;hts went on my way. — 

Dionyza does appear, 

With Leonine, a murderer. [Exit. 

SCENE I. Tharsus. An open Place near 
the Sea-shore. 

Enter Dionyza and Leonine. 
Dion, Thy oath remember ; thou hast sworn 

to do it : 
TIs but a blow, which never shall be known. 
Th('U canst not do a thing i'the world so soon. 
To yield thee so much profit. Let not con- 
science, 
W^hich is but cold, inflame love in thy bosom, 
Inflame too nicely ; nor let pity, which 
Even women have cast otf, melt thee, but be 
A soldier to thy purpose. [creature. 

Leon. I'll do't ; but yet she is a sj;oodly 
Dion. The fitter then the gods should have 

her. Here 
Weeping she comes for her old nurse's death. 
Thou art resolved ? 

Leon. I am resolved. 

Enter Marina, ivlth a Basket of Flowers. 
Mar. No, no, I will robTellusj of her weed. 
To strew thy green with flowers : the yellows, 
The pnrple violets, and marigolds, [blues, 

Shall, as a chaplet, hang upon thy grave, 
While summer days do last. Ah me! poor 

maid. 
Born in a trmpest, when my mother died. 
This world to me is like a lasting storm. 
Whirling me from my friends. 

Dion. How now, Marina! why do you 

keep alone ! [Do not 

How chance my daughter is not with you? 
Consume your blood with sorrowing : you 

have 
A nnrse of me. Lord ! how your favour's $ 

changed 
With this un[;rofitaWe woe I Come, come; 
Give nie your wreath of flowers. Ere the sea 

mar it, [there. 

Walk forth with Leonine ll; the air is quick 
Piercing, and sharpens well the stomach. 

Come ; — 
Leonine, take her by the arm, walk with her. 

Mar. No, I pray you ; 
PI I not bereave you of your servant. 

Dinn. Come, come ; 

I love the king your father, and yourself, 
With more than foreign heart. We everyday 
r.spi'Ct hiinliere : when he shall come, and find 



Our paragon to all reports, thus blasted. 

He will repent the breadth of his great voyage ; 

Blame both my lord and me, that we have 

ta*en 
No care to your best courses. Go, I pray you. 
Walk, and be cheerful once again ; reserve 
That excellent complexion, which did steal 
The eyes of young and old. Care not for me ; 
I can go home alone. 

Mar. Well, 1 will go ; 

But yet I have no desire to it. [yon* 

Dion. Come, come, I know 'tis good for 
Walk half an hour, Lecntine, at the least; 
Remember what 1 have said. 

Leon. I warrant you, madam. 

Dion. PU leave you, my sweet lady, for a 
while; 
Pray you walk softly, do not heat your blood : 
What!- 1 niUBt have a care of you. 

Mar, Thanks, sweet madam. — 

[£»rii Dionyza. 
Is this wind westerly that blows ? 

Leon. South-west. 

Mar. When I was born, the wind was north. 

Leon. Was't so 1 

Mar. My father, as nurse said, did never fear 
But cry'd, good seamen! to the sailors, galling 
His kingly hands with hauling of the ropes; 
And, clasping to the mast, endured a sea 
That almost burst the deck, and from the lad- 
der-tackle 
Wash'd oflf a canvass-climber H: Ha ! says one. 
Wilt out ? and, with a dropping indugtry, 
They skip from stem to stern ; the boatswain 

whistles. 
The master calls, and trebles their confusion. 

Leon. And when was this I . 

Mar. It was when I was born: 

Never was waves nor wind more violent. 

Leon, Come, say your prayers speedily. 

Mar. What mean you 

Leon. If you require a little space for prayer 
I grant it : Pray ; but be not tedious. 
For the gods are quick of ear, and I am sworn 
To do my work with haste. 

Mar, Why will you kill me? 

Leon. To satisfy my lady. 

Mar. Why wonld she have mekill'd ? 
Now, as I can remeinber, by my troth, 
I never did her hurt in all my life ; 
I never spake bad word, nor did ill turn 
To any living creature: believe. me, la, 
I never kill'd a mouse, nor hurt a fly : 
I trod upon a worm against my will. 
But I wept for it. How have I otfended. 
Wherein ray death might yield her profit, or 
My life imply her danger ? 

Leon. My commission 

Is not to reason of the deed, but do it. 

Mar. You will not do't for all the world, I 

hope. [show 

You are well-favour*d, and your looks for^ 

Yon have a gentle heart. I saw yon lately. 

When you caught hurt in parting two that 

fought : 



Prepared. + Ready. t The earth. $ Countenance, look, H i. e., Ere 

the 8ea by the comin<> in of the tide, mar your walk. H A ship boy. 



Scene I.] 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



913 



Good sooth, it sho^v^d well in you ; do so 

now : 
Your lady seeks my Kfe : come you between, 
And save poor me, the weaker. 

Leon. I am sworn. 

And will despatch. 

Enter Piratvs, whilst Marina is strug- 
gling. 

1 Pirate. Hold, villain I 

[LeoNiNK runs away. 

2 Pirate. A prize I a prize! 

3 Pirate. Half-part, mate?, half-part. Come 
let's have her aboard suddenly. 

[Exeunt Pirates with Marina. 

SCENE II. The same. 
Bo enter Leonine. 
Leon. These roving thieves ser\'e the great 
pirate Valdes; 
And they have seized Marina. Le* her go : 
There's no liope she'll return. I'll swear she's 

dead, 
And thrown into the sea. — But I'll see further; 
Perhaps they will but please themselves upon 
Not carry her aboard. If she remain, [her, 
"Whom they have ravish'd, must by me be slain. 

[Exit. 

SCENE III. Mitylene. A Room in a 

Brothel. 

Enter Pander, Bawd, and Boult, 

Pand. Boult. 

Boult. Sir. 

Pand. Search the market narrowly ; Myte- 
lene is full of gallants. We lost too much 
money this mart, by being too wencbless. 

Baud. We were never so much out of crea- 
nres. We have but poor three, and they can 
do no more than they can do ; and with con- 
tinual action are even as good as rotten. 

Pand. Therefore let's have fresh ones, 
whate'er we pay for them. If there be not a 
conscience to be used in every trade, we shall 
never prosper. 

Bawd. Thou say'st true : 'tis not the bring- 
ing up of poor bastards, as I think I have 
brouiiht up some eleven 

Boult. Ay, to eleven, and brought them 
down again. But shall I search the market? 

Band. What else, man 1 The stuff we have, 
a strong wind will blow it to pieces, they are 
•o pitifully sodden. 

Pand. Thou say'st true ; they are too un- 
wholesome o'conscience. The poor Transyl- 
▼anian is dead, that lay with the little baggage. 

Boult. Ay, she quickly poop'd him; she 
made him roast-ineat for worms : — but Pll go 
•eaich the market. [Exit Boult. 

Pand. Three or four thousand chequins v/ere 
a» pretty a proportion to live quietly, and so 
give over. 

Bawd. Why, to give over, 1 pray you 1 is 
t a shame to get when we are old? 

Pand. O, our credit comes not in like the 
eommodi y ; nor the commodity wages not 
with the Ganger ; therefore, if in oar youths 



we could pick up some pretty estate, 'twere 
not aniiss to keep onr door hatch'd ♦. Besides, 
the sore terms we stand upon with the gods, 
will be strong with us for giving over. 

Bawd. Come, other sorts offend as well at 
we. 

Pand. As well as we ! ay, and better too ; 
we otfend worse. Neither is oui professioa 
any trade: it'^ no callmg ; — but here comet 
Boult. 

Enter the Pirates, and B<. ult, dragging in 
Marina. 
Boult. Come your ways, [To Marina.]— 
My masters, you say she's a virgin? 
] Pirate. O, sir, we doubt it not. 
Bo tilt. Master, I have gone t borough + for 
this piece, you see : if you like her, so ; if 
not, I have lost my earnest. 

Bawd. Boult, has she any qualities? 
Boult. She has a good face, speaks well, 
and has excellent goo 1 clothes; there's no fur- 
ther necessity of qualities can make her be r«B» 
fused. 

Bawd. What's her price, Boult ? 
Boult. I cannot be bated one doit of a 
thousand pieces. 

Pand. Well, follow me, my masters ; you 
shall have your money presently. Wife, take 
her in ; instruct her what she has to do, that 
she may not be raw in her entertainment. 

[Exeunt Pani'er and Pirates. 
Bawd. Boult, take you the marks of her ; 
the colour of her hair, complexion, height, 
age, with w.urant of her virginity ; and cry. 
He that will gii e most, shall have her first. 
Such a maidenhead were no cheap thing, if 
men weit as they have been. Get this disne 
as 1 command you. 
Boult. Performance shall follow. 

[Exit Boult 

Mar. Alack, that Leonine was so slack, so 

slow I [these pirate^, 

(He should have struck, not spoke ;) or that 

(Kot enough barbarous,) had not overboard 

Thrown me, to seek my mother ! 

Bawd. Why lament you, pretty one? 
Mar. That I am pretty. 
Bawd. Come, the gods ha\e done their part 
in you. 

Mar. I accuse them not. 
Bawd. You are lit into my hands, where 
yon are like to live. 

Mar. The more my fault, 
To 'scape his hands, where I was like to die. 
Bawd, Ay, and you shall live in pleasure. 
Mar. No. 

Bawd, Yes, indeed, shall you, and taste 
gentlemen of all fashions. You shall farewell; 
you shall have the difference of all com. 
plexions. What ! do you stop your ears ' 
Mar, Are you a woman ? 
Bali'd. What wcwld you have me be, an I 
be not a woman ? 
Mar. An honest woman, or not a woman. 
Bated. Marry, whip thee, gosling : I think 
I shall have something to do witli you. Com©^ 



• i, e,, Hdifop^a, 



t Bid a high price for hei 
4 I 



914 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV « 



yoa are a young foolish sapling, and must be 
bowed as I would have you. 
Mar. The goils defend me! 
Bawd. If it please ihe gods to defend you 
by men, then men must comfort you, men 
mast feed you, men must stir you up. — Boult's 
returned. 

Enter 'QoMY.T. 
"Sow, sir, hast thou cried her through the 
market? 

Boult. I have cried her almost to the num- 
ber of her hairs; I have drawn her picture 
with my voice. 

Bawd, And I pr'ytheetellme,howdo8tthou 
find the inclination of the people, especially of 
the younger sort? 

Boult. 'Faith, they listened to me, as they 
would have hearkened to their father's testa- 
ment. There was a Spaniard'? mouth so wa- 
tered, that he went lo bed to her very descrip- 
tion. 

Bawd. We shall \ *ve him here to-morrow 
with his best ruff on. 

Boult. To-night, to-night. But, mistress, 
do you know the French knight that cowers ♦ 
i'the hams? 

Batvd. Who ? Monsieur Veroles ? 

Boult, Ay ; he olfered to cut a caper at the 
proclamation ; but he made a groan at it, and 
swore he would see her to-morrow. 

Band. Well, well; as for him, he brought 
his disease hither : here he does but repair it. 
1 know he will come in our shadow, to scatter 
. his crowns in the sun. 

J Boult. Well, if we had of every nation a 
traveller, we should lodge them with this 
sign? 

Baivd. Pray you, come hither awhile. You 
have fortune* coming upon you Mark me; 
you must seem to do that fearfully, w^hich you 
commit willingly ; to despise profit, where 
you have most gain. To weep that you live 
as you do, makes pity in your lovers: Sel- 
dom, but that pity begets yon a good opinion, 
and that opinion a mere 1 profit. 

Mar, 1 understand you not. 

Boult. O, take her home, mistress, take her 
home : these blushes of her's must be quench- 
ed with some present practice. 

Batvd. Thou say'st true, i'faith, so they 
must : for your bride goes to that with shame, 
which is her way to go with warrant. 

Boult. 'Faith, some do, and some do not. 
But, mistress, if I have bargained for the 
joint, 

Bawd. Thoa may'st cut a morsel off the 
spit. 

Boult. I may so. 

Baivd. Who should deny it? Come, young 
one, I like the manner of your garments well. 

Boult. Ay, by my faith, thty shall not be 
changed yet. 

Baud. Boult, spend thou that in the town : 
report what a sojourner we have; you'll lose 



nothing by custom. When nature framed thi* 
piece, she meant thee a good turn ; therefore 
say what a paragon she is. and thou hast the 
harvest out of thine own report. 

Boult. I warrant you, mistrest, thunder shall 
not so awake the beds of eels, as my giving 
out her beauty stir up the lewdly-inclined. I'll 
bring home some to-night. 

Bawd. Come your ways ; follow me. 

Mar. If fires be hot, knives sharp, or wa- 
ters deep. 
Untied I still my virgin knot will keep. 
Diana, aid my purpose! 

Bawd. What have we to do with Dian& 
Pray you, will you go with us ? {Esieuiit 

SCENE IV. Tharsus. A Room in Cleou » 

J louse. 

Enter Cleon and Dionyza. 

Dion. Why, are you foolish? Can it be 
undone? 

Cle. O Dionyza, such a piece of slaughter 
The sun and moon ne'er iook'd upon ! 

Dion. I think 

You'll turn a child again. 

Cle. Were I chief lord of all the spacious 
I'd give it to undo the deed. O lady, [world, 
iMuch less in blood than virtue, yet a princess 
1 o equal any single crown o'the earth, 
I'the justice of compare ! O villain Leonine, 
Whom thou hast poisoii'd too! [ness 

If thou hadst drunk to him, it had been a kind 
Becoming well thy feat p what canst thou say, 
Whe.n noble Pericles shall deman>l his chUd? 

Dion. That she is dead. >iurses are not the 
To foster it, nor ever to preserve. [tates 

She died by night; I'll say so. Who can cross 
Unless you play the impious innocent j, [it? 
And for an honest attribute, cry out, 
^he died by joul flay. 

Cle. O.goto. Well, well. 

Of all the faults beneath the heavens, the god 
Do like this worst. 

Dion. Be one of those, that think 

The petty wrens of Tharsus will fly hence. 
And open this to Pericles. 1 do shame 
To think of what a noble strain you are. 
And of how cow'd a spirit. 

Cle. To such proceeding 

Who ever but his approbation added, 
1 hough not his pre-consent, he did not flow 
From honourable courses. 

Dion. Beit so then: 

Yet none does know, but you, how she came 

dead. 
Nor none can know. Leonine being gone. 
She did disdain n\y child, and stood between 
Her and her fortunes: None would look on 
But cast their gazes on Marina's face ; [her, 
\V hilst ours was blurted at. and held a nialkint]. 
Not worth the time of day. It pierced me 

thorough ; 

And tho.igh you cal! my course unnatural. 
You not your child well loving, yet 1 find^ 



Bends. f An absolute, a certain profit. t i- ^m Of a piece with the rest of thy exple» 
Aa innocent was formerly a common appellation for an idiot. K A coarse wench not 

worth a food morrow. 



Scene IV, "] 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE 



915 



It wreets me, as an enterprise of kindness, 

Perform'd to your sole ♦ daughter. 
Cle. Heavens forgive it! 

Dion. And as for Pericles, 

What should he say? We wept after her hearse. 

And even yet we mourn : her monument 

Is almost finish'd, and her epitaphs 

In glittering golden characters express 

A general praise to her, and care in us. 

At whose expense 'tis done. 
Cle. Thou art like the harpy, 

Which, to betray, doth wear an angel's face. 

Seize with an eagle's talons. 

Dion. You are like one, that superstitiously 

Doth swear to the gods, that winter kills the 
flies; 

But yet I know youMl do as I advise. \Exeunt. 

Enter Gowkr, before the Monument of 
Marina tf^ Tharsus. 
Goiv, Thus time we waste, and longest 
leagues make short; 
Sail seas in cockles, have, and wish but for*t ; 
Making+j (to take jour imagination,) 
From bourn to bourne, reuion to region. 
By you being prdon'd, we commit no crime 
To use one language, in each several clime, 
W^here our scenes seem to live. I do be- 
seech you [yon 
To learn of me, who stand I'the gap to teach 
The stages of our story. Pericles 
Is novv again thwarting the wayward seas, 
(Attended on by many a lord and knight,) 
To see his daughter, all his lire's delight. 
Old Escanes, whom Helicanus late 
Advanced in time to great and high estate, 
Is left to govern. Bear you it in mind. 
Old Helicanus goes along behind. 
Well-sailing ship?, and bounteous winds, 
have brought [thought; 
This king to Tharsus, (think his pilot 
So with his steerage shall your thoughts 
grow on,) [gone. 
To fetch his daughter home, who first is 
Like motes and shadows see them move 

awhile; 
Your ears unto your eyes I'll reconcile. 
Dumb Sho'c. 

Enter at one doory Pericles with his 
Train ;ChEO^ and D ion yza at the other. 
CLEOiN shows Pericles the tomb o/" Ma- 
rina ; whereat Pericles makes lamen- 
tation ^ynts on sackclothy and in a mighty 
passion departs. Then Cleon and 
DiONYZA retire. 
Gow. See how belief may suffer by foul 
show ! [woe ; 

This borrow'd passion stands for true old 
And Pericles, in sorrow all devourM, 
With sighs shot through, and biggest tears 
o'ershow'r'd, [swears 

Leaves Tharsus, and again embarks. He 
Never to wash his face, nor cut his hairs ; 
He puts on sackcloth, and to sea. He 

bears 
k tempest, which his mortal vessel^ tears. 



And yet he rides it out. Now please you witjl 
The epitaph is for Marina writ 
By wicked Dionyza. 

[Beads the inscription on Marina's 
Alonument. 
The fairest, sweet* sty and best lies here. 
Who withered in her spring of year. 
She tvas ofTyrus, the king's daughter. 
On whom foul death hath made this 

slaughter ; 
Marina was she calVd; and other birth, 
Thetis^, being proud, swallotv*d some 

part o' the earth : \_flovfd. 

Therefore the earth, fearing to be o*er' 
Hath Thetis birth-child on the heavens 

bestowed: [never stint** ,) 

Wherefore she does, {and swears she*U 
Make raging battery upon shores of flint. 
No visor does become black villany 
So well fiS soft and tender flattery. 
Let Pericles believe his daughter's dead. 
And bear his courses to be ordered 
By lady fortune ; while our scenes display 
His daughter's woe and heavy well-a-day. 
In her unholy service. Patience then, 
And think you now areallin Mitylen. [£^.a^. 

SCENE V. Mitylene. A Street before the 

Brothel. 
Enter, from the Brothel , Ttvo Gentlemen. 

1 Gent. Did you ever hear the like? 

2 Gent. No, nor never shall do in such a 
place as this, she being once gone. 

1 Gent. But to have divinity preached 
there ! did you ever dream of such a thing? 

2 Gent. No, no. Come, I am for no more 
bawdy-houses: shall we go hear the vestals 
sing? 

1 Gent. I'll do any thing now that is vir- 
tuous ; but I am out of the road of rutting, for 
ever. [Exeunt. 

SCENE VI. The same, A Room in the 
Brothel. 
Enter Pander, Bawd, and Boult. 

Pand, Well, [ had rather than twice the 
worth of her, she had ne'er come here. 

Baud. Fie, fie upon her; she is able to 
freeze the god Priapns, and undo a whole 
generation. We must either get her ravished, 
or be rid of her. When she should do for 
clients her fitment, and do me the kindness of 
our profession, she has me her quirks, her rea- 
sons, her master-reasons, her prayers, her 
knees ; that she would make a puritan of the 
devil, if he should cheapen a kiss of her. 

Boult. 'Faith, I must ravish her, or she'll 
disfurnish us of all our cavaliers, and make all 
our swearers priests. 

Pand. Now, the pox upon her green-sick- 
ness for me? 

Bawd. 'Faith, there's no way to be rid on't, 
but by the way to the pox. Here comes the 
lord Ljsimachns. disguised. 

Boult. We should have both lord and lown. 



Only. 



t Travelling. 
U To know. 



X From one boundary fo another. 
% The sea. *♦ Never cease. 



$ His body 



9l(> 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Ace ir 



if the peevish baggage would but give way to 
customers. 

Enter Lysimachus, 

Lys, How now ? How* a dozen of virgi- 
nities? 

Bawd. Now, the gods to-bless your honour ! 

Boult. I am glad to see your honour in good 
health. 

Lys. You may so ; 'tis the better for you 
that your resorters stand upon sound lege. 
How now, wholesome iniquity? Have you 
that a man may deal withal, and defy the 
Burgeon ? 

Baicd, We have here one, sir, if she 

would but there never came her like in 

Mitylene. 

l^ys. If she'd do the deeds of darkness, 
thou wouldst say. 

Bawd, Your honour knows what 'tis to say, 
well enough. 

JLys. \\ ell ; call forth, call forth. 

Boult. For flesh and blood, sir, white and 
red, you shall see a rese; and she were a rose 
indeed, if she had but 

Lys. What, pr'ythee? 

Boult. O, sir, I can be modest, 

Lys, That dignifies the renown of a bawd, 
no less than it gives a good report to a number 
to be chaste. 

Enter Marina. 

Bawd, Here comes that which grows to the 
stalk ; — never plucked yet, I can assure you. 
Is she not a fair creature ? 

Lys, 'Faith, she would serve after a long 
voyage at sea. Well, there's for you ;— leave 
us. 

Bawd. I beseech your honour, give me 
leave: a word, and I'll have done presently. 

Lys, I beseech you, do. 

Bawd, First 1 would have you note, this is 
an honourable man. 

\To Marina, whom she takes aside. 

Mar. 1 desire to find hira so, that I may 
worthil}'^ note him. 

Bawd, Next, he's the governor of thii 
country, and a man whom I am bound to. 

Mar. If he govern the country, you are 
bound to him indeed; but how honourable he 
is in that, I know not. 

Bawd. 'Pray you, without any more virgi- 
nal fencing, will you use him kindly ? He will 
line your apron with gold. 

Mar. What he will do graciously, I will 
thankfully receive. 

Lys. Have yon done? 

Bawd. My lord, she's not paced yet; you 
^ must take some pains to work her to your 
manage. Come, we will leave his honour and 
her together. 

[Exeunt Bawd, Pander, awd Boult. 

Lys. Go thy wayc— Now, pretty one, how 
long have you been at this trade? 

Mar. What trade, sir? 

Lys. What 1 cannot name but I shall offend. 

Mar. 1 cannot be offended with my trade. 
Please you to name it, 

• How much? what price? 



Lys. How long have you been of this pra i 
fession ? > 

Mar, Ever since I can remember. 

Lys. Did you go to it so young? Were yo» t 
a gamester t at five, or at seven? 

Mar. Earlier too, sir, if now I be one. 

Lys. Why, the house you dwell in, pro- 
claims you to be a creature of sale. 

Mar. Do you know tliis house to be a place i 
of such resort, and will come into it? 1 hear i 
say, you are of honourable parts, and are the 
governor of this place. 

Lys. Why, hath your principal made known 
unto yon who 1 am? 

Mar, Who is my principal? 

Lys. Wh>, your herb woman; she that sets 
seeds and roots of shame and iniquity. O, you 
have heard something of my power, and so 
stand aloof for more serious wooing. But I 
protest to thee, pretty one, my authority shall 
not see thee, or else, look friendly upon thee. 
Come, bring me to some private place. Come, 
come. 

Mar, If you were born to honour, show it 
now ; 
If put upon you, make the judgment good 
That thought you worthy of it. 

Lys, How's this ? how's this ? — Some more ? 
— be sage. 

Mar. For me, 
That am a maid, though most ungentle fortune 
Hath placed me here within this loathsome 

sty, 

Where, since I came, diseases have been sold 
Dearer than physic, — O that the good gods 
Would set mefreefrom this unhallow'd place. 
Though they did change me to the meanest 
That tlies i'the purer air 1 [bird 

Lys. I did not think 

Thou couldst have spoke so well ; ne'er 

dream'd thou couldst. 
Had I brought hither a corrupted mind. 
Thy speech had alter'd it. Hold, here's gold 

for thee : 
Perserver still in that clear way thou goest. 
And the gods strengthen thee ! 

Mar, The gods preserve you ! 

Lys. Yor me, be you thoughten 

That I came with no ill intent; for to me 
The very doors and windows savour vilely. 
Farewell. Thou art a piece of virtue, and 
I doubt not but thy training hath been noble. 
Hold ; heie's more gold for thee. — 
A ciirsc upon him, die he like a thief, 
That robs thee of thy goodness! If thou hears 
It shall be for thy good. [from me, 

[As Lysimachus i* putting up his 
Purse, Bovi.T enters. 

Boult, 1 beseech your honour, one piece 
for me. 

Lys, Avannt, thou damned door-keeper! 
Your house. 
But for this virgin that dotb prop it np. 
Would sink, and overwhelm you all. Away! 
[Exit Lysimachus. 

Boult. How's this? We jnust take another 

\ A wantoo. 



»cfm r/.i 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



917 



course with you. If your peevish chastity, 
which is not worth h breakfast in the cheapest 
country nnder the vrope*, shall undo a whole 
household, let me be gelded like a spaniel. 
Come yo!ir ways. 

Mar. Whither would yoil have me? 

Boult. 1 must have >our maidenhjead taken 

off, or the common hanq:m«n shall execite it. 

Come yonr w;iy. We'll have no more uentle- 

tnen diiven aviay. Come your ways, I say. 

Re-enter Bawd. 

JSmvfl, How now ! what's the matter ? 

Boult. Worse and worse, mistress ; she 
bag here spoken holy words to the lord Ly- 
simachns. 

Baud, O abominable ! 

Bori/t. She makes our profession as it were 
to stink afore the face of the gods. 

Bawd. Marry, hang her up for ever! 

Boult. The nobleman would have dealt 
with her like a nobleman, and she sent him 
away as cold as a snowball ; saying his prayers 
too. 

Bawd. Boult, take her away ; use her at 
thy pleasure : crack the glass of her virginity, 
and make the rest mailable. 

Bon It. An if she were a thornier piece of 
ground than she is, she shall be ploughed. 

Mar. Hark, hark, you gods! 

Bawd. Sheconjures: away with her. Would 
ilie had never come within my doors ! Marry 
hang you ! She's born to undo us. Will jou 
not go the way of women-kind 1 Marry come 
up, my dish of chastity with rosemary and 
bays! [filiv^ Bawd. 

Boult. Come, mittress; come your way 
with me. 

Mar. Whither would you have me ? 

Boult. To take from you the jewel you 
liold so dear. 

Mar. Pr'ythee tell me one thing first. 

Boult. Come now, your one thin£. 

Mar. What canst thou wish thine enemy 
to be ? 

Boult. Why, I could wi«h him to be my 
master, or rather, my mistress. [thou art. 

Mar, Neither of these are yet so bad as 



Since they do better thee in their command. 
Thou hold'st a place, for which the pained'tt 

fiend 
Of hell would not in repntation change: 
Thon'rt ihe danin'd door-keeper to every coys- 
That hither comes inq\iiring for his lib : [trelt 
lo the clioleri*- fisting of each rogue thy ear 
Is liable: thy very fdod is such 
As hath been helch'd on by iiifecttd lungs. 

Boult. What would you have me? go to 
tlie wars, woui<l you 1 where a man may serve 
seven years for the loss of a leg, and have not 
money enough in the end to buy him a wooden 
one ? [Emp y 

Mar. Do any thing but this thou doest. 
Old receptacles, common sew^ers, of filth ; 
Serve by indenture to the common hangman; 
Any of these ways are better yet than this : 
For that which thou professest, a baboon, 
Could he but speak, would own a name too 

dear. 

that the gods would safely from this pliice 
Deliver me! Here, here is gold tor thee. 

If that thy mast«^r would gain aught by me. 
Proclaim that J can sing, weave, sew, and 

dance. 
With other virtues, which Pll keep from boaat; 
And I will undertake all these to teach. 

1 doubt not but this populous city will 
Yield many scholars. 

Boult. But can you teach all thisyoa speak 
of? 

Mar. Prove that I cannot, take me home 
again, 
And prostitute me to the barest groom 
That doth frequent your house. 

Boult, Well, I will see what I can do fpr 
thee: if I can place thee, I will. 

Mar. But, amongst hone«?t women ? 

hoult. 'Faith, my acquaintance lies little 
among[st them. But since my master and 
mistress have bought you, there's no going 
but by their consent ; therefore I will make 
them acquainted with your purpose, and I 
doubt not but I shall find them tractable 
enough. Come, Pll do for thee what I can ; 
come your ways. {Exeunt, 



.ACT V. 



Enter Gowkr. 

Gow, Marina thus the brothel scapes, and 

chances 
Into an honest house, oar story says. 
She sings like one immortal, and she dances 
As goddess-like to her admired lays : 
Deep clerks! she dumbs; and with her 

neeld) composes 
Nature's own shape, of bod, bird, branch, 

or berry ; 
That even her art sisters the natural roses: 
Htr inkle, silk, twin with the rubied cherry : 
That pupils lacks she none of noble race, 
Who pour their bounty on her ; and her gain 



She gives the cursed bawd. Here we her 

place; 
jVnd to her father turn our thoughts ap;ain. 
Where we left him, on the sea. We there 

him lost; [arrivied 

Whence, driven before the winds, he is 
Here where his daughter dwells ; and on thi* 

coast [strived 

Suppose him now at anchor. The city 
God Neptune's annual fea«t to keep : 'rom 

whence 
L5'simachus our Tyrian sfc p espies. 
His banners sable, trimm d with rich ex 

pense; 
And to him in his barge with fervour hie« , 



Cope or canopy of heaven. 



f Paltry fellow. 



Learned men. 
4 1 d 



^ Needle. 



918 



SHAKSPEARE. 



In yonr supposing once more put your sight ; 
Of heavy Pericles think this the bark: [might. 
Where, what is done in action, more, if 
Sha.i be discover*<l ; please yon, sit, and 
hark. [Exit, 

SCENE I. On board Perici.es' Ship, off 
Mityleae. A close Pavilion on deckjwith 
a Curtain before it ; Pericles within it, 
reclined on a Couch. A Barge lying be- 
nde the Tyrian Vessel. 

Enter Two Sailors, one belonging to the 
Tyrian Vessel, the other to the Barge ; 
to them Helicanus. 
Tyr. Sail. Where's the lord Helicanus? 
he can resolve you. 

{To the Sailor <?/* Alitylene. 

here he is. 

Sir, there's a barge put ofif from Mitylene. 
And in it is Lysimachus the governor. 
Who craves to come aboard. What is your 
will ? [tlemen. 

Hel. That he have his. Call up some gen- 

Tyr* Sail. Ho, gentlemen I my lord calls. 
Enter Two Gentlemen. 

1 Gent. Doth your lordship call? 

Hel. Gentlemen, [I pray you. 

There is some of worth would come aboard ; 
To greet them fairly. 

[The Gentlemen and the Two Sailors de- 
scend, and goon board the Barge. 
Enter,from t hence hY SIM ACKVS and Lords; 

the Tyrian Gentlemen, and the Two Sailors. 

Tyr. Sail. Sir, 
This is the man that can, in aught you would, 
Kesolve you. [you ! 

L/ys. Hail, reverend sir! The gods preserve 

Hel. And you. Sir, to out-live the age I am. 
And die as I would do. 

Lys. You wish me well. 

Being on shore, honouring of Neptune's tri- 
umphs, 
Seeing this goodly vessel ride before us, 

1 made to it, to know of whence you are. 
Hel. First, sir, what is your place? 

fjys. I am governor of this place yon lie 

Hel. Sir, [before. 

Our vessel is of Tyre, in it the king ; 
A man, who for this three nionths hath not 
To any one, nor taken sustenance, [spoken 
But to prorogue * his grief. [ture? 

Lys. Upon what ground is his distempti'a- 

Hel. Sir, it would be too tedious to repeat ; 
But the main grief of all springs from the loss 
Of a beloved daughter and a wife. 

2>y.9. May we not see him, then ? 

Hel. You may indeed, sir. 

But bootless is your sight: he will not speak 
To any. 

Z/jfcj. Yet, let me obtain my wish. 

Hel. Behold him, sir: [Pericles dis- 
covered.] this was a goodly person. 
Till the disaster, that, one mortal f night, 
Drove him to this. [you I Hail, 

Lys. Sir, king, all hail! the gods preserve 
Hail, royal 'sir I 

• To lengthen or prolong his grief. 



[Act r 



Hel. It is in vain ; he will not speak to you. 

1 Lord. Sir, we have a maid in Mitylene, I 
Would win some words of him. [durst wager, 

Lys. *Tis well bethought. 

She, questionless, with her sweet harmony 
And other choice attractions, would allure, 
Arrd make a battery throng'h his deafen'd 
Which now are midway stopp'd ; [ parts t^ 
She, all as happy as of all the fairest, 
Is, with her fellow maidens, now within 
The leafy shelter that abuts against 
The i&land^s side. 

{He whispers one of the attendant 
Juor^^.— Exit Lord, in the Barge 
o/'LysiaiACHCs. 

Hel. Sure, all's effectless ; yet nothing we'll 

omit [kindness 

That bears recovery's name. But, since youi- 

We have stretch'd thus fair, let us beseech you 

further, 
That for onr gold we may provision have, 
Wherein we are not destitute for want. 
But weary for the staleness. 

Lys. O, sir; a courtesy. 

Which if we should deny, the most just God 
For every graff would send a caterpillar. 
And so inflict our province. — Yet once more 
Let me entreat to know at large the cause 
Of your king's sorrow. 

Hel. Sit, sir, I will recount it ;^ 

But see, I am prevented. 

Enter, from the Barge, Lord, Marina, 
and a young Lady. 

Lys. O, here is 

The lady that I sent for. Welcome, fair one f 
Is't not a goodly presence? 

Hel. A gallant lady. 

Lys. She's such, (hat were 1 well assured 
she came 
Of gentle kind, and noble stock, I'd wish 
No better choice, and think me rarely wed. 
Fair one, all goodness that consists in bownty 
Expect even here, where is a kingly patient : 
If that thy prosperous-artificial feat 
Can draw him but to answer thee in aught. 
Thy sacred physic shall receive such pay 
As thy desires can wish. / 

Mar. Sir, I will use 

My utmost skill in his recovery. 
Provided none but I and my companion 
Be suflfer'd to come near him. 

Lys. Come, let us leave her. 

And the gods make her prosperous ! 

[Marina sings. 

Lys. Mark'd he your music? 

Mar. No, nor look'd on us. 

Lys. See, she will speak to him* 

Mar. Hail, sir ! my lord, lend ear : 

Per. Hum! ha I 

Mar. I am a maid. 

My lord, that ne'er before invited eyes, 
But have been gazed on, comet like : she s peaks 
My lord, that, may be, hath endured a grief 
Might equal yours, if both were justly weigh'd. 
Though wayward fortune did malign my state 
My derivation was from ancestors 



■t Destructive. 



i. e., Ears. 



Scene 7.] 



PERICLES, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



919 



Who stood equivalent with mighty kings: 
But time hath rooted out my parentage. 
And to the world and awkward casualties 
Bound me in servitude. — 1 will desist; 
But there is something glows upon my cheek, 
And whispers in mine ear, Go not till he 
sfeak. {Aside. 

Per. My fortunes — parentage — good paren- 
tage— [you ? 
To equal mine !— was it not thus? what say 
Mar. I said, my lord, if you did know my 
Yo". would not do me violence, [parentage. 

Per. 1 do think so. 

I pray you, turn your eyes again upon me. — 
You are like something that — What country 
Here of these shores? [woman 1 

Mar, No, nor of any shores : 

Yet I was mortally brought forth, and am 
NjO other tlian 1 appear. 
Per. I am great with woe, and shall deliver 
weeping. 
My dearest wife was like this maid^ and such 
a one [square brows ; 

My daughter might have been : my queen's 
Her stature to an inch ; as wand-like straight; 
As silver-voiced ; her eyes as jewel-like, 
And cased as richly : in pace another Juno ; 
"Who starves the ears she feeds, and makes 
them hungry, [you live? 

The more she gives them speech. — Where do 
Mar, VV here 1 am but a stranger: from the 
You may discern the place. [deck 

~ Per. Where were you bred? 

And how achieved you these endowments, 
You make more rich to owe * ? [which 

Mar. Should I tell my history, 

Twould seem like lies disdain'd in the re- 
Per. Pr'ythee speak ; [porting. 

Falseness cannot come from thee, for thou 

look'st 
Modest as justice, and thou seem'st a palace 
For the crown'd truth to dwell in : 1*11 believe 
And make my senses credit thy relation, [thee, 
To points that seem impossible; for thou 
Look'st [friends ? 

Like one I loved indeed. What were thy 
Didst thou not say, when I did push thee 
back, [camest 

(Which was when I perceived thee,) that thou 
From good descending ? 

Mar. So indeed I did. 

Per. Report thy parentaf;e. 1 think, thou 
saidst 
T^iiou hadst been toss'd from wrong to injury, 
And that thou thought'st thy griefs might equal 
If both were open'd. [mine. 

Mar. Some such thing indeed 

I said, and said no more but what my thoughts 
Did warrant me was likely. 

• Per. Tell thy story ; 
If thine consider*d prove the thousandtli part 
Of my endurance, thou art a ntan, and I 
Have suffer'd like a girl. Yet thou dost look 
Like Patience, gazing on kings' graves, and 

smiling 

* Extremity out of act. What were thy friends ? 



How lost thou them? Thy name, ray most 

kind virgin? 
Recount, I do beseech thee ; come, sit by me. 

Mar. My name, sir, is Marma. 

Per. O, I am mockM 

And thou by some incensed god sent hither 
To make the world laugh at me. 

Mar. Patience, good sir. 

Or here Pil cease. 

Per. Nay, I'll be patient; 

Thou little know'st how thou dost startle me 
To call thyself Marina. 

Mar. The name Marina 

Was given me by one that had some power ; 
My father, and a king. 

Per, How I a king's daughter? 

And call'd Marina? 

Mar. You said you would believe me; 

But, not to be a troubler of youi peace, 
I will end here. 

Per. But are you flesh and blood? 

Have you a working pulse, and are no fairy? 
No motion t? — Well, speak on. Where were 
And wherefore call'd Marina ? [you born? 

Mar. Call'd Marina, 

For I was born at sea. 

Per. At sea? thy mother? 

Mar, My mother was the daughter of a 
W^ho died the very minute I was born, [king; 
As my good nurse, Lychorida, hath oft 
Delivered weeping. 

Per. O, stop there a little ! 

This is the rarest dream that e'er dull sleep 
Did mock sad fools withal ; this cannot be. 
My daughter's buried. {Aaide?^ Well : — where 

were you bred? 
I'll heat you more, to the bottom of your story. 
And never interrupt you. [I did give o'er. 

Mar. You'll scarce believe me ; 'twere best 

Per. I will believe you by the syllable 
Of what you shall deliver. Yet, give me 
leave: — you bred? 

How came you in these parts? where were 

Mar. Ihe king, my father, did in Tharsus 
leave me; 
Till cruel Cleon, with his wicked wife, 
Did seek to murder me : and having woo'd 
A villain to attempt it, who havin»j; drawn, 
A crew of pirates came and rescued me ; 
Brought me to Mitylene. But now, good sir. 
Whither will you have me ? Why do you 

weep? It may bej 
You think me an impostor. No, good faith ; 
1 am the daughter to king Pericles, 
If good king Pericles be. 

Per, Ho, Ilelicanus ! 

Hel. Calls my gracious lord ? 

Per, Thou art a grave and noble counsellor. 
Most wise in general : Tell me, if thou canst. 
What this maid is, or what is like to be. 
That thus hath made me weep? 

Hel. i know not; but 

Here is the regent, sir, ©f Mitylene 
Speaks nobly of her. 



Lys. 



She would never tell 



Her parentage ; being demanded that. 



' Possess. t 2. e.. No puppet dressed ud to deceive me. 



920 



SHAKSPEARE. 



Act V. 



She would sit still and weep. 

Per. O, Helicaiius! strike me, honoar'd sir ; 
Give me a gash, put me to present pain ; 
Lest tins great sea of joys rushing upon me, 
O'erbcar the shores of my mortality. 
And drown me with their sweetness. O, 

come hither. 
Thou that begett'st him that did thee beget ; 
Thou that wast born at sea, bnrird at Tharsus, 
And found at sea again 1 O, Helicanus ! 
Down on thy knees, thank the holy gods as 

li)ud 
As thunder threatens us : This is Marina. — 
What was thy mother's name? tell me but that, 
For truih can never be confirm'd enough. 
Though doubts did ever sleep. 

Mar. First, sir, I pray, 

"What is your title ? [now 

Per. I am Pericles of Tyre : but tell me 
(As in the rest thou hast been godlike perfect,) 
My drown'd queen's name, thou art the heir 

of kingdoms, 
And another life to Pericles, thy father. 

Mar. Is it no more to be your daughter than 
To say, my mother's name wasThaisa? 
Thaisa was my mother, who did end 
The minute i began. [my child. 

Per. Now, biessing on thee ; rise, thou art 
Give me fresh garments. Mine own, Heli- 
canus, [been, 
(Not dead at Tharsus, as she should have 
By savai^e Cleon,) she shall tell thee all ; 
When thou shalt kneel and justify in know- 
She i* thy very princess. — Who is this? [ledge, 

llel. Sir, 'tis the governor of Mitylene, 
Who, hearing of your melancholy state, 
l)id come to see you. 

Per. I embrace you, sir. 

Give me my robes ; I am wild in my behold- 
ing, [mjjsic? 
O heavens ! bless my girl ! But hark ! what 
Tell Helicanus, my Marina, tell him 
O'er, point by point, for yet he seems to 
doubt, [music X 
How sure you Jtre my daughter. — But what 

Hel. My lord, I hear none. 

^er. None? 
The oiU^ic of the spheres : list, my Marina. 

Lys. It is not good to cross him ; give him 

Per. Rarest sonnds ] [way. 

Do ye not hear? 

J^ys. Music! My lord, I hear — 

Per. Most heavenly music : 
It nips me unto list'ning, and tlilck slumber 
Hangs on mine eye-lids ; let me rest. 

\He sleeps. 

Ijys. A pillow for his head ; 

[The Curtain before the Pavilion of 
Pericles is closed. 
So leave him all. — Weil, my companion- 
friends, 
If this but answer to my just belief, 
I'll well remember you. 

[Exeunt Lysimachus, Helicanus, Ma- 
rina, and attendant Lady. 



SCENE II. 77*6 same. 

Pericles on the Deck asleep; Diana 
appearing to him as in a vision. 

Dia. My temple stands in Ephesus; hie 
thee hither. 
And do upon mine altar sacrifice. 
There, when my maiden priests are met to- 
Before the people all, [gether, 

Keveal how thou at sea didst lose thy wife : 
To mourn thy crosses, with thy daughter's call. 
And give them repetition to the life*. 
Perform my bidding, or thou livest in woe: 
Do't, and be happy, by my silver bow. 
Awake, and tell thy dream. 

[Diana disappears. 

Per. Celestial Dian, goddess argentine t, 
1 will obey thee ! — Helicanus ! 

Enter LysixMachus, Helicanus, and 
Marina. 

Hel. Sir. 

Per. My purpose was for Tharsus, there to 
The inhospitable Cleon ; but I anj [strike 

For other service first : toward Ephesus 
Turn our blown; sails; eflsoon5§ I'll tell thee 
why. — [TV; HfcLiCANUvS. 

Shall we refresh us, sir, upon your shore. 
And give you gold for such provision 
As our intents will need? 

Eys. With all my heart, sir ; and, when yott 
I have another suit. [come ashore, 

Per. You shall prevail. 

Were it to woo my daughter ; for it seems 
You have been noble towards her. 

L>ys. Sir, lend your arm. 

Per. Come, my Marina. [Exeunt, 

Enter Gower before the Temple of 

Diana, at Ephesus. 
Gate. Now our sands are almost run; 

More a little, and then done. 

This, as my last boon, give me, 

(For such kindness must relieve me,) 

That you aptly will suppose 

What pageantry, what feats, what shows. 

What minstreby and pretty din 

The regent made in Mitylin, 

To greet the king. So he has thrived. 

That he is pronused to be wived 

To fair Marina ; but in no wise, 

Till he|i had done his sacrifice. 

As Dian bade : w hereto being bound. 

The interim, pray you, all confound %, 

In feather'd briefness sails are fill'd, 

And wishes fall out as they're wili'd. 

At Ephesus the temple see. 

Our king and all his company. 

That he can hither come so soon. 

Is by your fancy's thankful boon. [Elxit 

SCENE III. The Temple o/ Diana at 
Ephesus: Thaisa standing near the Al 
tar as high Priestess; a 71 umber of Vir- 
gins on each side; Ceriikon and ether 
Jnhabitants of Ephesus attending. 

Enter Pericles with his Train; Lysi« 



• Repeat a lively narrative o^ your adventures, 
bwoileiu ^ Soon. g i. e., Pericles. 



+ 7. f ., Regent of the silver moon. 
U Confound here signifies to consume 



;'Seene III.] 



i 

PERlCLtS, PRINCE OF TYRE. 



921 



MACHus, H£LiCANUs, Makina, and a 

Lady. 

j er. Hail Dian ! to perform thy just com- 
mand, 
I here confess myself the king of Tyr . ; 
Who, frighted troni my country, did wed 
The fair Thaisa at Pentapolis. 
At sea in childbed died she, but brought forth 
A maid-child call'd Marina; who, O goddess, 
Wears yet tliy silver livery*. She at rharsus 
Was nursed with Clcon, whom at fourteen 

years 
He sought to murder : but her better «tars 
Brought her to Mitylene ; against whose 
shore 
-Riding, her fortunes brought the maid aboard 
us, [she 

Where, by her own most clear remembrance, 
Made known herself my daughter. 

Tha. Voice and favour! — 

You are — you are — O, royal Pericles ! — 

IS tie faints. 

Per. What means the woman? she dies! 

Cei\ Tsoblesir, [ help, gentlemen! 

If you have told Diana's altar true. 
This is your wife. 

Per. Reverend appealer, no; 

1 threw her overboard with these very arms. 

Cer. Upon this coast, I warrant you. 

Per. 'Tis most certain. 

Cer. Look to the lady ; O, she's but o'er- 
Early one blustering morn this lady was [joyM 
Thrown on this shore. 1 oped the coffin, and 
Found there rich jewels ; recovered her, and 

placed her 
Here in Diana's temple. 

Per. May we see them ? 

Cer. Great sir, they shall be brought you to 
my house. 
Whither I invite you. Look I Thaisa is 
Recovered. 

Thai. O, let me look! 
If he be none of mine, my sanctity 
Will to my sense t bend no licentious ear. 
But curb it spite of seeing. O, my lord, 
Are you not Pericles ? Like hitn you speak. 
Like him you are : Did you not name a tem- 
A birth, and death ? [pest. 

Per. The voice of dead Thaisa ! 

Thai. That Thaisa am I, supposed dead 
And drown'd. 

Per. Immortal Dian! 

Thai. Now I know you better. — 

When we with tears parted Pentapolis, 
The king, my father, gave you such a ring. 

[Shaws a King, 

Per. Thia, this! no more, ye gods! your 
present kindness 
Makes my past miseries sport. You shall do 

well. 
That on the touching of her lips I may 
■\f>!i and no more be seen. O come, be buried 
A second time within these arms. 

Mar, My heart 



Leaps to be gone into my mother's boium. 

{Kneels to Ihaisa, 
Per. Look, who kneels here? Flesh of thy 
flesh, Thaisa; 
Thy burden at the sea, and call'd Marina, 
For she was yielded there. 
Thai. Bless' d and mine own I 

Hel. Hail, madam, and my queen ! 
Thai. 1 know you not. 

Per. You have heard me say, when I did 
fly from Tyre, 
I left behind an ancient substitute. 
Can you remember what I caii'd the man? 
I have named him oft. 

Thai. 'Twa« Helicanus then. 

Per. Still confirmation : 
Embrace him, dear Thaisa ; this is he. 
Now do I long to hear how you were found ; 
How possibly preserved : and whom to 

thank. 
Besides the gods, for this great miracle. 

Thai, Lord Cerimon, my lord ; this man 
Through whom the gods have shown their 

power; that can 
From first to last resolve you. 

Per. Reverend sir. 

The gods can have no mortal officer 
More like a god than you. Will you deliver 
How this* dead queen re-lives ? 

Cer. I will, my lord. 

Beseech you, first go with me to my house. 
Where shall be shown you ah was found with 

her ; 
How she came placed here within the temple ; 
No needful thing omitted. 

Per. Pure Diana! 

I bless thee for thy vision, and will oflfer. 
My night oblations to thte. Thaisa, [ter. 

This prince, the fair-betrothed of your daugh- 
Shall marry her at Pentapolis. And now. 
This ornament J that makes me look so 

dismal. 
Will I, my loved Marina, clip to form ; 
Asd what this fourteen years no razor touched. 
To grace thy marriage-day I'll beautify. 

Thai. Lord Cerimon hath letters of good 

Sir, that my father's dead. [credit. 

Per. Heavens make a star of him i Yet 

there, my queen. 

We'll celebrate their nuptials, and ourselves 

Will in that kingdom spend our following 

days ; 
Our son and daughter shall in Tyrus reign. 
Lord Cerimon, we do our longing stay. 
To hear the rest untold. — Sir, lead the way. 

[Exeunt, 
Enter Gower. 
Gow, In Antioch$, and his daughter, you 
have heard 
Of monstrous lust the due and just re- 
ward ; 
In Pericles, his queen and daughter, seen 
(Although assail'd witti fortune fierce &Qd 
keen,) 



i, e,y Her white robe of innocence. t Sensual passion, 

S i, e., The king of Antioch, 



X i. e.t His beard. 



922 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[.act V, 



Virtue preserved from fell destruction's blast, 
Led on by heaven, and crown'd w^ilh joy 

at last. 
In Helicanus may you vvrell descry 
A figure of truth, of faith, of loyalty: 
In reverend Cerimon there well appears, 
The worth that learned charity aye* wears. 
For wicked Cleou and his wife, when fame 
Had spread their cursed deed, and honour'd 

name 



Of Pericles, to rage the city turn; 
That him and his they in hig palace burn. 
The gods for murder seemed so content 
To punish them; although not done, but 

meant. 
So on your patience evermore attending, 
New joy wait on you! Here our play haa 

ending. 

[Exit GowER. 



• Eyer. 



That this tragedy has some merit, it were vain to deny ; bat that it is the entire composi- 
tion of Shakspeare, is more than can be hastily granted. I shall not venture, with Dr. Farmer, 
to determine that the hand of our great poet is only visible in the last act, for 1 think it 
appears in several passages dispersed over each of these divisions. 1 find it difficult, however, 
to persuade myself that he was the original fabricator of the plot, or the author of every 
dialogue, chorus, &c.— Steevens. 

The story is of gredt anUquiiy^ and ia relate<f b> var:oii« ancdent autbora U Latin; French, 
and English . 



KING LEAR, 



^moM tepre^cntetJ. 



IiEAK, King of Britain, 

King of France. 

iiuke of Burgundy. 

Duke of Coi'nvvalU 

Duke of Albany. 

Earl of Kent. 

Earl of Gloster. 

Edgar, son to Glister, 

Edmund, bastard son ta Gloster, 

CuRAN, a courtier. 

Old Man, tenant to Gloster, 



Physician. 

Fool. 

Oswald, steward to GonerU. 

An Officer, employed by Edmund, 

Gentleman, attendant on CordeUau 

A Herald. 

Servants to Cornwall » 

GONERIL, 1 

Regan, > daughters to Lear, 
Cordelia, > 



Knights attending on the King^ Officers, Messengers, Soldiers, and Attendants, 
Scene, Britain, 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. A Room of State in King 
Lear's Palace, 

Enter Kent, Gloster, and Edmund. 

Kent, I thought, the king had more aflfected 
the duke of Albany, than Cornwall. 

Glo. It did always seem so to us : but now, 
in the division of the kingdom, it appears not 
which of the dukes he values most ; for equa- 
lities are so weighed, that curiosity * in nei- 
ther can make choice of cither's moiety t. 

Kent. Is not this your son, my lord ? 

Glo. His breeding, sir, hath been at my 
charge ; I have so often blushed to acknow- 
ledge him, that now I am brazed to it. 

Kent. I cannot conceive you. 

Glo. Sir, this young fellow's mother could : 
whereupon she grew round-wombed ; and had, 
indeed, sir, a son tor her cradle, ere she had a 
tousband for her bed. Do you smell a fault 1 

Kent. I cannot wish the fault undone, the 
issue of it being so proper +. 

Glo. But I have, sir, a son by order of law, 
«ome year elder than this, who yet is no dearer 
in my account : though this knave came some- 
ivhat saucily into the world before he was sent 
for, yet was his mother fair ; there was good 
*port at his making, and the whoreson must 
h€ acknowledged. — Do you know this noble 
gentleman, Edmund? 

Edm. No, my lord. 

Glo. My lord of Kent: remember him here- 
after as my honourable friend. 

Kdni. My services to your lordship. 

Kent. I must love you, and sue to know 
you better. 

Edm, Sir, I shall study deserving. 

Glo. He hath been out nine years, and away 
%.t shall again: — The king is coming. 

\Trumpet6 sound within. 



E?it€r Lear, Cornwall, Albany, Gone- 
RiL, Regan, Cordelia, 4: Attendants. 
Lear. Attend the lords of France and Bur- 
Gloster. [g»ndy, 

Glo. I shall, ray liege. 

[Exeunt Gloster and Edmund. 
Lear. Mean-time we shall express ou» 

darker § purpose. [divided. 

Give me the map there. — Know, that we hav«» 
In three, our kingdom : and 'tis our fast intent jj 
To shake all cares and business from our a^e 
Conferring them on younger strengf.hs,while v. e 
Unburden'd crawl toward death. — Our son Oi 

Cornwall, 
And you, our no less loving son of Albany, 
We have this hour a constant will to publish 
Our daughters* several dowers, thatfuturestrii© 
May be prevented now. The princes, France 

and Burgundy, 
Great rivals in our youngest daughter's love. 
Long in our court have made their amorous 

sojourn, 
And here are to be answer*d* — Tell me, my 

daughters, 
(Since now we will divest us, both of rule. 
Interest of territory, cares of state,) 
Which of you, shall we say, doth love us most 1 
That we our largest bounty may extend 
Where merit doth most challenge it. — Goueril, 
Our eldest-born, speik first. 

Gon. Sir, I [matter. 

Do love you more than words can wield ti:e 
Dearer than eye-sight, space, and liberty ; 
Beyond what can be valued, rich or rare ; 
JSo less than life, with grace, health, beuuly, 

honour : 
As much as child e'er loved, or father found, 
A love that makes breath poor, and speech 

unai^le ; 
Beyond all manner of so much 1 love you. 



Most scrupulous nioety. 

i More aectet. 



t Part or division. ; 

g Dc:ernii:ieU resolution. 



H?jidsorf*«« 



924 



SHAKSFEARE. 



[Act 7. 



Car, What shdil Coideha do? Love, and 

be silent. [A.s?ne. 

hear. Of all these bounds, even from thi^ 

line to this, [rich'ci, 

With shadowy forests and with chtrnpains* 

"With plenteous rivers and wide skirted meads, 

"We make ihee lady: iothine and Albany's issue 

Be this perpetual. — What says our second 

danghlt r. 
Oar dearest Regan, wife to Cornwall? Speak. 
/2f ii.l am made of that self metal asmy sistt-r, 
And prize me at her worth. In my true heart 
I find, she names my veiy deed of love; 
Only she comes too short, — that 1 profess 
Myself an enemy to all otht-r joys, [sessps 
"Which the most precious squ,»ret of sense pos 
And tind, I am .tlone teli itate j 
In your dear highness' love. 

(or. ihen poor Cordelia! [At'fde- 

And yet not so ; since, I am sure, my love's 
More richer than my tongUf. 

Leur io thee, and thine, hereditary ever, 
Remain this ample third of our fair kini.',dom ; 
No less in space, validity §, and pleasure. 
Than that coufirm'd on Gonerii. — ^ow, om 
joy, [love 

Although the last, not least ; to whoee young 
The vints of France, an I milk of Burgundy. 
Strive to heinteress'drwhit can yon say to dra^v 
A third more opulent than your sisters? Speak. 
Cor. Nothing, my lord. 
hear. Nothing? 

Cor, Nothing. [ai^ain. 

liear. Nothing can come of nothing: speak 
Cor. Unhappy that 1 am, 1 cannot heave 
My heart iiito my mouth : I love \ our majesty 
According to my bond ; nor more, nor less. 

LtPar, How, how, Cordelia ? mend your 
Lest it may mar your fortunes, [speech a little, 

Cor. Good my lord. 

You have begot me, bred me, loved me : 1 
Return those duties back as are right fit,. 
Obey yon, love yon, and most horK>ur you. 
"Wh> have my sisters husbands, if tl>ey s.iy. 
They love yon all ? Haply||, when I shall wed, 
That lord, whose hand must take my plight, 
shall carry [duty ; 

Half my love with him, half my care, and 
Sure, I shall never marry like my sisters, 
Xo love my father all. 

Ijtar. Eat goes this with thy heart? 
Cor. Ay, good my lord. 

Jjear. So young, and so untcnder ? 
Cor, So young, my lord, and tnie. [dower: 
Lear, Let it be so, — Thy truth then be thy 
For, by the sacred radiance of the sun ; 
The mysteries of flecate, and the nig"ht; 
By all the operations of the orbs, 
From whom we do exist, and cease to be ; 
Here I disclaim all my paternal care. 
Propinquity^' and property of bi.H^d, 
And as a stranger to my heart ar.d me 
Hold thee, from this**, for ever. TLc tar 
barous Scythian, 



Or he that makes his generation +t me?scs 
lo gorge his appetite, shall to my bosom 
Be as well neighbour'd, pitied, and relieved. 
As thou my sometime daughter. 
Kent, Good my liege, — 

Lear, Peace, Kent ! 
Come not between the dragon and his wrath: ' 
I loved her most, and thought to set my rest 
On her kind nursery. — Hence, and avoid my ' 

sight! — [To Cordelia. 

So be my grave my peace, as here 1 give 
Her father's heart from her ! — Call France ;— 

Who stirs? 
Call Burgundy. — Cornwall, and Albany, 
With my two daughters' dowers digest this 

third : 
Let pride, which she calls plainness, marry her. 
I do invest you jointly with my power, 
Pre-eniinence, and alt the large etjects [course, 
i hat troop with majesty. — Uurself, by monthly 
With reservation of an hundred knights. 
By yon to e sustain'd, shall our abode [tain 
Make with you by due turns. Only we still re- 
Ihe name, and all the additions j+ to a king ; 
The sway. 

Revenue, execution of the rest$§. 
Beloved sons, be yours: which to confiriii, 
Ihis coronet part between you. 

{Givin<f the Croivn, 
Kent, Royal Lear, 

Whom I have ever honour'd as my king. 
Loved as my father, as my master follow'd, 
Asmy great patron thoui;ht on in my pr lyers,— 
Lear, The bow is bent and drawn, make 
from the shaft. [vide 

Kent. Let it fall rather, though the fork in- 
ITie region of my heart: be i\» m unmannerly. 
When Lear is mad. What wouldst thou do, 
old man? [speak, 

Tbink'st thou, that duty shall have dread to 
When power to tlatter> bows ? To plainness 
honour's bound, [doom; 

When majesty stoops to folly. Reverse thy 
And, in thy best consideration, cheek 
ibis hideous rashness: answ^er my life my 

judgment. 
Thy youngest daughter does not love thee least ; 
Nor are those empty hearted, v\hose low sound 
Reverbs|i!l no hoilowness. 
Lear. Kent, on thy life, no more. 

ent. My life I never held but as a pa>«n 
To wage against thine enemies ; nor fear to 
Thy safety being the motive. [lose it, 

Lear, Out of my sight ! 

he7it. See better, Lear, and let me stiH re- 
The true blank UH of thine eye. [maio 

Lear, Now, by Apollo, — 
Kent. Now, by Apollo, king, 

Thou swear'st thy gods in vain. 

Lear, O, vassal ! miscreaiLf ! 

[Ijaping his Hand on nU Sword* 
Alb. Cor\f, Dear sir, forbear. 
K^nt. Do ; 
Kill thy physician, and the fee bestow 



• Open phins. t ComprehenMon. 1 ivfafae happy. ^ Value. |1 Perhaps. 

% Kindred. •• From t^iis ti ue. it Hi?clunit'h. f^ l'^'*"*- jj All other j»ub>ccU, 

l^ Kevevberattft %% lUe marl- to »hooi iU. 



Seene /.] 



KING LEAR. 



925 



Upon the foul disease. Revoke thy gift ; 1 
j Or, whilst I can vent clamour from my throat, j 
i I'll tell ihee, thou dcet evil. I 

1 Lear. Hear me, recreant! 

On thine allesjianct hear me! — 

Since thou hast sought to make us break our 

ivow, [pride, 

(Which we dnrst never yet,) and,wi'.hstrain*d 
,i To coine betw ixt our sentence and our power ; 
(Which nor our nature nor our place can bear,) 
|: Our potency make good, take thy reward. 
j Five clays we do allot thee, for provision 
j! To shield thee from diseases of the world ; 
; And, on the .sixth, to turn thy hated back 
]i Upon onr kingdom : ir, on the tenth day fol- 
il lowing, 

[! Thy banish'd trunk be found in our dominions, 
.] Themomeiit isthy dedth: Away! By Jupiter, 
\\ This shall not be revoked- [wilt appear, 

! Kent. Fare thee well, king: since thus thou 
j! Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. — 
The gods to their dear shelter take thee, maid, 
, [T9 Cordelia.. 

jl That j nstly think'st ,and hast most rightly said! — 
i| And your large speeches may your deeds ap- 
< prove, [To Regan and Goneril. 

I That good effects may spring from words of 
i; love. 

[ Thus Kent, O princes, bids you all adien; 
' He '11 shape his old coarse* in a country new. 
j [Kiit. 

|j Me-enter Gloster; with France, Bur- 
\ GUNDY, ««d Attendants. 

}' Glo. Here's France and Burgundy, my no- 
Lear, My lord of Burgundy, [blelord. 
We first address towards you, who with this 
king [least. 

Hath rivallM for our daughter; What, in the 
Will you require in present dower with her, 
Or cease your quest of iovet ? 
I Buj\ Most royal majesty, 

I crave no more than hath your highness 
Kor will you tender less. [offer'd, 

LiCar. Right noble Burgundy, 

When she was dear to us, we did hold her so ; 
But nowiher price is fall'n ; Sir, there she stands; 
If aught within that little, seeming i substance. 
Or all of it, with our displeasure pieced. 
And nothing more, may fitly like your grace. 
She's there, and she is your?. 
Bur. I know no answer. 

\ Lear. Sir, 

Will you, with those infirmities she owes§. 
Unfriended, new-adopled to our hate, 
Lower'd with our curse, and stranger'd with 
Take her, or leave her I i.our oath, 

bur. Pardon me, royal sir; 

lection makes notup|! on such conditions. 
Ltur. Then, leave her, sir; for, by the 

power that made me, 
teil )ou all her wealth. — For you, great king, 
[7'(7France. 
i would not from your love make such a stray. 



To match you where I hate; therefore beseech 

you 
To avert U yonr liking a more worthier way. 
Than on a wretch whom nature is ashamed 
Almost to acknowledge hers. 

France. This is most strange 

Thatshe.thatevenbutnow wasyour best object. 
The argument of your praise, balm of your age. 
Most best, most dearest, should in this trice 

of time 
Commit a thing so monstrous, to dismantle 
So many folds of favour ! Sure, her ottence 
Must be of such unnatural degree, [tion 

That monsters it, or your fore-vonch'd ** atfec- 
Fall into taint t|: which to believe of her. 
Must be a faith, that reason without miracle 
Could never plant in me. 

Cor. I yet beseech your majesty, 

(If for+j I want that glib and oily art, [tend. 
To speak and purpose not ; since what I well in* 
I'll do't before 1 speak,) that yon make known 
It is no vicious blot, murder, or foulness. 
No unchaste action, or dishonour'd step. 
That hath deprived me of your grace and favour: 
But even for want of that,for which I am richer ; 
A still-soliciting eye, and such a tongue [it. 
That I am glad I have not, though not to have 
Hath lost me in your liking. 

Lear. Better thou [me better. 

Hadst not been born, than not to have pleased 
France. Is itbutthis'? a tardiness in nature. 
Which often leaves the history unspoke. 
That it intends to do? — My lord of Burgundy, 
What say you to the" lady J Love is not love. 
When it is mingled with respects, that stand 
Aloof from the entire point §5. W^ill yoa 
She is herself a dowry. [have her? 

Bur. Royal Lear, 

Give but thatportion which yourself proposed. 
And here I take Cordelia by the hand. 
Duchess of Burgundy. 
Lear. Nothing : I have sworn ; I am firm. 
Bur. I am sorry then, you have so lost a 
That you must lose a husband. [father, 

Co7^. Peace be with Burgundy ! 

Since that respects of fortune are his love, 
I shall not be his wife. [being poor ; 

France. Fairest Cordelia, that art most rich- 
Most choice.forsaken; and most loved, despised? 
Thee and thy virtues here I seize upon : 
Be it lawful, I take up what's cast away. 
Gods, gods I 'tis strange, that from their coId*st 

neglect 
My love should kindle to inflamed respect. — 
Thy dowerless daughter, king, thrown to my 

chance. 
Is queen of us, of ours, and our fair France 
Not all the dukes of wat'rish Burgundy 
Shall buy this unprized precious maid of me. — 
Bid them farewell, i^ordelia, though unkind : 
Thou losest here, a better where l||i to find, 
Learr. Thou hast her, France : let her b« 
thine; for we 



• Follow his old mode of lifs. t Amorous expedition. % Specious. 

^ Owns, is possessed of. t| Concludes not. % Turn. •• Former dtclaratiou of., 

tt Reproach or censure. jj Because. ^^ *' Who seeks for aught in love hut love alone f* 

U Place. 

4 a 



925 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Ad f., 



Have no snch daughter, nor shall ever see 
That faee of her's again : — Therefore be gone, 
Without our grace, our love, our benizou*. — 
Come, noble Burgundy. 

{Flourish. Exeunt Lear, Burgundy, 
Cornwall, Albany, Gloster, 
and Attendants. 

France, Bid farewell to your sisters, [eyes 

Cor. The jewels of our father, with wash'd 
Cordelia leaves you : I know you what you are ; 
And, like a sister, am most loath to call [father : 
Your faults, as they are named. Use well our 
To your professed bosoms I commit him : 
But yet, alas ! stood I within his grace, 
I would prefer him to a better place. 
So farewxll to you both. 

GoK. Prescribe not us our duties, 

Reg. Let your study 

Be,to content your lord; who hath received you 

-At fortune's alms. You have obedience scanted. 

And well are worth the want that you have 

wanted. [ni»g hides ; 

Cor. Time shall unfold what plaited t cun- 
Who cover faults, at last shame them derides. 
Well may you prosper! 

Fiance. Come, my fair Cordelia. 

{Exeunt France and Cordelia. 

Gon. Sister, it is not a little I have to say, 
of what most nearly appertains to us both. 
I think, our father will hence to-night. 

Reg. That's most certain, and >yiLh you ; 
next month with us. 

Gon. You see how full of changes his age 
Is; the observation we have made of it hath 
not been little : he always loved our sister 
most ; and with what poor judgment he hath 
now cast her off, appears too grossly. 

Reg. 'Tis the infirmity of his age; yet he 
hath ever but slenderly known himself.* 

Gon. The best and soundest of his time hath 
been but rash; then must we look to receive 
from his age, not alone the imperfections of 
long-ingrafted condition j, bat therewithal., the 
nnruly waywardness that infirm and choleric 
years bring with them. 

Reg. Such unconstant starts are we like to 
have from him, as this of Kent's banishment. 

Gon. There is further compliment of leav^e- 
taking between France and him. Pray you, 
let us hit together : If our father carry autho- 
rity with such dispositions as he bears, this 
l^st surrender of his will but offend ns. 

Reg. VVe shall further think of it. 

Gon. We must do something, and i'the 
heatj. {Exeunt. 

SCENE IL A Hall in the Earl of Glos- 
ter's Castle. 

Enter Edmund, with a Letter. 

£lrfOT.Thou, nature, art my goddess; to thy law 
My gervioes are bound: Wherefore should 1 
Stand in the plague '|| of custom; and permit 
The curiosity '^I of nations to deprive me. 



For that I am some twelve or fourteen mooEHU 
shines [base?! 

Lag of a brother ? Why bastard? wherefore^ 
When my dimensions are as w-eil compact, 
My mind as generous, and my shape as true. 
As honest madam's issue? Why brand they us^ 
With base ? with baseness? bastardy? base , base? i 
Who, in the lusty stealth of nature, take 
More composition and fierce quality. 
Than doth, within a dull, stale, tired bed. 
Go to the creating a whole tribe of fops, 
Got 'tween asleep and wake? — Well then, 
Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land : 
Our father's love is to the bastard Edmund, 
As to the legitimate: Fine word, — legitimate!! 
Well, my legitimate, if this letter speed. 
And my invention thrive, Edmund the base 
Shall top the legitimate. I grow; I prosper: — j 
Now, gods, stand up for bastards! 
Enter Gloster. 

GIq, Kent banish'd thus! And France ia i 

choler parted ! [power! I 

And the king gone to night ! subscribed ** his \ 

Confined to exhibition ft! All this done ; 

Upon the gad^j! — Edmund ! How now ? what (* 

Edm. So please your lordship, none- [news? i, 
[Putting up the Letter, 

Glo. Why so earnestly seek you to put np '<. 

Edm. I know no news, my lord, [that letter? ; 

Glo. What paper were you reading ? 

Edm. Nothing, my lord. 

Glo. No? What needed then that terrible 
despatch of it into your pocket? the quality 
of nothing hath not such need to hide itself. > 
Let's see : Come, if it be nothing, I shall not j' 
need spectacles. 

Edm. I beseech you, sir, pardon me : it is 
a letter from my brother, that I have not all 
o'er-read ; for so much as I have perused, I 
find it not fit for your over-looking. 

Glo. Give me the letter, sir. 

Edm. I shall oflfend, either to detain or give « 
it. The contents, as in part I understand ] 
them, are to blame. 

Glo. Let's see, let's see. 

F^7n. I hope, for my brothers justification, 1 
he wrote this but as an essay ^§ or taste of my 
virtue. 

Glo. [Reads.] This policy, and reverence . 
of age, makes the ivorld bitter to the best of •-. 
our times ; keeps our fortunes from ns, t, 
till our oldness cannoi rell'>h them. I he^ \ 
gin to find an idle and fond '^ bondage in i 
the oppression of aged tyranny ; who suaj/s, 
not as it hath power, but as it is stijfcrcd, 
Co^ne to me, that of this 1 may ^peak more. 
If our father would sleep till J waked 
him, you should enjoy half his re' enue for 
ever, and live the beloved of your brother, i 
Edgar. — Humph — Conspiracy! — Sleep till 1 
leaked him — you should enjoy half his re- 
venue, — My son Edgir! Had he a hand ta 
write this? a heart and brain to breed it in?-^ 
When came this to you ? Who brought it ? 



Blessing. + Folded, doubled. J Qualities of mind. 
U Tht injusiire. % The nicety of civil institution. 

tt Allowance. ;; Suddenly. j§ Irial. 



$ Strike while the irov*s kot^ 
•• Yielded, surrendered. 
HLI Weak and foolish. 



Scene IL] 



KING LEAR. 



92 



Edm. It was not brought me, my lord, 
there's the cunning of it ; I found it thrown 
la at the casement of my closet. 

Glo, You know the character to be your 
orother's ? 

£dm. If the matter were good, my lord, I 
arst swear it were his ; but, in respect of that, 

would fain think it were not. 

Glo. It is his. 

£dm. It is his hand, my lord; but, I hope, 
is heart is not in the contents. 

Glo, Hath he never heretofore sounded you 
in this business I 

Edm. IS ever, my lord: But I have often 
beard him maintain it to be (it, that, sons at 
perfect age, and fathers declining, the father 
should be as ward to the son, and the son ma- 
nage his revenue. 

Glo. O villain, villain ! — His very opinion 
in the letter! — Abhorred villain! Unnatural, 
detested, brutish villain! worse than biutish! 
— Go, sirrah, seek him; I'll apprehend him: — 
Abominable villain ! — Where is he \ 

Edm. 1 do not well know, my lord. If it 
shall please you to suspend your indignation 
against my brother, till you can derive from 
hiin better testimony of his intent, you shnll 
run a certain course; where*, if you violently 
proceed a^^ainst him, mistaking his purpose, 
it would make a gveat gap in your own honour, 
and shake in pieces the heart of his obedience. 
1 dare pawn down my life for him, that he hath 
writ this to feel my affection to your honour t, 
and to no o her pretence j of danger. 

Glo. Think you so? 

Edm. If your honour judge it meet, I will 
place you where you shall hear us confer of 
this, and by an auricular assurance have your 
satisfaction ; and that without any further de- 
lay than this very evening. 

Glo. He cannot be such a monster. 

Edm. Nor is not, sure. 

Glo. To his rather, that so tenderly and en- 
tirely loves him. — Heaven and earth! — Ed- 
mund, seek him out ; wind me into him, I 
pray you : frame the business after your own 
wisdom : I would unstate myself, to be in a 
due resolution §. 

Edm. I will seek him, sir, presently ; con- 
vey II the business as I shall find means, and 
acquaint you withal. 

Gio. These late eclipses in the sun and moon 
portend no good to us : Though tbe wisdom 
of nature can reason it thus and thus, yet na- 
ture finds itself Stourged by the sequent^ 
etfects : love cools, friendship falls otf, brothers 
divide : in cities, nrntinies ; in countries, dis 
cord ; in palaces, treason ; and the bond 
cracked between son and father. This vllain 
of mine coims under the prediction ; there's 
son agamst father : the king falls from bias of j 
natui e ; there's father against child. We have | 
Been the best of our time : Machinations, hoi- 1 



iowness, treachery, and all ruinous disorders, 
follow us disquietly to our graves! — Find out 
this villain, Edmund, it shall lose thee nothing ; 
do it carefully : — And the noble aiMl true* 
hearted Kent banished! his offence, honesty ! 
— Strange! strange! {Exit, 

Edm. This is the excellent foppery of the 
world! that, when we are sick in fortune, 
(often the surfeit of our own behaviour,) we 
make guilty of our disasters, the sun, the 
moon, and the stars : as if we were villains 
by necessity : fools, by heavenly compulsion; 
knaves, thieves, and treachers**, by spherical 
predominance ; drunkards, liars, and adul- 
terers, by an enforced obedience of planetary 
influence ; and all that we are evil in, by a 
divine thrusting on : An admirable evasion of 
whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition 
to the charge of a star! My father compounded 
with my mother under the dragon's tail ; and 
ray nativity was under ursa major \i ; so that 
it follow?, I am rough and lecherous. — Tut, i 
should have been that I am, had the maiden- 
liest star in the firmamenttwinkied on my bas- 
tardizing. Edgar — 

Enter Edgar. 
and pat he comes, like the catastrophe of the 
old comedy : My cue is villanous melan- 
choly, with a sigh like Tom o' Bedlam. — O, 
these eclipses do portend these divisions! fa, 
sol, la, mi:i:i. 

Edg. How now, brother Edmund? What 
serious contemplation are you in ? 

Edm. I am thinking, brother, of a predic- 
tion I read this other day, what should follow 
these eclipses. 

Edg. Do you busy yourself with that? 

Edm. I promise you, the effects he writes 
of, succeed unhappily ; as of unnaturalness be- 
tween the child and the parent ; death, dearth, 
dissolutions of ancient amities; divisions in 
state, menaces and maledictions against king 
and nobles ; needless diffidences, banishment 
of friends, dissipation of cohorts §5, nuptial 
breaches, and I know not what. 

Edg. How long have you been a sectary 
astronomical? 

Edm. Come, come ; when saw you my fa- 
ther last? 

Edg. Why, the night gone by. 

Edm. Spake you with him? 

Edg. Ay, two hours together. 

Edjn. Parted you in good terms? Found 
you no displeasure in him, by word or coun- 
tenance ? 

Edg. None at all. 

Edm. Bethinfk yourself, wherein you may 
have offended him : and at my entre :ty, for- 
bear his presence, till some little time hath 
qualified the heat of his displeasure ; which at 
tills instant so rageth in him, that with the mis- 
chief of your person it would scarcely allay. 

Edg, Some villain hath done me wrong. 



• Whereas. + The usual address to a lord. % Design. 

Give all that 1 am possessed of, to be certain of the truth. ,| Manage. If Following, 
^* Traitors. tt (jie-it bear, the consieilation so named. ft These sonnds are unn.i».ural 
and offensive in music. jj For cohorts some editors read courts. 



928 



SHAKSPEARE. 



Act I. 



Edm. That'* my fear. 1 pray you, have a 
continent* forbearance, till the speed of his 
rage goes slower ; and, as 1 say, retire with 
nie to my lodiiing, fiom whence 1 will titly 
brin^ >oii to hear my lord speak : Pray yon, 
go ; tliere's my key : — If you do stir abroad, 
go armed. 

£<1g. Arnipd, brother? 

Edm. Brother, I advise you to the best : go 
armed ; I am no honest man, if there be any 
good meaning towanis you : I have told you 
■what I have seen and heard, but faintly ; no- 
thing like the image and horror of it : Pray 
you, away. 

Edg. Shall 1 hear from you anon? 

Edm, I do serve you in this business. — 

[lixit Edgar. 
A credulous father, and a brother noble. 
Whose nature iS so far from doing harms, 
That he suspects none; on whose foolisli honesty 
My practice;^ ride easy ! — I seethe business. — 
Let me, if not by birth, have lands by wit: 
All with me-s meet, that I can fashion fit. {Exit. 

SCENE III. A Boom in the Duke of 
Albany's Palace. 

Enter Goneril a7id Steward. 

Gon. Did my father strike my gentleman 

St(w, Ay, madam, [forchidingof his fooi? 

Gon. By day and night ! he wrongs me; every 
He Hashes into one gross crime or oiher, [hour 
That sets us all at odds: I'll not enaure it: 
His knights grow riotous, and hims^elf up- 
braids us [ing.* 
On every trifle : — When he returns from hunt- 
I will not speak with him ; j>ay, I am sick : 
If you come slack of former services. 
You shall do well; the fault of it I'll answer. 

Stew. He's coming, madam ; I hear him. 
[Ho7'ns uithin. 

Gon, Put on what weary neglit^ence you 
please, [question : 

You and your fellows ; I'd have it come to 
?f he dislike it, let him to my sister. 
Whose mind and mine, I know, in that are one. 
Not to be over-ruled. Idle old man, 
1 hat still would iianage those authorities, 
That he hath given away I — Now, by my life, 
Old fools are babes again ; and must be used 
With checks, as flatteries, — w hen they are seen 
Remember what I have said. [abused. 

Stew, \ery well, madam. 

Gon. And let his knights have colder looks 

among you ; [fellows so : 

What grows of it, no matter; advise your 

would breed from hence occasions, and I 

shall, [sister. 

That I may speak : — I'll write straight to my 

To hold my very course :— Prepare for dinner. 

[Extunt. 

SCENE IV. A Hall in the same. 
Enter Kekt, disguised. 
Kent. If but as well I other-accents borrow, 
That can my speech diflfuset, ray good intent 

• Temperate. t Disorder, disguise. 



May carry through itself to that full issue 
For which I razed j my likencfcs. — ISow, b>- 
nish'd Kent, [condemn d, 

If thou canst serve where thou dost stand 
(So may it come!) thy master, whom thou 
Shall find thee full of labours. [lovest, 

Horns uithin, Enttr Lear, Knights, and 
Attendants. 

Lear. Let me not stay a jot for dinner ; 
go, get it ready. [Exit an Attendant.] How 
now, what art thou ? 

Kent. A man, sir. 

Lear, What dost thou profess? What 
wouldst thou with us ? 

Kent. I do profess to be no less than I 
seem ; to serve him truly, that will put me in 
trust ; to love him that is honest ; to converse) 
with him that is wise, and says little; to fear 
judgment; to fight, when I cannot choose; 
and to eat no fish. 

Lear, What art thou ? 

Kent. A very honest-hearted fellow, and 
as poor as the king. 

Lear. If thou be as poor for a subject, as 
he is for a kmg, thou art poor enough. What 
wouldst thou '\ 

Kent. Service. 

Lear. Who wouldst thou serve ? 

Kent, You. 

Lear. Dost thou know me, fellow? 

Kent. No, sir; but you have that in yonr 
countenance, which 1 would fain call master. 

Lear. What's that? 

Kent. Authority. 

Lear. What services canst thou do? 

Kent. I can keep honest counsel, ride, run, 
mar a carious tale in telling it, and deliver a 
plain message luntly : that which ordinary 
men are fit for, I am qualified in ; and the 
best of me is diligence. 

Lear. How old art thou? 

Kent. Not so young, sir, to love a woman 
for singing ; nor so old, to dote on her for 
aijy thing: I have years on my back,forty-ei.;ht. 

Lear. Follow me ; thou shalt serve me ; if 
I like thee no worse after dinner, I will not 
part from thee yet. — Dinner, ho, dinner! — 
Where's my knave \ my fool? Go you, and 
call my fool hither : 

Enter Steward. 
You, you, sirrah, where's my daughter? 

Stew. So please you, — [Exit, 

Lear. What says the fellow there? Call 
the clotpoll back. — Where's my fool, ho? — I 
think the world's asleep. — How now? where's 
that mongrel ? 

Knight. He says, my lord, youi daughter 
is not well. 

Lear. Why came not the slave back to me, 
when I calUd hiin? 

Knight. Sir, he answered me in the round- 
est manner, he would not. 

Lear. He would not! 

Knight. My lord, I know not what the 
matter is; but to nty judgment, yonr highness 
is not entertained with that ceremonious atteo> 

Effaced. § Keep company. 



Jlcene /TJ 



KING LEAR. 



9-29 



tion as you were wont ; there's a great abate- 
ment of kindness appears, as well in the 
general dependants, as in the duke himself 
also, and your dau^ter. 

Lear. Ha ! sayst thou so t 

Knight. I beseech yoa, pardon me, my 
lord, if I be mistaken ; for my duty cannot be 
silent, when I think your highness is wronged. 

Lear. Thou but remember'st me of mine 
own conception; I have perceived a most 
faint neglect of late; which I have rather 
blamed as mine own jealous curiosity*, than 
as a very pretence t and purpose of unkind- 
iiess : 1 will look further into't. — But where's 
my fool ? I have not seen him this two days. 

Knight. Since my young lady's goii)giuto 
Trance, sir, the fool hath much pined away. 

Lear. No more of that ; I have noted it 
well. — Go you, and tell my daughter 1 would 
speak w ith her. — Go you, call hither my fool. — 

Re-enter Steward. 
O, you sir, you sir, come you hither : Who 
am 1, sir ? 

Stew. My lady's father. 

Lear. My lady's father! my lord's knave: 
you whoreson dog ; you slave ! you cur ! 

Stew. 1 am none of this, my lord ; I be- 
ieech you, pardon me. 

Lear. Do you bandy looks with me, you 
rascal ? [Striking him. 

- Stew. I'll not be struck, my lord. 

Kent. Nor tripped neither ; you base foot- 
ball player. [Tripping up his heels. 

Lear. 1 thank thee, fellow; thou servest 
me, and IMl love thee. 

Kent. Come, sir, arise, away ; 1*11 teach 
you differences ; away, away : If you will 
measure your lubber's length again, tarry : 
>ut away : ga to ; Have you wisdom ? so. 

[Pushes the Steward out. 

Lear, Now, my friendly knave, I thank 
thee : there's earnest of thy service. 

[Gil ing Kekt moTiey. 
Enter Fool. 

Fool. Let me hire him too ; — Here's my 
ooxcomb. [Giving Kent his Cap. 

Lear, How now, my pretty knave? how 
dost thou 1 

Fool. Sirrah, you were best take my cox- 
comb. 

Kent, Why, fool ? 

Fool. Why 1 For taking one's part that is 
out of favour : Nay, an thou canst not smile 
as the wind sits, thoul't catch cold shortly : 
There, take my coxcomb : Why, this fellow 
has banished two of his daughters, and did the 
third a blessing against his will ; if thou follow 
him, thou must needs wear my coxcomb. — 
How now, nuncle? 'Would I hac two cox- 
combs, and two daughters ! 

Lear. Why, my boy ? 

Fool. If I gave them all my hvmgt, I'd 
keep rny coxcombs myself: There's saine ; 
bCi' another of thy daughters. 

hear. Take heed, sirrah ; the whip. 



Fool. Truth's a di»g that must to kennel t he 
must be whipped out, when Lady, the brach§, 
may stand by the fire, and stink. 
Lear. A pestilent gall to me ! 
Fool. Sirrah, I'll teach thee a speech. 
Lear. Do. 
Fool. Mark it, nuncle : 

Have more than thou showest. 
Speak less than thou knowest. 
Lend less than thou owest|t, 
Ride more than thou goest, 
Learn more than thou trowestlT, 
Set less than thou throwest ; 
Leave thy drink and thy whore. 
And keep in-a-door. 
And thou shalt have more 
Than two tens to a score. 
Lear. This is nothing, fool. 
Fool. Then 'tis like the breath of an un- 
feed lawyer : you gave me nothing for*t : Can 
you make no use of nothing, nuncle ? 

Lear. Why, no, boy ; nothing can be made 
out of nothing. 

Fool. Pry 'thee, tell him, so much the rent of 
his land comes to ; he will not believe a fool. 
[To Kent. 
Lear, A bitter fool ! 

Fool. Dost thou know the difference, my 
boy, between a bitter fool and a sweet fool? 
Lear, ]So, lad; teach me. 
Fool. That lord, that counsell'd thee 
To give away thy land. 
Come, place him here by me, — 

Or do thou for him stand : 
The sweet and bitter fool 
Will presently appear ; 
The one fn motley here , 
The other found out there. 
Lear, Dost thou call me fool, boy? 
Fool. All thy other titles thou hast given 
away ; that thou wast born with. 

Kent. This is not' altogether fool, my lord. 
Fool, No, 'faith, lords and great men will 
not let me ; if I had a monopoly out, they 
would have part on't : and ladies too, they 
will not let me have all fool to myself; they'll 
be snatching. — Give me an egg, nuncle, and 
I'll give the- two crowns. 
Lear, What two crowns shall they be? 
Fool. Why, after I have cut the egg i' the 
middle, and eat up the meat, the two crowns 
of the egg. When thou clovest thy crown i'the 
middle, and gavest away both parts, thou 
borest thine ass on thy back over the dirt: 
Thou hadst little wit in thy bald crown, when 
thou gavest thy golden one away. If I 
speak like myself in this, let him be whipp'd 
that first finds it so. 
Fools had ne'er less grace** in a year; [Sings. 

For wise men are grow7i foppish; 
And knaic not how their wits to wear, 
Their manners are so apish. 
Lear. When were you wont to be so full of 

songs, sirrah 1 
Fool. I have used it, nuncle, ever since then 



Punctilious jealousy. + Design J Estate or property. $ Bitch hound. 

li Ownest, posses«€»t, f Believest. *• Favour. . 

4 iv 3 



930 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act /. ' 



madest thy daughters thy mother : for when 
thoa gavest them the rod, and put'st down 
thine own breeches, 

7'hen they for sudden joy did weep, [Sings. 
And 1 for sorrotv sung. 

That such a king should play bo-peep, 
And go the fools among, 
Pr> 'thee, nuncle, keep a school-master that can 
teach thy fool to lie ; 1 would fain learn to lie. 

Lear. If you lie, sirrah, we'll have you 
whipped. 

Fool, I marvel, what kin thou and thy 
dausshters arc: they'll have me whipped for 
speaking true, thou'lt have me whipped for 
lying; and, sometimes, I am whipped for hold- 
ing my peace. I had rather be any kind of 
thing, than a fool : and yet 1 would not be thee, 
Muncle; thou hast pared thy wit o'both sides, 
and left nothing in the middle : Here conies 
one o'the parings. 

Enter Goner il. 

Lear, How now, daughter! what makes 
that frontlet* out Methinks,you are too much 
of late i' the frown. 

Fool, Thou wast a pretty fellow, when 
thou hadst no need to care for her frowning ; 
now thou art an O + without a figure : I am 
better than thou art now ; I am a fool, thou 
art nothing. Yes, forsooth, I will hold my 
tongue; so your face ^To Gon.] bids me, 
though you say nothing. Mum, mum, 
He that keeps nor crust nor crum, 
Weary of all, shall want some. — 
That's a shealed peascodj. [Pointing to Lear. 

Gon, IS ot only, sir, this your all-licensed fool. 
But other of your insolent retinue 
Do hourly carp and quarrel ; breaking forth 
In rank and not-to-be endured riots. Sir, 
I had thought, by making this well known unto 
you, [fearful. 

To have found a safe redress ; but now grow 
By what yourself too late have spoke and done. 
That you protect this course, and put it on 
By your allowance^ ; which if you should, the 
fault [sleep ; 

"Would not 'scape censure, nor the redressei 
Which in the tender of a wholesome wealjl. 
Might in their working do you that offence, 
Which else were shame, that then necessity 
Will call discreet proceeding. 

Fool, For you trow, nuncle. 

The hedge sparrow fed the cuckoo so long. 

That it had its head bit off by its young. 
So, out went the candle, and we were left 
darkling. 

Lear. Are you our daughter? 

Go7K Come, sir, I would, you would make 
nse of that good wisdom whereof I know you 
are fraught IT ; and put away these dispositions, 
which of late transform you from what you 
rightly are. 

Font. May not an ass know when the cart 
draws the horse ?— Whoop, Jug ! I love thee. 

Lear, Does any here know me?— Why this 



is not Lear : does Lear walk thus? speak thus? 
Where are his eyes? Either his notion weakens, * 
or his discernings are lethargied.— Sleeping or ' 
waking? — Ha! sure 'tis not so. — Who is it 
that can tell me who I am? — Lear's shado v? ' 
I would learn that ; for by the marks of so- ' 
vereignty, knowledge, and reason, I should 
be false persuaded I had daughters. — ' 

Fool, Which they will make an obedient ' 
father. 

Lear, Your name, fair gentlewoman ? 

Gon, Come, sir ; 
Thia admiration is much o' the favour •• 
Of other your new pranks. 1 do beseech you 
To understand my purposes aright : 
As you are old and reverend, you should b€ 
wise: squires; 

Here do you keep a hundred knights and 
Men so disorder'd, so debauch'd, and bold. 
That this our eourt,infected with their mannerSj. 
Shows like a riotous inn: epicurism and lust 
Make it more like a tavern or a brothel. 
Than a graced palace. The shame Itself dotbi 
For instant remedy : Be then desired [speah' 
By her, that else will take the thi.ig she bcga, 
A little to disquantity your train ; 
And the remainder, that shall still -depend ft. 
To be such men as may besort your age, 
And know themselves and you. 

Lear, Darkness and devils!— 

Saddle my horses ; call my train together. — 
Degenerate bastard ! I'll not trouble thee ; 
Yet have I left a daughter. [order'd rabble 

Gon. You strike my people ; and your dia- 
Make servants of their betters. 
Enter Albany. 

Lear, Woe, that too late repents, — 0, sir, 
are you come? [pare my horses. 

Is it your will ? [Tb Alb.] Speak, sir. — Pre- 
Ingratitude! thou marble-hearted fiend. 
More hideous, when thou show'st thee in a 
Than the sea-monster ! [child, 

Alh, Pray, sir, be patient. 

Lear, Detested kite! thou liest: \To Gon. 
My train are men of choice and rarest parts. 
That all particulars of duty know : 
And in the most exact regard support [fa\jlt. 
The worships of their uame. — O most small 
How ugly didst thou in Cordelia show ! 
Which, like an engine jj wrench'd my frame 
of nature [love. 

From the fix'd place; drew from my heart all 
And added to the gall. O Lear, Lear, Lear I 
Beat at this gate that let thy folly in. 

[Striking his head. 
And thy dear judgment out!— Go,go,my people, 

Alh. My lord, I am guiltless, as 1 am igno- 
Of what hath moved you. [ran. 

Lear. It may be so, my lord. — Here, na- 
ture here ; 
Dear goddess, hear ! Suspend thy purpose, if 
Thou didst intend to make this creature fruit- 
Into her womb convey sterility! [full 

Dry up in her the organs of increase ; 



• Part of a woman's head-dress to which Lear compares her frowning brow. t A cipher. 
A mere husk which contains nothing. § Approbation. || Well-governed state, 

% Stored. •• Complexion. ft Continue in tervice. JJ The rack. 



)ie iVA 



KING LEAR. 



931 



!And from her derogate* body never spring 
A babe to honour her 1 If she must teem, 
!^Create her child of spleen; that it may live, 
J And be a thwart disnatured torment to her I 
■iLet it stamp wrinkles in her brow of youth; 
JiWith cadentt tears fret channels in her cheeks; 
(!Turn all her mother's pains, and benefits, 
'To laughter and contempt; that she may feel 
iJHow sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 
((To have a thankless child! — Away,away![i2Irii. 
Alb. Now, gods, that we adore, whereof 
comes this? [cause; 

Gon. Never atflict yourself to know the 
il But let his disposition have that scope 
jl That dotage gives it. 
; Re-enter Lear. 

li Lear, What, fifty of my followers, at a clap ! 
I Within a fortnighf? 

I Alb. What's the matter, sir ? [ashamed 
; Zifcr. ni tell thee ; — Life and death! lam 
1 That thou hast power to shake my manhood 
j thus: [To GoNERiL. 

i That these hot tears, which break from me 
perforce, [fogs upon thee ! 

Should make thee worth them. — Blasts and 
The untentedi woundings of a father's curse 
I Pierce every sense about thee I — Old fond eyes, 
Bcweep this cause again, I'll pluck you out; 
And cast you, with the waters that you lose. 
To temper clay. — Ha ! is it come to this 1 
Let it be so : — Yet have I lett a daughter. 
Who, I am sure, is kind and comfortable ', 
When she shall hear this of thee, with her nails 
She'll Any thy wolfish visage! Thou shalt find. 
That I'll resume the shape which thou dost think 
I have cast otf for ever;thou shalt,I warrant thee. 
[Exeunt Lear, Kent, and Attendants. 
Gon. Do you mark that, my lord? 
Alb. I cannot be so partial, Goneril, 
To the great love I bear you, — 

Gow. Pray you, content. — What, Oswald,ho! 

You, sir, more knave than fool, after your 

master. [To the Fool. 

Fool. Nuncle Lear, nuncle Lear, tarry, and 

take the fool with thee. 

A fox, when one has caught her. 
And such a daughter. 
Should sure to the slaughter. 
If my cap would buy a halter ; 
So the fool follows after. [Exit. 

Gon. This man hath had good counsel : — A 
hv.mdred knights! 
*Ti8 politic, and safe, to let him keep 
At pointy a hundred knights. Yes, that on 

every dream. 
Each buz,each fancy, each complaint, dislike, 
Hemayenguard his dotage with their powers. 
And hold our lives in mercy, — Oswald, I say ! — 
Alb. Well, you may fear too far. 
Gon, Safer than trust : 

Let me still take away the harms I fear. 
Not fear still to be taken. I know his heart: 
What he hath utter*d, I have writ my sister ; 
If she sustain him and his hundred knights. 
When I have show'd the unfitness,— How 
now, Oswald ? 



Enter Steward. 
What, have you writ that letter to my sister! 

Stew. Ay, madam. [to horse : 

Gon, Take you some company, and away 
Inform her full of my particular fear ; 
And thereto add such reasons of your own. 
As may compact it more. Get you gone ; 
And hasten your return. [Exit Stew.] No. 

no, my lord, 
This milky gentleness, and course of yours. 
Though [ condemn it not, yet, under pardon. 
You are much more attask'd U for want of wis- 
Than praised for harmful mildness. [dom, 

Alb. How far your eyes may pierce, I can- 
not tell ; 
Striving to better, oft we mar what's well. 

Gon. Nay, then — 

Alb. Weil, well ; the event. [Exeunt. 

SCENE V, Court before the same. 
Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. 

Lear. Go yon before to Gloster with these 
letters ; acquaint my daughter no further with 
any thing you know, than comes from her de« 
mand out of the letter: If your diligence be 
not speedy, I shall be there before you. 

Kent. I will not sleep, ray lord, till I have 
delivered your letter. [Exit. 

Fool. If a man's brains were in his heels, 
were't not in danger of kibes ? 

Lear. Ay, boy. 

Fool. Then, I pr'ythee, be merry ; thy wit 
shall not go slip-shod. 

Lear. Ha, ha, ha! 

Fool. Shalt see, thy other daughter will use 
thee kindly : for though she's as like this as a 
crab is like an apple,yetlcan tell what I can tell. 

Lear. Why, what canst thou tell, my boy X 

Fool. She will taste as like this, as a crab 
does to a crab. Thou canst tell, why one'* 
nose stands i* the middle of his face? 

I^ear. No. 

Fool. Why, to keep his eyes on either side 
his nose ; that what a man cannot smell out, 
he may spy into. 

Lear. I did her wrong ; — 

^oo/. Canst tell how an oyster makes his shell? 

Lear. No. 

Fool. Nor I neither ; but I caa tell why a 
snail has a house. 

Lear. Why? 

Fool. Why, to put his head in ; not (o give 
it away to his daughters, and leave his horns 
without a case. 

Lear. I will forget my nature. — So kind a 
father ! — Be my horses ready ? 

Fool. Thy asses are gone about 'em. The 
reason why the seven stars are no more thaa 
seven, is a pretty reason. 

Lear. Because they are not eight? 

Fool. Yes, indee<l ; thou wouldest make a 
good fool. 

Lear. To take it again pjerforce! — Monster 
ingratitude ! 

Fool. If thou wert my fool, nuncle, I'd have 
thee beaten for being old before thy time. 



Degraded. t Falling. J Undressed. $ Armed. jj Liable to reprehensiou 



932 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act Hi 



J sear. How's that? 

7^00/. Thoo shouldst not have been old, be- 
fore thou hadst been wise. 

Lear, O let nie not be mad, not mad, 
swt-et heaven ! 
Keep me in temper ; I would not be mad! — 



Enter Gentlemau. 

How now! Are the horses ready? 

Gent. Ready, my lord. 

Ltur. Cone boy. fmy departurc^^ 

Fool, She that is maid now, and I u^hs a | 

3ball not be a maid loug, unless thit ge be cut^ 

shorter. [ Extuntl 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. A Court within the Castle of 
the Earl of Gloster. 

Enter Edmund and Cur ak, meeting, 

Edm, Save thee, Curan. 

Cur. And you, sir. I have been with yonr 
father ; and given him notice, that the duke 
of Cornwall, and Regan his duchess, will be 
here with him to-night. 

Ed7n, How comes that? 

Cur. Nay, I know not: You have heard of 
the news abroad ; 1 mean, the whispered ones, 
for they are yet but ear-kissing arguments? 

Earn. Not I; 'Pray you, what are they? 

Cur. Have you heard of no likely wars to- 
ward, *twixt tlie dukes of Cornwall and Al- 
bany ? 

Edm. Not a word. 

Cur. You may then, in time. Fare you 
well, sir. [Exit. 

Edm. The dnke be here to night? The bet- 
ter! Best! 
This weaves itself perforce into my business ! 
My father hath set guard to take my brother; 
And X have one thing, of a queazy * question, 
Which I must act:— Briefness, and fortune, 

work! — 
Brother, a word ; descend : — ^Brother, I say ; 

Enter Edgar. 
My father watches: — O sir, fly this place; 
Intelligence is given where you are hid ; 
You have now the good advantage of the 
night: — [Cornwall? 

Have you not spoken 'gainst the duke of 
He's coming hither; now, i* the night, i' the 

haste. 
And Regan with him ; Have you nothing said 
Upon his party 'gainst the duke of Albany ? 
Advise t yourself. 

Edg. I am sure on't, not a word. 

Edm. T hear my father coming;* — Pardon 
me : — [you : — 

In cunning, I must draw my sword upon 
Draw: Seem to defend yourself: Now quit 
you well. [here ! — 

Yield: — come before my father; — Light, ho. 
Fly, brother; — Torches! torches! — So, fare- 
well. — {Exit Edgar. 
Some blood drawn on me would beget opinion 

[Wounds hfs arm. 
Of my more fierce endeavour: I have «een 

drnnkarc'.s 
Do more than this ip sport. — Father! father 1 
Stop, stop! No help? 



Enter Gloster, and Servant* tt'?/A TorchesJi lo 



Glo» Now, Edmund, where's the villain? 

Edm. Here stood he in the dark, his sharp 
sword out, [moon 

Mumbling of wicked charms, conjuring the'' 
To stand his auspicious mistress :— 

Gto. But where is he? 

Earn* Look, sir, J bleed. 

Glo. Where is the villain, Edmund? 

Edm. Fled this way, sir. When by no 
mei'.ns he could — 

Glo. Pursue him, ho I—Go after.— [iEiif I 
Serv.] Hy no means, — what? 

Edm. Persuade me to the murder of your 
lordship; 
But that I told him, the revenging gods 
'Gainst parricides did all their thunders bend ; 
Spoke, with how manifold and fctrong a bond 
The child was bound to the father ; — Sir, in fine. 
Seeing how loathly opposite I stood 
To his unnatural purpose, in fell motion. 
With his prepared sword, he charges home 
My unprovided body, lanced my arm : 
But when he saw niy best alarum'd spirits. 
Bold in the quarrel's right, roused to the en^ 

counter. 
Or whether gasted J by the noise I made. 
Full suddenly h^ tied. 

Glo, Let him fly far: 

Not in this land shall he remain uncanght; 
And found — Despatch. — The noble duke my 

master, 
My worthy arch$ and patron, comes to-night : 
By his authority I will proclaim it, [thanks. 
That he, which finds him, shall deserve our 
Bringing the n)urderous coward to the stake; 
He, that conceals him, death. 

Edm. When I dissuaded him from his intent. 
And found him pightj to doit, with curst IT 

speech 
I threaten'd to discover him : He replied. 
Thou unpossessing bastard ! do st thou think, \ 
JJ' J would stand against thee, would the 

reposal 
Of any trusty virtue y or worthy in thee 
Make thy words faith' df No: what 1 
should denyy [ produce 

(As this 1 would; ay^ though thuu didst 
My very character**) I'd turn it all 
lothysuggpstionyplotyand damned pradiee. 
And thou must make a dullard of the uirld. 
If they not thought the profits of my death 
Were i ery pregnant and potential sjmr^ 
To make thee seek it. 



(' 



1 



• Delicate. t Coaiider, recollect yourself. J Frighted. $ Chiet U Pitched, fixed. 
\ Severe, harsh. •• Hand-writing. 



Sc€n€ I\ 



KIXG LEAB. 



933 



Glo, Strong andfasten'd villain! 

Would he deny his letter 1 — I never got him. 
[Trumpets within. 
Hark, the duke's trumpets ! I know not why 

he comes : — 
All ports I'll bar; the villain ehall not scape; 
The duke must grant me that: besides, his 

picture 
I will send far and near, that all the kingdom 
May have due note of him ; and of my laud. 
Loyal and natural boy, I'll work the means 
To make thee capable*. 
Entt-r Cornwall, Regan, 4: Attendants. 

Corn. How now, my noble friend? since I 

came hither, [strange news. 

(Which I can call but now,) 1 have heard 

Reg. If it be true, all vengeance comes too 

short, [my lord? 

Which can pursue the offender. How dost, 

GLo. O, midam, my old heart is crack'd, 
is crack'd ! [your life ? 

Reg. What, did my father's godson seek?" 
He whom my father named \ your Edgar ? 

Gio. 0,la(ly, lady,shame would have it hid! 

Reg. Whs he not companion with the riotous 
That tend upon my father? [knights 

GLo. 1 know not, madam : 

It is too bad, too bad. — 

Edm. Yes, madam, he was. 

Reg. No marvel then, though he were ill 
affected ; 
'Tis they have put him on the old man's death, 
To have the waste and spoil of his revenues. 
I have this present evening from my sister 
Been well inform'd of tiiem ; and with such 

cautions. 
That, if they come to sojourn at my house, 
1*11 not be there. 

Corn. Nor I, assure thee, Regan. — 

Edmund, I hear that you have shown your 
A child-like oflSce. [father 

Edm. Twas my duty, sir. [ceived 

GLo. He did bewray t his practice t; and re- 
This hurt you see, striving to apprehend him. 

Corn. Is he pursued ? 

Glo. Ay, my good lord, he is. 

Corn. If he be taken, he shall never more 
JBe fear'd of doing haim : make your own 
purpose, [Edmund, 

How in my strength you please. — lor you, 
Uhose virtue and obedience doth this instant 
.So much commend itself, yon shall be ours; 
Natures of such deep trust we shall much need ; 
You we first seize on. 

Edm. I shall ierve you, sir. 

Truly, however else. 

GLo. For him I thank your grace. 

Corn. You know not why we came to visit 
you, — [eyed night. 

Reg. i'hus out of season; threading dark- 
!>ceasions, noble Glosier, of some poize §, 
Wherein we must have use of your ad vice-: — 
Oar father he hrith writ, so hhth our sister. 
Of (liiterences, which I btsi thought it fit [gers 
lo answer from our home ; the several messeu- 



From hence attend despatch. Oiw good old 

friend. 
Lay comtoits to your bosom ; and bestow 
Your needful counsel to our business. 
Which craves the instant use. 

GLo. 1 serve you, madam? 

Your graces are right welcome. [Exeunt, 

SCENE II. Before Gloster's Castle, 
Enter Kent and Steward, severally. 

Stew. Good dawning to thee, friend : Art 
of the house \ 

Kent. Ay. 

Steiv. Where may we set our horses 1 

Kent. V the mire. 

Stetc. Pr'ythee, if thoa love me, tell me. 

Kent. I love thee not. 

Stew. Why, then I care not for thee. 

Kent, If I had thee in Lipsbury pinfold, I 
would make thee care for me. 

Stetv, Why dost thou use me thus? I know 
tliee not, 

Kent. Fellow, I know thee. 

Stew, What dost thou know me for? 

Kent. A knave ; a rascal, an eater of broken 
meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three- 
suited, hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking 
knave; a lily-livered, action-taking knave; a 
whoreson, glass-gazing, superserviceable, fini- 
cal rogue ; one-trunk inheriting slave ; one 
that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good-ser- 
vice, and art nothing but the composition of % 
knave, beggar, coward, pander, and the son 
and heir of a mongrel bitch : one whom 1 
will beat into clamorous whining, if thou de- 
niest the least syllable of thy addition ||. 

Slew. Why, what a monstrous fellow art 
thou, thus to rail on one, that is neither known 
of thee, nor knows thee^ 

Kent, What a brazen-faced varlet art thou, 
to deny thou knowest me? Is it two days 
ago, since I tripped up thy heels, and beat 
thee, before the king? Draw, you rogue: for, 
though it be night, the moon shines ; I'll make 
a sop o' the moonshine of you : Draw, you 
whoreson, cullionly barber-monger, draw. 

{Dr<inu7ig his sword. 

Stew. Away; 1 have nothing to do with thee, 

Kent. Draw, you rascal ; you come with 
letters against the king; and take vanity IT 
the puppet's part, against the royalty of her 
father : Draw, you rogue, or I'll sc carbonado 
your shanks: — draw, you rascal; come your 
ways. 

Stew. Help, ho! murder! help! 

Kent. Strike, you slave; stand, rogue, 
stand ; you neat slave, strike. [Beating him. 

Stew'. Help, ho! murder 1 n.urdt i ! 

Enter EiJ.yuNi), Cornwall, Rlgan, 
Glostkr, and Servants. 

Edm. How now ? What's the mnter ? Part. 

Kent. \Mthyou,goo;;man boj.ifyon please; , 
come, I'll flesh you ; come on, young master. 

Glo, Weapons I arms! Whal'«the matt«f 
here? 



t. e.. Capable of »uccecding to my land. t Betray. % Wicked purpose. 

$ Weight. I lilies. % A character in the old molalities. 



34, 



8HAKSPEARE. 



Uct li^ 



Com, Keep peace, upon your lives; 
He dies, that strikes again : What is the matter? 

B^g. The messengers from oar sister and 
the king. 

Corn, What is your difference? speak. 

Stew, 1 am scarce in breath, my lord. 

Kent. No marvel, you have so bestirred 
your valour. You cowardly rascal, nature 
disclaims in thee ; a tailor made thee. 

Corn, J'hou art a strange fellow : a tailor 
inake a man ? 

Kent. Ay, a tailor, sir; a stone-cutter, or a 
painter, could not have made him so ill, though 
they had been but two hours at the trade. 

Corn, Speak yet, how grew your quarrel? 

Stew. This ancient ruffian, sir, whose life I 
At suit of his grey beard, — [have spared, 

Kent. Thou whoreson zed I thou onheces- 
»ary letter 1 — My lord, if you will give me 
leave, I will tread this unbolted* villain into 
mortal, and daub the wall of a jakest with 
him. — Spare my grey beard, you wagtail? 

Corn. Peace, sirrah! 
You beastly knave, know you no reverence? 

Kent. Yes, sir ; but anger has a privilege. 

Corn. Why art thou an-^ry ? 

X, ent. That such a slave as this should wear 

a sword, [as these, 

Who wears no honesty. Such smiling rogues 

Like rats, oft bite the holy cords atwain 

"Which are too intrinsej t' unloose : smooth 

every passion 
That in the natures of their lords rebels; 
Bring oil to fire, snow to their colder moods ; 
Renege §, affirm , and turn their halcyon || beaks 
"With every gale and vary of their masters, 
As knowing nouglit, like dogs, but following. — 
A pl.igue upon )our epileptic visage ! 
Smile yon my -pecches, as 1 were a fool? 
Goose, if I had you upon Sarura plain, 
J'd drive ye cackling home to Camelotf. 

Corn. What, art thou mad, old fellow? 

GLo. How fell you out? 

Ray that. 

Kent. No contraries hold more antipathy, 
Than I and such a knave. [his offence ? 

Corn. Why dost ihon call him knave? What's 

Kent, His countenance likes me not**. 

Corn. No more, perchance, does mine, or 
his, or hers. 

Kent. Sir, 'tis my occupation to be plain ; 
1 have seen better faces in my time, 
Than stands on any shoulder that 1 see 
Before me at this instant. 

Corn, This is some fellow, [affect 

Who, having been praised for bluntness, doth 
A saucy roughness ; and constrains the garb. 
Quite from his nature: llecannot flatter, he! — 
An honest mind and plain,-he must speak truth: 
An they will take it, so; if not, he's plain. 
These kind of knaves i know, which in this 
plainness 

• TTurefined. t Privy. J Perplexed. $ Disowned. 

I The bird called the king-fisher, which, when dried ami hung up by a thread, is supposed i 

to turn his bill to the point from whence the wind blows. i 

^ In Somersetsl'ire, where are bred great quantifies of ijte5e. •* i. e , Pleaset. me not, 

tt Simple or rustic. H i. c, AjiX is a fool to Iheui, 



Harbour more craft, and more corrupter ends. 
Than twenty silly tt ducking observants, 
That stretch their duties nicely. 

Kent. Sir, in good sooth, in sincere verity^ 
Under the allowance of your grand aspect. 
Whose influence, like the wreath of radiant 
On flickering Phoebus* from, — [tire 

Cor7i. What mean*8t by this ? 

Kent, To go out of my dialect, which yoo 
discommend so much. 1 know, sir, 1 am no 
flatterer: he that beguiled you, in a plain 
accent, was a plain knave; which, for my 
part, I will not be, though I should win your 
displeasure to entreat me to it. 

Corn. What was the otfence yon gave him? 

Stew, N ever any ^ 

It pleased the king his master, very late, 
To strike at rne, upon his niisconstruction ; 
When he, conjunct, and flattering his dis- 
pleasure, [rail'd, 
Tripp'd me behind ; being down, insulted. 
And put upon him snch a deal of man. 
That wortliy'd him, got praises of the king 
For him attempting who was self-subdued ; 
And, in the fleshmcnt of this dread exploit. 
Drew on me here. 

Kent. None of these rogues,and cowards. 
But Ajax is their fooljj. 

Corn. Fetch forth the stocks, hoi 

You stubborn ancient knave, you reverend 
We'll teach you — [braggart, 

Kent. Sir, I am too old to learn : 

Call not your stocks for me : 1 serve the king ; 
On whose employment I was sent to yon : 
You shall do small respect, show too bold 

malice 
Against the grace and person of ray master. 
Stocking his messenger. 

Corn. Fetch forth the stocks: 

As Pve hfe and honour, there shall he sit till 
noon. [all night too, 

Reg. Till noon ! till night, my lord ; and 

Kent, Why, madam, if 1 were your father's 
You should not use me so. [fJog, 

Beg, Sir, being his knave, I will. 

[Stocks brought out* 

Corn. This is a fellow of the self-same colour 
Our sister speaks of: — Come, bring away the 
stocks. 

Glo. Let me beseech your grace not to do so 
His fault is much, and tlu; good king his niastet 
Will check him for't: your purposed low cor- 
rection 
Is such, as basest and contemned'st wretches. 
For pilferinas and most common trespa.^ses. 
Are piinish'd with: the king must take it ill, 
i'liat he's so slightly valued in his messenger. 
Should have him thus resirain'd. 

Corn. I'll answer that. 

Beg. My sister may receive it much more 
worse, 
To have her gentleman abused, assaulted. 



Seene II.] 



KING LEAH. 



935 



For ftllowing her affairs. — Put in his legs. — 
[Kent i^ put in the Stocks. 
Corae, my good lord ; away. 

[JSxeunt Reoan and Cornwall. 
Glo. I am sorry for thee, friend ; 'tis the 
dike's pleasure, 
Whose disposition, all the world well knows, 
V/ill not be rubb'd, nor stopp'd : I'll entreat 
for thee. [and tiavell'd hard ; 

Kent. Pray, do not, sir: 1 have watch'd, 
Some time I shall sleep out, the rest I'll whistle. 
A good man's fortune may grow out at bcels : 
Give you jjood morrow ! 
Glo. The duke's to blame in this; 'twill be 
ill taken. [Exit. 

Kent. Good king, that must approve the 
common saw * ! 
Tliou out oi heaven's benediction comest 
To the warm sun! 

Approach, thou beacon to this under globe, 
That by thy comfortable beams I may [cles. 
Peruse this letter! — Nothing almost sees mira- 
But misery ; — I know 'tis fn)m Cordelia ; 
V'ho hath most fortunately been inform'd 
Of my obscured course ; and shail find time 
From this enormous state, — seeking to give 
Losses their remedies : — All weary and o'er- 

watch'd. 
Take vantage, heavy eyes, not to behold 
This shameful lodging. 

Fortune, good night ; smile once more ; turn 
thy wheel 1 [He sleeps. 

SCENE IIL A part of the Heath. 
Enter Edgar. 
Edg. I heard myself proclaim'd ; 
And, by the happy hollow of a tree. 
Escaped the hunt. No port is free ; no place. 
That guard, and most unusual vigilance. 
Does not attend my taking. While 1 may scape, 
1 will preserve myself: and am bethought 
To take the basest and most poorest shape, 
That ever penury, in contempt of man, [filth ; 
Brought near to beast: my face I'll grim with 
Blanket my loins; elf+ all my hair in knots ; 
And with presented nakedness outface 
The winds, and persecutions of the sky. 
The country gives me proof and precedent 
Of Bedlam beggars, who, with roaring voices. 
Strike in their numb'd and mortified bare arms 
Pins, wooden pricks +, nails, sprigs of rosemary; 
And with this horrible object, from low farms, 
Poor pelting villages, sheep cotes and mills, 
Sometime with lunatic bans§, sometime with 
prayers, [Tom ! 

Enforce their charity. — PoorTurlygood! poor 
That's something yet; — Edgai- I nothing am. 

[Exit. 
SCENE IV. Before Gloster's Castle. 

Enter Lear, Fool, a/id Gentleman. 
Lear. 'Tis strange, that they should so de- 
part from home. 



And not send back my messenger. 

Gent. As I learn'd, 

The night before there was no purpose in them 
Of this remove. 

Kent. Hail to thee, noble master ! 

Lear. How 1 
Makest thou this shame thy pastime ? 

Kent. No, my lord. 

Fool. Ha, ha ; look! he wears c-ruelj! gar- 
ters ! Horses are tied by the heads; dogs, and 
bears, by the neck ; monkeys by the loins, 
and men by the legs : when a man is over- 
lusty at legs, then he wears wooden nether- 
stocks IF. 

Lear. What's he, that hath so much thy 
To set thee here? [place mistook 

Kent. It is both he and she. 

Your son and daughter. 

Lear. No. 

Kent. Yes. 

Lear. No, I say. 

Kent. 1 say, yea. 

Lear. No, no ; they would not. 

Kent. Yes, they have. 

Lear. By Jupiter, I swear no. 

Kent. By Juno, I swear, ay. 

Lear. They durst not do't; [than murder. 
They could not, would not do't ; 'tis worse 
To do upon respect such violent outrage : 
Resolve me, with all modest haste, which way 
Thou mightst deserve, or they impose, this 
Coming from us. [usage 

Kent. My lord, when at their home 

I did commend your highness' letters to them,, 
Ere I was risen from the place that show'd 
My duty kneeling, came there a reeking post 
Stew'd in his haste, half breathless, pantmg 
From Goneril his mistress, salutations ; [forth 
Deliver'd letters, spite of intermission. 
Which presently they read : on whose contents, 
They summon'd up their meiny •*, straigh'. 

took horse ; 
Commanded me to follow, and attend 
1 he leisure of their answer; gavemecold looks: 
And meeting here the other messenger. 
Whose welcome, 1 perceived, had poison'd 
(Being the very fellow that of late [mine, 
Display'd so saucily against your highness,) 
Having more man'ihan wit about nte, drew^ 
He raised the house with loud and coward cries: 
Your son and daughter found this trespass 
The shame which here it suffers. [worth 

Fool. Winter's not gone yet, if the wild 
geese tly that way. 
Fathers, that wear rags, 

Do make their children blind ; 
But fathers, that bear bags. 

Shall see their children kind. 
Fortune, that arrant whore, 
JSe'er turns the key to the poor. — 
But, for all this, thou shall have as many 
dolours t+ for thy daughters as thou canst tell 
in a year. 



• Saying or proverb. t Hair thus knotted was supposed to be the work of e/vt-s and falnw 
in theni^iht. t Skewers. n> (.:«irses. \\ k c\'\VM^<<' ow vr^n'tLi^worslea. 

S The old word for stockings. ♦* i'eopie, tr^in or retinue. 

i\ A quiiibie between dolours and doUurs, 



9da 



RfTAKSPEARE. 



[Act Ml. 



Lear, O, how this iDOther* swells up 
toward my heart! [row. 

Hysterica jxts.sif. ' down, thou climbing sor- 
Thy element's below! — W here is this daughter? 
Kent . With the earl, sir, here within. 
Ltfor. Follow me not ; 

Stay here. [Eait. 

Gent. Made yon no more offence than what 
Kent. None. [you speak of? 

How chance the king comes with so small a 
train ? 
Fool. An thou hadst been set i' the stocks 
for that question, thou hadst well deserved it. 
Kent. Why, fool ? 

FooL. W e'li set thee to school to an ant, to 
teach thee there's no labouring in the winter. 
All that follow their noses are led by their 
eyes, but blind men ; and there's not a nose 
among twenty, but can smell him that's stink- 
ing. Let go thy hold, when a great wheel 
runs down a hill, lest it break thy neck with 
following it; but the great one that goe« 
up the hill, let him draw thee after. When 
a wise man gives thee better counsel, give m« 
mine a^ain : 1 would have none but knaves 
follow it, since a fool gives it. 

That, sir, which serves and seeks for gain. 

And follows but for form, 
"Will pack, when it begins to rain, 

And leave thee in the storm. 
But I will tarry, the tool will stay. 

And let the wise man fly : 
The kaave turns fool, that runs away ; 
The fool no knave, perdy. 
Kent. Where learn'd you this, fool? 
FooL Not i' the shocks, fool. 

Re enter Lear, wii h Gloster. 
Ltear. Deny to speak with me? 1 hey are 
sick? they are weary ? [fett-li(« ; 

They have travtU'd hard to-night ? Mere 
Tht images of revolt and flying otf I 
Fetch me a better answer. 

Glo. My dear lord» 

You know the fiery quality of the duke ; 
How unrcmoveable and tix'd he is 
In his own course. [sion ! — 

hear, \'eiige<ince ! plague! death! coniu- 
Fiery ? what quality \ why Gloster, Gloster, 
I'd speak with the duke of Cornwall, and his 
wife. [them so. 

Glo, Wtll, my good lord, I have inforniM 
J.ear. Inform'd them ! Dost thou nnder- 
Glo. Ay, my good lord, [stnd me, man ? 
Ijeur, riie king would speak with Corn- 
waJI ; the dear father [l;er service ; 

Would with his «lauiihter speak, commands 

Are they inform'd of this? My breath and 

biood !— [that — 

Fiery? the fiery duke? — Tell the hot duke, 
No, but not yet: — may be, he is not well : 
Infirmity doth still neglect all olfice, [selves. 
Whereto our health is ' ound ; we are not our- 
W'hen nature, beinti oppress'd, commands the 
To sutler with the body: I'll forbear; [mind 
And am fallen out with my more headier will, 



To take the indisposed and sickly fit 

For the sound man. — Death on my state I 

wherefore \^Loo^ivg on Kf.ST»t 

Should he sit here? This act persuades me. 
That this remotion^^ of the duke and her 
Is practice t only. Give me my servant forth : 
Go, tell the duke and his wife, I'd speak with^ 
them, [hear me. 

Now, presently : bid them come forth and 
Or at their chamber door I'll beat the drum. 
Till it cry— Sleep to death. 

Glo. I'd have all well betwixt you. [Eaiti 
Lear, O me, my heart, my rising heart! — 

but, down. 
Fool, Cry to it, nuncle, as the cockney did 
to the eels, when she put them i' the paste $ 
alive; she rapp'd 'am o'the coxcombs with a 
slick, and cry'd. Dourly wanionf:, down: 
'Twas her brother, that in pure kindness to his 
horse, butter'd his hay. 
Enter Coknwall, Rkgan, Gloster, awrf 
Servants. 
Lear. Good morrow to you both. 
Corn. Hail to your grace ! 

[Kent is set at liberty, 
Btg, I am g!ad to see your highness. 
Lear. Regan, I think- you are; I know 
what reason [g''<<t, 

I have to think so: if thou shouldst not be 
I would divorce me from ihy mother's tomb. 
Sepulchring an adultress.— O, are you free? 

[7'o Khnt. 
Some other time for that. — Beloved Regan, 
Thy sister's nau£;hi: O Regan, she haih tied 
Sharp-tooth'd unkindness,like a vulture here, — 
[Faints to his heart, 
I can scarce speak to thee; ihou'lt not oelieve. 
Of how depraved a quality — O Hegan ! 

Beg. I pray you, sir, take patience; 1 have 11 
You less know liow to value her desert, [hope, 
I ban 3he to scant H her duty. 
Jjear. Say, how is that? 

tieg. I cannot think, my sister in the least ' 
Would fail her obligation : ii, sir, perchance. 
She have restrain*.; the riots of your followers, 
'lis on such ground, and to such wholesome 
As clears her from all blame. [c"<^» ^ 

Lear. My curses on her! 
Reg. O, sir, you are old ; 

Nature in you stands on the very verge 
Of her confine: yon shojild be ruled and led 
\\s some discretion, that discerns your siate 
l;ctter than you yourself; Therefore, 1 pray 
That to our sister you do make return ; [you. 
Say, you have wrong'd her, sir. 

L(ur, Ask her forgiveresst 

Do you but maii'k how this becomes the house 1i : 
IJi'ar daughter y I conjess that 1 am old; 
Age is U7inecessary : on my knees 1 heg, 

[Kneeling. 
That yovHl vouchsafe me ruimenty bed, and 

food. 
' Reg. Good sir, no more ; these are unsightly 
Return you to my sister. [trioka; 

Lear, Never, Regah : 



J 



• The disease called the mother, t Removing from their ov/n house. X Artifice 

$ Crust of A pie. U Be wanting lu. 11 Fae order ot families. 



Scene 111.] 



KING LEAR. 



937 



She hath abated me of half my train; [tongne, 
Livjk'cl black upon me; struck me with her 
M /St serpent-like, upou the very heait: — 
All the stored vengeances of heaven fall 
On her ingrateful top ! Strike her young bones. 
You taking airs, with lameness ! 

Carn. ^ Fie, fie, fie ! 

hear. You nimble lightnings, dart your 
blinding tlames 
Into her scornful eyes I Infect her beauty. 
You fen-suck'd fogs, drawn by the powerful 
To fall and blast her pride I [sun. 

Res,. O the blest gods ! 

SjO will you wish on me, when the rash mood's 
on. [my curse ; 

Lear. No, Regan, thou shalt never have 
Thy tender-hefted nature shall not give [thine 
Th e o'er to harshness ; her eyes are fierce, but 
\yo comfort, and not burn : 'Tis not in thee 
To grudge my pleasures, to cut otf my train, 
To bandy hasty words, to scant my sizes*. 
And, in conclusion, to oppose the bolt 
Against my comini;; in: thou better know'st 
The offices of nature, bond of childhood. 
Effects of courtesy, dues of gratitude ; 
Thy half o*the kingdom hast thou not forgot. 
Wherein I thee endow'd. 

Reg. Good sir, to the purpose. 

[Truvipet.s wiihin. 

Lear, Who put my man i'lhe stocks? 

Corn. What trumpet's that \ 

Enter Stewa/d. 

Reg. I know't, my sister's : this approves 

her letter, [come? 

That she would soon be here. — Is your lady 

Lear. This is a slave, whose easy-borrow'd 
pride 
Dwells in the fickle grace of her he follows : — 
Out, varlet, from my sight ? 

Corn. What means your grace? 

Lear. Who stock'd my servant ? Regan, I 

have good hope [O heavens. 

Thou didst not know oft. — Who comes here? 

Enter Goneril. 
If you do love old men, if your sweet sway 
Allow t obedience, if yourselves are old. 
Make it your cause ; send down, and take my 

part ! — 
Art not ashamed to look upon this beard ? — 
\_To Goneril. 
%j Regan, wilt thou take her by the hand? 
. GoH. Why not by the hand, sir ? How have 

I offended ? 
All's not offence, that indiscretion finds. 
And dotage terms so. 

Lear, O, sides, yon are too tough ! 

Will you yet hold? — How came my man i' the 

stocks ? [orders 

Corn. I set him there, sir ; but his own dis- 
Deserved much less advancement. 

Lear. You! did yon? 

Reg. I pray you, father, being weak, seem so. 
If, till the expiration of your month. 
You will return and sojourn with my sister, 
Pismissiug half your train, come then to me ; 



I am now from home, and out of that provision 
Which shall be needful for yourentertainnient. 

Lear. Return to her, and fifty mendisniiss'dJ 
No, rather 1 abjure all roofs, and choose 
To waget against the enmity o' the ai. ; 
To be a comrade with the wolf and owi, — 
Necessity's sharp pinch ! — Return with her? 
Why, the hot-bloodecj France, that dowericsa 

took 
Our youngest boru, I could as well be brought 
To knf.e his throne, and, 6quire-like,pension beg 
To keep base life afoot: — Return with her? 
Persuade me rather to be slave and sumpter) 
To this detested groonj. 

{Looking on the Steward. 

Gon. At your choice, sir. [mad; 

Lear. I pr'ythee, daughter, do not make me 
I will not trouble thee, my child; farewell: 
We'll no more meet,no more see one another:— 
But yet thou art my flesh, my blood, my daugh- 
Or, rather, a disease that's in my flesh, [ter ; 
Which I must needs call mine : thou art a boil, 
A piague-sore,an embossed 1| carbuncle, [thee; 
In my corrupted blood. But I'll not chide 
Let shame come when it will, I do not call it : 
I do not bid the thunder-bearer shoot. 
Nor tell tales of thee to high-judging Jove: 
Mend, when thou canst; be better, at thy lei- 
1 can be patient ; I can stay with Regan, [sure : 
I and my hundred knights. 

Reg. Not altogether so, sir; 

T look'd not for you yet, nor am provided 
For your tit welcome: Give ear, sir, to my sister; 
For those that minglereason with your passion 
Must be content to think you old, and sO' — 
But she knows what she does. 

Lear. Is this well spoken now t 

Reg. I dare ^vouch it, sir: W hat, fifty fol- 
lowers? 
Is it not well ? What should you need of more 1 
Yea, or so many? sith^ that both charge and 
danger [one house. 

Speak 'gainst so great a number? How, in 
Should many people, under two commands. 
Hold amity? ^Tis hard; almost impossible. 

Gon, Why might not you, my lord, receive 

attendance [mine? 

From those that she calls servants, or from 

Reg. Why not, my lord? If then they 
chanced to slack you. 
We could control them : If you will come to me, 
(For now I spy a danger,) I entreat you 
To bring but five and twenty ; to no more 
Will I give place or notice. 

Lear, I gave you all. — 

Reg. And in good time you gave it. 

Lear, Made you my guardians, my deposita- 
But kept a reservation to be foUow'd [ries ; 
With such a number : What, must I come to you 
With five and twenty, Regan? said you so ? 

Reg. And speak it again, my lord ; no more 
with me. [well-favonr'd, 

Lear, Those wicked creatures yet do look 
When others are more wicked ; not being the 
worst. 



• Contract my allowances. + Approve. t War. 

$ A hone tLat carries necessaries on a journey. Q Swelling. % Since* 

4 L 



938 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IIL 



Stands in some rank of prais«: — I'll go with 
thee; {To Goner il. 

Thy fifty yet doth double five and twenty. 
And thou art twice her love. 

Gon. Hear me, my lord ; 

What need you five and twenty, ten, or five. 
To follow in a house, where twice so many 
Have a command to tend you? 
Jieg. What need one 1 

JLear. O, reason not the need : our ba&est beg- 
Are in the poorest thing superlluous: [gars 
Allow not nature more than nature needs, 
Alan's life is cheap as beast's: thou art a lady; 
If only to go warm were gorgeous, [wear'st, 
Why, nature needs not what thou gorgeous 
Which scarcely keeps thee warm. — But, for 
true need, — [I need! 

You heavens, give me that patience, patience 
You see me here, you gods, a poor old man. 
As full of grief as age ; wretched in both ! 
If it be you that stir these daughters' hearts 
Against their father, fool me not so much 
To bear it tamely ; touch me with noble anger I 
O, let not women's weapons, water-drops, 
Stain my man's checks! — Iso, you unnatural 
I will have such revenges on you both, [hags, 
Thatall the world shall — 1 will do such things, — 
What they are, yet I know not ; but they shall be 
The terrors of the earth. You think, I'll weep ; 
!No, I'll not weep : — 

I have full cause of weeping ; but this heart 
Shall break into a hundred thousand flaws. 
Or ere I'll weep : — O, fool, I shall go mad ! 
{Exeunt Lear, Glosteh, Kent, 4; Fool. 



Corn, Let us withdraw, 'twill be a storm. 

{Storm tkCiird at a distance* 
Beg, This house 

Is little ; the old man and his people cannot 
Be well bestow'd. 

Gon. 'Tis his own blame ; he hath put 

Himself from rest, and must n£eds taste his 

folly. [gladly, 

Beg. For his particular, I'll receive him 

But not one follower. 

Gon, So am I purposed. 

Where is my lord of Glosterl 

Be-enter Gloster. 
Corjt. Followed the old man forth: — he is j 
Glo. The king is in high rage. [return'd. • 
Corn,. Whither is he going? 

Glo, He calls to horse ; but will I know not 
whither. [himself. 

Corn, 'lis best to give him way; he lead* 
Gon, My lord, entreat him by no means to 
stay. [bleak winds 

Glo, Alack, the night comee on, and the 
Do sorely rutfle ; for many miles about 
Tbere's scarce a bush. 

Beg. O, sir, to wilful men, j 

The injuries, that they themselves procure, 
Must be their schoolmasters : Shut up your j! 
He is attended with a desperate train ; [doors ; '< 
And what they may incense* him to, being apt | 
To have his ear abused, wisdom bids tear. 
Corn. Shut up your doors, my lord: 'tis a 
wild night;. 
My Regan counsela well ; come out o'the storm. | 

{Exeunt, \ 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. A Neath, 



A Storm is heard, tvitk Thunder and Light- 
ning, 

Enter Kent and a Gentleman, meeting, 

Kent, W ho's here, beside foul weather? 

Gent. One minded like the weather, most 
unquietly. 

Kent, I know you: Where's the king? 

Gent, Contending with the fretful element: 
Bids the wind blow the earth into the sea. 
Or swell the curled waters 'bove the main. 
That things might chany,e or cease: tears bis 

white hair ; 
Which the impetuous blasts, with eyeless rage, 
Catch in their fury, and make nothing of: 
Strives in his little world of man to out-scorn 
'i he to-and-fro contlicting wind and rain. 
This night, wherein the cub-drawn heart would 
The lion and the belly-pinched wolf [couch. 
Keep their fur dry, unbonneted he runs. 
And bids what wiil take all. 

Kent. But who is with him? 

Gent. ^ owe but the fool ; who labours to ont- 
His heart-struck injuries. [jest 

Kent, Sir, I do know you ; 



And dare upon the warrant of my art J, 
Commend a dear thing to you. There is division, 
Althoui h as yet the face of it be cover'd [wall ; 
With mutual cunning, 'twixt Albany and Corn- 
Who have (as who have not, that their great 
stars [no less; 

Throned and set high?) servants, who seen* 
Which are to France the spies and speculations 
Intelligent of our stato ; what hath been seen. 
Either in snuffs and packings § of the dukes; 
Or the hardrein which both of them have borne 
Against the old kind king ; or something deeper. 
Whereof, perchance, these are butfnrnishings||; 
[Butjtrue it is,froni France there coraes a power 
Into this scatter'd kingdom; who already. 
Wise in onr negligence, have secret feet 
In some of our best ports, and are at point 
To show their open banner. — N ow to you : 
If on my credit you dare build so far 
To make your speed to Dover, you shall find 
Some that will thank you, making just report 
Of how unnatural and bemadding sorrow 
The king hath cause to 'plain. 
I am a gentleman of blood and breediug; 
A ndjfrom some knowledge and assurance,offcri 
This office to you.] 



• Instigate. + Whose dugs are drawn dry by its young. 

Which teaches us ** to find the mind's construction in the face." I Siwffii are dislikes, 
and yacKinga underhand coutrivauces. || Samples. 



Seem I 



KINO LEAB. 



939 



Gent, I will talk further with you. 

Kent, No, do not. 

For confirmation that I am much more 
Than my out wall, open this purse, and take 
What it contains: If you shall see Cordelia, 
(As fear not but you shall,) show her this ring; 
And she will tell you who your fellow* is, 
That yet you do not know, fie on this storm! 
I will go seek the king. [more to say 1 

Gent, Give me your hand : Have you no 

, - Kent. Few words, but, to eflfect, more than 

all yet; [your pain 

That, when we have found the king, (in which 

That way ; I'll this ;) he that first lights on him. 

Holla tiie other. [Exeunt severally. 

SCENE II. Another Part of tJie Heath, 
Storm continues. 
Enter Lear and Fool. 
Lear, Blow, wind, and crack your cheeks! 
rage! blow ! 
You cataracts, and hurricanoes, spout 
Till you have drcnch'd our steeples, drown'd 

the cocks ! 
You sulphurous and thought-executing + fires, 
Vaunt courierjsj to oak-cleaving thunder-bolts. 
Singe my white head ! And thou, all shaking 

thunder, 
l^rike flat the thick rotundity o'the world ! 
Crack nature's moulds,all gi-rmens spiil at once. 
That make ingrateful man: 

Fool. O nuncle, court holy water § in a dry 
house is better than this rain-water out o'door. 
Good nuncle, in, and ask thy daughter's bless- 
ing; here's a night pines neither wise men 
nor fools. [spou^, rain! 

Lear. Rumble thy bellyful! Spit, fire! 
Nor rain,wind, thunder, fire, are my daughters; 
I tax not you, you elements, with unkindness, 
I never gave you kingdom, cail'd you children. 
You owe me no subscription || ; why then let fall 
Your horrible pleasure; here I stand, your 

slave, 
A poor, infirm, weak, and despised old man : — 
But yet I call you servile ministers. 
That have with two pernicious daughters join'd 
Your high engender'd battles, 'gainst a head 
So old and white as this. O ! O ! 'tis foul! 

Fool. He that hus a house to put his head 
in, has a good head-piece. 

Tiie cod-piece, that will houses 

Before the head has any. 
The head and he shall louse ;— 

So beggars marry many. 
The man that makes his toe 

What he his heart should make, 
Shall of a corn cry woe. 
And turn his sleep to wake, 
— for there was never yet fair woman, but she 
made mouths in a elass. 

Enter Kent. 
Lear. No, I will be the pattern of all pa- 
tience, I will say nothing. 



Kent, Who's there 1 

Foot. Marry, here's grace, and a cod-piece ; 
that's a wise man, and a fool. 

Kent. Alas! sir, are you here? things that 

love night, [skies 

Love not such nights as these ; the wrathful 

Gallowll the very wanderers of the dark. 

And make them keep their caves : Since I was 

man, [thunder, 

Such sheets of fire, such bursts of horrid 

Such groans of roaring wind and rain, I never 

Remember to have heard : man's nature can- 

The affliction, nor the fear. [not carry 

Lear. Let the great gods. 

That keep this dreadful pother** o'er our heads. 

Find out their enemies now. Tremble, thou 

wretch. 
That hast within thee undivulged crimes, 
Unwhipp'd of justice: Hide thee, thou bloody 
hand; [tue, 

Ihou perjured, and thou simulartt man of vir- 
That art incestuous: Caitiff, to pieces shake. 
That under covert and convenient seeming:;! 
Hast practised on man's lite! — Close pent-up 

guilts, 
Rive your concealing continents, and cry 
These dreadful summoners grace j§. — I am a 
More sinn'd against, than sinning. [man, 

Kent. Alack, bare-headed! 

Gracious my lord, hard by here is a hovel ; 
Some friendship will it lend you 'gainst the 

tempest; 
Repose you there : while I to this hard house, 
(More hard than is the stone whereof 'tis raised ; 
Which even but now, demanding |1|| atter you. 
Denied me to come in,) return, and force 
Their scanted courtesy. 

Lear, My wits begin to turn, — • 

Come on, my boy : How dost, my boy ? Art 
cold I [fellow I 

I am cold myself. — Where is this straw, my 
The art of our necessities is strange, [hovel. 
That can make vile things precious. Come,yonr 
Poor fool and knave, I haveone part in myheart 
That's sorry yet for thee. 

Fool. He that has a little tiny wit, — 

With heigh ho, the wind and the 
rain, — {tunes Jit ; 

Must make content with his jor' 
For the rain it raineth every 
day 11 IF. 
Lear. True, my good boy. — Come, bring us 
to this hovel. [Exeunt Lear 4: Kent. 
Fool, This is a brave night to cool a cour- 
tezan. — I'll speak a prophecy ere I go : 

When priests are more in word than matter ; 
When brewers mar their malt with water; 
When nobles are their tailors' tutors ; 
No heretics- burn'd, but wenches' suitors : 
When every case in law is right; 
No squire in debt, nor no poor knight 
When slanders do not live in tongues ; 
Nor cutpurses come not to throngs ; 



• Companion. t Quick as thought.* t Avant courier, French. 

§ A proverbial phrase for fair words, \\ Obedience. If Scare or frighten. 

• Blustering noise. t+ Counterfeit. Jl Appearance. §$ Favour. iiji liiijuiiic^ 
1I1[ Part of the Clown's soug in Tuelfth Night, 



J^ 



940 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act III, 



When nsnrers tell their gold i*the field ; 

A orl bawds andwhorea do churches build: — 

Then hhaii the realm of Albiou 

Come to t:reat contusion. 

1 ht-n co'ues the time, who lives to see't, 

That going {shall be used with feet. 
This prophecy Merlin shall make ; for 1 live 
bclore his time. [£!a:U. 

SCEN E III. ji Room in Gloster's Castle, 
Enter Gloster and Edmund. 

Glo, Alack, alack, Edmund, I like not this 
nnu.ilural dealing : When I desired their leave 
that 1 might pity him, they took from me the 
use of mine own house: charged me, on p.iiu 
ot their perpetual . ispleasure, neither to speak 
of him, entreat for him, nor any way sus- 
tain him. 

Earn. Most savage, and unnatural I 

Glo. Go to; siy you nothing: Ihere is di- 
vision between the dukes; aiid a worse mat- 
ter thrin that : 1 havf received a letter this 
night ; — 'tis dangerous to he spoken ; — I have 
locked the letter in my closet: these injuries 
the king now bears will be revenged home ; 
there is put of a power already fooled*: we 
mu>t incline to the king. I will seek him, 
and privily relieve him: go you, and maintain 
talk with the duke that luy charity be not of 
hill perceived: if he ask for rae, 1 am ill, 
and gone to bed. If I die for it, as no less is 
threatened me, the king my old master must 
be > elieved. 1 here is some strange, thing to- 
ward, Edmund; pray yi)u, he careful. [ILnt. 

Eum This couitesy .forbid thee,shall the duke 
TnKan ly kni>w ; and of that letter too : — 
This seems a fairdeserving, and must draw me 
That which my father loses; no less than all: 
The younger rises,when the old doth fall. lExit. 

SCENE IV. A Part of the Heath, with a 

Hovel. 

Enter Lear, Kent, and Fool. 

Kent, Here is the place, my lord ; good 
my lord, enter: 
Tht tyranny of the open Bight's too rough 
for nature to endure. \_Storm still, 

Lear, Let me alone. 

Kent, Good my lord, enter here. 

Lear, Wilt break my heart? 

Kent^ I'd rather break mine own : Good 
my lord, enter. [contentious storm 

Lear. Thou think'st 'tis much, that this 
Invades us to the skin : so 'tis to thee ; 
But where the greater malady is fix'd, [bear: 
Ihe lesser is scarce felt. 1 hou'dst shun a 
B»it if thy flight lay toward the raging sea, 
Thou'dst meet the bear i'the mouth. When 

the mind's free, 
The body's delicate : the tempest in my mind 
Doth from my senses take all feeling else. 
Save what beats there. — Filial ingratitude! 
Is it not as this mouth should tear this hand, 
For lifting food to'tt — Hut I will punish home: 
>.o, I will weep no more. — In such a night 
To shut me outl — Pour on; I will endure: — 



In such a night as this I O Regan, Gonenl ! — 
Your old kind father, whose frank heart gave 

all,— 
O, that way madness lies ; let me shun that; 
No more of that, — 

Kent. Good my lord, enter here, [ease; 

Lear, Pr'ythee,goin thyself ; seek thine own 
This tempest will not give rae leave to ponder 
On things would hurt me more. — But I'll go in: 
In, boy; go tirst. — {To the Fool.] You house- 
less poverty, — 
Nay, get thee in. I'll pray, and then I'll sleep 
[Fool goes in 
Poor naked wretches, wheresoe'er you are. 
That bide the pelting of this pitiless storm, 
How shall your houseless heads,and unfed sides 
Your loopM and window'd ragiiedness, defend 
le rom seasons, such as these? 0,1 have ta'en [yo', 
Too little care of this! lake physic, pomp; 
Expose thyself to feel what wretches feel; 
That thou mayst shake the superflux to them^ 
And show the heavens more just. 

Edg. [^/ ithi'f,] Fathom and half, fathom 
and half! Poor lorn' 
[Tfte Fool runs out from the Hovel. 

FooL Come not in here, nuncle, here's a 
spirit. Help me, help me! 

Kent, Give me thy hand. — Who's there? 

Fool. A spirit, a spirit; he says his name's 
poor 1 om. [i'the straw ? 

Kent. What art thou that dost grumble there 
Come forth. 

Enter Edg ah, disguised as a Madman. 

Edg. Away I the foul fiend follows me ; — 
Through the sharp hawthorn blows the cold 

wind. — 
Humph I go to thy cold bed, and warm thee. 

Lear. Hast thou given all to thy two daugh- 
ters? And art thou come to this? 

Edg. Who gives any thing to poor Tom? 
whom the foul fiend hath led through fire and 
through flame, through ford and whirlpool, 
over bog and quagmire; that hath laid knives 
under his pillow, and halters in his pew ; set 
ratsbane by his porridge; made him proud of 
heart, to ride on a bay trotting-horse over four- 
inched bridges, to course his own shadow for 
a traitor : — Bless thy five wits ! Tom's a-cold.— 
O, do de, do de, do de. — I less thee from 
whirlwinds, star-blasting, and taking t! Do 
poor Tom some charity, whom the foul fiend 
vexes : J here could I have him now, — and 
there, — and there, — and there again, and there. 
[Sturfn contiffues. 

Lear. What, have his daughters brought him 

to this pass? — [them all? 

Couldst thou save nothing? Didst thou give 

Fool. N ay, he reserved a blanket, else we 
had been all shamed. 

Lear. N ow, all the plagues that in the pen- 
dulous air [daughters! 
Hang fated o'er men's faults, light on thy 

Kent. He hath no daughters, sir. 

Lear, Death, traitor! nothing could have 

subdued nature [ters. — 

To such a lowness, but hii unkind dangh 



* A force already landed. 



t To take is to blait, or strike with malignant influence. 



Scene IV,] 



KING LEAR. 



941 



jl Is it the fashion, that discarded fathers 

Sliouid have thus little mercy on their flesh? 

Jndicious punishment! 'twas this flesh begot 
I 1 hose pelican daui^hters. 
I -t'dg. I'illicock sat on pillicock's-hill ; — 

Halloo, halloo, loo, loo! 
Fool, i his cold night will turn us all to fools 
ij and madmen. 

{I JSdg. Take heed o'the foul fiend : Obey thy 
I parents; keep thy word justly; swear not; 

commit not with man's sworn spouse ; set not 
I thy sweet heart on proud array : Tom's a-cold. 
I Leur. What hast thou been? 
\ tlitg. A serving-man, proud in heart and 

mind ; that curled iny hair ; wore gloves in my 
{; cap*, served the lust of my mistress's heart, 
I and (lid the act of darkness with her; swore 
i as many oaths as 1 spake words, and broke 
■ them in the sweet face of heaven; one, that 
! slepliii ttie contriving of Inst, and waked to do 
j it: \\ine loved 1 deeply ; dice dearly ; and in 
' woman, out paramoured the lurk: False of 

heart, light of ear, bloody of band: Hog in 
, sloth, fox in stealth, wolf in greediness, (Og in 
li madness, lion in prey. Let not the creaking of 
i shoes, \\(,r the rustling of silks, betray thy poor 
< heart to women : Keep thy foot out of brothels, 
I thy hand out of plackets thy pen from lenders* 
I books and defy the foul fiend. — Still through 
I the hawthorn blows the cold wind : Says suum, 

niun, ha no nonny, dolphin my boy, my boy, 
i sessa ; let him trot by. [Storm continues. 
j Lear. Why, thou were better in thy grave, 
I than to answer with thy uncovered body this 
, extremity of the skies. — Is man no more than 

this? Consider him well : Thou ovvest the worm 

ao silk, the beast no hide, the sheep no wool, 

the cat no perfume:— Hal here's three of us 
\ are sophisticated! — Thou art the thing itself : 

unaccommodated man is no more but such a 
I poor, bare, forked animal as thou art. —Off, 

off, you lendings:— Come, unbutton heret. 

{Tearing oj/ his clothes. 
Fool. Pr'ythee, nuncle, be contented ; this is 

a naughty ni<j;ht to swim in.— ]Sow a little fire 

in a wild field were like an old lecher's heart; 
; a small spark, all the rest of his body cold.— 

L«ok, here comes a walking fire. 

Edg. This is the toul fiend Flibbertigibbet: 

he begins at curfew, and walks till the first cock; 

he liivesthe web and the pini, squints the eye, 

and makes the hare-lip; mildews the white 

■wheat, and hurts the poor creature of earth. 
Saint fVithdd^ footed thrice the wold\\; 
He met the night-mare^ and her nine- 
Bid her alight y , [fold; 
And her troth plight. 
And, aroint thee^, witch, aroint thee! 
Kent. How fares your grace? 

Enter Gloster, ivith a Torch. 
Lear, What's he? 



Kent, Who's there ? What is't you seek ? 

Glo, What are you there? Your names? 

Fldg, Poor Tom; that eats the suinmung 
frog, the toad, the tadpole, the wall-newt, and 
the water** ; that in the fury of his heart, when 
the foul fiend rages, eats cow-dung for sallets ; 
swallows the old rat, and the ditch-dog ; drinka 
the green mantle of the st luding pool ; who is 
whipped from tything to tythingtt,and stocked, 
punished, and imprisoned; who hath had three 
suits to his back, six shirts to his body, hoise 
to ride, and weapon to wear, — 

But mice and rats, and such small deer. 

Have been Tom's j'ood for seven long year. 

Beware my follower:— Peace,Smolkini;; peace, 

thou fiend! [pany T 

Glo. What, hath your grace no better com- 

F^g. The prince of darkness is a gentleman; 
Modo he's call'd, and Mahu§§. [so vile, 

GLo. Our flesh and blood, my lord, is grown 
That it doth hate what gets it. 

Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold. 

Glo. Go in with me ; my duty cannot suffer 
To obey in all your daughters' hard commands ; 
Though their injunction be to bar my doors. 
And letthis tyrannous nighttake hold upon you ; 
Yet have I ventured to coine seek you out. 
And bring you where both fire and food is 
ready. [sopher :— - 

Lear. First let me talk with this philo- 
What is the cause of thunder? 

Kent. Good my lord, take his offer; 
Go into the house. [Theban : 

Lear. I'll talk a word with this same learned 
What is your study? [vermin. 

Edg. How to prevent the fiend, and to kill 

Lear. Let me ask you one word in private. 

Kent. Importune him once more to go, njy 
His wits begin to unsettle. [lord. 

Glo. Canst thou blame him? [Kent! — 

His daughters seek his death : — Ah, that good 
He said it would be thus :-~Poor banish'd man!— 
Thou sayst the king grows mad ; I'll tell thee, 

friend, 
I am almost mad myself; I had a son, [life, 
>;ow outlaw'd from my blood; he sought my 
Rut lately, very late; 1 loved him, friend,— 
No father his son dearer: true to tell thee, 

[Storm continues. 
The grief hath crazed my wits. What a night's 
I do beseech your grace, — [this! 

Lear. O, cry you mercy, 

Noble philosopher, your company. 

Edg. Tom's a-cold. [thee warm. 

Glo. In, fellow, there, to the hovel; keep 

Lear. Come, let's in all. 

Kent. This way, my lord. 

Lear. With him; 

I will keep still with my philosopher. 

Kent. Good my lord, soothe him; let him 

Glo. Take him you on. [take the fellow. 



• It was the custom to wear gloves in the hat, as the favour of a mistress, 
t The words unbutton here, are probably only a marginal direction crept into the matter. 
X Diseases of the eye. $ A saint said to protect his devotees from the disease called 

the night-mare. jj Wild downs, so called in various parts of England. f Avaunt. 

•* «. e., The water -newt. tt A tything is a division of d county. \\ Name of a spirit 

$^ The chief devU. 



942 



SflAKSPEARE. 



[Act III 



Kent, Sirrah, come on ; go along with us. 
Lear, Come, good Athenian. 
Glo, No words, no words; 

Hush. \canie^ 

Edg. Child* Fmvland to the dark tower 
His word was still, — Fie ^f oh, andjum, 
J smell the blood of a British man. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE V. A Room in Gloster's Castle. 

Enter Cornwall and Edmund. 

Corn. I will have my revenge, ere I depart 
his house. 

Edm. How, my lord, I may be censured, 
that n tture thus gives way to loyalty, some- 
thing tears me to think of. 

Corn. I now perceive, it was not altogether 
your brother's evil disposition made him seek 
his death ; but a provoking merit, set a-work 
by a repioveable badness in himself. 

Edm. How malicious is my fortune, that T 
must repent to be just! Ihis is the letter he 
spoke of, which approves him an intelligent 
party to the advantages of France. O heavens! 
that this treason were not, or nut 1 the de- 
tector ! 

Corn. Go with me to the duchess. 

Edm. If the matter of this paper be certain, 
you have mighty business in hand. 

Corv. True, or false, it hath made thee earl 
of Gloster. Seek out where tliy father is, that 
he may be ready for our apprehension. 

Edm. [Aside.'] If I find him comforting the 
king, it will stuft' his suspicion more fully. — I 
will persevere in my course of loyalty, though 
the conflict be sore between that and my blood. 

Corn. I will lay trust upon thee; and thou 
shalt find a dearer father in my love. [Ejceu7it. 

SCENE VI. A Chamber in a Farm-JIotise 

adJoi?dng the Castle, 

JEnter Gloster, Lear, Kent, Fool, and 

Edgar. 

Glo. Here is better than the open air; take 
it thankfully : I will piece out the comfort 
with what addition I can; I will not be long 
from you. 

Kent. All the power of his wits has given 
way to his impatience : — The gods reward your 
kiiidness! [Eiit Gloster. 

Edg. Frateretto calls me; and tells me, Nero 
is an angler in the lake of darkness. Pray, 
innocent 1, and beware the foul fiend. 

Fool. Pr'ythee, nuncle, tell me, whether a 
madman be a gentleman, or a yeoman? 

I^ear. A king, a king! 

Fool. No ; he's a yeoman, that has a gentle- 
man to his son: for he's a mad yeoman, that 
Bees his son a gentleman before him. 

Lf*ar. To have a thousand with red burning 
Come hissing in upon them : — [spits 

Edg, The foul fiend bites my back. 



Fool. He's mad, that trusts in the Innjcness 

of a wolf, a horse's health, a boy's love, or a 

whore's oath. [straight: — 

Lear. It shall be done, I will arraign thera 

Come, sit thou here, most learned juslicer : — 

[7\) Edgar. 

Thou, sapient sir, sit here. [To the Fool.]— 

Now, you she foxes! — 

Edg. Look, where he stands and glares J I — • 

Wantest thou eyes at trial, madam \ 

Come o'er Hie boiirn\, Bessy ^ to me: — 
Fool. Her boat hath a leak. 
And she must not sjieak 
Why she dares not come qver to tliee-. 
Edg. The foul fiend haunts poor Tom in ihc 
voice of a nightingale. Hojjdance cries in 
Tom's belly for two white herrings. Croak 
not, black angel ; I have no food for thee. 
Kent. How do you, sir? Stand you not so 
amazed : 
Will you lie down and rest upon the cushions! 
Lear. I'll seie their trial first: — Bring in the 
evidence. — 
Thou roLed man of justice, take tliy place ; 

[To Edgar. 
And thou, his yoke-fellow of equity, 

[To the Fool. 
Bench by his side :— You are of the commission. 
Sit yon too. [7(9 Kent. 

Ertg, Let us deal justly. 
Steepest, or wukest thon, jolly shepherd? 

Thy sheep be in the corn ; 
And for one blast of thy 7ni/iikin mouth, 

Thy sheep shall take no harm. 
Pur! the cat is grey. 

Lear. Arraign her first; tis Goneril. I here 
take my oath before this honourable assembly, 
she kicked the poor king her father. 

Foot. Come hither, mistress; Is your name 
Goneril? 
Lear. She cannot deny it. 
Fool. Cry you mercy, I took you for a 
joint-6tool. 

Lear. And here's another, whose warp'd, 1 
looks proclaim [there I ^ 

What store her heart is made of. — Stop her 
Arms, arms, sword, fire ! — Corruption in the 
place! False justicer, why bast thou let her 
*8capet 

Edg, Blesa thy five wits ! 
Keht, O pity!— Sir, where is the patience 
That you so oft have bo.isted to retain ? [now, 
Edg. My tears begin to take his part so 
much, 
They'll mar my counterfeiting. [A'^ide, 

Lear, The little dogs and all, [^t me. 

Tray, Blanch, and Sw'eat-heart, see, they bark 
E(/g. Tom will throw his head at them;—* 
Avaunt, you curs ! 

Be thy mouth or black or white. 
Tooth that poisons if it bite; 
Mastitf, grey-houpd, mongrel grim. 
Hound, or spaniel, brach, or lymH; 



• Child is an old term for knight, 
t Addressed to the Fool, who were anciently called Innocents, 
t Edgar is speaking in the character of a madman, who thinks he sees the 
^ Brook or rivulet. U A biood-houud. 



Scene K/.j 



KING LEAR. 



94.3 



Or bobtail tike, or tmndle-tail ; 
Tom will make tliem weep and wail: 
For, with tlirowi'ng thus my head. 
Dogs leap the hatch, and all are fled. 
D ) de, de de. Sessa. Come, march to wakes 
and fairs, and market tf wns : — Poor Tom, thy 
horn is dry. 

Len^. Ihen let them anatomize Regan, see 
what breeds about her heart: Is there any 
cause \\\ nature, that makes these hard hearts ? 
— You, sir, 1 entertain you for one of my hun- 
dred; only, I do not like the fashion of your 
gatments: you will say, they are Persian 
attire; bullet them be changed, [/b Edgar. 
Kent. Now, good my lord, lie here, and 
rest awhile. 

Lear, Make no noise, make no noise ; draw 
the curtains : So, so, so : We'll go to supper 
i' the morning: So, so, so. 

Fool. And I'll go to bed at noon. 

Reenter Gloster. 
Glo. Come hither, friend: Where is the 

king my master? 
Kent. Here, sir; but trouble bim not, his 
wits are gone. [thy arms ; 

Glo. Good friend, I pr'ythee take him in 
I have o'er-heard a plot of death upon him ; 
There is a litter ready ; lay him in't, 
And drive towards Dover, friend, where thou 
shalt meet [master: 

Both welcome and protection. Take up thy 
If thou shouldst dally half an hour, his life. 
With thine, and all that otfer to defend him. 
Stand in assured loss: Take up, take up; 
And follow me, that will to some provision 
Give thee quick conduct. 

Kent. Oppress'd nature sleeps: — [senses, 
This rest might yet have balm'd thy broken 
Which, if convenience will not allow. 
Stand in hard cure. — Come, help to bear thy 

master ; 
Thon must not stay behind. \To the Fool. 
Glo. Come, come, away. 

[£ie7/w?KENT, GLOSTERjttTid the Fool, 
heiiriiig ojj the King. 
£(fg' When we our betters see bearing our 
woes. 
We scarcely think our miseries our foe&. 
W^ho alone suffers, suffers most i' the mind; 
Leaving free things, and happy shows, behind : 
But then the mind much sufferance doth o'er- 

skip, 
When grief hath mates, and bearing fellowship. 
How light and portable my pain seems now. 
When that, which makes me bend, makes the 

king bow; 
He c'nilded, as I fathered !— Tom, away: 
Mark the high noises* ; and thyself bewray t. 
When false opinion, whose wrong thought de- 

iiles thee. 
In thy just proof, repeals, and reconciles thee. 
What will hap more to-night, safe scape the 

king I 
Lurk, lurk [Exit. 



SCENEVII. A Room in Gloster's Castle. 

Enter Cornwall, Regan, Goneril, 
Edmund, and Servants. 

Corn. Post speedily to my lord your hus- 
band; show him this letter: — the army of 
France is landed: — .Seek out the villain Glos- 
ter. [ Exeunt some of the Servants. 

Reg. Hang him instantly. 

Gon. Pluck out his eyes. 

Corw.Leavehimto m> displeasure. Edmund, 
keep you our sister company ; the revenges 
we are bound to take upon your traitorous 
fatlier, are not fit for your beholding. Advise 
the duke, wliere you are going, to a most festi- 
nate preparation ; we are bound to the like. 
Oar posts shall be swift, and inteiligent betwixt 
us. Farewell, dear sister;— farewell, my lord 
of Gloster j. 

Enter Steward. 
How now? Where's the king? [him hence: 

Stew. My lord of Gloster hath convey'd 
Some live or six and thirty of his knifi;hts. 
Hot queslrists^ after him, met him at gate; 
Who, with some other of the lord's dependants. 
Are gone with him towards Dover ; where 
To have well-arm'd friends. [they boast 

Corn. Get horses for your mistress. 

Gon. Farewell, sweet lord, and sister. 

[Exeunt Gon LRii. and Edmund. 

Cor7i. Edmund, farewell. — Go, seek the 
traitor Gloster, 
Pinion him like a thief; bring him before us : 
[Eveunt other Servants. 
Though well we may not pass upon his life 
Without the form of justice; yet our power 
Shall do a courtesy || to our wrath, which men 
May blame, but not control. Who*b there 1 
The traitor ? 
Re-enter Servants, tuith Gloster. 

Reg. Ingrateful fox! 'tis he. 

Corn. Bind fast his corky f arms. 

Glo. What mean your graces? Good my 

friends, consider 
You are my guests : do me no foul play, friends. 

Corn. Bind him, I say. [Servants bind him.. 

Reg. Hard, hard :— O filthy traitor ! 

Glo, Unmerciful lady as you are, I am none. 

Corn. To this chair bind him : — Villain, thou 
shalt find — [Reg an plucks his heard. 

Glo. By the kind gods, 'tis most ignobly done 
To pluck me by the beard. 

Reg. So white, and such a traitor. 

Glo, >^aughtylady. 

These hairs, which thou dost ravish from niy 
chin, ^ost; 

Will quicken**, and accuse thee: 1 am your 
With robbers' hands, my hospitable favours tt 
You should not ruffle thus. What will you do? 

Corn. Come, sir, what letters had you late 
from France ? [truth. 

Reg. Be simple-answer'd,for we know the 

Corn. And what confederacy have you with 
Late footed in the kingdom ? [the traitors 



♦ The great events that are approaching. 
Meaning Edmund invested with his father's title. 
% Deceitful. •♦ live. 



+ Betray, discover. 
j Inquirers. U Bend to ow wvath* 
ft Features* 



944 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IP. 



A'ti;. To whose hands have you sent the 
Sp«'ak. [lunatic king? 

Glo I have a letter guessingiy set down, 
Which came from one that's of a neutral heart, 
And not from one opposed. 

Corn Cunning. 

Reg. And false. 

Corn Where hast thou sent the king ? 

Glo. lo Dover. 

Beg. Wherefore 

To Dover? Wast thou not charged at thy peril — 

Corn. Wlierrfore to Dover? Let him first 
answer ihat. [stand the course. 

Glo. 1 am tied to the stake, and 1 must 

Jieg. Wherefore to Dover? 

Glo. I'ecaiise I would not see thy cruel nails 
Pluck out his poor old eyes; nor thy fierce sister 
In his anointed tlesh stick boarish fangs. 
The »ra, with stich a storm as his bare head 
luhell-Dlack night eadured,would ha\ e buoy'd 
up, [heart, 

And quench'd the stelled ♦ fires : yet, poor old 
lie holp the heavens to rain. 
If wolves had at thy gate howl'd that stern 
time, [the key; 

Thou shouldsthave said, Good porter, turn 
All cniels else subscribed t : — But I shall see 
The winged vengeance ovei take such children. 

Corn. See it shalt thou never: — Fellows, 
hodd the chair: 
Upon these eyes of thine I'll set my foot. 
[Glostlr is held doivn in his Chair, 
while Cornwall plucks out one of 
his Eyes, and sets his Foot on it. 

Glo. He, that will think to live till he be old, 
Give n)e some help: O cruel! O ye gods! 

Jleg. One side will mock another; 5ie other 

Corn. If you see vengeance, — [too. 

Serv. Hold your hand, my lord: 

I have served you ever since I was a child ; 
But better service have 1 never done you. 
Than now to bid you hold. 

Reg. How now, you dog? 
Sen . If you did wear a beard upon your chin, 
I'd shake it on this quarrel ; What do you mean? 

Corn. My villain I [Draws , 4 runs at him. 



Serv. Nay, then come on, and take the 
chance of anger. 
[ Draws. They fight. Corn . is wounded, 
Reg. Give me thy sword. [To another ^et\.\ 
A peasant stand up thus ! 
[Snatches a Sword, comes behind, and 
stabs him. [one eye lett 

Serv. O, 1 am slain!— My lord, you have 
To see some mischief on him : — O ! [ Di^ s. 
Corn. Lest it see more, prevent it: — Out, 
Where is thy lustre now ? [vile jelly ! 

[Teajs out Glostjer's other Eye, and 
thr oil's it on the Ground. 
Glo. All dark and comfortless. Where's 
my son Edmund? 
Edmund, enkindle all the sparks of nature. 
To quit X this horrid act. 

Reg. Out, treacherous villain! 

Thou call'ston him that hates thee ; it was he 
'i hat made the overture § of thy treasons to us ; 
Who is too good to pity thee. 

Glo. O my follies ! 

Then Edgar was abused. — 
Kind gods, forgive me that, and prosper him ! 
Reg. Go, thrust him out at gates, and let 
him smell [look you? 

His way to Dover. — Ilowis't, my lord ? IIow 
Cor?i. I have received a hurt : — Follow me, 
lady.— 
Turn out that eyeless villain ;— throw this slave 
Upon the dunghill. — Kegan, I bleed apace: 
Untimely comes this hurt : Give me your arm 
[Eu.it Corn, led by Regan ; — Servants 
unbind Gloster, and lead him ont. 

1 Serv. I'll never care what wickedness I do. 
If this man comes to good. 

2 Serv. If she live long. 
And, in the end, meet the old course of death, 
Wonien will all turn mousters. 

1 Serv. Let's follow the old earl, and get the 

Bedlam II [madness 

To lead him where he would ; his roguish 
Allows itself to any thing. [whites of eggs, 

2 Serv^ Go thou ; I'll fetch some flax, and 
To apply to his bleeding face, ^ow, heaven 

help him I [Exeunt severally. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. The Heath. 

Enter Edgar. 

Edg. Yet better thus, and known to be con- 
temn'd, [worst, 

Than ^till contemn'd and flatter'd^. To be 
The lowest and most dejected thing of fortune. 
Stands still in esperance**, lives not in fear: 
The lamentable change is from the best; 
1 he worst returns to laughter. Welcome then. 
Thou unsubstantial air, that I embrace! 
The wretch, that thou hast blown unto the 
worst, [here?— 

Owes nothing to thy blasts. — But who comes 



Enter Gloster, led by an old Man. 
Myfather,poorly led? — World,world,0 worldl 
But that (hy strange mutations tt make us hate 
Life would not yield to age. [thee, 

Old M. O, mv uood lord, T have been your 
tenant, and your father's tenant, these fourscore 
years. [gone: 

Glo. Away, get thee away ; good friend, be 
Thy comforts can do me no good at all. 
Thee they may liuvt. 

Old M. A lack, sir, you cannot see your way. 

Glo. I have no way, and therefore want no 
eyes ; 
I stumbled when I saw : Full oft 'tis .seen. 



• Starred. + Yielded, submitted to the necessity of the occasion. t Requite. 

S Land open. |j Madman. ^ i. e.. It is better to be thus contemned and know it, than 

to be flattered by those wko secretly contemn as. ♦• lu hope, tt Cbaogeg. 



Scene /.] 



KING LEAR. 



945 



Our mean secures us ; and our mere defects 
Prove our commodities. — Ah, dear son Edgar, 
The food of thy abused father's wrath! 
Might I bui live to see thee in my touch, 
I'd say, I'd eyes again ? 

Old M, How now? Who-'s there? 

Edg. [Aside.'] O gods! Who is't can say, 
1 am at the ivorst / 
I am worse than e'er I was. 

Old 31. *Tis poor mad Tom. 

Edg. [Aside.] And worse I may be yet : 
The worst is not, 
So long as we can say. This is the worst. 

Old M. Fellow, where i^oesf? 

Glo. Is it a beggar-man ? 

Old M. Madman and beggar too. [not beg. 

Glo. He has some reason, else he could 
I'the last niglit's storm 1 such a fellow saw; 
Which made me think a man a worm ; My son 
Came then into my mind ; and yet my mind 
Was then scarce friends with him: I have 

heard more since: 
As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods ; 
They kill us for their sport. 

Edg. How should this be ?— 

Bad is the trade must play the fool to sorrow. 
Angering itself and others. [Aside.] — Bless 
thee, master! 

Glo. Is that the naked fellow 1 

Old M. Ay, my lord. 

Glo. Then, pr'ythee, get thee gone : If, for 
my sake. 
Thou wilt o'ertake us, hence a mile or twain, 
I'the way to Dover, do it for ancient love ; 
And bring some covering for this naked soul, 
Whom I'll entreat to lead me. 

Old M. Alack, sir, he*s mad. 

Glo. 'lis the time's plague, when madmen 
lead the blind. 
Do as I bill thee, or rather do thy pleasure ; 
Above the rest, be gone. [have, 

Old M. I'll bring him the best 'parel that 1 
Come on't what will. [Exit. 

Glo. Sirrah, naked fellow ! 

Edg. Poor Tom's a-cold — I cannot daub * 
it further. [Aside. 

Glo. Come hither, fellow. 

Edg. [Aside.] And yet I must. Bless thy 

sweet eyes, they bleed. 

Glo. Knowst thou the way to Dover? 

Edg. Both stile and gate, horse-way, and 
foot path. Poor Tom hath been scared out of 
his good wits : Bless the good man from the 
foul fiend ! Five fiends have been in poor Tom 
at once; of Inst, as Obidicut ; Hobbididance, 
prince of dumbness; MaAw, of stealing; Modo, 
of murder; and Flibbertigibbet, of mopping 
and mowing; who since possesses chamber- 
maids and waiting-women. So, bless thee, 
master! 

Glo. Here, take this purse, thou whom the 
heaven's plagues 
Have humbled toall strokes: thnt I am wretched 
Makes thee the happier: — Heavens, deal so 
still! 



Let the superfluous, and lust-dieted man. 
That slaves your ordinancet, that will not see 
Because he doth not feel, feel your j>ower 
So distribution should undo excess, [quickly 
And each man have enough. Dost thou 

Edg. Ay, master. [know Dover? 

G/o. There is a cliflf, whose high and bending 
Looks fearfully in the confined deep: [head 
Bring me but to the very brim of it. 
And I'll repair the misery thou aost bear. 
With something rich about me: from tnat place 
I shall no leading need. 

Edg, Give me thy arm ; 

Poor Tom shall lead thee. [Exeunt, 

SCENE II. Before the Duke of Albany's 

Palace. 

Enter GoNi&Rii^ aiid Edmund; Steward 

meeting them. 

Gon. Welcome, my lord: I marvel, our mild 

husband [master? 

Not met us on the way : — Now, where's your 

Stew, Madam, within; but never man so 

changed ; - 

I told him of the array that was landed ; 

He smiled at it: I told him, you were coming; 

His answer was. The worse: of Gloster's ti ea- 

And of the loyal service of his son, [chery. 

When I inform'd him, then he call'd me sot ; 

And told me, 1 had turn'd the wrong side out: — 

What most he should dislike, seems pie isant 

What like, offensive. [to liim ; 

Gon. Then shall you go no further. 

[To Edmund. 

It is the cowish terror of his spirit. 

That dares not undertake : he'll not feel wrongs. 

Which tie him to an answer: Our wishes, <ra 

the way, [brother: 

May prove effects J. Back, Edmund, to my 

Hasten his musters, and conduct his powers : 

I must change arms athome, and give the distaft 

Into my husband's hands. This trusty servant 

Shall pass between us: ere long, you are like 

to hear, 
If you dare venture in your own behalf, 
A mistress's command. Wear this; spare 
speech; [Git ing a favour. 

Decline your head: this kiss, if it durst speak. 
Would stretch thy spirits up into the air; — 
Conceive, and fare thee well. 
Edm. Yours in the ranks of death. 
Gon. My most de.ir Glosterl 

[Eiit Edmund. 
O, the difference of man. and man ! i o thee 
A woman's services are due; my fool 
Usurps my bed. 
Stew. Madam, here comes my lord. 

[Exit Steward, 
Enter Albany. 
Gon. I have been worth the whistle §. 
Alb. O Goneril! 

Yon are not worth the dust which the rude wind 
Blows in your face — I fear your disposiiiou; 
That nature, which contemns its origin. 
Cannot be border'd certain in itseif ; 



* Disguise. + i. e.. To make it subjeft to us, instead of acting in obedieMce to It. 

X i. e.f Our wishes on the road may be completed. <j Woith calling for. 



946 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act TV. 



She that herself will sliver* and disbranch 
From her material sap, perforce must wither, 
And come to deadly use. 

Gon. No more; the text is foolish. [vile: 

Alh. Wisdom and goodness to the vile seem 

Filths savour but themselves. What have you 

done? 
Tigers, not daughters ,what have you perform^? 
A father, and a gracious aged man, 
Whose reverence the head-lugg'd bear would 
lick, [madded. 

Most barbarous, most degenerate! have you 
Could my good brother suifer you to do if? 
A man, a prince, by him so benefited ? 
If that the heavens do not their visibJe spirits 
Send quickly down to tame these vile offences, 
'Twill come, 

Humanity must perforce prey ou itself. 
Like monsters of the deep. 

Gon, Milk-liver*dman! 

That bearst a cheek for blows, a head for 

wrongs ; 
Who hast not in thy brows an eye discerning 
Thine honour from^thy suffering; that not 

know'st, 
Fools do those villains pity, who are punish*d 
Ere they have done their mischief. Where's 
thy drum ? land ; 

France spreads his banners in our noiseless 
With plumed helm thy slayer begins threats; 
Whilst thou, a moral fool, sit'st still, and cri est, 
Alack! why does ht so? 

Alb. See thyself, devil! 

Proper deformity seems not in the fiend 
So horrid, as in woman. 

Go)f. O vain fool! [for shame, 

Alb. Thou changed and self-cover'd thing, 
Be-monster not thy feature. Were it my fitness 
To iet t.iese hands obey my blood t. 
They are apt enough to dislocate and tear 
Thy tlesh and bones: — Howe'er tliouartafiend, 
A woman's shape doth shield thee. 

Gon. Marry, yo^ manhood now ! 
Enter a Messenger. 

A lb. What news ? [wall's dead , 

Aless. O, my good lord, the duke of Corn- 
Slain by his servant, going to put out 
The other eye of Glostor. 

A^b. Gloster's eyes! [remorse. 

Mess. A servant that he bred, thriil'd with 
Opposed against the act, bending his sword 
To his great master; who, thereat enraged. 
Flow on him,and amongst them fell'd him dead: 
Fnt notvvithoutthntharmfulstroke,which since 
Hath pluck'd him after. 

Afb. This shows you are above. 

Yon justioers, that these our nether crimes 
So speedily can venge! — But,0 poor Gloster ! 
Lost he his other eye? 

Mess. Both, both, my lord. — 

7 his letter, madam, craves a speedy answer; 
*1 is from your sister. 

Gun. [Asi:/(.] One way I like this well; 
But being widow, and my Gloster with her, 
May all the building in my fancy pluck 



Upon my hateful life: Another v/ay, 
The news is not so tart. — I'll read and answer. 

[Erit. 
Alb. Where was his son, when they dira take 

his eyes? 
Mess. Come with my lady hither. 
Alb. He is not here. 

Mess. No, my good lord ; I met him back 
Alb. Knows he the wickedness? [again. 
Mess. Ay, my good lord; 'twas he inform'd 
against him ; [punishment 

And quit the house on purpose, that their 
Might have the freer course. 

Alb. Gloster, I live 

To thank thee for the love thou show'dst the 

king, [friend ; 

And to revenge thine eyes. — Come hither. 

Tell me what more thou knowest. [Kieunt, 

SCENE III. The French Camp near Dover. 
JE^nter Kent, and a Gentleman. 
Kent. Why the king of France is so suddenly 
gone back know you the reason? 

Gew^.Something he left im perfect inthe state. 

Which since his coming forth is thought of; 

which [danger. 

Imports to the kingdom so much fear and 

That his personal return was most required. 

And necessary. 

Kent. Who hath he left behind him general? 

Gent. The Mareschal of France, Monsieur 

le Fer. 
Kent. Did your letters pierce the queen to 
any demonstration of grief? 

Ge7it. Ay, sir ; she took them, read them in 
my presence; 
And now and then an ample tear trill'd down 
Her delicate cheek: it seem'd,shewas a queen 
Over her passion; who, most rebel-like. 
Sought to be king o'er her. 

Kent. O, then it moved her. 

Gent. Not to a rage: patience and sorrow 

strove [seen 

Who should express her goodliest. Yon have 

Sunshine and rain at once : her smiles and tears 

Were like a better day : Those happy smiles, 

That play'd on her ripe lip, seem'd not to 

know [thence. 

What guests were in her eyes; which parted 

As pearls from diamonds dropp'd. — In brief. 

Would be a rarity most beloved, if all [sorrow 

Could so become it. 

Kent. Made she no verbal question!? 
Gen?. 'Faith, once, or twice, she heaved the 
name Oi father 
Pantingly forth, as if it press'd her heart; 
Cri%d,\sisters! sisters!— Sha7?ie of ladies! 
sisters ! [i^the nigh t ? 

Kent! father! sisters! Vf^at? i*the storm? 
Lit pity not be believedi /—There she shook 
The holy water from her heavenly eyes, 
And clamour moisten'd : then away she started 
To deal with gi ief alone. 

Kent. It is the stars, 

Ttie stars above us, govern our conditions |; 



• Tear off. t Inclination. 

$ i, e.y Let not pity be snpposed to exist. 



X Discourse, conversation. 

U Dispositii OS. 



Scene IJl.] 



KIAG LEAR. 



94 



Else one self mate and mate conld no be^et 
Sach differem issue*. You spoke not with her 

Gent. No. [since'? 

Kent. Was this before the king return'd? 

Gent. No, since. 

Kent. Well, sir ; The poor distress d Lear is 
i'the town ; 
" Who sometime, in his better tune, remembers 
What vve are come about, and by no means 
Will yield to see his daughter. 

Gent. Why, good sir? 

Kent. A sovereign shame so elbows him: 

his own uukindness, [her 

That stripp'd her from his benediction, turn'd 

To foreign casualties, gave her dear rights 

U'o his dog-hearted daughters, — these things 

sting 
His mind so venomously, that burning shame 
Detains him from Cordelia. 

Gent. Alack, poor gentleman! 

Kent. Of Albany's and Cornwall's powers* 
you heard not? 

Gent. 'Tis so; they are afoot. [Lear, 

Kent. Well, sir, I'll bring you to our master 
And leave you to attend him : some dear cause t 
Will in concealment wrap me up awhile; 
When 1 am known aright, you shall not grieve 
Lending me this acquaintance. I pray you, go 
Along with me. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. The same. A Tent. 
Enter Cordelia, Physician, and Soldiers. 

Cor. Alack, 'tis he; why, he was met even 
As mad as the vex'd sea ; singing aloud ; [now 
Crown'd with rank fumiterj, and furrow 
weeds, [ers, 

Withharlocks§, hemlock, nettles, cuckoo-tlow- 
Darnel, and all the idle weeds that grow 
In our sustaining corn. — A century send forth ; 
Search every acre in the high-grown field, 
And bring him to our eye. [Au item Othcer.] — 

What can man's wisdom do. 
In the restoring his bereaved sense? 
He, that helps him, take all my outward worth. 

Phy. There is means, madam : 
Our foster-nurse of nature is repose, 
'Ihe which he lacks; that to provoke in him. 
Are many simples operative, whose power 
Will close the eye of anguish. 

Cor. All bless'd secrets. 

All you unpublish'd virtues of the earth, 
Spring with my tears! beaidant,and remediate, 
In the good man's distress! — Seek, seek for him; 
Lest his ungovern'd rage dissolve the life 
That wants the means to lead itl|. 
Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. Madam, news ; 

The British powers are marching hitherward. 

Cor. 'lis known before; our preparation 
stands 
In expectation of them. — O dear father. 
It is tiiy business that I go about; 
Therefore great France 



My mourning, ajid important^ tears, hath 

pitied. 
No blown** ambition doth our arms incite. 
But love, dear love, and our aged fathei 's right : 
Soon may I hear, and see hiiu. {Exeunt, 

SCENE V. A Rornn in Gloster's Castle, 
Enter Reg ax and Steward. 

Reg. But are my brother's powers set forth? 

Stew. Ay, madam. 

Reg. Himself 

In person there? 

Steic, Madam, with much ado: 

Your sister is the better soldier. [at home? 

iifg. Lord Edmund spake not with your lord 

iS'^feit'. No, madam. [him? 

Reg. What might import my sister's le-tter to 

Stew. I know not, lady. [matter. 

Reg. 'Faith, he is posted hence on serious 
It was great ignorance, Gloster's eyes being out. 
To let him live; where he arrives, he moves 
^Ul hearts a^^ainstus: Edt!nind,Ithink,isgone, 
In pity of his misery, to despatch 
His uighted lifett; moreover, to descry 
The strength o'the enemy. [my letter. 

Stew. 1 must needs after him, madam, with 

Keg. Our troops set forth to-morrow ; stay 
The ways are dangerous. [with us; 

Steiv, I may not, madam; 

My lady charged my duty in this business. 

Reg. Why should she write to Edmund? 
might not you 
Transport her purposes by word? Eelike, 
Something — I know not what : — I'll love thee 
Let me unseal the letter. [much, . 

Sttiv. Madam, I had rather — ' 

Reg. I know, your lady does not love her 

husband ; 

I am sure of that: and, at her late being here. 

She gave strange ceiliadsjj, and most speaking 

looks [bosom. 

To noble Edmund: I know, you are of her 

Stew. I, madam? [know it: 

Reg. I speak in understanding; you are, I 
Therefore, I do advise you, take this note§§ : 
My lord is dead ; Edmnnd and I have talk'd ; 
And )nore convenient is he for my hand. 
Than for your lady's: — You may gather more|H|. 
If you do find him, pray you, give him this ; 
And when your mistress hears thus much from 
1 pray, desire her call her wisdom to her. [you. 
So, fare you well. 

If you do chance to hear of that blind traitor. 
Preferment falls on hiiu that cuts him oflf. 

Stew. 'Would I conld meet him, madam ! I 
What party I do follow. [would show 

Reg. Fare thee well. [Eieunt, 

SCENE VI. The Country near Dover. 

Enter Gloster, and Edgar, dressed like a 

Peasant, 

Glo. When shall we come to the top of tha* 

same hill? 



♦ Forces. t Important business. t Fumitory. § Charlocks. 

ll i. e.f The reason which should guide it. IT Importunate. •* Inflated, swelling, 

it u e., His life made dark as night. ++ A cast, or siR:nificint glance of the eye, 

jj Observe what I am saying. \\\\ infer more. 



94S 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act ir 



Edg, You do climb up it now : look, how 
we labour. 

Glo, Methinks, the ground is even. 

tJflg. Horrible steep : 

Hark, do you hear the sea? 

Glo, ^Oy truly. 

Edg. Why, then your other senses grow im- 
Ey your eyes' anguish. [perfect 

Glo. So may it be, indeed : 

Methinks, thy voice is alter'd ; and thou speakst 
In better phrase, and matter, than thou didst. 

Edg, Yon are much deceived; in hothinj^ 
But in my garments. [am I changed, 

Glo, Methinks, you are better spoken. 

Edg. Come on, sir; here's the place: — stand 
still. — How fearful 
And dizzy 'tis, to cast one's eyes s>o low! 
Ihe crows, and choughs*, that wing the mid- 
way air, 
Sl'.owscarce so gross as beetles : Halfway down 
Hangs one that gathers samphire t; dreadful 

trade! 
Methinks, he seems no bigger than his head: 
1 he fishermen, that walk upon the beach, 
-Appear like mice; and yon tall anchoring bark, 
l^iminish'd to her cock j; her cock, a buoy 
>\imost too small for sight: The murmuring 

surge. 
That on the unnumber'd idle pebbles chafes. 
Cannot be heard so high : - I'll look no more ; 
Lest my brain turn, and the deficient sight 
Topple j down headlong. 

Glo, Set me where you stand. 

Edg, Give me your hand: You are now 
within a foot 
Of the extreme verge : for all beneath the moon 
Mould I not leap upright. 

Glo, Let go my hand. 

Here, friend, is another purse ; in it a jewel 
\v eU worth a poor man's taking : Fairies, and 

gods, 
Trosper it with thee! Go thou further oflf; 
iiid me farewell, and let me hear thee going. 

iSrijg^. Now, fare you well, good sir. 

\^Seems to go, 

Glo. With ail my heart. 

Edg, Why I do trifle thus with his despair, 
Ifi done to cure it. 

Glo, O you mighty gods ! 

Tliis world 1 do renounce; and, in your sights, 
Shike patiently my great affliction oft: 
Jr I could bear it J uiger, and not fall 
'J (» quarrel with your great opposeless wills, 
My s»uiff, and loathed part of nature, should 
I'.iirn iiself out. If Edgar live, O, bless him! — 
iso i, fellow, fare tiiee well. 

\^He leaj)St and falls along. 

Edg, Gone, sir f farewell. — 

Ai.d yet I know not how conceit may rob 
T hr treasury of life, when life itself j^ thought, 
Tit-Ids to the theft: Had he been where he 
!'.> this. hadthought been past. — Alive,ordead? 
Ho, you sirl friend! — Hear you, sir'f — speak! 



Thus might he paw indeed || : — Yet he revives 
What are you, sir? 
Glo, Away, and let me die. 

Edg, Hadst thou been aught but gossamer/ 
feathers, air. 
So many fathom down precipitating. 
Thou hadst shiver'd like an egg: but thou do8t| 
breathe ; [art sound." 

Hast heavy substance ; bleed'stnot; speakst ;* 
Ten masts at each make not the altitude. 
Which thou hast perpendicularly fell ; ' 

Thy life's a miracle: i<peak yet again. ' 

Glo. But have I fallen, or no? [! ournf ;• 
Edg. From the dre d summit of this chalkyi 
Look up a-height ; — the shrill-gorged *• lark »o D 
Cannot be seen or heard : do but look up. [fai.l 

Glo. Alack, I have no eyes. — 
Is wretchedness depi ived that benefit [fort,| 
To end itself by death ? 'Twas yet some com-' 
When misery could beguile the tyrant's rage, 
And frustrate hi» proud will. 

Edg, Give me your arm: 

Up: So; — How is't? Feel you jour legsf 

Glo. Too well, too well. [You stand."* 

Edg. This is above all strangeness. 

Upon the crowr. o'the clift,what thing was that 

Which parted from you? 

Glo. A poor unfortunate beggar," 

Edg. As I stood here below, methought, his 

eyes 

Were two full moons; he had a thousand noses. 

Horns whelk*dtt,and waved like the enridged 

sea ; 
It was some fiend : Therefore, thou happy- 
father, [honours' 
Think that the clearest jt gods, who make them > 
Of men's impossibilitie«, have preserved thee. 
Glo. I do remember now: henceforth I'll 
Affliction, till it do cry out itself, [bear 
Enough, e7iOugh, and, die. J hat thing you 

speak of, 
I took it^for a man; often 'twould say. 
The Jieiidythejiend : he led me to that place, l^ 
Edg. Bear free and patient thoughts. — But J 
who comes here? 
Enter 'Lv.kr, j ant astically dressed up with 

Flofvers, 
The safer sense will ne'er accommodate 
His master thus. 

/.fa/ .No, they cannot touch me for coining; 
I am the king himself. 

iCdg. O thou side-piercing sight! 
Lear. Nature's above art in that respect. 
There's your press-money. J hat fellow handles 
his bow like a crow keeper: draw me a clo- 
thier's§§ yard. — Look, look, a mouse! Peace, ^ 
peace; this piece of toasted cheese will do't. 
there's my gauntlet; Til prove it on a giant. 
Bring up the brown bills ||. O, well flown^ 
bird. — i'theclout,i'the clout liH: hewgh I Give 
the word***. 
JE'r/o. Sweet marjoram, I 

Lear, Pass. 



♦ Daws. + A vegetable gathered for pickling. J Her cock-boat. § Tumble. 

|l Thus might he cie in rraiity. ^ i. e., This chalky boundary t)f England. 

♦♦ Shrillrhroafed. ft 1 wisted, convolved. tt Ihe purest. §§ An arrow of a cloth 
y ird loiij;. jJH Battle-axes. 1;1i The white mark for archers to aim at. ♦•• The watch woid. 



eene VI.} 



KING LEAR. 



949 



Glo. I know that voice. 

Lear. Ha! Goueril! with a white beard! — 
They flatter'd me like a dog; and told me, I 
had white hairs in my beard, ere the black 
ones were there. To say «y, and 710, to every 
thing 1 said.— Ay and no too was uo good 
divinity. When the rain came to wet me 
once, and the wind to make me chatter; when 
the thunder would not peace at my bidding; 
there I found them, there I smelt them out. 
Go to, they are not men o'their words : they 
told aie I was every thing ; 'tis a lie ; I am 
not ague-proof. 

Glo. 1 he trick * of that voice I do well 
l8*t not the king? [remember: 

JLenr. Ay, every inch a king : 

When I do stare, see, how the subject quakes. 
I pardon that man's life; what was thy cause? — 
Adult e y. — 

Thou shalt not dier Die for adultery! No : 
Ihe wren goes to't, and the small gilded fly 
D'>es lecher in my sight. 

Let copuhtlon thrive, for Gloster's bastard son 
Was kinder to his father, than my daughters 
Got 'tween the lawful sheets, 
lo't, luxury, pell-mell, for I lack soldiers.— 
Behold yon simpering dame 
Whose face between her forks presageth snow; 
That minces virtue, and does shake the head 
To hear of pleasure's name; 
The litchew, nor the soiled horse, goes to't 
With a more riotous appetite. 
Down from the waist they are centaur*^ 
Though women all above; 
Buttlio the girdle do the gods inherit J, 
Beneath is all the fiend's : there's hell, there's 

darkness, 
There is the sulphurous pit, burning, scalding, 
stench, consumption; — Fie, fie, fie I pah, pah! 
Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary , to 
sweeten my imagination: there's money for 
thee. 

G^o. O, let me kiss that hand! 

Lear. Let me wipe it first; it smells of mor- 
tality. 

Glo. O ruin'd piece of nature! This great 

world [me? 

Shall so wear out to naught. — Dost thou know 

Lear. I remember thine eyes well enough. 
Dost thou squiny § at me? No, do thy worst, 
blind Cupid; I'll not love. — Read tho^i this 
challenge ; mark but the penning of it. 

Glo. Were all the letters suns, I could not 
see one. 

Edg. I would not take this from report ; — it is, 
And ray heart breaks at it. 

Lear. Read. 

Glo. What, with the cafe of eyes? 

Lear. O, ho, are you there with me? No 
eyes in your head, nor no money in your purse? 
Your eyes are in a heavy case, your purse in a 
light: Yet you see how this world goes. 

Glo. I see it feelingly. 

Lear. What, art mad ? A man may see how 
tbis world goes, with no eyes. Look with 



thine ears : see how yon' justice lails upon yon* 
simple thief. Hark, in thine car: Change 
places; and, handy-dandy, which is the jus- 
tice, which is the thief f— Thou hast seen a far- 
mer's dog bark at a beggar? 

Glo. Ay, sir. 

Lear. And the creature run from the curt 
There thou mi^htst behold the great image of 
authority : a dog's obeyed in office. 
Thou rascal beadle, hold thy bloody hand: 
Why dost thou lash that whore ? Strip thine 

own back; 
ThoH hotly lust'st to use her in that kind 
Foi which thou whipp'st her. The usurer 

hangs the cozener. 
Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear; 
Robes, and furr'd gowns, hide all. Plate sin. 

with gold. 
And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks : 
Arm it in 1 ags, a pigmy's straw doth pierce it. 
None does offend, none, 1 sa} , none ; I'll able 

'em: 
Take that of me, my friend , who h ave the power 
To sea! the accuser's lips. Get thee glass eyes; 
And, like a scurvy politician, seem [now, now : 
To see the thinjrs thou dost not. — Now, now. 
Pull off my boots: — harder, harder ; so. 

Edg. O, matter and impertinency mix'd! 
Reason in madness! [my eyes, 

Lear. If thou wilt weep my fortunes, take 
I know thee well enoagh ; thy name is Gloster : 
Thou must be patient; we came crying hither. 
Thou knowst,lhe first time that we smell the a4r. 
We \>awl, and cry: — I will preach to thee; 
mark me. 

Glo. Alack, aiack the day! [are com« 

jLfar.When we are born, we cry, that we 
To this great stage of fools: — This a good block [jt 
It were a delicate stratagem, to shoe 
A troop of horse with felt: I'll put it in proof; 
And when I have stolen upon these sons-in-law. 
Then, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill. 

Enter a Gentleman, tvith Attendants. 

Gewf.O, here he is, lay hand upon him, — Sir, 

Your most dear daughter 

/y(?ar. No rescue ? What,a prisoner ? I am even 
The natural fool of fortune. — Use me well; 
You shall have ransome. Let me have a surgeon, 
I am cat to the brains. 

Gent. You shall have any things 

Lear. No seconds? All myself? 
WTiy, this would make a man, a man of saltif. 
To use his eyes for garden water-pots. 
Ay, and for laying autumn's dust. 

Gent. Good sir,— [What? 

Lear. T will die bravely, like a bridegroom : 
I will be jovial ; come, come ; I am a king, 
My masters, know you that! 

Gent. Yon are a royal one, and weobey yoa. 

Lear. Then there'» life in it. Nay., an yon 
get it, you shall get it by running. Sa, sa,sa, 
sa. {Exit.running; AnewdATiUJolloHK 

Gent. A sight most pitiful in the meanest 

wretch, [daughter. 

Past speaking of in a king! Thou hast one 



♦ Likeness, manner. t Only. 1 Possess. 

Block ancitnt'y 5i4^iiir;e(l (he h<ad part of a \ M. 



^ f e 



§ Look asquint. 
man of tears. 



,1[ 



950 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Ant IT 



Who redeems nature from the general curee 
Which twain have brought her to. 

Edg. Hail, gentle sir. 

Gent^ JSir, speed you : What*8 yonr will? 

Edg, Do you hear aught, sir, of a battle to- 
ward'? 

Gent. Most sure, and vulgar: every one 
«Vhich can distinguish sound. [hears that, 

Edg, But, by your favour, 

flow near's the other army 1 

Ge/ft. Near, and on speedy foot, the main 
Stands on the hourly thought*. [descry 

Edg. I thank you, sir : that's all. 

Gent. Though that the queen on special 
Her army is moved on. [cause is here, 

E(fg. 1 thank you, sir. [Ea:it Gent. 

Glo. You ever-geutle gods, take my breath 
from me; 
Let not my worsert spirit tempt me again 
To die before you please ! 

Edg. Well pray you, father. 

Glo. Now, good sir, what are you? 

Edg. A most poor man, made tame by for- 
tune's blows ; 
Who, by the art of known and feeling sorrows. 
Am pregnant to good pity. Give me your hand, 
I'll lead you to some biding. 

Glo. Hearty thanks : 

The bounty and the benisonj of heaven 
To boot, and boot§! 

Enter Steward. 

Stew. A proclaim'd prize! most happy! 
That eyeless head of thine was first framed flesh 
To raise my fortunes. — ^Thou old unhappy 

traitor, 
Briefly II thyself remember: — ^The sword is out 
That must destroy thee. 

Glo. Now let thy friendly hand 

Put strength enough to it. [Edgar opposes. 

Stew. Wherefore, bold peasant, 

Darest thou support a pablish'd traitor? Hence ; 
Lest that the infection of his fortune take 
Like hold on thee. Let go his arm. ['casion. 

Edg. Ch'ill not let go, zir, without vurtber 

Stew. Let go, slave, or thou diest. 

Edg. Good gentleman, go your gaitlT, and let 
poor volk pass. And ch'ud ha* been zwagger'd 
out of my life, 'twould not ha' been zo long as 
'tis by a vortnight. Nay, come not near the 
old man; keep out, che vor'ye, or ise try 
whether your costard** or my battt be the 
harder : Ch'ill be plain with you. 

Stew. Out, dunghill ! 

Edg. Ch'ill pick your teeth, zir: Come; no 
matter vor your foinstt- 

[Theyjight; and Edgar ArnocA-^ Mm down. 

Stew. Slave, thou hast slain me: — Villain, 
take my purse ; 
If ever thou wilt thrive, bury my body; [me, 
And give the letters, which thou tind'st about 
To Edmund, earl of Gloster; seek him out 
LTpon the British party : — O untimely death ! 

\Dies. 



Eldg. I know thee well : A serviceable villain; 
As dutf-ous to the vices of thy mistress. 
As badness would desire. 

Glo. What, is he dead ? 

Edg. Sit you down, father; rest you. — 
Let's see his pockets: these letters, that he 
speaks of, [sorry 

May be my friends. — He's dead: I am only 
He had no other death's-man. — Let us tee: 
Leave, gentle wax; and, manners, blame ns not: 
'i o know our enemies' rninds, we'd rip their J 
Their papers, is more lawful ^^. [liearts ; \ 

[Reads.] Let our reciprocal vows be re- \ 
membered. You hate many opportunities 
to cut him op: if your will want not, time 
and place will befruiijully offered. There 
is nothing done, if he return the conqueror: 
Then am J the prisoner, and his bed my 
gaol; from the loathed warmth whereof deli- 
ver me, and supply the place for your labour. 
Your wife, (so I would say,) and your 
affectionate servant, 

GONERIL, 

nndistmguish'd space of woman's will! — 
A plot upon her virtuous husband's life; 
And the exchange, my brother ! — Here, in the 

1 hee I'll rake up j !|, the post uusanctified [sands. 
Of murderous lechers: and, in the mature time. 
With this ungracious paper strike the sight 
Of the death-practised duke : For him 'tis well. 
That of thy death and business I can tell. 

[Exit Edgar, dragging out the body. 
Glo. The king is mad: How stiflf is my vile 
sense, 
That I stand up, and have ingenious feeling 
Of my huge sorrows! Better 1 were distract: 
So should my thoughts be severed from my 
And woes, by wrong imaginations, lose [griefs ; 
The knowledge of themselves. 
Re-enter Edgar. 
Edg. Give me your hand: 

Far ofif, methinks, I hear the beaten drum. 
Come, father, I'll bestow you with a friend. 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE VII. A Tent in the French Camp, 

Lear, on a Bed, asleep: Physician, Gen 

tleman, and others, attending. 

Enter Cordelia and Kent. 

Cor. O, thou good Kent, how shall I live, and 

work, [short, 

To match thy goodness? My life will be toa 

And every measure f.iil me, [paid. 

Kent. To be acknowledged, madam, is o'er- 
All my reports go with the modest truth ; 
Nor more, nor clipp'd, but so. 

Vor, Be better suited Hlf: 

These weeds are memories*** of those worser 
I pr'ythee, put them off. [hours; 

Kent. Pardon me, dear madam; 

Yet to be known, shortens my made intent Itt: 
My boon I make it, that you know me not. 
Till time aiid I think meet. 



• The main body is expected to be descried every hour. + Evil genius. % Blessing. 

% Reward, recompense. || Quickly recollect the offences of thy life. IT Go your way 
••Head. ft Club. Jt ThruFts. $$ To rip their papers is more lawful. |,|| I'll cover 
thee (the dead steward) in the sands. <1F Dressed, ♦•Memorials. ttt Intent formed 



Scene VN.} 



KING LEAB. 



951 



Cor. Then be it so, my good lord.— How 
does the king ? [To the Physician. 

Phys. Madam, sleeps still. 

(^or. O you kind gods, 
Cure this great breacli in his abused nature! 
The untuned and jarring senses, O wiiid up, 
Of this child-change father! 

Phys, So please your majesty. 

That we may wake the king? he hath slept long. 

Cor. Be govern'd by your knowledge, and 
proceed 
1' the sway of your own will. Is he array'd ? 

Gent. Ay, madam; in the heaviness of his 
We put freih garments on him. [sleep, 

Phys. Be by, good madam, when we do 
I doubt not of his temperance, [awake him ; 

Cor Verv well, [music there. 

Phys, Please you, dra^w near. — Louder the 

Cor. O, my dear father! Restoration, hang 
Thy medicine on my lips; and let this kiss 
Bepair those violent harms, that my two sisters 
Have in thy reverence made! 

Kent, Kind and dear princess! 

Cor. Had you not been their father, these 
white flakes 
Had challenged pity of them. Was this a face. 
To be exposed against the warring winds? 
To stand against the deep dread-bolted thunder? 
In the most terrible and nimble stroke 
Of quick,cross lightningfto watch(poorperdu*!) 
With this thin helrnt? Mine enemy's dog. 
Though he had bit me, should have stood that 
night [father, 

Against my fire : And wast thou fain, poor 
To hovel thee with swine, and rogues forlorn. 
In short and musty straw? Alack, alack! 
*Tii wonder, that thy life and wits at once 
Had not concluded all. — He wakes; speak to 

Phys. Madam, do you ; 'tis fittest. [him. 

Cor. H<»w does my royal lord? How fares 
your majesty? [o'thc grave: 

Lear. You do me wrong, to take me out 
Thou art a soul in bliss ; but I am bound 
Upon a wheel of fire, that mine own tears 
Do scald like molten lead. 

Cor. Sir, do you know me? 

Lear, You are a spirit, I know : When did 

Cor. Still, still, far wide ! [you die? 

Phys. He's scarce awake; let him alone 
awhile. 

Lear. Where have 1 been ? — Where am 1 1 — 

Fair day light? [pity, 

I am mightily abused. — I should even die with 

To see another thus. — I know not what to say. — 



I will not swear, these ai e my hands : — let** see; 
I feel this pin prick. Would I were assured 
Of my condition. 

Cor. O, look upon me, sir, 

And hold your hands in benediction o'er me:— 
>Jo, sir, you must not kneel. 

Lear. Pi ay do not mock me: 

I am a very foolish fond old man, 
Fourscore and upwarri ; and, <o <leal plainly, 
I fear, I ain not ni my perfect mind : [man : 
Methinks, I should know you, and know this 
Yet I am doubtful: for 1 am mainly iinoraat 
What place this is : and all the skill I have 
Remembers not these garments; nor 1 know not 
Whereldid lodge last night: Do not laugh at me. 
For, as I am. a man, 1 think this lady 
To be my child Cordelia. 

Cot, And so I am, I am, [weep not ; 

Lear, Be your tears wet ? Yes, faith . 1 pray. 
If you have poison for me, 1 will drink it. 
I know, you do not love me ; for your sisters 
Have, as 1 do remember, done me wrong: 
You have some cause, they have not. 

Cor. No cause, no cause, 

Lear. Am I in France 1 

Kent. In your own kingdom, sir. 

Lear, Do not abuse me. [great rage, 

Phys. Be comforted, good mai.am : the 
You see, is cured in him : and yet it is danger 
To make him evenj o'er the time he has lost. 
Desire him to go in ; trouble him no more. 
Till further settling. 

Cor. Wil't please your highness walk? 

Lear. You must bear with me: 

Pray now forget and forgive : 1 am old, ajid 
foolish. [Exeunt Lear, Cord. Physi- 
cian, 4; A.ttendants. 

Gent. Holds It true, sir, 
That the duke of Cornwall was so slain? 

Kent. Most certain, sir. 

Gent. "Who is conductor of his people? 

Kent. As 'tis said, 

The bastard son of Gloster. 

Getit, They say Edgar, 

His banish'd son, is with 'he earl of Kent 
In Germany. 

Kent, Report is changeable. 

'Tistimeto look about ; the powers jo'the king- 
Approach apace. [dom 

Gent. The arbitrementjl is like to be a bloody. 
Fare you well, sir. [Exit, 

Kent. My point and period will be thoroughiy 
wrought. 
Or wt?il,or ill,a8 this day's battle's fought. {Exit, 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. The Camp of the British Forces 

near Dover. 
Enter, with Drums, and Colours, Edmund, 

R£GAN, Officers, Soldiers, and iJhers. 
■ Etini. Know of the dnke, it his last purpose 
Or, wlielher since he is advised by aught [hold ; 



To change the course: He's full of alteration. 
And self reproving : — brini: his constant plea- 
sure H. [7b an Officer, tthofioes out* 

Peg. Onr sister's man is certainly miscarried. 

Edin. 'Tis to be doubted, madam. 

Beg. Now, sweet lord. 



" * The allusion is to the forlorn hope in an army, called, in French, enfans ferdus, 

t inin covering of hair. % To reconcile it to hi^ apprehension. $ Forces. l| Decision* 

•" His settled resolution. 



952 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r. 



You know the goodness [ intend upon you; 
Tell me, — but truly, — but then speak the truth, 
Do you not love ray sister 1 

Edm. In honuur'd love. 

Reg. But have you never found my brother's 
To the forefended * pi ace ? [way 

Edm, 3 hat thought abuses t you. 

Reg. I am doubtful that you have been con- 
junct 
And bosom'd with her, as far as we call hers. 

Edm. No, by mine honour, madam. 

Reg. I never shall endure her : Dear my lord, 
Be not familiar with her. 

Edm. Fear me not : — 
She, and the duke her husband, 

Enter Albany, GoNERJL,«?er? Soldiers. 

G&n. I had rather lose the battle, than that 
sister 
Should loosen him and me. [Aside. 

All). Our very loving sister, well be met. — 
Sir, this I hear, — The king is come to his 

daughter. 
With others, whom the rigour of our state 
forced to cry out. Where i could not be honest, 
I never yet was valiant: for this business. 
It toucheth us, as France invades our land. 
Not boUlsi the king ; with others, whom, I fear. 
Most just and heavy causes make oppose §. 

Edm. Sir, you speak nobly. 

Reg. Why is this reasoned? 

Gon. Combine together 'gainst the enemy : 
For these domestic and particular broils 
Are not to question here. 

Alb. Let ns then determine 

With the ancient of war on our proceedings. 

Edm.lii^^W attend you presently at your tent. 

Reg, Sister, you'll go with us \ 

Gon. No. 

Reg. 'Tis most convenient; pray you, go 
with us. [will eo. 

Gon. O, ho, I know the riddle: {Aside.'] I 
As they are going out, enter Eugar, dis- 
guised. 

Edg. If e'er your grace had speech with man 
Hear me one word. [so poor, 

Alh. I'll overtake you. — Speak. 

[Exeunt Edmund, Regan, Goneril, 
Officers, Soldiers and Attendants. 

Edg. Before you fight the battle, ope this 
letter. 
If you have \ictory, let the trumpet sound 
For him that brought it: wretched though I 

seem, 
I can produce a champion, that will prove 
What is avouched there: If you miscarry. 
Your business of the world hath so an end, 
\\\d machination ceasesjj. Fortune love yon! 

Alh Stay till I have read the letter. 

Eag. I was forbid it. 

When time thall serve, let but the herald cry. 
And I'll appear again. [Exit. 

Alb, Why, fare thee well; I will o'erlook 
thy paper. 



ite-enter Eumund. 

Edm. The enemy's in view, draw tip yonr 
powers. [forces. 

Here is the guess of their true strength and 
By diligent discovery: — but your haste 
Is now urged on you. 

Alb, We will greet the time If. [Exit. 

Edm. To both these sisters have I sworn my 
Each jealous of the other, as the stung [love; 
Are of the adder. Which of them shall I take? 
Both? one? orneither? Is either can be enjoy *d, i 
If both remain alive ; To take the widow. 
Exasperates, mikes mad her sister Goneril; 
And hardly shall I carry out my side**, 
Her husband being alive. Now then, we'll use 1 
His countenance for the battle ; which being j 

done, 
Let her, who would be rid of him, devise 
His speedy taking oflf. As for the mercy 
Which he intends to Lear, and to Cordelia,— ^ 
The battle done, and they within our power, 
Shall never see his pardon: for my state 
Stands on me to defend, not to debate. [Exit, 

SCENE II. A Field between the two Camps. 

Alarum within. Enter, with Drum and 

Colours, Lear, Cordelia, i^. their Forces; 

and exeunt. 

Enter Edgar and Gloster. 

Edg. Here, father, take the shadow of this tree 
For yonr good host; pray that the right may 
If ever I return to you again, [thrive : 

I'll bring you comfort. 

Glo, Grace go with yon, sir! [Exit Edg. 
Alarums J afterwards a Retreat, Re-enter 
Edgak. 

Edg, Away, old man, give me thy hand, 
away ; 
King Lear hath lost, he and his daughter ta'en : 
Give me thy hand, come on. 

Glo. No further, sir ; a man may rot even 
here. [endure 

Edg. What, in ill thoughts again! Men must 
Their going hence, even as their coming hither : 
Ripeness is alltt : Come on. 

Glo. And that's true too. [Exeunt, 

SCENE III. The British Camp near Dover, 
Enter, in Conquest, with Drum 4 Colours^ 

Edmund; Lear and Cordelia, a^ PrU 

soncrs; Officers, Soldiers, See, 

Edm. Some officers take them away: good 
guard; 
Until their greater pleasures first be known 
That are to censure :j;j them. 

Cor. We are not the first, 

Who, with best meaning, have incurr'd the 

worst. 
For thee, (oppressed king, am I cast down ; 
Myself could else out-frown false fortune's 
frown. [sisters? 

Shall we not see these daughters, and these 



* Forbidden. + Imposes on you. t i. e.. Emboldens him. § Oppositi 
I i* €,, All designs against your life will have an end. ^ Be ready to meet the a 

•* Make my party good. t+ i* e., To be ready prepared, is all. 

tt Pass judgment on them. 



Scene III.\ 



KING LEAR. 



933 



Lear. No, no, no, no! Comt, let's away to 

prison : 
"We two alone will ?ing like birds i'the cage: 
"When thou dost ask me blessing. Til kneel 

down, 
And ^sk of thee forgiveness ; So we'll live, 
And pray, and sing, and tell old tales, and laugh 
-At gilded butterilies, and hear poor rogues 
Talk of court news ; and we'll talk with them 
too, [out; — 

"Who loses, and who wins; who's in, who's 
And take upon us the mystery of things, 
Asifwe were God's spies: And we'll wear out, 
]n a wall'd prison, packs and sects of great ones, 
Ihat ebb and tiow by the moon. 

Edm. Take them away. 

Lear. Upon such sacrifices, my Cordelia, 
The gods themselves throw incense. Have I 
caught thee ? [heaven, 

lie, that parts us, shall bring a brand from 
And fire us hence, like foxes. Wipe thine eyes ; 
Thegoujeeis* shall devour them, tiesh and 
fell t, starve fijst. 

Ere they shall make us weep: we'll see them 
Come. [Eieuift Lear a>/d Cor. guarded, 

Edm. Coaie hither, captain ; hark. 
Take thou this note; [Giiitig a L*aper.] go, 

foilow them to prison: 
One step I have adv meed thee; if thou dost 
As this instructs thee, thou dost make thy way 
To noble fortunes: Know them this, — that men 
Are as the time is : to be tender-minded [ment 
Does not become a isword : — i hy great employ- 
"WiH not bear question ; ; either say , thou'it do't, 
Or thrive by other means. 

Of. I'll do't, my lord. 

Edm. About it; and write happy, when thou 
hast done. 
Mark, — 1 S/iy, instantly; and carry it so. 
As I have set it down. 

0J/.1 cannot draw a cart, nor eat dried oats ; 
If it be man's work, I will do it. [Exit Officer. 
Flourish. jE'«^erAjLBANY,Go^ERiL,REGAN, 
Officers, and Attendants. 

Alb. Sir, you have shown to-day your valiant 
strain, [lives 

And fortune led you well: You have the cap- 
"VVho were the opposites of this day's strife : 
"We do require them of you ; so to use them, 
As we shall find their merits and our safety 
May equally determine. 

Edm. Sir, T thought it fit 

To send the old and miierabie king 
To some retention, and appointed guard; 
Whose age has charms in it, whose title more. 
To pluck the common bo&om on his side, 
And turn our impress'd lances in our eyes 
Which do command them. With him I sent 

the queen; 
My reason all the same ; and they are ready 
"io-morrow, or at further space, to appear 
Where you shall hold your session. At this 
time [friend: 

We sweat and bleed: the friend hath lost his 



And the best quarrete, in the heat, are cursed 
By those that feel their sharpness: — 
The question of Cordelia, and her father, 
Reqiures a fitter place §. 

Alb. Sir, by your patience, 

I hold you but a subject of this war. 
Not as a brother. 

Reg. That's as we list to grace him 

Methinks, our pleasure might have been de- 
manded, 
Ere you had spoke so far. He led our powers; 
Bore the commission of my place and person; 
The which immediacy t| may well stand ap. 
And call itself your brother. 

Gon. Not so hot: 

In his own grace he doth exalt himself. 
More than in your advancement. 

Reg. In my rights. 

By me invested, he compeers the best. 

Gon. That were the most, if he should hus- 
band you. 

Reg. Jesters do oft prove prophets. 

Gon. Holloa, holloa! 

That eye, that told you so, look'd but a-squint IF. 

Reg. Lady, I am not well; else I should 
answer 
From a full flowing stomach. — General, 
Take thou my soldiers, prisoners, patrimony ; 
Dispose of them, of me, the walls are thine; 
Witness the world, that I create thee here 
My lord and master. 

Gon. Mean you to enjoy him? 

Alb. The let-alone ** lies not in your good 

Edm. Nor in thine, lord. [will. 

Alb. Half-blooded fellow, yes. 

Reg.'L^i the drum strike, and prove my title 
thine. [To Ed-viund. 

Alb. Stay yet; hear reason: Edmund, I 
arrest thee 
On capital treason ; and, in thy arrest, 
This gilded serpent: [Pointing to GoK.] — for 

your claim, fair sister, 
I bar it in the interest of my wife; 
'Tis she, is sub-contracted to this lord, 
And I, her husband, contradict your bans. 
If you will marry, make your love to me. 
My lady is bespoke. 

Go?i. An interlude ! [pet sound : 

Alb.TYiOQ artarni'd,Gloster : — Let the trum- 
If none appear to prove upon thy person. 
Thy heinous, manifest, and many treasons. 
There is my pledge ; [Throiving down a Glove J] 

".'11 prove it on thy heart, 
Ere I taste bread, thou art in nothing less 
Than I have here proclaim'd thee. 

Reg. Sick, O, sick! 

Gon. If not, I'll ne'er trust poison. [Aside. 

Edm. There's my exchange : [Throwing 
doiim a Glove.] what in the world he is 
That names me traitor, villain-like he lies: 
Call by thy trumpet: he that dares approach. 
On him, on you, (who not?) I will maintain 
My truth and honour firmly. 

Alb. A herald, ho! 



* The French disease, f Skin, t Admit of debate. § To be discoursed of in greater privacy 
Authority to act on his own judgment. ^ Alluding to the proverb, '* Love being jeaiouf 
makes a good eye look a-squint. ** The hinderance. 

4 Mis 



964 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r 



Edm* A herald, ho, a herald! 

Alb» Trust to thy single virtue * ; forthysol- 
dieis. 
All levied in my name, have, in my name. 
Took their discharge. 

Reg, This sickness grows upon me. 

Enter a Herald. 

Alb* She is not well ; convey her to my tent. 
S^Exit Regan, /erf. 
Coraehither,herald. — Let the trumpet sound, — 
And read out tliis. 

Off, Sound, trumpet. [^ Trumpet sounds. 
Herald reads. 

If any man of quality, or degree, within 
the lists of the army, ivill mamtain upon 
Edmund, supposed earl of Gloster, that he 
is a manifold traitor, let hun appear at the 
third sound of the trumpet: He is bold in 
his defence. 

Edm. Sound. [l Trumpet. 

Her, Again. [2 Trumpet. 

Her, Again. [3 Trumpet. 

[Trumpet a7isuers ivitldn. 
Enter Edgak, armed, preceded by a 
Trumpet. 

Alb. Ask him his purposes, why he appears 
Upon this call o'the trumpet. 

Her. What are you? 

Your name, your quality 1 and why you answer 
This present summons? 

Edg. Know, my name is lost; 

By treason's tooth bare-gnawn, and canker- bit : 
Yet am I noble as the adversary 
I come to cope withal. 

Alb. Which is that adversary? 

Edg. What's he, that speaks for Edmund 
earl of Gloster ? 

Ednu Himself; — V^Tiat sayst thou to him? 

Edg. Draw thy sword; 

That, if my speech offend a noble heart. 
Thy arm may do thee justice : he; e is mine. 
Behold, it is the privilege of mine honours. 
My oath, and my profession: I protest, — 
Maugret thy strength, youth, place, and emi- 
nence, 
Despite thy victor sword, and fire-new fortune, 
Thy valour, and thy heart, — thou art a traitor: 
False to tliy gods, thy brother, and thy father; 
Conspirant 'gainst this high illustrious prince; 
And, from the extremest upward of thy head. 
To the descent and dust beneath thy feet, 
A most toad-spotted traitor. Say thou, A'o, 
This sword, this arm, and my best spirits, are 

bent 
To prove upon thy heart, whereto T speak. 
Thou liest. 

Edm. In wisdom, 1 should ask th> namej; 
But,sincethy outside looks so fair and warlike, 
And that thy tongue some 'say 5 of breeding 

breathes, 
"What safe and nicely I might well delay 
By rule of knighthood, 1 disdain and spurn; 
Back do I toes these treasons to thy head ; 
With the hell-hated lie o'erwhehn thy heart ; 



Which, (for they yet glance by, and scarcely 

bruise,) 
This sword of mineshall give them instant way. 

Where they shall rest for ever. Trumpets, 

speak. 
{Alarums. They fight, l£.i>KVfiv falls. 

Alb. O save him, save him! 

Gon. This is mere practice |1, Gloster: 

By the law of arms, thou wast not bound to 

answer i * 

An unknown opposite ; thou art not vanquish'd J| I 
But cozen'd and beguiled. | 

Alb. Shut your mouth, dame. 

Or with this paper shall I stop it : — Hold, sir : — 

Thou worse than any name, read thine own . 

evil : — M 

No tearing, lady : I perceive, you know it. ■ 

[Giles the letter to Edmtjno,' 

Gon. Say, if I do ; the laws are mine, not thine : 
Who shall arraign me for't? 

Alb. Most monstrous! m 

Know'st thou this paper ? 1 

Gon, Ask me not what I know. - 

[Exit Goner I L, 

Alb. Go after her: she's desperate; govern 
her. [To an Oliicer, ivho goes out, 

Edm. What you have charged me with, that 
have I done; [out; 

And more, much more: the time will bring it 
'Tis past, and so am I : But what art thou. 
That hast this fortune on me 1 If thou art noble, 
I do forgive thee. 

Edg. Let's exchange charity. 

I am no less in blood than thou art, Edmund ; 
If more, the more thou hast wrong'd me. 
My name is Edgar, and thy father's son. 
The gods are just, and of our pleasant vices 
Make instruments to scourge us : 
I he dark and vicious place where thee he got. 
Cost him his eyes. 

Ed?n. Ihou hast spoken right, 'tis true;. 

The wheel is come full circle; I am here. 

Alb. Methought, thy very gait did prophesy] 
A royal nobleness: I must embrace thee; 
Let sorrow split my heart, if ever 1 
Did hate thee, or thy father! 

Edg. Worthy prince 

I know it well. 

Alb, Where have you hid yourself? 

How have you known the misei ies of your 

father f [brief tale; 

Edg. By nursing them, my lord — List II a 
And, when 'tis told, O, that my heart would 
The bloody proclamation to escape, [burst! 
That foUow'd me so near, (O, our lives' sweet- 
ness! 
That with the pain of death we'd hourly die. 
Rather than die at once !) taught me to shift 
Into a madman's rags; to assume a semblance 
That very dogs disdain'd : and in this habit 
Met I my father with his bleeding rings. 
Their precious stones new lost; became his 
glide, [despair; 

Led him, begg'd for him, saved him from 






* i. e.y Valour. t Notwithstanding. 

X Because if his adversary was not of equal rank, Edmund might have declined the combat 

§ Sample. H Stratagem. % Hear. 



^ene IlL] 



KING LEAR. 



955 



Never (O fault!) reveaVd myself unto hlra, 
Until some half hour past, when I was arm*d, 
Not sure, though hoping, of this good success, 
1 ask'd his blessing, and, from first to last. 
Told him my pilgrimage: But his flaw'd heart, 
(Alack, too weak the conflict to support!) 
^wixt two extremes of passion, joy and grief. 
Burst smilingly, 

Edm. This speech of yours hath m«ved me, 
And shall, perchance, do good: but speak 

you on; 
YoTi look as you had something more to say. 

Alb, If there be more, more woful, hold it in ; 
For I am almost ready to dissolve. 
Hearing of this. 

£^dg. Ihis would have seem'd a period 
To such as love not sorrow ; but another, 
'to amplify too much, would make much more, 
-And top extremity. 

Whilst I was big in clamour, came there a man, 
"Who having seen me in my worst estate, 
Shunn'd my abhorr'd society ; but then, finding 
"Who 'twas that so endured, with his strong arms 
He fastened on my neck, and bellow'd out 
As he'd burst heaven ; threw him on my father; 
Told the most piteous tale of Lear and him. 
That ever ear received : which in recounting 
His grief grew puissant, and the strings of life 
Began to crack : Twice then the trumpet 
And there I left him tranced. [sounded, 

JAlb» But who was this? [disguise 

Edg. Kent, sir, the banish'd Kent ; who in 
Followed his enemy king, and did him service 
Improper for a slave. 

Enter a Gentleman hastily , with a bloody 
Knife. 

Gent, Help ! helpl O help ! 

ICdg, What kind of hel p 1 

Alb. Speak, man. 

Edg. What means that bloody knife? 

Gent. 'Tis hot, it smokes ; 

It came even from the heart of — 

Alb. Who, man? speak. 

Gent. Your lady, sir, your lady: and her 
By her is poison'd ; she confesses it. [sister 

Edm.l was contracted to them both; allthree 
Now marry in an instant. 

Alb. Produce their bodies, be they alive or 

dead! — [tremble, 

Hiis judgment of the heavens, that makes us 

Touches us not with pity. [JEri? Gentleman. 

Enter Kent. 

Edg. Here comes Kent, sir. 

Alb. O! it is he. 
TJie time will not allow the compliment. 
Which very manners urges. 

Kent. I am come 

To bid my king and master aye* good night; 
Is he not here? 

Alb. Great thing of us forgot ! — 

Speak, Edmund , where'a the king ? and where's 
Seest thou this object, Kent? [Cordelia? — 
[7'&e ^orf ie^ 0/ GoN ii-RiL a«d Reg AN ere 
brought in. 

Kent. Alack, why thns t 



* Ibr fiver. 



+ Destroyed herself. 



circumstances preceding U 



Edm. Yet Edmund was beloved : 

The one the other poison'd for my sake. 
And after slew herself. 

Alb, Even so. — Cover their faces. [to do, 

Edm. I pant for life, — Some good I mean 
Despite of mine own nature. Quickly send, — 
Be brief in it, — to the castle ; for my writ 
Is on the life of Lear, and on Cordelia : — 
Nay, send in time. 

Alb^ Run, run, O, run — 

Edg. To who, my lord ? — \\ ho has the ofiice ? 
Thy token of reprieve. [send 

Edm. Well thought on; take my sword. 
Give it the captain. 

Alb. Haste thee, for thy life, [Exit Edc. 

Edm. He hath commission from thy wife 
To hang Cordelia in the prison, and [and me. 
To lay the biame upon her own despair. 
That she fordid t herself. 

Alb. The gods defend her! Bear him hencf 
awhile. [Edmund is borne ojf 

Enter Lear, toith Cordelia dead in his 
arms; Edgar, Officer, and others. 

Lear. Howl, howl, howl,howU — 0,you ar« 
men of stones ; 
Had I your tongues and eyes, I'd use them so 
That heaven's vault should crack :— O, she i& 

gone for ever ! — 
I know when one is dead, and when one lives; 
She's dead as earth : — Lend me a looking-glass; 
If that her breath will mist or stain the stone^ 
Why, then she lives. 

Kent. Is this the promised end J? 

Edg. Or image of that horror ? 

Alb. Fall, and cease $i 

Z/e«r. This feather stirs; she lives! if it be so. 
It is a chance that does redeem all sorrows 
That ever I have felt. 

Kent. O my good master ! [Kneeling. 

Eear. Pr*ythee, away. 

Edg, *Tis noble Kent, your friend. 

hear. A plague upon you,murderers,traitors, 
all! [ever!— 

I might have saved her; now she's gone for 
Cordelia, Cordelia, stay a little. Ha! 
What is'ttkou say st? — Her voice was ever soft, 
Gentle,andlow; an excelleuttbinginwomau: — 
I kill'd the slave that was a hanging thee. 

Off. *Iis true, my lords, he did. 

hear. Did I not, fellow ? 

I have seen the day, with my good biting 

falchion 

I would have made them skip: I am old now. 

And these same crosses spoil me. — Who are 

you? [straight. 

Mine eyes are none o'the best : — T*ll tell yoa 

Kent. If fortune brag of two she loved and 
One of them we behold. [hated, 

Zr^ar. This is a dull sight: A re yoa not Kent? 

Kent. The same; 

Your servant Kent : Where is your servant 
Caius? 

Lear. He's a good fellow, I can tell you that : 
He'll strike, and quickly too : — He's dead an<J 
rotten. 

X The end of the world, or the h^rrili 
$ i. €., Die ; Albany speaks to Ijciu. 



955 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[ActV 



Kent. Ifio, my good lord; [am the very man — 

JLear. I'll see that straight. 

Kent. That from your first of difference and 
Have follow'd your sad steps. [decay, 

Lear. Yoa are welcome hither. 

Kent. :N or no man else ; all's cheerless^ dark, 
and deadly. — [selves, 

Your eldest daughters have fore-doom'd them- 
And desperately are dead. 

Lear. Ay, so I think. 

-4f6. He knows not what he says, and vain it is 
That we present us to him. 

Ed^. Very bootless*. 

Enter an Officer. 

Off. Edmund is dead, my lord. 

Alh. That's but a trifle here. — 

Yon, lords, and noble friends, know our intent. 
What comfort to tliis great decayt may come. 
Shall be applied: for us, we will resign. 
During the life of this old majesty. 
To hixn our absolute power: — You, to your 
rights; [To Edgar «/zd Kent. 

With bootj, and such addrtion§ as your honours 
Have more than merited : — All friends shall 
The wages of their virtue, and all foes [taste 
The cup of their deservings. — O, see, seel 

Lear. And my poor fool || is hang'd! No, 
no, no life : 
Why should a dog, a horse a rat, have lifCj 



And thon no breath at all? 0,thou wilt come 
N e ver, never, never, never, never ! — [no more 
Pray you, undo this button: Thank yon, sir. — 
Do you see this? — Look on her, — look,— her 

lips, — 
Look there, look there ! — \He dies, 

Edg. He faints! — My lord, my lord, — 

Kent, Break, heart; I pr'ythee, break! 
Edg. Look up, my lord. 

Kent. Vex not his ghost : O, let him pass IF ! 
he hates him, 
That would upon the rack of this tough world 
Stretch him out longer. 

Edg. O, he is gone, indeed. 

Kent. The wonder is, he hath endured so 
long : 
He but usurp'd his» life. [business 

Alb. Bear them from hence. — Our present 
Is general woe. Friends of my soul, you twain, 
VTo Kent and Y^vm \^, 
Rule in this realm, and the gored state sustain. 
Kent. I have a journey, sir, shortly to go ; 
My master calls, and I must not say no. 

^.^^.Theweightofthifesad time we must obey; 
Speak what we feel, not what we ought to say. 
The oldest hath borne most: we, that are 

young. 
Shall never see so much, nor live so long. 

{^Elxeunt, with a dead march- 



* Useless. i. e., Lear. t Benefit. § Titles, 

li Poor fool, in the time of Shakspeare, was an expression of endearment. IT Die. 



The tragedy of Lear is deservedly celebrated among the dramas of Shakspeare. There Is 
perhaps no play which keeps the attention so strongly fixed ; which so much agitates our 
passions, and interests our curiosity. The artful involutions of distinct interests, the striking 
oppositions of contrary characters, the sudden changes of fortune, and the quick succession 
of events, fill the mind with a perpetual tumult of indignation, pity, and hope. There is no 
scene which does not contribute to the aggravation of the distress or conduct of the action, 
and scarce a line which does not conduce to the progress of the scene. So powerful is the 
current of the poet's imagination, that the mind, which once ventures within it, is hurried 
irresistibly along. 

On the seeming improbability of Lear's conduct, it may be observed, that he is represented 
according to histories at that time vulgarly received as true. And, perhaps, if we turn our 
tivoughts upon the barbarity and ignorance of the age to which this story is referred, it will 
appear not so unlikely as while we estimate Lear's manners by our own. Such preference of 
one daughter to another, or resignation of dominion on such conditions, would be yet cre- 
dible, if told of a petty prince of Guinea or Madagascar. Shakspeare, indeed, by the men- 
tion of his earls aud dukes, has given us the idea of times more civilized, and of life regulated 
by softer matmers ; and the truth is, that though he so nicely discriminates, and so minutely 
describes the characters of men, he commonly neglects and confounds the characters of ages, 
by mingling customs ancient and modern, English and foreign. 

My learned friend, Mr. Warton*, who has, in Ihe Adventurkr, very minutely criti' 
cised this play, remarks, that the instances of cruelty are too savage and shocking, and that 
the intervention of Edmund destroys the simplicity of the story. These objections may, 
1 think, be answered by repeating, that the cruelty of the daughters is an historical 
fact, to which the poet has added little, having only drawn it into a series of dialogue and 
a' tion. But I am nut able to apologize with equal plausibility for the extrusion of Gloster'» 
eyes, which seems an act too horrid to be endured in dramatic exhibition, and such as must 
aJwayp compel the mind to relieve its distress by incredulity. Yet let it be remembered, 
thrii o')r author well knew what would please the audience for which he wrote. 

The injury done by E<lmund to the simplicity of the action, is abundantly recornj/en^ed bY 

* Dr. Joseph Wart«u. 



I 



KING LEAB. 957 



ae addition of variety, by the art with which he is made to co-operate with the chief design, 
and the opportunity which he gives the poet of combining perfidy with perfidy, and connect- 
ing the wicked son with the wicked daughters, to impress this important moral, that villany 
ig never at a stop, that crimes lead to crimet, and at last terminate in ruin. 

But though this moral be incidentally enforced, Shakspeare has suflFered the virtue of Cor- 
delia to perish in a just cause, contrary to the natural ideas of justice, to the hope of the 
reader, and what is yet more strange, to the faith of chronicle? Yet this conduct is justified 
by i HE Spectatok, who blames Tate for giving Cordelia success and happiness in his altera- 
tioc, and declares, that in his opinion, ** the tragedy has lost half its beauty." Dennis has 
remarked, whether justly or not, that, to secure the favourable reception of" Cato,the town 
was poisoned with much false and abominable criticism," and that endeavours had been 
used to discredit and decry poetical justice. A play in which the wicked prosper, and the 
virtuous miscarry, may doubtless be good, because it is a just representation of the common 
events of human life : but since all reasonable beings naturally love justice, I cannot easily 
be persuaded, that the observation of justice makes a play worse ; or that if other excellen- 
cies are equal, the audience will not always rise better pleased from the final triumph of 
persecuted virtue. 

In the present case, the public has decided. Cordelia, from the time of Tate, has always 
retired with victory and felicity. And, if my sensations could add any thing to the general 
suffrage, I might relate, I was many years ago so shocked by Cordelia's death, that 1 know 
not whether 1 ever endured to read again the last scenes of the play till I undertook to revise 
them as an editor. 

There is another controversy among the critics concerning this play. It is disputed whe- 
ther the predominant image in Lear's disordered miud be the loss of his kingdom, or the 
cruelty of his daughters. Mr Murphy, a very judicious critic, has evinced by induction of 
particular passages, that the cruelty of his daughters is the primary source of his distress, and 
that the loss of royalty affects him only as a secondary and subordinate evil. He observes, 
with great justness, that Lear would move our compassion but little, did we not rf.ther con- 
sider the injured father than the degraded king. 

The story of this play, except the episode of Edmund, which is derived, I think, fiont 
Sidney, is taken originally from Geoffry of Monmouth, whom Holingshed generally copied; 
but perhaps immediately from an old historical ballad. My reason for believing that the 
play was posterior to the ballad, rather than the ballad to the play, is, that the ballad haa 
nothing of Shakspeare's nocturnal tempest, which is too striking to have been omitted, and 
that it follows the chronicle; it has the rudiments of the play, but none of its amplifications : 
It first hinted Lear's madness, bat did not array it in circumstances. The writer of the bal- 
lad added something to the history, which is a proof that he would have added more, if more 
had occurred to his mind, and more must have occurred if he had seen Shakspeare. 

Johnson. 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



^crj{ou0 upte^cnteD. 



Esc ALUS, Prince of Verona, 

JParis, a young nobleman, kinsman to the 

Prtnce, 
Montague, > headsof two houses, at 
Capulet, s variance with each other. 
An Old Man, uncle to Capulet, 
Romeo, son to Montague. 
Mercl'tio, kinsman to the Prince, and 

friend to Romeo. 
B E N V o L I o, nephew to Montague, and friend 

to Romeo. 
Tybalt, nephew to Lady Capulet* 
Friar Lawrence, a Franciscan. 
Friar ions, of the same order, 
Balthazar, servant to Romeo, 

gIegorv. ^o^rvants to Capulet. 



i 

Petbb 



Abram, servant to Montague, 
An Apothecary. 
Three Musicians. 

Chorus. Boy, page to Paris, 
An Officer. 

Lady Montague, tt;2/(R to Montague. 
Lady Capulet, wife to Capulet, 
Juliet, daughter to Capulet, 
Nurse to Juliet, 

Citizens of Verona ; several Men and Wo- 
men, relations to both houses ; Maskers, 
Guards, Watchmen, and Attendants. 

Scene,— during the greater part of the 
Play, in Verona: once in the fifth Act, 
at Mantua. 



PROLOGUE. 



Two households, both alike in dignity. 

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene, 
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny. 

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. 
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes 

A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life ; 
Whose misad ventured piteous overthrows 

Dojwith their deatb,bur>' tlieir parents' strife. 



The fearful passage of their death-markM love. 
And the continuance of their parents' rage, 

Which, but their children's end, nought could 
remove. 
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage ; 

The which if you with patient ears attend, 

What here shall miss, oar toil shall strive to 
mend. 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. A public Place. 



Enter Sampson and Gregory, armed with 
Swords and Bucklers, 

Sam. Gregory, o*my word we'll not carry 
coals*. 

Gre. No, for then we should be colliers. 

Sam. I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw. 

Gre. Ay, while you live, draw your neck 
out of the collar. 

Sam. I strike quickly, being moved. 

Gre. But thou art not quickly moved to 
strike. 

Sam, A dog of the bouse of Montague 
movefe me. 

Gre. To move, is — to stir ; and to be valiant, 
is — to stand to it : therefore, if thou art moved, 
thou nuui'st away. 

Scim. A dog of that house shall move me to 
•tand ; I will take the wall of any man or maid 
of Montague's. 



Gre. That shows thee a weak slave ; for the 
weakest goes to the wall. 

Sam. True; and therefore women, being 
the weaker vessels, are ever thrust to the wall : 
therefore I will push Montague's men from the 
wall, and thrust his maids to the wall. 

Gre. The quarrel is between our masters, i 
and us their men. 

Sam. *Tis all one, I will show myself a ty- 
rant : when I have fought with the men, I will 
be cruel with the maids ; 1 will cut off their 
heads. 

Gre. The heads of the maids? 

Sam. Ay, the heads of the maids, or tn» ir 
maidenheads ; take it in what sense thou wilt. 

Gre. They must take it in sense, that feel it. 

Sam. Me they shall feel, while I am able to 
stand : and, 'tis known, I am a pretty piece of 
Hesh. 

Gre. 'Tis well thou ait not fish ; if thoa 
hadst, thou hadst been poor John f. Dra>* thy 



• A phrase formerly in p>e t^ signify thf hearing injuries, 
t Poor John is hake, dried and sailed. 



Seme I,] 



ROMEO AJVI) JULIET. 



959 



tool ; here comes two of the house of the Mon- 
I tagnes*. 

j Sam. My naked weapon is out ; quarrel, I 

; will back thee. 

j Gre. How? tnrn thy back and run? 

j Sam. Fear me not. 

I Gre. No, marry : I fear thee I 

! Sam. Let us take the law ot our sides; let 

j them begin. 

j Gre. 1 will frown, as I pass by ; and let 

I them take it as they list. 

I Sam. Nay, as they dare. I will bite my 

I thumb at them ; which is a disgrace to them, 

j if they bear it. 

I Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? 

I Sam. I do bite my thumb, sir. 

i Abr. Do you bite your thumb at us, sir? 

j Sam. Is the law on our side, if I say, — ay? 

Gre. No. 
: Sam, No, sir, I do not bite my thumb at 
' you, sir ; but I bite my thumb, sir. 
Gre. Do you quarrel, sir? 
Abr. Quarrel, sir? no, sir. 
Sa?n. If yon do, sir, I am for you ; I serve 
as good a man as you, 
^br. ISIo better. 
Sam. Well, sir. 

Enter Benvolio, at a distance. 
Gre. Say — better; here comes one of my 
master's kinsmen. 
Sam. Yes, better, sir. 
Abr. You lie. 

Sam. Draw, if you be men. — Gregoiy, re- 
member thy swashing blow. [They Jig I it. 
Ben. Part, fools ; put up your swords ; you 
know not what yon do. 

[Beats doun their Swords, 
Enter Tybalt. 
Tyb. What! art thou drawn among these 
heartless hinds? 
Tarn thee, Benvolio, look upon thy death. 
Ben. I do but keep the peace ; put up thy 
sword, 
Or manage it to part these men with me. 
Tyb. What, {Irawn and talk of peace? I 
hate the word, 
As I hate hell, all Montagues, and thee : 
Have at thee, coward. [They fight. 

Enter sever aiP ari isans of both Houses, who 
join the Fray ; then enter Citizens, with 
Clubs. 

1 Cii. Clubs +, bills, and partisans! strike! 
beat ihem down ! [tagues 1 

Down with the Capnlets ! down with the Mon- 
Enter Cap u let, in his Gown; and hady 
Capulet. 
Ca'p. "What noise is this ! — Give me my long 
sword, ho ! [for a sword ? j 

JjO. CtijK Acrntch, a crutch ! — VV hy call you 
Caj). My sword, I say ! — Old Montague is 
And flourishes his blade in spite of me. [come, 
Enter Montague and Lady Montague. 
Mon. Thou villain Capulet.— Hold me not, 
let me go. 



JLu, Mon. Thou shalt not stir one foot to seek 
a foe. 

Enter Prince, wzYA Attendants. 
Prin. Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace, 
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steei, — 
Will they not hear?— what ho! you men, yoa 

beasts, — 
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage 
With purple fountains issuing from your veins, 
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands 
Throw your mislemper'dj weapons to the 

ground, 
And hear the sentence of your m«^ved prince. — 
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word. 
By thee, old Capulet and Montague, 
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets ; 
And made Verona's ancient citizens 
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments. 
To wieJd old partisans, ^n hands as old, 
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd 
If ever you disturb our streets again, [hale ; 
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace. 
For this time, all the rest depart away : 
You, Capulet, shall go along with me ; 
And, Montague, come you this aftcj-noon. 
To know our further pleasure in this case,[pl?cc. 
To old Free-town, our common jutigment- 
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart. 
[Exeujit Prince, and Attendants; Ca- 
pulet, Lady Capulet, Tybalt, 
Citizens, and Servants. [abroach. 

Mon. Who set this ancient quarrel new 
Speak, nephew, were you by when it began? 
Bejt. Here were the servants of your adver- 
sary 
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach : 
I drew to part them ; in the instant came 
The fiery Tybalt, with his sword prepared ; 
Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears, 
He swung about his head, and cnt the winds. 
Who nothing hurt withal, hiss'd him in scorn : 
While we were interchanging thrusts aiid 
blows, [P^rt, 

Came more and more, and fought on part and 
Till the prince came, who parted either part. 
La. Mon.O, where is Romeo ! — saw yoo him 
to-day ? 
Right glad I am, he was not at this fray, [son 
Ben. Madam, an hour before the worshipped 
Peer'd § forth the golden window of the east, 
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad; 
Where, — underneath the grove of sycamore. 
That westward rooteth from the city's side, — 
So early walking did I see your son : 
Towards him I made ; but he was 'ware of me. 
And stole into the covert of the wood : 
I, measuring his affections by my own, — 
That most are busied when they are most 
Pursued my humour, not pursuing his, [alone, — 
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me. 
Mon. Many a morning hath he there been 
seen, [dew. 

With tears augmenting the fresh morning's 
Addins: to clouds more clouds with his deep 
But all so soon as the all-cheering sun [sighs 



* The disregard of concord is in character. 

at an aiiray in the streets, as we now call watch I 



t Clubs! was the usual exclamation 
; Angry. § Appealed. 



960 



SHAKSPEARE. 



Act /, 



Should in the furthest east b gin to draw 
The sh^dy curtains from Aurora's bed, 
Aw Ay f/oni light steals home my heavy son. 
And private in Ins chamber pens himself; 
Shuts up his windows, locks fair da> light out, 
And makes himself aji artificial niiiht : 
Black aii'.l portentous must this humour prove. 
Unless good coun&el may the cause remo.ve. 

Bt7i. My noble uncle, do you know the 
cause? [him. 

Mon. I neither know it, nor can learn of 

Be7i. Have you importuned him by any 
means ? [friends : 

Mo7i. Both by myself and many other 
But he, his own affections' counsellor, 
Is to himself, — I will not say how true — 
But to himself so secret and so close. 
So far frurn soundin^j and discovery, 
As is the bud bit with an envious worm. 
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to tne air. 
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun. [grow, 

Could we but learn from whence his sorrows 
We would as willingly give cure, as know. 
Enter Romko, at a distance. 

Ben. See, where he comes: So please you, 
step aside ; 
1*11 know his grievance^ or bemach denied. 

Moti,. I would thou wert so happy by thy 
stay. 
To hear true shrift, — Come,madam, let's away. 
[Exeunt Montague a/^rf Lady. 

Ben. Good morrow, cousin. 

Rom. Is the day so young? 

Ben. But new-struck nine. 

Bom. Ah me ! sad hours seem long. 

Was that my father that went thence so fast ? 

Ben. It was. — What sadness lengthens Ro- 
meo's hours ? [them short 

Rom. Not having that, which having, makes 

Ben. In love? 

Rom. Out — 

Bni. Of love ? 

Rom. Out of her favour, where I am in love. 

Ben. Alas, that love, so gentle in his view. 
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof I 

Rmn. Alas, that love, whose view is muffled 
still, 
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will ! 
Where shall we dine? — O me! — What fray 

was here? 
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all. 
Here's much to do with hate, but more with 

love : — 
Why then, O brawling love! O loving hate I 
O any thing, of nothing tirst create! 

heavy lightness! serious vanity! 
Misshapen chaos of well-seeming forms I 
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire, sick 

health i 
Still-wakiug sleep, that is not what it is! — 

1 his love feel I, that feel no love in this. 
Dost thou not laugh? 

Ben N o, ccz, I rather weep. 

Rom, Good heart, at what ? 
Z.V/1. At thy good heart's oppression. 
Rmn. Why, such is love's transgression. — 

♦ In seriousnew. 



Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast ; 
Which thou wilt propagate, lo have it prest 
With more of thine : this love, that thou has' 
shown^ [own. 

Doth add niore grief to too much of mii.e 
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sigh^ , 
Being purged, a tire sparkling in lovers* eyes; 
Being vex*d, a sea nourish'd with lovers' 

^ tears : 
What is it else? a madness most discreet, 
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet. 
Farewell, my coz. [Going, 

Ben, Soft, I will go along; 

An if you leave- me so, you do me wrong. 
Rom, Tut, I have lost myself; I an. not 
here ; 
This is not Romeo, he's some other where. 
Ben. Tell me in sadness*, who she is yoa 

love. 
Rom, What, shall I groan, and tell thee? 
Ben. Groan ? why, no ; 

But sadly tell me, who. [will . 

Rom. Bid a sick man in sadness make his' 
Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill ! — 
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman. 

Ben. I aim'd so near, when I supposed yoa 

loved. [fair I love.' 

Rom. A right good marksman ! — And she's 

Ben, A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest 

hit. [be hk 

Rom. Well, in that hit, yoa miss : she'll not* 

With Cupid's arrow, she hath Dian's wit ; 

And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd. 

From love's weak childish bow she lives un- 

harm'd. 
She will not stay the siege of loving terms. 
Nor bide tlie encounter of assailing eyes. 
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold : 
O, she is rich in beauty ; only poor. 
That, when she dies, with beauty dies her store. 
Ben. Then she hath sworn, that she will 

still live chaste ? 
Rom. She hath, and in that sparing makes 
huge waste ; 
For beauty, starved with her severity. 
Cuts beauty otf from all posterity. 
She is too fair, too wise ; wisely too fair. 
To merit bliss by making me despair : 
She hath forsworn to love j and, if that vow, / 
Do I live dead, that live to tell it nov/. 
Ben. Be roled by me, foigei totiiink of her. 
Rom. O, teach me how I should forgei to 

think. 
Ben. By giving liberty unto thine e/es ; 
Examine other beauties. 

Rom. 'Tis the way 

To call her*s, exquisite, in question more : 
These happy masks, that kiss Iftir ladies' 

bro u 8, 
Being black, put us in mind they hide the fair; 
He, that is strucken blind, cannot forget 
The preciouvj treasuie of his eye.^ight U»5t : 
Shovv me a mistress that is passing fair, 
What doth her beauty serve t, but as a note 
Where I may read, who pass'd that pa^siu 
fair? 

t i, €., What end doe.« it answer 



Scene II.] 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



961 



fare-veil ; thon carrsl not teach me to forget. 
Ben. I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in 
debt. [Exeunt, 

SCENE il. A Street. 
Enter Capulet, Paris, a?7d Servant. 
. ' Cap. And Montague is bound as well as I, 
in penalty alike ; and 'tis not hard, I thinV, 
For men so old as we to keep the peace, [both; 
Par, Of honourable reckoning * are yon 
And pity 'tis, yon lived at odds so long. 
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit? 
Cap. But saying o'er what I have said 

before : 
My chihl is yet a stranger in the world. 
She hath not seen the change of fourteen 

years ; 
Let two more summers wither in their pride. 
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride. 
Par. Younger than she are ha;)py mothers 

made. [made. 

Cap. And too soon marr'd are those so early 
The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but 
She is the hopeful lady of my earth : [she, 

But woo her, gentle Paris, get her heart, 
My will to her consent is but a part; 
An she ap ree, within her scope of choice 
Lies my consent and fair according voice, 
^his night 1 hold an old accustom'd feast. 
Whereto I have invited many a guest. 
Such as 1 love ; aLd you, among the store, 
One more, most welcome, makes my number 

more. 
At my poor house, look to behold this night 
Earth-treading stars, that make dark heaven 

light: 
Such comfort, as do lusty young men feel 
When well-apparell'd April on the heel 
Of limping winter treads, even such delight 
Among fresh female buds shall you this night 
Inherit t at my house ; hear all, all see. 
And like her most, whose merit most sha41 be : 
Such, amongst view of many, mine being one, 
May stand in number, though in reckoning J 

none. 
Come, go with me ; — Go, sirrah, trudge about 
Through fair Verona ; find those persons out. 
Whose names are written there, [Gives a 

Paper.] and to them say, 
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay. 
[Exeunt Capulet and Paris. 
Serv. Find them out whose names are 
written here? It is written— that the shoe- 
maker should meddle with his yard, and the 
tailor with his last, the fisher with his pencil, 
and the painter with his nets ; but I am sent 
to tind those persons, whose names are here 
writ, and can never find what names the 
writing person hath here writ. I must to the 
learned : — In good tin)e. 

Enter Benvolio and Romeo. 
Ben. Tut, man ! one fire burns out another's 

burning. 
One pain is iessen'd by auotber's anguish; 



Account, estimation. 
X Estimation. 



Turn giddy, and be holp by bacVwar.^- turning. 
One desperate grief cures whh another'! 

languish : 
Take thou some new infection to thy eye. 
And the rank poison of the old will die. 

liovn. Your plantain leaf is exceiient for 

Ben. For what, 1 pray thee ? [that. 

Rom. For your broken shin. 

Ben. Why, Romeo, art thou mad 1 

Rom. Not mad, but bound more than a 
madman is : 
Shut up in prison, kept without my food, 
Whipp'd, and tormented, and — Good e'en, 
good fellow. 

Serv. God gi* good e'en.— I pray, sir, can 
you read 1 

Rom. Ay, mine own fortune in my misery. 

Serv. Perhaps you have learn'd it without 
book : 
But I pray, can you read any thing you see? 

Rom. Ay, if I know the letters, and the 
language. 

Serv. Ye ^ay honestly ; Rest you merry ! 

Rom Stay, fellow; I can read. [Reads, 

Signior Martino, and his wife, and dangiu 
ters ; Cou7ity Anselrae, and"^ his beauteous 
sisters; The lady widow of Virtruvio; Signinr 
Placentio, and his lovely nieces ; Mercutio 
and his brother Valentine, Mine uncle Capu 
let, his wife, and daughters ; My fair niece 
Rosaline ; Livia ; Signior Valentio, and his 
cousin Tybalt ; Lucio, and the lively Helena. 
A fair assembly ; [Gives back the Note.\ 
Whether should they come? 

Serv. Up. 

Rom. Whither? 

Serv, To supper ; to our house. 

Rmn. Whose house? 

Serv. My master's. [before. 

Ronh Indeed, I should have asked you that 

Se'-^v. Now I'll tell you without asking : 
My master is the great rich Capulet; aiid if 
you be not of the house of Montagues, I pray, 
come and crush a cup of winej. Rest you 
merry. [E:iit. 

Ben. At this same ancient feast of Capulet'* 
Sups the fair Rosaline, whom thou so lovest ; 
With all the admired beauties of Verona. 
Go thither; and, with unattainted eye. 
Compare her face with some that I shall show. 
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow. 

Rom. When the devout religion of mine 

eye [fires I 

Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to 

And these, — who, often drown'd, could never 

die, — 
Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars ! 
One fairer than my love ! the all-seeing sun 
Ne'er saw her match, since first the worhl 
begun. [by, 

Ben. Tut? you saw her fair, none else bein?^ 
Herself poised || with herself in either eye : 
Bui in those crystal scales, let there be weigh'd 
Your lady's love against some other maid 

t To inherit, in the langtiage of Shakspeare is to possess* 
§ We still say in cant language— <o crack a bottle. 
H Weigh'd. 

N 



962 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act I, , 



That I will show you, shining at this feast, 1 

And she shall scant* show well, that now 

shows best. [shown, 

Rom, I'll go along, no such sight to be 

But to rejoice in splendour of mine own. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III. A Room in Capulet's House. 
Enter Lady Catulet and Nurse^ 

JjO, Cap, Nurse, where's my daughter? 
call her forth to me. 

Nurse. Now, by my maiden-head, — at 
twelve year old, — [bird! — 

I bade her come. — What, lamb ! what, lady- 
God forbid I— Where's this girl 1 — what, Juliet ! 
Enter Juliet. 

Jul. How now, who calls ? 

Nurse. Your mother. 

Jul. Madam, I am here. 

What is your will ? [leave awhile, 

La. Cap. This is the matter : — Nurse, give 

We must talk in secret. — Nurse, come back 

again ; [counsel. 

I have remember'd me, thou shalt hear our 

Thou know'st, my daughter's of a pretty age. 

Nurse. 'Faith, I can tell her age unto an 

La. Cap. She's not fourteen. [hour. 

Nurse, I'll lay fourteen of my teeth. 

And yet, to my teen t be it spoken, I have but 

four, — 
She is not fourteen : How long is it now 
To Lammas-tide? 

La. Cap. A fortnight, and odd days. 

Nurse. Even or odd, of all days in the 
year, [teen. 

Come Lammas-eve at night, shall she be four- 
Susan and she, — God rest all Christian souls! 
Were of an age. — Well, Susan is with God ; 
She was too good for me : But, as I said, 
On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen ; 
That S'hall she, marry; I remember it well. 
Tis since the earthquake now eleven years; 
And she was wean'd, — I never shall forget it. 
Of all the days of the year, upon that day : 
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug. 
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall, 
My lord and you were then at Mantua : — 
Nay, I do bear a brain j: — but, as I said, 
When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple 
Of my dug, and felt it bitter, pretty fool ! 
To see it tetchy, and fall out with the dug. 
Shake, quoth the dove-house : 'twas no need. 
To bid me trudge. [I trow. 

And since that time it is eleven years : 
Por then she could stand alone ; nay, by the 

rood §, 
She could have run and waddled all about. 
For even the day before, she broke her brow : 
And then my husband — God be with his soul ! 
'A was a merry man ;— took up the child : 
Yea, quoth he, dost thou/all upon thy face? 



Thou tmlt fall backivard, when thou hast 

more wit ; 
Wilt thou not^ Jule? and by my holy-dam 
The pretty wretch left crying, and said — Ay: 
To see now, how a jest shall come about! 
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years, 
I never should forget it; Wilt thou not, J ale? 

quoth he: 
And, pretty fool, it stinted IT, and %^\di—Ay. 

La. Cap. Enough of this ; 1 pray thee, hold 
thy peace. [but laugh. 

Nurse. Yes, madam ; Yet I cannot choose 
To think it should leave crying, and si^y—Ay: 
And yet, I warrant, it had upon it's brow 
A bump as big as a young cockrel's stone ; 
A parlous knock ; and it cried bitterly. 
Yea, quoth my husband, fullest upon thy 
face? [to age. 

Thou wilt fall hackioard ^when thou contest 
Wilt thou not, Jule ? it stinted, and said — Ay, 

Jul. And stint thou too, I pray thee, nurse, 
say I. [to his grace**. 

Nurse. Peace, I have done. God niark thee 
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed : 
An I might live to see thee married once, 
I have my wish. 

La. Cap. Marry, that marry is the very 
theme 
I came to talk of :— Tell me, daughter Juliet, 
How stands your disposition to be married? 

Jul. It is an honour that I dream not of. 

Nurse. An honour I were not I thine only 

nurse, [teat. 

I'd say, thou hadst suckM wisdom from thy 

La. Cap. Well, think of marriage now; 
younger than you. 
Here in Verona, ladies of esteem. 
Are made already mothers : by my count, 
I was your mother much upon these years 
That you are now a maid. J hus then, in brief; 
The valiant Paris seeks you for bis love. 

Nurse. A man, young lady! lady, such a 
man. 
As all the world— Why, he's a man of wax tt. 

La, Cap. Verona's summer hath not such 
a flower. [flower. 

Nurse. Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very 

La. Cap. What say you ? can you love the 
gentleman ? 
This night you shall behold him at our feast : 
Read o'er the volume of young Paris' face. 
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen ; 
Examine every married lineament. 
And see how one another lends content; 
And what obscured in this fair volume lies. 
Find written in the margin of his eyesn. 
This precious book of love, this unbound 
To beautify him, only lacks a cover : [lover. 
The fish lives in the sea§^ ; and 'tis much pride. 
For fair without the fair within to hide : 
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory. 
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story ; 

* Scarce, hardly. t To my sorrow. J i. e., I have a perfect remembrance or rccollectio 

§ Thfc cross. II Holy dame, i. €., the blessed virgin. ^ It stopped crying. 

♦* Favour. ft Well made, as if he had been modelled in wax. 

JJ The comments on ancient books were always printed in the margin. 

$$ i. e., Is not yet caught, whose ekin was wanted to bind hint*. 



Sterne IIL] 



ROMEO AlfD JULIET. 



963 



So shall you share all that he doth possess. 
By having him, making yourself no less. 
Nurse. No less? nay, bigger ; women grow 
by men. [Paris' love ? 

La. Cap. Speak briefly, can you like of 
Jful, I'll look to like, if looking liking move : 
But no more deep will I endart mine eye. 
Than your consent gives strength to make it fly. 
Enter a Servant. 
Serv. Madam, the guests are come, sapper 
served up, you called, my young lady asked 
for, the nurse cursed in the pantry, and every 
thing in extremity. I must hence to wait; 
I beseech you, follow straight. 
L,a. Cuf. We follow thee. — Juliet, the 
county stays. [happy days. 

Nurse. Go, girl, seek happy nights to 
\^Exeunt. 
SCENE IV. A Street. 
jB»f€r Romeo, Mercutio, Benvolio,w?7A 
Jive or six Maskers, Torch-Bearers, and 
Others. 

Rom. What, shall this speech be spoke for 
our excuse? 
Or shall we on without apology? 

Ben. The date is out of such prolixity * : 
We'll have no Cupid hood-wink'd widi a 

scarf, 
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath. 
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper t; 
Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke 
After the prompter, for our entrance : 
But, let them measure us by what they will. 
We'll measure them a measure |, and be gone. 
Rom. Give me a torch §, — I am not for this 
ambling ; 
Being but heavy," I will bear the light. 
Jfer. Nay, gentle Romeo, we must have 
you dance. [shoes, 

Roh^, Not I, believe me : you have dancing 
With nimble soles : I have a soul of lead 
So stakes me to the ground, I cannot move. 
Mer. You are a lover; borrow Cupid's 
wings. 
And soar with them above a common bound. 
Rom. I am too sore enpierced with his 
! shaft. 

To soar with his light feathers ; and so booud, 
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe: 
Under love's heavy burden do I sink, [love ; 
Mer. And, to sink in it, should you burden 
Too great oppression for a tender thing, 

Horn. Is love a tender thing ? it is too rough. 

Too rude, too boist'rous ; and it pricks like 

thorn. [with love ; 

Mer. If love be rough with you, be rough 

Prick love for pricking, and you beat love 

Give me a case to put my visage in : [down. — 

^Putting on a Mask. 

A visor for a visor! — What care 1, 

What curious eye doth quote || deformities ? 



Here are the beetle-brows, shall blush for me. 
Ben. Come, knock, and enter ; and no 
sooner in. 
But every man betake him to his legs. 
Rom. A torch for me : let wantons, light 
of heart. 
Tickle the senseless rushes IT wit-h their heels ; 
For I am proverbed with a grandsire phrase, 
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on, — 
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done **. 
Mer. Tut ! dun's the mouse, the constable's 
own word : [mire 

If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the 
Of this (save reverence) love, wherein thou 

stick'st 
Up to the ears. — Come, we burn day-light, ho. 
Rom. Nay, that's not so. 
Mer. I mean, sir, in delay 

We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day. 
Take our good meaning ; for our judgment sits 
Five times in that, ere once in our five wits. 

Rom, And we mean well, in going to this 
But 'tis no wit to go. [mask; 

Mer, Why, may one ask ? 

Rom, I dreamt a dream to-night. 
Mer. And so did I. 

Rom, Well, what was yours? 
Mer. That dreamers often lie. 

Rom. In bed, asleep, while they do dream 
things true. [with you. 

Mer. O, then I see queen Mab hath been 
She is the fairies' midwife ; and she comes 
In shape no bigger than an agate stone 
On the fore-finger of an alderman, 
Drawn with a team of little atomies +t 
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep : [legs ; 
Her waggon-spokes made of long spinners* 
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers ; 
The traces, of the smallest spider's web ; 
The collars, of the moonshine's wat'ry beams: 
Her whip, of cricket's bone ; the lash, of film : 
Her waggoner, a small grey-coated gnat. 
Not half so big as a round little worm 
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid : 
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut, 
Made by the joiner squirrel, or old grub. 
Time out of mind the fairies' coach-makers. 
And in this state she gallops night by night 
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of 
love : [straight : 

On courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies 
O'er lawyers* fingers, who strai;^ht dream on 

fees : 
O'er ladies' lips, who straight on kisses dream ; 
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues. 
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted 

are. 
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose. 
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit:^:: 
And sometimes comes she with a tithe^ig's 
Tickling a parson's nose as 'a lies asleep, [tail. 
Then dreams he of another benefice : 



j ,• i. «., Long speeches are out of fashion. t A scare-crow, a figure made up to frighten cow8« 

X A dance. § A torch-bearer was a constant appendage to every troop of maskers. 

{I Observe. ^ It was anciently the custom to strew rooms with rushes. 

•• This is equivalent to phrases in common use — / am done for, it is over with me. 

tt Atoms. ^ A place in court. 



984 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act /. 



Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck, | I'll swear hath corns; Am I come near yoa now? 
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats. You are welcome, gentlemen ! I have seen the 
Of breaches, anibuscadoes, Spanish blades, j That 1 have worn a visor; and could tell [day. 
Of healths five fathom deep ; and then anon I A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear, [gone : 
Drums in his ear ; at which he starts, and wakes; Such as would please ; — 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis i 
And, being thus frjghted, swears a prayer or You are welcome, gentlemen! — Come, musi- 



And sleeps again. This is that very Mab, [two, 
That plats the manes of horses in the night ; 
-And bakes the elf-locks* in foul sluttish" hairs. 
Which, once untangled, much misfortune bodes. 
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs. 
That presses them, and learns them first to 
Making them women of good carriage, [bear. 
This, this is she — 

Bom. Peace, peace, Mercatio, peace ; 

Thou talk'st of nothing. 

Mer. True, I tall: of dreams; 

"Which are the children of an idle brain. 
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy ; 
Which is as thin of substance as the air; 
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes 
Even now the frozen bosom of the north. 
And, being anger*d, puffs away from thence. 
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south. 

Ben. This wind you talk of, blows us from 
ourselves; 
Supper is done, and we shall come too late. 

Mom. I fear, too early : for my mind misgives. 
Some consequence, yet hanging in the stars, 
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date 
With this night's revels ; and expire the term 
Of a despised life, closed in my breast, 
By some vile forfeit of untimely death : 
But He, that hath the steerage of my course. 
Direct my sail! — On, lusty gentlemen. 

Ben. Strike, drum. [Exeunt. 

SCENE V. A Hall in Capulet's House. 
Musicians waiting. Enter Servants. 

1 Serv, Where's Potpan, that he helps not 
to take away? he shift a trencher! he scrape 
a trencher! 

2 Serv. When good manners shall lie all in 
one or two men's hands, and they unwashed 
too, 'tis a foul thing. 

\ Serv. Away with the joint-stools, remove 
the court-cupboard t, look to the plate : — good 
thoUv;save me a piece of marchpane j; and, as 
thou lovest me, let the porter let in Susan 
Grindstone, and Nell. — Antony! and Potpan! 

2 Serv, Ay, boy ; ready. 

1 Serv. You are looked for, and called for, 
asked for, and sought for, in the great chamber. 

2 Serv. We cannot be here and there too. — 
Cheerly, boys ; be brisk a while, and the longer 
liver take all. [They retire behind. 

Enter Capulkt, S^c, uith the Guests 

and the Maskers. 
Cap. Gentlemen, welcome ! ladies, that have 
their toes [you : — 

Unplagued with corns, will have a bout with 
Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all 
Will now deny to dance? she that makes 
dainty, she, j 



cians play. 
A hall! a hall§! give room, and foot it, girls. 

[Music fLaySy and they <iunce. 
More light, ye knaves ; and turn the tables up. 
And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot. 
Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well. 
Nay, sit, nay sit, good cousin Capulet; 
For you and I are past our dancing days : 
How long is't now, since last yourself and I 
Were in a mask? 
2 Cap. By'r lady, thirty years. 

1 Cup. What, man ! 'tis not so much, 'tis not 
*Tis since the nuptial of Lucentio, [so much : 
Come pentecost as quickly as it will, [mask'd. 
Some five and twenty years; and then we 

2 Cap. 'Tis more, 'tis more : his son is elder. 
His son is thirty. [sir : 

1 Cap. Will you tell me that? 

His son was but a ward two years ago. 

Bom. What lady's that, which doth enrich 
Of yonder knight? [the hand 

Serv. 1 know not, sir. [bright I 

Bom. O, she doth teach the torches to burn 
Her beauty hangs upon the cheek of night 
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiop's|! ear: 
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear! 
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows. 
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows, [stand. 
The measured done, Pll watch her place of 
And,touching hers, make happy my rude hand. 
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight I 
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night. 
Tyb. This, by his voice, should be a Mon- 
tague : — [slave 
Fetch me my rapier, boy: — What! dares the 
Come hither, cover'd with an antic face. 
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity ? 
Now, by the stock and honour of my kin. 
To strike him dead I hold it not a sin. 

1 Cap. Why , how now, kinsman ? wh«refor« 

storm yon so? 
Tyh. Uncle, this is a Montague, onr foe ; 
A villain, that is hither come in spite. 
To scorn at our solemnity this night 
1 Cap. Young Romeo is't? 
Tyb. 'TIS he, that villain Ron)«o« 

1 Cap, Content thee, gentle coz, let him 
He bears him like a portly gentleman ; [alone. 
And, to say truth, Verona brags of him, 
To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth : 
I would not for the wealth of all this town. 
Here in my house, do him disparagement : 
Therefore be patient, take no note of him. 
It is my will ; the which if thou respect. 
Show a fair presence, and put off these frowns. 
And ill-b£seeming semblance for a feast. 

Tyb. 1) fits, when such a villain is a guest; 
Pll not end'are him. 



• i. c, Fairy-locks, locks of hair clotted and tangled in the night. 

A cupboard set in a corner like a beaufet on which the plate was placed. t Almond-cake 

$ «. e., Make roo». || An Ethiopian, a black. f The dance. 



Scent v.] 



ROM£0 AND JULIET. 



965 



1 Cap* He shall be endured ; 

Wb»t, goodmab boy I— I eay, he shall ; — Go 

to; 
Am I the master h«re, or yon? go to. [ioul — 
You'll wot «ndure him! — God shall mend my 
You'll make a mutiny among my guests! 
Yon will set cock-a-hoop ! you'll be the man! 
Tyh, Why, uocle, 'tis a shame. 
1 Cap. Go to, go to, 

You are a saocy boy : — Is't so, indeed ? — 
This trick may chance to scath* you ; — I know 

what. 
You must contrary me ! marry, 'tis time — 
Well said, my hearts: — You are a princoxf; 
go: — [shame! — 

Be quiet, or — More light, more light, for 
I'll make you quiet; What! — Cheerly, my 
hearts. • [meeting, 

Tyb, Patience perforce with wilful choler 
Makes my flesh tremble in tkeir diflferent greet- 
ing. 
I will withdraw : but this intrusion shall. 
Now seeming sweet, convert to bitter gall. 

[Exit, 
Rom, If I profane with my unworthy hand 
[To Juliet. 
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this, — 
fdy lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand 
To smooth that rough touch with a tender 
ki«s. [too much, 

Jul. Guod pilgrim, you do wrong your hand 
Which mannerly devotion shows in this; 
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do 
touch, 
Ajjd palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss. 
Borfi. Have not saints lips, and holy palmers 
too? [prayer. 

Jul, Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in 
Horn, O then, deaf saint, let lips do what 
hands do ; [despair. 

Thev pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to 
Jul. Saints do not c^ove, though grant for 
prayers* sake. [effect I take. 

Rom. Then move not, while my prayer's 
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged. 
{Kissing her. 
Jul, Then have my lips the sin that they 
have took. [urged I 

Rom. Siu from my lips? O trespass sweetly 
Give me my sin again. 
Jul. You kiss by the book. 

Nurse. Madam, your mother craves a word 
Rom, What is her mother? [with you. 

\Nurse. Marry, bachelor, 

•Her mother is the lady of the house. 
And a good lady, and a wise, and virtu«*us: 
I nwrsed her daughter, that you talk'd withal ; 
I tell you,— he, that can lay hold of her, 
bhall have the chinks, 

* Do you axt iujury. f A ooxcomb* 



Rom, Is she a Capnlet? 

dear account! my life is my foe's debt. 
Ren, Away, begone; the sport is at tb« 

beat. 
Rom, Ay, so I fear ; the more is my unrest. 
1 Cap, Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be 
gone ; 
We have a trifling foolish banquet J towards, — 
Is it e'en so? Why, then I thank you all ; 

1 thank you, honest gentlemen ; good night :^- 
More torches here? — Come on, then let's to 

bed. 
Ah, sirrah, [To 2 Cap,] by my fay $, it waxes 

late; 
I'll to my rest. 

[ExPUHt all but Juliet and Nurse. 
Jul. Come hither, nurse: What is yon 

gentleman ? 
Nurse, The son and heir of old Tiberi*. 
Jul, What's he, that now is going out of 
door t [truchio. 

Nurse. Marry, that, I think, be young Pe- 
Jul. What's he, that follows tkere, that would 
Nurse. I know not. [not dance ? 

Jul. Go, ask; his name : — if he be married. 
My grave is like to be my wedding bed. 
Nurse, His name is Romeo, and a Monta- 
gue; 
The only son of your great enemy. [hate I 

Jul, My only love sprung from my only 
Too early seen unknown, and known too late I 
Prodigious birth of love it is to me. 
That i must love a loathed enemy. 
Nurse, What's this? what's this? 
Jul, A rhyme I learn'd even now 

Of one I danced withal. 

[One calls within, Juliet. 
Nurse. Anon, anon : — 

Come, let's away ; the strangers all are gone. 
[Exeunt, 
Enter Chorus. 
Now old Desire doth in his death-bed lie. 

And young Aflfection gapes to be his heir ; 
That fair, which love groan'd for, and would 
die, 
With tender Juliet match'd is now not fair. 
Now Romeo is beloved, and loves again, 

Alike bewitched by the charm of looks; 
But to his foe supposed he must complain. 
And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful 
hooks : 
Being held a foe, he may not have accees 

To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear ; 
And she as much in love, her meaas mnch less 

To meet her new-beloved any where : 
But passion lends them power, time means to 

meet, 
Temp'ring extremities with extreme sweet. 

[Exit. 



I A collation of frait, wine^ ^c» 



( Faith, 



960 



8HAKAPEAHE. 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. An open Place, adjoining Capa- 
lei*8 Garden, 

Enter Romeo. 

Rom. Can I go forward, when my heart it 
here? 
Turn back, dull earth*, and find thy centre out. 
{Ht ciimb6 the U all, and leaps doivn 
within it. 
Enter Penvolio aid Mkrcutio. 

Ben, Ruineoi my cousin^ Rumeoi 

Mer, He is wise ; 

And, on my life, hath stolen him home to bed. 

Ben. He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard 
Call, yood Mercutio. [wall: 

Mer. Nay, I'll conjure too.— 

Romeo! hnmoursi madman! passion! lover! 
Appear thon in ihe likeness of a sitjh, 
•Speak but one rhjme, an<l 1 am satisfied ; 
Cry but — Ah me I couple but — love and dove; 
Speak to my j/ossip Venus one fair word, 
One nitk name ft)r her purblind son and heir. 
Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim, 
When king Cophetua loved the beggar- 
maid t. — 
He heareth not, stirreth not, he moveth not; 
The ape I is dead, and I must conjure him. — 
J conjure thee by Rosaline's bright eyes. 
By her hiuh forehead, and her scarlet lip, 
By her fine foot, straight leg, and quivering 

thii^h. 
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie. 
That in thy likeness thou appear to ns. 

Beyi. An if he hear ihee.ihou wilt anger him. 

Mer. This cannot anger him : 'twould aniier 
To raise a spirit in his mistress* citcle [him 

(if some stiange nature, letting it there stand 
Till she ha.l liid it, and conjured it down; 
That were some spite : my invocation 
is fair and honest, and, in his mi-tress' name, 
I conjure only hut to raise up him. [trees, 

Ben. Come, he hath hi<l himself among those 
To be consorted with thehumorousj night: 
Blind is his love, and best befits the dark. 

Mer. It love be blind, love cannot hit the 
Now will he sit under a medlar tree, [mark. 
And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit. 
As maids call medlars, when they laugh 

alone. — 
Romeo, good night; — I'll to my trnckle-bed; 
This field- bed is too cold for me to sleep : 
Come, shall we go? 

Ben, Go, then ; for 'tis in vain 

To seek him here, that means not to be found. 

{Exeunt, 

SCENE II. Capulet's Garden, 
Enter Romeo. 
Rom. He jests at scars, that never felt a 
wound. — 
[JuLi ET appears above, at a Window, 



But, soft! what light through yonder window 
It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! — [breaktti 
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, ^ 
W ho is already sick and pale with grief. 
That thou her maid art far more fair than she > 
he not her maid )|, since she ig enviouu : 
Her vestal livery is but sick and green. 
And none but fools do wear it ; cast it oflf.— 
It is my lady : O, it is my love: , 

(),that she knew she were! — [thatf ' 

She speaks, yet she says nothing: "What of 
Her eye discourses, 1 will answer it. — 
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaKs: 
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven. 
Having some business, do entreat her eyes 
To twinkle in their spheres till ;hey return. 
What if her eyes were there, they in her headt 
The brighinees of her cheek would shame 

those stars, 
As daylight doth a lamp ; her eye in heaven 
Would through the airy region stream so bright. 
That birds would sing, and think it were not 

night. 
See how she leans her cheek upon her hand I 
O, that I were a glove upon that hand. 
That I might touch that cheek ! 

Jul, Ah me! 

Rom. She speaks :— 

O, speak again, bright angel I for thou art 
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head, 
As is a winged messenger of heaven 
Unto the white upturned wond'ring eyes 
Of mortals, that fall back to gaze on him. 
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouda. 
And sails upon the bosom of the air. [RomeoT 

Jul. O, Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thott 
Deny thy father, and refuse thy name: 
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love. 
And I'll no longer be a Capulel. 

Rom. Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at 
thisi [Aside, 

Jul, 'Tis but thy name that is my enemy; 
Thou art thyself, though not a Montague. 
What's Montague? it is nor hand, nor fool. 
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part 
Belonging to a man. O, be seme other nameC 
W bat's in a name 1 that which we call a rose. 
By any other name would smell as sweet; 
So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd. 
Retain that dear perfection which he owes IF, 
Without that title. — Romeo, dotit** thy name; 
And for that name, which is no part of thee. 
Take all myself. 

Rom, I take thee at thy word : 

Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized ; 
Henceforth 1 never will be Rome'-. 

Jul. What man art thou that, thai b« 
Bcreen'd in night, 
So stumblest on my counsel? 

Rom, By a name 

I know not how to tell thee who i am : 



• fce.. Himself. + Alluding to the old ballad of the king and the beggar. t.This phrase, 

in Shakspeare's time, A'as used as an expression of tendprness. § ^"'^*^* moist, 

I A votary to the moon, to Diana. H Owns, possesses. ^ r^ .. 



•• Do ott. 






Scene II.] 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



957 



My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself. 

Because it is an enemy to thee ; 

Had I it written, I would tear the word. 

Jul. My ears have not yet drunk a hundred 
words [sound ; 

Of that tongue's utterance, yet I Icnow the 
Art thou not Romeo and a Montague ? 

Jiom. Neither, fair saint, if either thee 
dislike. [wherefore 1 

Jul. How earnest thou hither, tell me ? and 
The orchard walls are high, and hard to climb; 
And the place death, considering who thou 
If any of my kinsmen find thee here. [art, 

J{09n. With love's light wings did I o'er 
perch these walls ; 
For stony limits cannot hold love out : 
And what love can do that dares love attempt. 
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let* to me. [thee. 

Jul. If they do see thee they will murder, 

Rom. Alack! there lies more peril in thine 

eye [sweet 

Than twenty of their swords; look thou but 

And I am proof against iheir enmity, [here. 

Jill. I would not for the world they saw thee 

Rom. I have night's cloak to hide me from 
their sight ; [here : 

And, but thou love me-f, let them find me 
My life were better ended by their hate. 
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love. 

Jul. By whose direction found'st thou out 
this place? inquire; 

Rom. By love, who first did prompt me to 
He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. 
I am no pilot ; yet, wert thou as far 
As that v;i?t shore wash'd with the furthest sea, 
I would ad venture for such merchandise, [face, 

Jul. J hou know'st the mask of night is on my 
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek, 
For that which thou hast heard me speak to- 
night, 
Fain would I dwell on form— fain, fain deny 
What 1 have spoke. But farewell com pliment ! 
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say — Ay; 
And I will take thy word : yet.if thou swear'st, 
Thou may'st prove false ; at lover's ^erjuries, 
They say, Jave laughs. O, gentle Romeo, 
If thou dost love pronounce it faithfully : 
Or, if thou think'st I am too quickly won, 
I'll frown, and be perverse, and say thee nay. 
So thou wilt woo ; but else not for \he world. 
In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond ; [light : 
And therefore thou may'st think my haviour i 
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true 
Than those that have more cunning to be 
strange §. . [fess, 

I should have been more strange, I must con- 
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was 'ware. 
My true love's passion : therefore pardon me ; 
And not impute this yielding to light love. 
Which the dark night hath so discovered. 

Rom. Lady, by yonder blessed moon I 
swear, 
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops, — 

Jul. O, swear not by the moon, the incon- 
stant moon 
That monthly changes in her circled orb. 



Lest that thy love prove likewise variable. 

Rom. What shall I s^ear by? 

Jul. Do not swear at all; 

Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self. 
Which is the god of my idolatry. 
And I'll believe thee. 

Rom,. If my heart's dear love — 

Jul. Well, do not swear : although 1 joy in 
I have no joy of this contract to-night: [thee. 
It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden ; * 
ij'oo like the lightning, which (|oth cease to be 
^re one can say — It lightens. , Sweet, good 

night ! 
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath. 
May prove a beauteous flower when next we 
meet. [rest 

Good night! good night! as sweet repose and 
Come to thy heart, as that within my breast ! 

Rom. O, wilt thou leave me so unsatistied? 

Jul. What satisfaction canst thou have 
to-night? 

Rom. The exchange of thy love's faithful 
vow for mine. [quest it : 

J21I. I gave thee mine before thou didst re- 
And yet 1 would it were to give again. 

Rom. Wouldstthou withdraw it? for what 
purpose, love? [again. 

Jul. But to be frank |l, and give it thee 
And yet I wish but for the thing I have : 
My bounty is as boundless as the sea. 
My love as deep ; the more 1 give to thee 
The more I have, for both are infinite. 

[Nurse calls within. 
I hear some noise within; Dear love, adieu! 
Anon, good nurse!— Sweet Montague, be true. 
Stay but a little, I will come again. [Krit. 

Rom, blessed, blessed night ! I am afeard. 
Being in night, all this is but a dream. 
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial. 
Re-ent er J u l i e t above. 

Jul. Three words, dear Romeo, and good 
night, indeed. 
If that thy bent IF of love be honourable, [row. 
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-mor- 
By one that I'll procure to come to thee, [rite ; 
Where, and what time, thou wilt perform the 
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay. 
And follow thee, my lord, throughout the 

Nurse. {Within.'] Madam. [world : 

Jul. I come anon : — But if thou mean'st not 
I do beseech thee, — [well. 

Nurse. {If it kin.] Madam. 

Jul. By and by I come; 

To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief: 
To-morrow will I send. 

Rom. So thrive my 

Jul. A thousand times good night ! 

Rom. A thousand times the worse 
thy light.— [their 

Love goes toward love as school-boys 
But love from love, toward school with 

looks. {Retiring, slou 

Re-enter JvijiETy above. 

Jul. Hist I Romeo, hist 1—0, for a falconer's 
To lure this tissel-gentle** back again I [voice. 
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloiid; 



Hindcrance. 
II Free. 



f Unless thou love mc. $ Behaviour. $ Shjr. 

'S Incliuitliou. •* The male of the goshawk. 



968 



SH4KSPBARE. 



[Act n> 



Else wottld I tear the cave where echo lies. 
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than 
With repetition* of my Romeo's name, [mine 

R(ym, It is my suui, that calls upon my name : 
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by 
Like softest music to attending ears I [night 

Jul. Romeo! 

Rom» My sweet! 

Jul. At what o'clock to-morrow 

Shall I send to thee? 

Rom. At the hour of nine. 

Jul. I will not fail; 'tis twenty years till 
I have forgot why I did call thee back. [then. 

i2ow.Let me sta«d here till thou remember it. 

Jul. I shall foi^jfet, to have thee still stand 
Rememb'ring howl love thy company, [there, 

Rom. And I'll still stay, to have thee still 
Forgetting any other home but this. [forget, 

Jul. 'Tis almost morning, I would have thee 
And yet no further than a wanton's bird ; [gone : 
Who lets it hop a little from her hand. 
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves *, 
And with a silk thread plucks it back again. 
So loving-jealous of his liberty. 

Rmn. I would, I were thy bird. 

Jul. Sweet, so would I; 

Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing. 
Good night, good night ! parting is such sweet 

sorrow. 
That I shall say — good night, till it be morrow. 

[Exit. 

Rom. Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace 
in thy breast! — [rest! 

'Would I were sleep and peace so sweet to 
Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell ; 
His help to crave, and my dear hapt to tell. 

[t:xit. 
SCENE III. Friar Laurence's Cell. 

Enter Friar Laurence, tvitU a Basket. 

Fri. The grey-eyed morH smiles on the 

frowning night, [light; 

Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of 

And flecked X darkness like a drunkard reels 

From forth day's paih-way, made by Titan's § 

wheels: 
Now ere the sun advance his burning eye. 
The day to cheer, and night's dank dew to dry, 
1 must fill up this osier cage of ours, [era. 

With baleful weeds, and precious juiced flow- 
The earth, that's nature's mother, is her tomb ; 
What is her burying grave, that is her womb : 
And from her womb children of divers kind 
We sucking on her natural bosom find; 
Many for many virtues excellent. 
None but for some, and yet all different. 
O, mickle is the powerful grace ||, that lies 
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities: 
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live, 
But to the earth some special good doth give; 
Nor aught so good, but strain'd from that fair 

use. 
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abase: 
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; 
And vice aometirne's by action dignified. 
Withta the infant rind of this small flower 
Poison hath residence, and med'cine power : 



For this, being smelt, with that part cheers 

each part ; 
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart. 
Two such opposed foes encamp them still 
In man as well as herbs, grace, and rude will; 
And where the worser is predominant. 
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant. 
Enter Romeo. 

Rom, Good morrow, father ! 

Fri. Benedicite ! 

What early tongue so sweet saluteth me 1 — 
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head. 
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed : 
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye. 
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie ; 
But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd 
brain [reign: 

Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth 
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure. 
Thou art up-roused by some distemp'rature ; 
Or if not so, then here I hit it right — 
Our Romeo hath not been in bed to-night. 

Rom. That last is true, the sweeter rest was 
mine. [line? 

Fri. God pardon sin ! wast thou with Rosa- 

Rom. With Rosaline, my ghostly father ? no ; 
I have forgot that name, and that name's woe. 

Fri. That's my good son: But where hast 
thou been then? 

Rom. I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again 
I have been feasting with mine enemy ; 
Where, on a sudden, one hath wounded me. 
That's by me wounded; both our remedies 
W ithin thy help and holy physic lies : 
I bear no hatred, blessed man; for, lo. 
My intercession likewise steads my foe. [drift ; 

Fri. Be plain, good son, and homely in thy 
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift. 

Rom, Then plainly know, my heart's dear 
love is set 
On the fair daughter of rich Capulet : 
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine ; [bine 
And all combined, save what thou must corn- 
By holy marriage : when, and where, and how. 
We met, we woo'd, and made exchange of vow, 
I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray. 
That thou consent to marry us this day. [here! 

Fri. Holy Saint Francis! what a change is 
Is Rosaline, whom thou didst love so dear, 
So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies 
Not truly in their hearts but in their eyes. 
Jesu Maria! what a deal of brine 
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Rosaline! 
How much salt water thrown away in waste. 
To season love, that of it doth not taste ! 
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears. 
Thy old groans wring ytt in my ancient ears; 
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit 
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet: 
If e'er thou wast thyself, and these woes thine. 
Thou and these woes were all for Rosaline; 
And art thou changed? pronounce this sen- 
tence then— [wien. 
Women may fail, when there's no strength in 

Rom.Thow chid'st me oft for loving Rosaline. 

Fri. For doting, not for loving, pupil mine. 



• Fetters. t Chance, furlauc. % Spotted, streaked. 



§ The son. U Virtue. 



Scene III.] 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



969 



Rom, And badest me bury love. 

Fri, Not in a grave. 

To lay one in, another out to have, [love now, 

Rom. I pray thee, chide not : she, whom I 
Doth grace for grace and love for love allow ; 
The other did not so. 

Fri. O, she knew well. 

Thy love did read by rote, and could not spell. 
But come, young waverer.come go »\ith me. 
In one respect I'll thy assistant bej 
For this alliance may so happy prove. 
To turn your households' rancour to pure love. 

Rom. O, let us hence; I stand on sudden 
haste*. 

Fri. Wisely, and slow; they stumble that 
run fast. [Exeunt, 

SCENE IV. A Street, 

Enter Benevolio and Mercutio. 

Mer. Where the devil should this Romeo 
Came he not home to-night? [be? — 

Ben. Not to his father's ; I spoke with his 
man. [that Rosaline, 

Mer. Ah.thatsame pale hard-hearted wench. 
Torments him so, that he will sure run mad. 

Ben. Tybalt, the kinsman of old Capulet, 
Hath sent a letter to his father's house. 

Mer. A challenge, on my life. 

Ben. Romeo will answer it. 

Mer. Any man, that caa write, may answer 
a letter. 

Ben. Nay, he will answer the letter's mas- 
ter, how he dares, being dared. 

Mer. Alas, poor Romeo, he is already dead ! 
«tabbed with a white wench's black eye; shot 
thorough the ear with a love-song ; the very pin 
of his heart cleft with the blind bow-boy's butt- 
shaft +; And is he a man to encounter Tybalt? 

Ben. Why, what is Tybalt? * 

Mer. More than prince of catst, I can tell 
you. O, he is the courageous captain of com- 
pliments. He fights as you sing piick-scng^, 
keeps time, distance, and proportion ; rests me 
his minim rest, one, two, and the third in yonr 
bosom : the very butcher of a silk button, a 
duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the very 
first house, — of the first and second cause : Ah, 
the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the 
hay II ! 

Ben. The what? 

Mer. The pox of such antic, lisping, affect- 
ing fantasticoes ; these new tuners of accents ! — 
By Jes2i, a very good blade! — a very tall 
man ! — a very good whore ! — Why, is not this 
a lamentable thing, grandsire, that we should 
be thus afflicted with these strange flies, these 
fashion-mongers, these pardonntz-moy's, who 
stand so much on the new form, that they 
cannot sit at ease on the old bench? O, their 
boHS, their bons%! 

* i. e,. It is of the utmost consequence for me to be hasty. + Arrow. X See the story ol 
Reynard the fox. § By notes pricked down. || lerms of the feiicine school. 11 la 

ritlicule of frenchified coxcombs. ♦* Trowsers or pantaloons, a Frencl- iaslionin Shak 

apeare's time. ++ A pun on counterfeit money called slips. tl Shoe. jj Shght ihin. 

yij A horse race in any direction the leader fhot)ses lo Jake. f ^ An apple. •♦• Soft 

stretching leather. ^ 



Ffiter RoyiEO. 
Ben. Here comes Romeo,here coraesRomeo. 

Mer. Without his roe, like a dried her- 
ring :— O flesh, flesh, how art thou fishified! 
— Now is he for the numbers that Petrarch 
flowed in : Laura, to his lady, was buta kitch- 
en-wench ;— marry, she had a better love to 
be-rhyme her : Dido, a dowdy ; Cleopatra, a 
gipsy ; Helen and Hero, hildings and harlots ; 
Thisb^, a grey eye or so, but not to the pur- 
pose. — Signior Romeo, honjiur! there's a 
French salutation to your French slop **. You 
gave us the counterfeit fairly last nighu 

Rom. Good-morrow to you both. What 
counterfeit did 1 give you? 

Mer. The slip, sir, the slip ft; Can you not 
conceive? 

Rom, Pardon, good Mercutio, my business 
was great ; and, in such a case as mine, a man 
may strain courtesy. 

Mer. That's as much as to say — such a case 
as yours constrains a man to bow in the hams. 

Rom. Meaning — to court'sy, 

Mer. Thou hast most kindly hit it. 

Rom, A most courteous exposition. 

Mer. Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy. 

Rom. Pink for flower. 

Mer. Eight. 

i?om.Why,then is my pump|i well flowered. 

Mer, Weil said : Follow me this jest now, 
till thou hast worn out thy pump ; that, when 
the single sole of it is worn, the jest may re- 
main, after the wearing, solely singular. 

Rom. O single-soled j^ jest, solely singular 
for the singleness ! 

Mer, Come between us, good Benvolio ; 
ray wits fail. 

Rom. Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; 
or Pll cry a match. 

Mer. N ay, if thy wits run the wild-goose 
chase |1||, I have done ; for thou hast more of 
the wild-goose in one of thy wits, than, I am 
sure, 1 have in my whole five : Was I with 
you there for the goose i 

Rom. Thou wast never with me for any 
thing, when thou wast not there for the goose. 

Mer. I will bite thee by the ear for that jest. 

Rom. Nay, good goose, bite not. 

Mer. Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting ITIT ; 
it is a most sharp sauce. 

Rom. And is it not well served in to a 
sweet goose ? 

Mer. O, here's a wit of cheverel •**, that 
stretches from an inch narrow to an ell broad \ 

Rom. I stretch it out for that word — broad : 
which, added to the goose, proves thee far and 
wide a broad goose. 

Mer. Why, is not this better now than 
groaning for love l now art thou sociable, now 
art Ibon Romeo; now art thou what thou art 
by art as well as by nature : for this drivelling 



970 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IF 



love is like a great natural, thai runs lolling 
up and down tu hide his bauble in a hole. 

Ben. Stop there, stop there. 

Mer, Thou desirest me to stop in my tale 
against the hair. 

Jien. Thou \vonldst else have made thy tale 
lai^e. 

Mer. O, thou art deceived, I vrould have 
made it short : for I was come to the whole 
depth of my tale : and meant, indeed, to oc- 
cupy the argument no longer, 

Jiom. Here's goodly geer! 

Enter Nurse and Peter. 

Mer. A sail, a sail, a sail! 

JBen. Two, two ; a shirt, and a smock. 

Nurse. Peter ! 

Peter. Anon? 

Nurse. My fan, Peter *. 

Mer. Pr'ythee, do, good Peter, to hide her 
face ; for her fan's the fairer of the two. 

Nurse. God ye good morrow, gentlemen, 

Mer, God ye good dent, fair gentlewoman. 

Nurse. Is it good den 1 

Mer. *Tis no less, I tell you ; for the bawdy 
hand of the dial is now upon the p-rick jofnoon. 

Nurse. Out upon you ! what a man are you? 

Rum. One, gentlewoman, that God hath 
Blade himself to mar. 

Nurse. By my troth, it is well said ; — For 
himself to mar, quoth'a?— Gentlemen, can any 
of you tell me where I may find the young 
Romeo? 

Rom. I can tell you; but young Romeo 
will be older when yon have found him, than 
he was when you sought hiin : I am the 
youngest of that name, for 'fault of a worse. 

Nurse. You say well. 

Mer. Yea, is the worst well? very well took, 
Pfailh; wisely, wistly. 

Nurse. If you be he, sir, I desire some 
confidence with you. 

Ben, .She will indite him to some supper. 

Mer. A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! So ho! 

Rom, What hast thou found? 

Mer. No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a 
lenten pie, that is something stale and hoar ere 
St be spent. 

An old hare hoar^, 
And an old hare hoar. 
Is very good meat in Lent : 
But a hare that is hoar. 
Is too much for a score, 
When it hoars ere it be spent, 
Romeo, will you come to your father's? we'll 
to dinner thither. 

Rom. I will follow you. 

Mer. Farewell, ancient lady; farewell, 
lady, lady II, lady. 
[Eieunt MERCUTiocrwrf Benvolio. 

Nurse. Marry farewell I — I pray yon, sir, 
^hat saucy merchants was this, that was so 
ThII of his ropery ** ? 

Rom, A gentleman, nurse, tha* loves to hear 



himself talk; and will speak more in a oil 
nute, than he will stand to in a month. 

Nurse. An 'a speak any thing against me, 
PU take him down an 'a were lustier than he 
is, and twenty such Jacks ; and if I cannot, 
Pll tindtho.se that shall. Scurvy knave ! I am 
none of his fiirt gills ; 1 am none of his skains- 
mates ft : — And thou miist stand by too, and 
suffer every knave to nst me at his pleasure? 

Pet. I saw no man use you at his pleasure; 
if I had, my weapon should quickly have beea 
out, I warrant you: I rlare draw as soon as 
another man, if I see occasion in a good quar- 
rel, and the law on my side. 

Nurse. Now, afore God, I am so vexed, 
that every part about me quivers. Scurvy 
knave! — Pray you, sir, a word : and as I toid 
you, my young lady bade me inquire yon out ; 
what she bade me say, I will keep to myself: 
but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into 
a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very 
gross kind of behaviour, as they say : for the 
gentlewoman is young ; and, therefore, if you 
should deal double with her, truly, it were an 
ill thing to be offered to any gentlewoman, 
and very weak dealing. 

Rom. Nurse, commend m« to thy lady and 
mist«ress. 1 protest unto thee. — 

Nurse. Good heart! an<l, i'faith, I willtell 
her as much : Lord, lord, she will be a joyful 
woman. 

Rom. What wilt thou tell her, nurse? thou 
dost not mark me. 

Nurse. I will tell her, sir, — that yon do 
protest ; which, as I take it, is a gentleman- 
like offer. 

Rom. Bid her devise some means to come 
This atternoon ; [to shrift Jl 

And there she.shall at fri.ir Laurence' cell ' 

Be shrived, and married. Here is for thy pains. 

Nur.^e. No, truly, sir; not a penny. 

Rem. Go to; I say, you shall. 

Nurse. This afternoon, sir? well, she shall 
be there. 

Rojn. And stay, good nurse, behind the 
abbey wall : 
Within this hour my man shall be with thee ; 
And bring thet- cords made like a tackled stair 
Which to the hiijh top galhuit §^ of my joy 
Must be my convoy in the secret night. 
Farewell! — He trusty, and I'll quit j||l thy pains. 
Farewell ! commend me to thy mistress. 

Nurse. Now (-od in heaven bless thee!^> 
Hark you, sii . 

Rom. What say'sl thou, my dear nurse? 

Nur.se. Is your man secret ? Did you ne'ef 
hear say — 
Two may keep counsel, putting one away? 

Rom. I warrant thee ; my man's as true as 
steel. 

Nurse. Well, sir ; my n-;istres8 is the sweet- 
est lady — Lord, lord !— when 'iwas a little 
prating thing,— O, — there's a nobleman in 



It was the custom for servants to carry the lady's fan. + Good even. J Point. 

$ Hoary, monldy. || The burthen of an old song. If A term of disrespect in contradis- 

tlon to gentleman. ♦* Roguery. ft A mate or companion of one wearing a skain ; ashcrt 
ftword. Xl Confession. §j The highest extremity of the mast of a si. ip. |11| Recu-Ue 



Setne /T.J 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



971 



town, one Paris, that would fain lay knife 
aboard ; but she, good soul, had as lieve see a 
toad, a very toad, as see him. 1 anircr her 
sometimes, and tell her that Paris is the pro- 
perer man ; but, Pll warrant you, when I say 
«o, she looks as pale as any tiont in the varsal 
world. Doth not rosemary and Romeo be- 
gin both With a letter! 

Bom. Ay, nurse; What of that? both with 
an R. 

Nurse, Ah, mocker I that's the dog's name. 
R. is for the dog. No; I know it begins with 
some other letter: and she hath the prelliept 
sententious of it, of you and rosemary, that it 
would do you good to hear it. 

Rom. Commend nie to thy lady. \^Exit. 

Ni'rse. Ay, a thousand times. — Peter I 

Pet. Anon? 

hlurse. Peter, take my fan, and go before. 
\^Exeunt. 

SCENE V. Capulefs Garden, 
Enter Juliet. 
Jul. The clock struck nine, when I did 
send the nurse ; 
In half an hour she promised to rt turn. [so. — 
perchance, she cannot meet him: that's not 
O, she is lame! love's heralds should be 
thoughts, [beams, 

Which ten times faster glide than the sun's 
Driving back shadows over lowering hills : 
Therefore donimble-pinion'd dovesdraw love, 
And therefore hath the wind swift Cnpid wings. 
Now IS tlie sun upon the highmost hill 
Of this day's journey ; and from nine till 

twelve 
Is three long hours, — yet she is not come* 
Had she affections, and warm youthful blood, 
^he'd be as swift in motion as a ball ; 
My words would bandy* her to my sweet love, 
And his to xue : 

But old folks, many feign as they were dead ; 
Unvvieldly, slow, heavy and pale as lead. 

Enter >.urse aiul Peter. 
O God, she comes I— O honey nurse, what 

ntws? 
Hast thou met with him ? Send thy man away. 
Nuri,€. Peter, stay at the gate. 

[Exit Peter. 
Jul. Now, good sweet nurse, — O lord ! why 
look'st thou sad ? 
Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily ; 
If good, thou shaniest the music of sweetnews 
By playing it to me with so sour a face. 

Nurse. I am weary, give me leave a while : 

Fie, how my bones ache 1 What a jiunt have 

I had ! [thy news : 

Jul. I would, thou hadst my bones, and I 

Nay, come, I pray thee, speak ; — good, good 

nurse, speak. [awhih? 

Nitrse. Jesu. What haste? can you not st>y 

Do you not see, that I am out of hreath? 

Jul. How art thou out of breath, when thou 

hast breath 



To say to me— that thou art out of breath? 
The excuse, that thou dost make in this delay 
Is longer than the tale thoti dost excr.se. 
Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that; 
Say tither, and I'll stay the circumstance : 
Let me be satisfied, Is'i good or ha«l ? 

Nurse. Well, you have made a siRi-ple 
choice; you know not how to choose a nan : 
Romeo ! no, not he; though his face be better 
than any man's, >et his lei, excels all mei/si 
and for a hand, and a foot, and a body, — 
though they be not to be talked on, yet they 
are p^st compare: He is not the flower of 
courtesy,— but, I'il warrant hiui, as gentle as a 
lamb. — Go thy ways, wench; serve God.— 
What, have you dined at home ? [fore ; 

Jul. No, no: But all this did 1 know be- 
What says he of our marriage? what of that? 

Nurse. Lord, how my head akes! what a 
head have I? 
It beats as it would fall in twenty rieces. 
My back o't'other side, — 0,my back, my backl 
Beshrewf your heart, for sending me about. 
To catch my death with jaunting up and down I 

Jul. I'faith, I am soiry that thou art not 

well : [my love? 

Sweet, sweet, sweet nurse, tell rae. what says 

Nurse, Your love sajs like an hontst gen- 
tleman. 
And a courteous, and a kind, and a handsome. 
And, I warrant, a virtuous : — Where is your 
mother ? [wi'.hin ; 

Jul, Where is my mother? — why, she ia 
Where should she be? How oddly thou re- 

ply'st? 
Your love .says like on honest gentleman,-^ 
adhere is your mother? 

Nurse. O, God's lady dear ? 

Are you so hot? Marry, come up, I trow; 
Is this the poultice for my aking bones? 
Henceforward do your message.* yourself. 

Jul. Here's such a C()ilj, — come, what says 
P.omeo? [to-dnyt 

Nurse. Have you got leave to go to shrift 

Jul, 1 have. [rence' cell, 

Tsurse. Then hie you hence to friar Lau 
There stays a husband to make you a wife: 
Now comes tlie wanton blood up in yout 

cheeks, 
They'll be in scarlet straight at any news 
Hie you to church ; I must another way, 
To fetch a lidder, by the which your love 
Must climb a bird's nest soon, when it is 

dark : 
I am the drudge, and toil in your delight; 
Fut you shall bear the burden soon at tdght. 
Go, I'll to dinner ; hie you to the cell. 

Jul. Hie to high foi tune '.—honest nurse, 
farewell. [Ejitiint, 

SCENE VI. Friar Laurence's Ceil. 
Enter Friar L\urenck ond Rom to. 

Fri. So smile the heavens upon this holy act. 
That after-hours with sorrow chiJe us i»ot! 



* Drive her, m a ball struck witli a bandy, i.e.^ a bat er battledore. 
X Noise, bostU. 



t IllbDitidc. 



072 



SHAKSPEARE 



[Art FJJ, 



Horn. Amen I amen 1 but come what sorrow 

can, 
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy 
That one short minute gives me ia her sight : 
Do thoa but close oar hands with holy 

words. 
Then love-devouring death do what he dare. 
It is enough I may but call her mine. 
Fri. These violent delights have violent 

ends, [powder. 

And in their triumph die ; like tire and 
Which, as they kiss, consume : The sweetest 

honey 
Is loathsome in his own deliclousness. 
And in the taste confounds the appetite : 
Therefore, love moderately ; long love doth so; 
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow. 

Enter Juliet. 
Here comes the lady : O, so light a foot 
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint: 
A lover may bestride the gossomers* 
That idle in the wanton summer air. 
And yet not fall; so light is vanity. 



Jul. Good even to nry "ghostly ^.onfebsor. 
Fri. Romeo shall thank thee, daughter, for 
us both! [too n>ucb. 

Jul. As gioch to Lim, else are hi» thanks 
Rom, Ah, Juliet, if the measure of thy joy 
Be heaped like mine, and that thy ftki.1 be r 

more 
To blazent it, then sweeten with thy breath 
This neighbour air, and let rich music's 

tongue. 
Unfold the imagined happiness that both 
Receive in either by this dear tncouoter. 
Jul. Conceit J, more rich in mattet than in 
words. 
Brags of his substance, not of ornajnent : 
They are but beggars that can count iheir worth; 
But my true love i* grown to such excess, 
1 cannot sum up half my sum of wealth. 
Fri. Come, com* with me, and we will 
make short work ; 
For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone. 
Till holy church incorporate two in one. 

[Exeunt* 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. A public Place, 

Mnter Mercutio, Benvolio, Page, and 
Servants. 

Ben. T pray thee, good Mercutio, let's retire; 
The day Is hot, the Capulets abroad. 
And, if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl ; 
For now, these hot days, is the mad blood 
stirring. 

Mer. Thou art like one of foose fellows, 
♦hat, when he enters the confines of a tavern, 
elaps me his sword upon the table, and sajs, 
God send me no need of thee ! and, by the 
operation of the second c»p, draws it on the 
drawer, when, indeed, there is no need. 

Ben. Am I like such a fellow? 

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in 
thy mood as any in Italy ; and as soon moved 
to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved. 

Ben. And what to ? 

Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we 
ihould have none shca-tly, for one would kill 
the other. Thou ! why thou wHt quarrel with 
a man that hath a hair more, or a hair less, in 
his beard, than thou hast. Thou wilt quarrel 
with a man for cracking nuts, having no other 
reason but because thou hast hazel eyes ; What 
eye, but such an eye, would spy out such a 
quane' ** Thy head is as full of quarrels, as an 
egg is fullot meat; and yet thy head haih been 
beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling. 
Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing 
in the street, because he hath wakened thy 
dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst 
thou not tall out with a tailor for wearing his 
new doublet before Easter 1 with another, for 
tying his new shoes with old riband '( and yet 
tboa wilt tutor me from quarrelling I 



Ben, An I were so apt to quarrel as thou 
art, any man should buy the fee-simple of my 
life for an hour and a quarter. 

Mer. The fee-simple ? O simple ! 
^wfer Tybalt, and Others, 

Ben, By my head, here come the Capulets* 

Mer. By my heel, I care not. 

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to 
them. — Gentlemen, good den: a word with 
one of yon. 

Mer. And bnt one word M^ith one of us ? 
Couple it with something ; make it a word and 
a blow. 

Tyb, You will find me apt enough to that,, 
sir, if yon will give me occasion. 

Mer. Could yoa not take some occasioik 
without giving 1 

Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo, 

Mer. Consort? what, dost thou make us 
minstrels? an thou make minstrels of as, TodIi 
to hear nothmg but discords : here^s my fiddle- 
stick ; berets that shall make you dance» 
'Zounds, consort ! 

Ben. We talk here in the public haunt ct 
men : 
Either withdraw into some private place. 
Or reason coldly of your grievances. 
Or else depajt ; here all eyes gaze on us, 

Mer, Men's eyes were made to look, and 
let them gaze ; 
I will not budge for no man-s pleasure, I. 
Enter Romeo. 

Tyb. Well, peace be with you , sir I here 
comes my man. [your livery t 

Mer, But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear 

Marry, go before to*field, he'll be your foi 

lower ; . l»nan 

Your worship, in that sense, may call him— 



I 



* The long white filament which flies in the air. t Paint, display. 



Imasmat^oi^ 



Scene i.] 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



973 



Tyb. Romeo, the bate 1 bear thee, can af- 
ford 
No better term than this — Thou art a villain. 

Rom. Tybalt, the reason that 1 have to love 
thee 
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage 
To such a greeting : — Villain am I none ; 
Therefore farewell; I see, thou know'stme not. 

Tyb, Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries 
That thou hast done me ; t-herefore turn and 
draw. 

Rom. I (io protest I never injured thee ; 
But love thee better than thou canst devise. 
Till thou shalt Vnow ttie reason of my love : 
And so, good Capulet, — which name I tender 
A& dearly as mine own, — be satisfied, [sion ! 

Mer. O, calm, dishonourable, vile submis- 
A la stoccata* carries it away. [Draws. 

Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk? 

"jl'yb. What wonldst thou have viith me ? 

Mer. Good king of cats, nothing but one 
of your nine lives, that I mean to make bold 
withal ; and, as you shall use me hereafter, 
dry-beat the rest of the eiglit. Will you pluck 
your sword out of his pilcherf by the ears ? 
make haste, lest mine be about jour ears ere 
it be out. 

Tyb, 1 am for you. [Drawing. 

Rom. Gentle Mercutio, put thy rapier up. 

Mer. Come, sir, your p;:ssado. [They Jight. 

Rom. Draw, Benvolio; [shame; 

Beat down their weapons. — Gentlemen, for 
Forbear this outrage. Tybalt — Mercutio — 
The prince expressly hath forbid this bandy- 
ing [cutio. 
In Verona streets : — hold, Tybalt ; good Mer- 
[Exeunt Tybalt and his Partisans. 

Mer. I am hurt; — 
A plague o'both the houses ! — I am sped. — 
Is he gone, and hath nothing ? 

Ben. What, art thou hurt ! 

Mer. Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch : marry, 
'tis enough. — 
Where is my page? — go, villain, fetch a sur- 
geon. [Kxit Page. 

Rom. Courage, man ; the hurt cannot be 
much. 

Mer. No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor 
so wide as a church-door ; but 'tis enough, 
'twill serve: ask for me to-morrow, and you 
shall find me a giave man. I am peppered, I 
warrant, for this world : — A plague c'both 
your houses ! — Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, 
a cat, to scratch a man to death ! a braggart, 
a rogue, a villain, that fights by the bouk of 
arithmetic ! — W hy the devil came you betvsreen 
us? I was hurt under your arm. 

Rom. I thought all for the best. 

Mer, Help me into some house, Benvolio, 
Or 1 shall faint. — A plague o'both your houses! 
!'hey have made worms' meat of me: 
1 have it. and soundly too: — Your houses ! 

[Exeunt Mercutio and Benvolio. 
Horn. This gentleman, the prince's near ally^ 



My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt 
In my behalf; my reputation stain'd 
With Tybalt's slander, — Tybalt, that an houf 
Hath been my kinsman: — O, sweet Juliet, 
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate. 
And in my temper softened valour's steel. 
Re-enter Benvolio, 
Ben, O Romeo, Romeo, brave Mercutio i 
dead; 
That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds. 
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth. 
Rom, This day's black fate on more day 
doth depend. 
This but begins the woe, others must end. 
Re-enter Tybalt. 
Be7i. Here comes tbe furious Tybalt bflck 
again. [slain I 

Rom. Alive! in triumph! and Mercutio 
Away to heaven, respective J lenity, 
And fire-eyed fury be my conduct § now! — 
Now, Tybalt, take the viliain back again. 
That late ihou gavest me; for Mercutio's soul 
Is but a little way above our heads. 
Staying for thine to keep him company; 
Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him. 

7^2/6. Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort 
Shalt with him hence. [him hereQ 

Rom, This shall determine that. 

[They Jight ; Tyb.\lt falls, 
Ben. Romeo, away, be gone ! 
The citizens are up, and Tybalt slain : 
Stand not amazed: — the prince will doom 

thee death, 
If thou art taken: — hence ! — be gone! — away! 
Rom. Oj I am fortune's fool! 
Ben. Why dost thou stay? 

[Exit Romeo. 
Enter Citizens, %:c. 
1 at. Which way ran he that kill'd Mer- 
cutio? 
Tybalt, that murderer, which waj' ran hel 
Re7i. There lies that Tybalt. 
1 Cit, Up, sir, go with me ; 

I charge thee in the prince's name, obey. 
Enter Prince, attendtd; Montague, Ca- 
PULET, their Hives, and Others. 
Prin. Where are the vile beginners of this 

fray ? 
Ben. O noble prince, I can discover all 
The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl : 
There lies the man slain by young Romeo, 
That slew thy kinsman, bi»ive Mercutio. 
Eu. Cap. Tybalt, my cousin! — O my bro- 
ther's child ! 
Unhappy sight! ah me, the blood is spill'a 
Of my dear kinsman ! — Prince, as thou art 

true ^', 

For blood of ours shed blood of Montague. — 

O cousin, cousin ! 

Prin. Benvolio, who began this bloody 

fray? [did slay ; 

J?ew. Tybalt, here ylain whom Romeo's band 

Rome<\ that spoke him fair, bade him bethink 

How nice** the quarrel was, and urged wilh&l 



• The Italian term for a thrust or stab with a rapier. + Case or scabbard. 

Coolj considerate gentleness. i Conduct tor .■ondnctor. \\ Accoaipany* 

^ Just and upright. *♦ Slight, unimportant. 

40 



974 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IIL 



Yovir high displeasure: — All this — utter'd 
With gentle breath, cairn look, knees humbly 

bowed, — 
Conld not take truce with the unruly spleen 
Of Tybait, (\^<^i to peace, but that he tilts 
\\ ith piercing steel at bold Mercutio's breast 
^Vho, all as hoi, tnrniS deadly point to point, 
And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats 
Cold death aside, and with the oiher sends 
it back to Tybalt, whose dexterity 
Retorts it: Romeo he cries aloud, 
iiold^ jriends I friends y 'part I and, swifter 

than his tongue. 
His agile arm beats down their fatal points. 
And 'twlxt them rushes ; underneath whose 

arm 
An envious thrust from Tybalt hit the life 
Of stout Mercutio ; and then Tybalt fled: 
l?nt by and by comes back to Uomeo, 
Who had hut newly entertain'd revenge. 
And to*t they go like lightning ; for, ere 1 
i'onid draw to put ihem, vvas stout Tybalt 
And as he fell did Romeo turn and fly : [slain ; 
"i his is the truth, or let Benvolio die. 

La Cay. He is a kinsman to the Montagne ; 
Affection makes him false, he speaks not true: 
^onle twenty of them fought in this black 

strife. 
And all those twenty could but kill one life: 
1 beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give ; 
Uomeo slew Tybalt, Romeo must not live. 

Prin. Romeo ?lew him, he slew Mercutio ; 

Who now the price of his dear blood doth 

owe ? [friend ; 

Mon. Not Romeo, prince, he wasMercntii)*s 
His fault concludes but what the law should 
The life of Tybalt. [end, 

Prin. And, for that offence, 

Inmiediately we do exile him hence : 
1 have in interest in your hates' proceeding, 
My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a 

bleeding ; 
FiUt I'll atnerce* you with so strong a fine. 
That you shall all repent the loss of mine: 
I will bedeaf to pleadingand excuses ; [abuses, 
Tior tears nor prayers shall purchase out 
Therefore use none : let Romeo hence in haste, 
i!l-e, when h^'s found, that hour is his last. — 
l^oar hence this body, and attend our \\ill : 
IVIercy but murders, pardoning those that kill. 

\^Ej€unt' 

SCENE 11. A Room in Capu let's House. 

Enter Juliet. 
Jul. Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds, 
Toward? Plutbus' mansion •, such a waggoner 
As I'hatton w(nil(i whij) you to the west, 
And bring in cloudy night imujediately. — 
Spread ihy close curtain, love-performing 

iii ht! 
i hat nin-a way's eyes may wink ; and Romeo 
l.<'ap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen ! 
] t.viMS can see to do iheir amorous rites 
JP.y their own beauties; or, if love be blind. 



It best agrees with night. — Come, civil t night. 
Thou sober suited matron all in hplack, 
And learn me how to lose a winning match, 
Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods : 
Hood my uninanuM blood bating in my 
cheeks t, [grown bold. 

With thy black mantle ; till strange love. 
Think tiue love aeted, simple modesty. 
Come, nighi tr-Come, Romeo! come, thou 

day' in m^ht! 
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night 
Whiter than new snow on a raven's back. — 
Come, gentle night ; come, loving, black- 

^^row'd night. 
Give lie my Romeo : and, when he shall die, 
Take him and cut him out in little stars. 
And he will make the face of heaven so nne. 
That all the world will be in love with night. 
And pay no worship to the garish ^i sun. — 
O, I have bought the mansion ol a love. 
But not possess'd it ; and, though I am sold. 
Not yet enjoy'd : So tedious is this day, 
As is the night before some festival 
To an impatient child, that hath new robes, 
And may not wear them. O, here comes my 
nurse. 

Enter Nurse, nHh Cords, 
And she brings news ; and every tongue, that 
speaks [quence. — 

But Romeo's name, speaks heavenly elo- 
Now^nurs*-, what news? What hast thou there. 
That Romeo bade thee fetch ? [the cords, 

I^urse, Ay, ay, the eords. 

[Thnnvs them down, 

Jul. Ah me ! what news I why dost thoa 
wring thy hands? [he's dead J 

Nurse. Ah well-a day! he's dead, he's deacf , 
We are undone, lady, we are unHone ! — 
Alack the day! — he's gone, he's kill'd he's 

Jul. Can heaven be so envious ? [dead I 

Nurse. Komeo can. 

Though heaven cannot : — O Romeo ! Romeo f 
Who ever w ould have thought it ?— Romeo 1 

Jul. What devil art thou, that dost tormeni 
me thus ? 
This torture should be roar'd in dismal heJl. 
Hath Romeo slain himself? say thou but /J^ 
And that bare vowel /shall poison more 
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice : 
I am not I, if there be such an I ; 
Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer, X 
If he be slain, say — /; or if not, no : 
Brief sounds determine of my weal, or woe. 

Nurse. I saw the wound, 1 saw it with rwiue 
eyes, — [breast : 

God save the mark! — here on h\> manly 
A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse ; 
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedawb'd in blood, 
All in iiore blood ; I swoonded at t e sit^ht. 

Jul. O break, my heart! — poor bankrupt, 
break at once! 
To prison, eyes! ne'er look on liberty f 
Vile earth, to earth resign ; end motion here ; 
And thou, anti Romeo, press one heavy bier 1 

• Punish by fine. + Grave, solemn. t These are terms of falconry. § Gaudy, showy 
li In Shakspeare's time the affirmative particle ay was usually written /, and here It ii 
nt:cti&e,dry to ictaiu Ihe old spelling. 



Scene II.] 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



975 



Nurse. O Tybalt, Tybalt, the best friend I 
O con rteon"* Tybalt ! hotiest gentleman ! [had 1 
That ever 1 should live to se?; thee dead ! 
Jul. Whnt storm is this, that blows so con- 
trary f. 
Is Romeo slmghter'd ; and is Tybalt dead? 
My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord ? — 
Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general 

doom ! 
For who is living, if those two are gone ? 

Nurse. Tybalt is gone, and Romeo banished; 
Romeo, that kill'd him, he is banished. 
Jul. O God ! — did Romeo's hand shed 

Tybalt's blood ? 
Nurse. It did, it did ; alas the day ! it did. 
Jul. O serpent heart, hid with a flow'ring 
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave? [face! 
Beautitui tyrant! fiend angelical! 
Dove-feather'd raven ! wolvish-raveninglamb! 
Despised substance of divinest show ! 
Just opposite to what thou justly seem*st, 
A damned Sriint, an honourable villain ! — 
O, nature ! wliat hadst thon to do in hell, 
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend 
In mortal paradise of such sweet tlesh ? 
Was ever book, containing such vile matter, 
vSo fairly bound ? O, th it deceit should dwell 
In such a gorgeous palace ! 

Nurse. rbere's no trust. 

No faith, no honesty in men ; all perjured. 
All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers. — 
Ah, Where's my man? give me some aqua 
vita : [me old. 

These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make 
Shame come to Romeo ! 

Jul. Blister'd be thy tongue. 

For such a wish! be was not born to shame : 
Upon his brow shanje i? ashamed to sit ; 
For 'lis a throne where honour may be crown'd 
Sole monarch of the universal earth. 
O, what a beast was I to chide at him ! 

Nurse. Will you speak well of him that 

kill'd your cousin ? [husband 1 

Jul. Shall I speak ill of him that is my 

Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth * 

thy name, " [it ? — 

When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled 

But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my 

cousin ? [band : 

That villain cousin would have kill'd my hus- 

Back, foolish tears, back to your native 

spring ; 
Your tributary drops belong to woe. 
Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy. 
My husband lives, that Tybalt would have 
slain ; [husband : 

And Tybalt's dead, that wonld have slain my 
All this is comfort : Wherefore weep 1 then ? 
Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's 

death. 
That murder'd me : I would forget it fain ; 
But. O ! it presses to my memory. 
Like damned guilty deeds to sinners* miiids ; 
Tybalt is dead, and Romeo — banished ; 
That — banished, that one word — banish-ed, 



Hath slain ten thousand Tybalts +. Tybalt'i 

death 
Was woe enough, if it had ended there ; 
Or, — if sour woe delights in fellowship. 
And needly will be rank'd with otl.er griefs. — 
Why folio w'd not, when she said — Tybalt's 

dead. 
Thy father, or thy mother^ nay, or both. 
Which modern X lamentation might have 

moved ? 
But, with a rear-ward following Tybalt's death, 
Romeo is banished, — to speak that word. 
Is father, mother, Tybalt, Romeo, Juliet, 
All slain, all dead : — Romeo is banished, — 
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound, 
In that word's death ; no words can that woe 

sound. — 
Where is my father, and my mother, nurse ? 
Nurse. VV^eeping and wailing over Tybalt's 

corse : 
Will you go to them ? I will bring you thither. 
Jul. Wash they his wounds with tears? 

mine shall be spent, 
When theirs are dry, for Romeo's banishment, 
'Take up those cords ; — Poor ropes, you are 

beguiled. 
Both you and 1 ; for Romeo is exited : 
He made you for a highway to nty bed ; 
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed. 
Come, cords ; come, nurse ; I'll to my wed- 
ding bed ; 
And death, not Romeo, take my maidenhead ! 
Nurse. Hie to your chamber : I'll find 

Romeo 
To comfort you : — I wot$ well where he is. 
Hark ye, yotir Romeo will be here at night; 
I'll to him ; he is hid at Laurence' cell. 
Jul. O find him ! give this ring to my true 

knight, 
And bid him come to take his last farewell. 
[ Exeunt, 

SCENE III. Friar Laurence's Cell. 
Enter Friar Laurence and Romeo. 
Fri. Romeo, come forth ; come forth, thou 
fearful man ; 
Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts. 
And thou art wedded to calamity. 

Rom. Father, what news ? what is the 
prince's doom ? 
What sorrow craves acquaintance at ray hand. 
That I yet know not ? 

Fri. Too familiar 

Is my dear son with such sour company : 
I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom. 
Rom. What less than dooms-day is the 
prince's doom ? [I'ps 

Fri. A gentler judgment vanish'd from hit 
Not body's death, but body's banishment. 

Rom. Ha! banishment? be merciful, say— 
For exile hath more terror in his look, [death : 
Much more than death ; do net say — banish- 
ment. 
Fri. Hence from Verona art thon banished : 
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide. 



* To smooth, in ancient language, is to stroke, to caress. 
t i. €., Is worse than the loss often thousand ly baits. X Commou. 



§ Know.. 



975 



SHAKSPEARK. 



[Act III 



Rom. There is »o world without Verona 
But purgatory, torture, hell itself. [walls, 

Hence-banisned is banish'd from the world, 
And world's exile is death : — then banishment 
Is death mis-terrn'd: calling death— banish- 
ment, 
Thou cut'st my head off with a golden axe. 
And smilest upon the stroke that murders me. 
Fri, O deadly sin! () rude unthankfuiness! 
Thy fault our law calls death ; but the kind 

prince, 
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law, 
And turn'd that blaek word death to banish- 
ment : 
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not. 
Rom. *i is torture, and not mercy: heaven 
is here, 
Where Juliet lives ; and every cat, and dog. 
And little mouse, every unworthy thing. 
Live here in heaven, and may look on her. 
But Romeo may not. — More validity *, 
More honourable slate, more courtship lives 
In carrion files, than Romeo : they may seize 
On the white wonder of dear Juliet's hand. 
And steal immortal blessing from her lips ; 
Who, even in pure and vestal modesty, 
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin. 
But Romeo may not ; he is banished : 
Flies may do this, when I from this must fly ; 
They are free men, but I am banished. 
And say'st thou yet, that exile is not death ? 
Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground 
knife, [mean, 

No sudden mean of death, thou2;h ne'er so 
But — banished — to kill me ; banished? 
O friar, the damned use that word in hell ; 
Howlings attend it : How hast thou the heart, 
Biiiig a divine, a ghostly confessor, 
A sin-absolver, and my friend professed, 
To mangle me with that word — banishment? 
Fri. Thou fond nrad man, hear me but speak 
a word. [ment. 

Rom. O, thou wilt speak again of banish- 
Fri. I'll give thee armour to keep ofi' that 
word ; 
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy. 
To comfort thee, though thou art banished. 

Rom. Yet banished i — Hang up philosophy I 
Unless philosophy can make a Juliet, 
Displant a town, reverse a prince's deora ; 
It helps not, it prevails not, talk no more. 
Fri. 0,then I see that madmen have no ears. 
Rom. How should they, when that wise 

men have no eyes i 
Fri. Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. 
Rom. Tiiou canst not speak of what thou 
dost not feel : 
Wert thou as young as I, Juliet fhy love. 
An hour but married, Tybalt murdered. 
Doting like n»e, and like me banished. 
Then might'st thou speak, then might'st thou 

tear thy hair, 
And fall upon the ground, as I do now. 
Taking the measure of an unmade grave. 
Fri. Arise ; one knocks ; good Romeo, hide 
thyself, {Knocking within. 



Rom, Not I ; unless the brcatn of heart-sick 
groans. 
Mist-live, infold me from the search of eyes. 
[Knocking 
Fri. Hark, how they knock !— Who's there 
— Romeo, arise ; 
Thou wilt be taken ; — Stay awhile : stand up • 
[KHDcking 
Run to my study :— By and by : — God's wilH 
What wilfulness is this?— I come, I come. 

{Knocking 
Who knocks so hard T whence come youf 
what's your will ? 
Nurse. {Within.] Let me come in, and yoa 
shall know my errand ; 
I come from lady Juliet. 
Fri* Welcome then. 

Enter Nurse. 
Nurse. O holy friar, O, tt- 11 me, holy friar, 
Where is my lady's lord, where's Romeo? 
Fri. There on the ground, with his own 

tears made drunk. 
Nurse. O, he is even in my mistress* case. 
Just in her case I 

Fri. O woful sympathy I 

Piteous predicament! 

Nurse. Even so lies she. 

Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blnb- 

bering : — 
Stand up, stand up ; stand, an you be a man : 
For Juliet's sake, for her sake, rise and stand ; 
Why should you fall into so deep an O .' 
Rom. Nurse ! 

Nurse. Ah sir ! ah sir! — Well, death's the 
end of all. [her i 

Rom. Spakest thou of Juliet ? how is it with 
Doth she not think me an old muiderer. 
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy 
With blood removed but little fiom her ovvii? 
Where is she? and how doth she? and what 
My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love ? [says 
Nurse. O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps 
and weeps ; 
And now falls on her bed ; and then starts «p. 
And Tybalt calls; and then on Romeo cries. 
And then down falls again. 

Rom. As if that name. 

Shot from the deadly level of a gun. 
Did murder her ; as that name's cursed hand 
Murder'd her kinsman. — O tell me, friar, tell 
In what vile part of this anatomy [me. 

Doth my name lodge ? tell me, that 1 may sack 
The hateful mansion. {Drawing his Sworfl» 
Fri. Hold thy desperate hand : 

Art thou a man ? thy form cries out, thou art ; 
Thy tears are womanish ; thy wild acts denote 
The unreasonable fury of a beast : 
Unseemly woman, in a seeming man! 
Or ill-beseeming beHSt,in seeming both! 
Thou hast amazed me : by my holy order, 
I thought thy disposition better tenjper'd. 
Hast thou slain Tybalt? wilt thou slay thyself? 
And stay thy lady too that lives in thee. 
By doing damned hate upon thyself? 
Why lail'st thou on thy birth, the beaven, and 
earth ? 



♦ Worth value. 



Scene III.] 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



977 



Since birth, and heaven^ and earth, all three I 

do meet 
In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst 
lose. [thy wit ; 

Fie, fie! thou sham'st thy shape, thy love. 
Which, like an usurer, abound'st in ail. 
And nsest none in that true use indeed 
Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy 
Thy noble shape is but a form of wax, [wit. 
Digressing from the valour of a man : 
Thy dear love, sworn, but hollow perjury, 
Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to 

cherish : 
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love. 
Mis-shapen in the conduct of them both, 
Like powder in a skill-less soldier** flask. 
Is set on fire by thine own ignorance. 
And thou dismember'd with thine own de- 
fence* 
What, rouse thee, man ! thy Juliet is alive, 
For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead ; 
There art thou hvjppy : Tybalt would kill thee. 
But thou slew'st Tybalt ; there art thou happy 
too : [friend, 

The law, that threaten'd death, becomes thy 
And turns it to exile ; there art thou happy : 
A pack of blessings lights upon thy back ; 
Happiness courts thee in her best array ; 
But like a jnisbehaved and sullen wench, 
Thou pont'st upon thy fortune and thy love : 
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable. 
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed. 
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her; 
But, look, thou stay not till the watch be set. 
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua ; 
Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time 
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends, 
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back 
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy 
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation. — 
Go before, nurse : commend me to thy lady ; 
And bid her hasten all the house to bed. 
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto : 
Romeo is coming. [the night, 

Nurse. O Lord, I could have staid here all 
To liear good counsel : 0,what learning is! — 
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come. 
Horn. Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to 
chide. [you, sir ; 

Nurse. Here, sir, a ring she bid me give 
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late. 

[Exit Nurse. 
Jlom. How well my comfort is revived by 
this ! [all your state t; 

Fri. Go hence: Good night; and here stands 
Either begone before the watch be set, 
Or by the break of day disguised from hence : 
Sojourn in Mantua; PU find out yo«r man. 
And he shall signify from time t-o time 
Every good hap to you, tiiat chances here : 
Give me thy hand ; 'tis late : farewell ; good 
night. [me, 

Rom. But that a joy past joy calls out on 
It were a grief, so brief to part with thee : 
Farewell. [Exeunt, 

^ Torn to pieces with thine own weapons. 
I Shut up. 



SCENE IV. A Room in Capulet's Hoitse. 
Enter Capulet, Lady Cap u let, and 
Paris. 
Cap. Things have fa.len out, sir, so unluckily. 
That we have had no time to move our daugh- 
ter: [ly. 
Look you, she loved her kinsman Tybalt dear- 
And so did I ; — Well, we were born to die. — 
'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night: 
I promise you, but for your company, 
I would have been a-bed an hour ago. [woo: 
Par. These times of woe afford no time to 
Madam, good night: commend me to your 
daughter. [to-morrow ; 
La. Cap. I will, and know her mind early 
To-night she's mew*d % up to her heaviness. 
Cwp. Sir Paris, I will make a desperate § 
tender 
Of my child's love: I think, she will be ruled 
In allrespects by me; nay more, I doubt it not. 
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed ; 
Acquaint her here «f my son Paris' love; 
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday 
But soft ; What day is this"? [next- 
Par. Monday, my lord. 
Cap. Monday? ha! ha! Well, Wednesday is 
too soon, 
O* Thursday let it be;— o' Thursday, tell her. 
She shall be married to this noble earl: — 
Will you be ready? do you like this haste? 
We'll keep no great ado; — a friend, or two: — 
For hark you, Tybalt being slain so late. 
It may be thought we held him carelessly. 
Being our kinsman, if we revel much: 
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends. 
And there an end. But what say you to Thui-s- 
day ? [to-morrow. 
Par. My lord, I woiiSd that Thursday were 
Caj). Well, get you gone :— 0' Thursday be 
Go you to Juliet ere you go to bed, [it then : — • 
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day. — 
Farewell, my lord. — Light to my chamber, ho i 
Afore me, it is so very late, that we 
May call it early by and by : — Good night. 

[Exeunt, 

SCEN E V. Juliet'* Chainbcr. 
Enter Romeo and Juliet. 

Jul, Wilt thou be gone 1 it is not yet near 
It was the iiightingale, and not the lark [day : 
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; 
ISightly she sings on yon pomegranate tree: 
Believe me, love, it was the uightinoale. 

Rom. It was the lark, the herald of the morn. 
No nightingale: look, love, what envious 

streaks 
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: 
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day 
Stands tiptoe on the niisty mountain-tops; 
I must be gone, and live, or st»ay and die. 

Jul. Yon light is not day-light, 1 know it, I: 
It is some meteor that the sun exhales. 
To be to thee this night a torch-hearer. 
And light thee on tby way to Mantua: 

t The whole of your fortune depeufisor thii 
% Bold. 

4 3 



978 



SnAKSPEARE. 



[Act IJh ■ 



Therefore stay yet, thon necd*st not to be gone. 

Rom, Let me be la'en, let me be put to death; 
I am conttnt, so thou wilt have it so. 
V\\ say, yon ijrey is not the morning's eye, 
Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow • ; 
Nor that is not the lark, wht>se notes do beat 
The vaully heaven so high above our heads: 
t have more care t to stay, than will to tjo.; — 
Come, death, and welcome! Juliet wills it so. — 
How is't, iiiy souH let's talk, it is not day. 

Jul. It is, it is, hie hence, be gone, away; 
It is the lark that sings so out of tune, 
Straining harsh discords, and unpleasmgsharps 
Soms say, the lark makes sweet division j; 
This doth not so, for she <livi;leth ns: [eyes: 
Some say, the lark and loathed toad change 
O, now [ would they had changed voices too! 
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray, 
Hunting thee hence with hunts-up ^ to the day. 
O, now begone ; more light and light it grows. 

Rom. More light and lightl— more dark and 
dark our vvot;s. 

Enter Nurse. 

Nume, Madam! 

Jul. Nurse? 

Nurse, Your lady mother's coming to your 
chamber : 
The day is broke ; be wary, look about. 

{Exit Nurse. 

J^m/. Then, window, let day in, and let life out. 

Roni. Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll 
descend. [Romeo descends. 

Jul. Art thou gone so? my love! my lord! 
my friend ! 
I must hear from thee every day i'the hour. 
For in a minute there are many days: 
O! by this count I shall be nmch in years. 
Ere I again behold my Romeo. 

R)m. Farewell! I will omit no opportunity 
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee. 

Jul. O, think'st thou, we shall ever meet 
again? [serve 

Rom, I d(»ubt it not ; and all these woes shall 
For sweet discourses in our lime to come. 

Jul. O God! I have an ill-divining soul: 
Methinks, I see thee, now thou art below. 
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb : 
Either my eye-sight fails, or thou look'st pale. 

Rom. And tiust me, love, in my eye so do 
you : 
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu ! adieu! 
{Exit Romeo. 

Jul. O fortune, fortune! all men call thee 
fickle: 
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him 
That is renovvn'd for faith ? Be fickle, fortune; 
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long. 
But send him back. [up? 

La. Cap. [f-Vitk}7i.^ Ho, daughter! are you 

Jul. Who is't that calls? is it my lady mo- 
Is 84ie not down ^o late, or up so early? [ther? 
Whatuna( custoni'd cause procures |1 her hither? 
Entn' Lady Capulet. 

La. Cap. Why, how now, Juliet? 



Jul. Madam, I am not well. 

La. Cap. Evermore weeping for your cou- 
sin's death? [tears? 
What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with 
An if thou couldst, thou couldstuot make him 
live; [of love: 
Therefore, have done : Some grief shows much 
But much of grief shows still some want of wit. 

Jul. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. 

La. Cap. So shall you feel the loss, but not 
Which you weep for. [the friend 

Jul. Feeling so the loss, 

I cannot choose but ever weep the friend. 

La, Cap. Well, girl, thou weep'st not so 
much for his death. 
As that the villain lives which slaughtered him. 

Jul. What villain, nudam? 

La. Cop. That same villain, Romeo. 

Jul. Villain and he are many milts asunder. 
God pardon him ! I do with all my heart ; 
And yet no man, like he, doth grieve my heart. 

La. Cap. That is, because the traitor mur- 
derer lives. [hands. 

Jul. Ay, madam, from the reach of these my 

'Would, none but 1 might venge my cousin s 

death! [thou not: 

La. Cap. We will have vengeance for it, fear 
Then weep no more. I'll send to one in 

Mantua, — 
Where that same bajiish'd runagate dbth live, — 
That shall bestow on him so sure a draught. 
That he shall soon keep Tybalt company : 
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied. 

Jul. Indeed, I never shall be satisfied 
With Romeo, till I behold him — dead — 
Is my poor heart so for a kinsman vex'd : — 
Madam, if you could find out but a man 
To bear a poison, I would temper it ; 
That Romeo should, upon receipt thereof. 
Soon sleep in quiet— O, how my heart abhors 
To hear him named, — and cannot come to 

him, — 
To wreak the love I bore my cousin Tybalt 
Upon his body that hath slaughter'd him! 

La. Cap. Find thou the means, and I'll fi ml 
such a man. 
But, now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl, [time: 

Jul. And joy comes well in such a needful 
What are they, I beseech your ladyship? 

La. Cap. Well, well, thou hast a careful 
father, child ; 
One, who to put thee from thy heaviness. 
Hath sorted out a snddc'n day of joy. 
That thou expect'st not, nor 1 look'd not for. 

Jul. Madam, in happy time, what day W 
that? [day morn. 

La. Cap. Marry, my child, early nextThurs* 
The gallant, youn^;, and noble gentlensau. 
The county Paris, at Saint Peter's church, 
Shall happily make thee there a j.yful bride 

Jul. ]Sovv, by Saint Peter'is church, and 
Peter too, 
He shall not make me there a joyful bride. 
1 wonder at this haste; that I must wed 



• Reflection of the moon. + Inclination. t Division was the technical phrase 

lor musical composition. $ A tune played to wake hunters, also a moinini song to a 

woman the day after marriage. U Brings 



Scefie r.] 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



979 



Ere he, thdt should be husband, comes to woo. 
I pray you, teli my lord and father, madam, 
I will not marry yet ; and, when I do, I swear, 
It shall he Romeo, whom you know 1 hate. 
Rather than Paiia; — These are news indeed! 
La, Cap. Here comes your father; teli him 
ho yourself. 
And see how he will take it at your hands. 
Enter Capulet and Nurse. 
Cap. When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle 
But for the sunset of my brother's son^ [dew ; 
It r.iins <!ownrJt;ht. — 

How now I a conduit, girl? what, still in tears? 
Ever iiiore showering ? In one little body 
Thon ( ounterteit*st a bark, a sea, a wind : 
For still th) eyes, which 1 may call the sea. 
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy 

body is, 
Sailing in this salt flood ; the winds, thy sighs ; 
W ho. — rHLiMi; with thy tears, and they with 
M ithont a sudden calm, will overset [them, — 
Thy ten. pest-tossed body.— How now, wife? 
Have } on delivered to her our decree ? 
La. Cap. Ay, sir; but she will none, she 
gives you ihanks. 
I would the tool were married to her grave ! 
Cup. Scft, take me with you, take me with 
you, wite. [thanks ? 

How! will she none? doth she not give us 
Is she not proud ? doth she not count her 

bless'd, 
Unwotthy as she is, that we have wrou.2;ht 
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom! 
Jill. JSot proud, you have; but thankful, 
that yo have: 
Proud can I never be of what I hate; 
But thanktul even for hate, that is meant love. 
Cap. How now ! how now, chop-logick ! 
W hat is this ? [not ; — 

Proud, — and, I thank you, — and, I thank you 
And yet not proud ; — Mistress minion, you 
Thank me no thankings, nor proud me no 
piouds, [next, 

But settle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday 
To go with Paris to Saint Peter's church. 
Or 1 will drag thee on a hurdle thither. 
Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you 
"You tallow face ! [baggnge! 

La. Cap. Fie, fie! what are you mad ? 
7w/.Good father, I beseech you on my knees, 
Hear me with patience but to speak a word 
Cap. Hang thee, young baggage; disobedien-t 
wretch ! [(lay, 

j I tell thee what, — get thee to church o'Thurs- 
! Or never after look me in the face : 
Speak not, reply not, do not answer me : 
My fingers itch. — W ife, we scarce thought us 
bless'd, 
( That God had sent us but this only child ; 
j But now I see this one is one too much. 
And that we have a curse in having her : 
j Out on her, hilding * ! 

\ Nurse^ God in heaven bless her! — 

Vou are to blame, my lord, to rate her so. 
Cap. And why, my lady wisdom ? hoJd 
your tongue. 



Good prudence ; smatter with your gossips 

Nurse. I speak no treason. [go. 

Cup. O, God ye good den 1 

Nurse. May not one speak ? 

Cap, Peace, you mumbling fool I 

Utter your gravitv o'er a gossip's bowl. 
For here we need it not. 

La. Cap. You are too hot. 

Cap. God's bread ! it makes rue mad : Day 
night, late, early. 
At home, abroad, alone, in company, 
Waking, or sleeping, still my care hafh been 
To have her match'd : and having now pro 

vide-d 
A gentleman of princely parentage. 
Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd, 
Stuff'd (as they say,) with honourable parts, 
Proportion'd as one's heart could wish a man. 
And then to have a wretched puling fool, 
A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender. 
To answer — I'll not. wed, — 1 cannot love, 
J am loo young, — I pray you, pardon me ; 
But, an you will not wed, 1*11 pardon you : 
Graze where you Yvill, you shall not house 

with me ; 
Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest. 
Thursday is near ; lay hand on heart, advise : 
An yon be mine, I'll give you to my friend; 
An you be not, hang, beg, starve, die i'the 

streets. 
For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee. 
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good ; 
Trust to't, bethink you, I'll not be forsworn. 

\_Exit. 

Jnl. Is there no pity sitting in the clouds, 
That sees into the bottom of my grief? 
O, sweet my mother, cast me not away? 
Delay this marriage for a month, a week; 
Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed 
In that dim monument where Tybalt lies. 

La. Cup. Talk not to me, for I'll not speak 
a word ; 
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee. 

{Exit, 

Jul. O God ! — O nurse ! how shall this be 
prevented ? 
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven; 
How shall that faith return again to earth, 
Unless tlrat husband send it me from heaven. 
JBy leaving earth ? — comfort me, counsel me.— 
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stra 
Upon so soft a subject as myself! — [tagems 
W hat say'st thou ? hast thou not a word of joy ? 
Some comfort, nurse. 

Nurse. 'Faith, here 'tis : Romeo 

V^ banish'd ; and all the world to nothing, 
That he dares ne'er come back to challenge 

you ; 
Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth. 
Theti, since the case so stands as now it doth, 
I think it best you married with the county. 
O, he's a lovely gentleman ! 
Romeo's a disliclout to him ; an eagle, madanj 
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye, 
As Paris halli. Keshrew my very heart, 
1 tiiiiik you aie happy in this second match. 



* Base woman. 



980 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Arf n. 



For it excels your first: or if it did not, 
Yonr fir»t it dead ; or 'twere as good he were, 
A» living here, and yo« no use of him. 

Jul. Speakest thou from thy heart ? 

Nurse. From my soul too ; 

Or else besbrew them both. 

JuC. Amen! 

Nurse. To what? 

Jul. Well, thou bast comforted me marvel- 
lous much. 
Go in ; and tell my lady I am gone. 
Having displeased my father, to Laurence* cell. 
To make confession, and to be absolved. 



Nurse. Marry, 1 will; and this is \\»>tiy, 
done. [Lull. 

Jul. Ancient damnation I O most >\ ickedi 
frend ! 
Is it more sin — to wish me thus forsworn. 
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue 
Which she hath praised him with above com 

pare 
So many thousand times? — Go, counselloi , 
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain. 
I'll to the friar, to know his remedy ; 
If all else fail, myself have power to die. 



SCENE I. Friar Laurence's Cell. 
Enter Friar Laurence and Paris. 

Fri. OnThursday,sir'? the time is very short. 

Par. My father Capulet will have it so ; 
Anid I am nothing slow, to slack his haste. 

Fri. You say, you do not know the lady's 
Uneven is the course, I like it not. [mind ; 

Par. Immoderately she weeps for Tybalt's 
And therefore have I little talk'd of love ;[death, 
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears. 
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous. 
That she doth give her sorrow so much sway ; 
And, in his wisdom, hastes our marriage. 
To Stop the inundation of her tears ; 
Which, too much minded by herself alone. 
May be put from her by society : 
Now do you know the reason of this haste. 

Fri. I would 1 knew not why it should be 
slow'd. [Aside, 

Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell. 
Enter Juliet. 

Par. Happily met, my lady, and my wife ! 

Jut. That may be, sir, when I may be a wife. 

Par. That may be, must be, love, on Thurs- 

Jul. What must be shall be. [day next. 

Fri. That's a certain text. 

Par. Come you to make confession to this 
father? 

Jul. To answer that, were to confess to you. 

Par. Do not deny to him that you love me. 

Jul, I will confess to you, that I love him. 

Par. So will you, I am sure, that you love 

Jul. If I do so, itwillbeof more price, [me. 
Being spoke behindyourbaek,thantoyourface. 

Par. Poorsoul,thyfaceis much abused with 
tears. 

Jul. The tears have got small victory bythat; 
For it was bad enough, before their spite. 

Par. Thou wrong'st it, more than tears,with 
that report. 

Jul. That is no slander, sir, that is a truth; 
And what I spake, I spake it to my face. 

Par. Thy face is mine, and thou hast slan- 
d^er'd it. 

Jul. It may be so, for it is not mine own. — 
A.re yon at leisure, holy father, now ; 
Or shall I come to you t evening mass? 

Fri, My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, 
nt*w : — 



ACT IV. 

My lord, we must entreat the. time alone. 

Par. God shield, I should disturb devo» 
tion ! — 
Juliet, on Thursday early will I rouse you : 
Till then, adieu ! and keep this holy kiss. 

[Ea:it Paris. 

Jul, 0,shut the door ! and when thou has* 

done so, [past help J 

Come weep with me; Past hope, past cure, 

Fri. Ah, Juliet, I already know thy grief; 
It strains me past the compass of my wits : 
I hear thou must, and nothing must prorogue it^ 
On Thursday next be married to this county. 

Jul. Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st <m 
this. 
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it : 
If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help 
Do thou but call my resolution wise. 
And with this knife I'll help it presently. 
God join'd my heart and Romeo's, thou ou» 

hands ; * 
And ere this hand, by thee to Romeo seal'd. 
Shall be the label to another deed, 
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt. 
Turn to another, this shall slay them both : 
Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time. 
Give me some present counsel ; or, behold, 
'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knift' 
Shall play the umpire * ; arbitrating that 
Which the commission t of thy years and art 
Could to no issue of true honour bring. 
Be not so long to speak ; I long to die. 
If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy. 

Fri. Hold,daughter ;I do spy a kind of hope^ 
Which craves as desperate an execution 
As tl'^t is desperate which we would prevent 
If, rather than to marry county Paris, 
Thou hadst the strength of will to slay thyself 
Then is it likely, thou wilt undertake 
A thing like death to chide away this shame, 
That cop'st with death himself to scape from 
And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy, [it ; 

Jul. O, bid me leap, rather than marry Paris, 
From off the battlements of yonder lower ; 
Or walk in thievish ways ; or bid me lurk 
W^here serpents are ; chain nte with roaring 

bears ; 
Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house, [bones. 
O'er covcr'd quite with dead men's rattling 
With reeky shanks and yellow chapless scuiis* 



' I 



i •Decide the strsgjjlc between me and my dislrcsaca. 



t Authority or power. 



//.] 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



$^81 



Or bid me go into a new-made grave, 

And hide me with a dead man in his shroud ; 

Things that, to liearthem told, have ma«le me 

tremble ; 
And I wdl (Jo it without fear or doubt. 
To live an onstain'd wife lo iny sweet love 
Fri. Hold, then ; go home, be m ny, give 
consent 
To marry Paiis : Wednesday is to-morrow : 
To-morrow night look that thon lie ah)ne, 
Let not thy nuise lie with thee in thy cham- 
Take ihoo this phi^l, being then in bed, [ber : 
And this distilled liqnur drirk thou ott : 
When, presently, through all thy veins shallrnn 
A cold and drows> humour, which shall seize 
Earh viial spirit ; for no pulse shall keep 
His natural progress but surcease to beat : 
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou liv'st ; 
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade 
To paly ashes; th> eyes* windows fall. 
Like deith, when tie shuts up the day of life ; 
Each part, depi ived of supple government. 
Shall stitf, and stark, and cold, appear like 
death : [deati 

And in this borrowM likeness of shrunk 
Thou shalt remain full two and forty hours, 
And then awake as from a pkasani sleep. 
Now when the bridegroom iu the morning 
comes [dead : 

T« irotise thee from thy bed, there art thon 
Then (as the manner of our countiy is,) 
In thy best robes uncoveiM on the bier. 
Thou shalt *>e horne to that same ancient vault. 
Where all tl-e kindred of the Capulet? lie. 
lujk\yf mean time, against ihoii si. alt awake, 
Shall Romeo hy my leiters kno.\ our drift ; 
And hither shall he come ; and he and I 
Will watch thy waking, and that very night 
Shall Romeo bear thee hence to Mantua. 
And this shall free thee from this present 

shame ; 
If no unconstant toy, nor womanish fear. 
Abate thy valour in the acting it. 

Jul. Give me, O give me! tell me not of 
fear. [prosperous 

JFV?. Hold ; get you gone, be strong and 
In this resolve : I'll send a friar with speed 
To Mantna, with my letters to thy lord. 

Jul. Love, give me strength I and strength 
shall help atford. 
Farewell, dear father I {Exeunt. 

SCENE IL A Room in Capniet's House. 
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulkt, Nurse, 
and Servant. 
Cap. So many guests invite as here are 
writ.— [Eji'it Servant. 

Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunninti cooks. 

2 Serv. You shall have none ill, sir; for 
I'll try if they can lick their fingers. 
Cap. How canst thou try them so? 
2 Serv. Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that can- 
not lick his own finoers : therefore he that can- 
not lick his fingers, goes not with me. 

Cap. Go, begone.— [Exit Servant. 

We fchall be much unfurnishM fbr this time. 



• Confession 



f Coiijn.ands. 



W hat, is my daughter gone to fViar Lawreucef 
Nurse. Ay, forsooth. 

Caj>. Well, he may chance to do some good 
A peevish selfwill'd harlot y it is. [on her: 
iLiUcr Ji/Li LT. 
Nurse. .See, where she comes from shrift* 

with nierr> look. 
Cap. How now, my headstrong { wlure 
have yon been i;rt<l(iing i [sin 

Jul. V\ here I have learn'd me to repent the 
Of disobe.'iient opposition 
To you, and your behtsist; and am enjoin'd 
By holy Laurence to fall piosJrate here. 
And. leg your pardon :—F.irdon, 1 beseech 
tienceforvNard 1 am ever ruled by jou. [you; 
Cap. Send tor the county ; go tell hun of 
this ; 
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning. 
Jul. I metiheyoiithtul lord at Laureitce'celij 
And gave him what becomeci ; love I might. 
Not stepping o'er the bounds of niode>ty. 
C'tf>. Vv hy, 1 am glad on't ; this is well,— 
stand up : 
This is a*'t should be.— Let me see the county ; 
A), marr^, go, 1 sa>, and letch him hitJier.— • 
Now, ato«e God, this rev rend hol> triar. 
Ad our ^^hole city is mueh boun<l lo him. 
Jul. Nuise, will you go with me into my 
closet, 
To help niesort such needful ornament! 
As >ou think tit lo furnish me tomorrow? 
La. Cup. No, not till Thursday ; there ia 
time enough. [church to-morrow. 

Cup.. Go, nurse, go with her ; — we'll to 
[Eieunt JuLiKT and Nurse. 
La. Cap. We shall be short in our provision ; 
'Tis now near night. 

Cap. Tush ! I will stir about, 

And all things shall be well, 1 warrant thee. 
Go thou to Juliet, help to deck up her ; [wile : 
I'll not to bed to-night ; — let me alone ; 
I'll play the housewife for this once. W hat,hoI — 
They are ail forth : Well, I will walk myself 
To county Paris, to prepare him up [light. 
Against to-morrow : my heart is wrondrons 
Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd. 

[Exeunt, 
SCENE III. Juliet's Chayriher. 
Enter Jumet aiid Nurse. 
Jul. Ay, those attires are best :— But, gentle 
I pray thee, leave me to myself to-night; [nurse. 
For I have need of many orisons $ 
lo move the heavens to smile upon my utate. 
Which, well thou know'st, is cross and full o* 
Bin. 

E/tfer Lady Capulf.t. 
La. Cap. What, are you busy ? do yoo need 
my help ? [cesstrie* 

JnI. No, madam ; we have c«ll*d such ne 
As are behovefnl for our st.iie tomorrow : 
So please yon, let me now be left alone. 
And let the nurse this night sit up with yow ; 
For, I am sure, you have yoar hands full iiil« 
In this so sudden business. 
Ln. Cap. Good night ! 

1 lieooniing. % Prayier*.; 



98§ 



SHAKSPEARE. 



rAet ir. 



Get thee to bed, k n rtH'. for thou hast need. 

[£U'eW*=8i L,<1^ CAPULET«7jrfNui8e. 

c/^M^. Farewelt ! God knows when we shall 

meet a^ain. 
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins, 
f hat almost freezes up the heat of lite : 
I'll call them back again to comfort me ; — 
M urse ! — What should she do here ? 
My dismal scene 1 needs must act alone.— 
Come, phial. — 

What if this mixture do not work at all ? 
Must 1 of force be married to the county 1 — 
No, no; this shall forbid it : — lie thou there. — 
{l^taying dawn a dagger. 
What if it be a poison, which the fiiar 
Subtly have minister'd to have me dead ; 
Lesi in this marriage he should be dishononr'd. 
Because be married me before to Romeo? 
I fear it is : and yet, methiuks, it should not, 
For he hath still been tried a holy man : 
I will not entertain so bad a thought. — 
How if, when I am laid into the tomb, 
1 wake before the time that Romeo 
Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point ! 
Shall I wot then be stifled in the vault. 
To whose foul mouth no healthsome air 

breathes in, 
And there die strangled ere my Romeo comes ? 
Or, if I live, is it not very like. 
The horrible conceit of death and night. 
Together with the terror of the place, — 
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle. 
Where, for these many hundred years, the 
Of all my buried ancestors are packed ; [bones 
Where bloody Tybalt, yet but green in earth, 
Lies fest'ring in his shroud ; where, as they say, 
Ai some hours in the night spirits resort ; — 
Alack, alack! is it not like, that I, 
iSo early waking, — what with loathsome smells, 
And shrieks like mandrakes* torn out of the 

earth. 
That living mortals,heaFing them, run mad* ; — 
O ! if I wake, shall I not be distraught +, 
Environed with all these hideous fears? 
And madly play with my forefathers' joints ? 
And pluck the mangled Tybalt from his shroud ? 
And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's 

bone, 
As with a club, dash out my desperate brains? 
1), look! methinks, I see my cousin's ghost 
Seeking out Romeo, that did spit his body 
Upon a rapier's point : — Stay, Tybalt, stay !— 
Romeo, I come ! this do 1 drink to thee. 

{She throws herself on the Bed. 

SCENE IV. Capulet's Hall. 
Enter Lady Capulet and Nurse^ 
La. Cap, Hold, take these keys, and fetch 

more spices, nurse. 
Nurse. They call for dates and quinces in 
the pastry +. 

Enter Capulet. 
Cap. Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock 
hath crow'd. 



The curfew bell hath rung, 'tis three o'ck)ck : 
Look to the baked meats, good Angelica : 
Spare not for cost. 

Nurse. Go, go, yon cot-quean, go. 

Get you to bed ; 'faith you*l[ be sick to-morrow 
For this night's watching. 

Cap. No, not a whit; What ! I havewatch'd 
ere now 
All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick. 
La, Cap. Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt^ 
in your time ; 
Bat I will watch you from such watching now. 
Exeunt Lady Capulet and Nurse. 
Cap. ^jeaJous-hood, a jealous-hood ! — Now, 
What's there? [fellow. 

Enter Servants, with Spits, Logs, and 
Baskets, 

1 Serv. Things for the cook, sir ; but I 

know not what. 
Cap. Make haste, make haste. [Exit 1 Serv.} 
— Sirrah, fetch drier logs ; 
Call Peter, he will shew thee where they are. 

2 Serv. I have a head, sir, that will find out 

logs. 

And never trouble Peter for the matter. {Exit, 

Cap. 'Mass, and well said ; a merry whore* 

son \ ha, [day : 

Thou shalt be logger-head. — Good faith, 'tis 

The county will be here with music straight, 

{Music within. 
For so he said he would. I hear him near : — 
Nurse ! — Wife ! — what, ho ! — what, nurse, I 
say! 

Enter Nurse. 
Go, waken Juliet, go, and trim her up ; 
I'll go and chat with Paris : — Hie, make haste^ 
Make haste! the bridegroom he is come al- 
ready : 
Make haste, I say I {Exeunt, 

SCENE V. Juliet's Chamber. Juliet on 
the Bed. 
Enter Nurse. 
Nurse, Mistress ! — what, mistress I — Juliet ! 
— fast, I warrant her, she : — 
Why, Iambi — why, lady! — fie, you slug-a 
bed! — [why, bride! — 

Why, love, I say ! — madam ! sweet-heart ! — 
What, not a word? — you take your penny- 
worths now; [rant. 
Sleep for a week : for the next night, I war- 
The county Paris hath set up his rest. 
That you shall rest bat little. — God forgive me, 
(Marry and amen!) how sound is she asleep! 
I needs must wake her : — Madam, madam, 

madam! 
Ay, let the county take you in your bed ; 
He'll fright you up, i'faith.— Will it not be ? 
What, drest ! and in your clothes! and down 

again ? 
I must needs wake you : Lady ! lady ! lady ! 
Alas! alas!— Help! help! my lady's dead! — 
O, well-a-day, that ever I was born ! — 
Some aqua-vitae, ho !— my lord I my lady I 



• The fabulots accounts of the plant called a mandrake eive it a degree of animal life, and 
'When it is torn from the ground it groans, which is fatal to him that pulls it up. t Distracted. 

^ Mome was a term of endeai ment to a woman 



! ground it groan 
The room where pi^ were made. 



Scene F.] 



BOMEO AND JULIET. 



983 



'Enter LadyCAPULET. 

La. C</j9.Wliat noiie k here ? 

Nurse. O lamentable day ! 

La. Cap. What is the matter? 

Nurse. Look, look ! O heavy day ! 

La. Cap. O me, O me 1 — my child, my 
only life. 
Revive, look up, or I w\\\ die with thee I — 
Help, help! — call help. 

Enter Capo LET. 

Cap. For ehame, bring Juliet forth ; her 
lord is come. [alack the day ! 

Nurse. She's dead, deceased, she's- df ad ; 

La. Cap, Alack the day I she's dead, she's 
dead, she's dead. [cold ; 

Cap. Ha ! let me see her : — Out, alas ! she's 
Her blood is settled ; and her joints are stiflf ; 
Life and these lips have long been separated ; 
Death lies on her, like an untimely frost 
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field. 
Accursed time ! unfortunate old man 1 

Nurse. O lamentable day ! 

La. Cap. O woful time ! 

C€fp. Death, that hath ta'en her hence to 

make me wail. 

Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak. 

Enter Friar Laurence and Paris, tvith 

Musicians. [church? 

Eri. Come, is the bride ready to go to 

Cap. Ready to t;o, but never to return : 
O son, the night before thy wedding-day 
Haih death inn with thy bride : — See, there 
Flower as she was, deflowered by him. [she lies, 
t)e<ith is my son-iti-law, death is my heir ; 
My daughter he hath wedded ! 1 will die. 
And leave him all; life leaving, all is death's. 

Pur. Have 1 thought long to see this morn- 
ini^'s face. 
And doth it give me such a sight as this ? 

La. Cap. Accursed, unhappy, wretched, 
hateful day 1 
Most miserable hour that e'er time «aw 
In lasting labour ot his pilgrimage ! 
But one, poor one, one poor and loving child. 
But Oiie thing to rejoice and solace in, 
And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight. 

Nurse. Owo! O woful,woful, wofulday! 
Most lamentable day ! most w^oful day. 
That ever, ever, I did yet behold 1 
O day ! O day ! O day ! O hateful day ! 
Never was seen so black a day as this : 
O woful day ! O woful day ! 

Par. Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited. 
Most detestable death, by thee beguiled, [slain ! 
By cruel, cruel thee quite overthrown! — 
Olove! O life!— not life, but love in death! 

Cup. Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, 
kill'd!— 
Li ncomfortable time ! why earnest thou now 
To murder, murder our solemnity? — 
O child ! O child !- -my soul, and not my child ! 
Dead art thou, dead !— Alack ! my child is dead ; 
And, with my child, my joys are buried I 

Fri. Peace, ho, for shame I confusion's care 
lives not 



In these confusions. Heaven bk^ ycnrself 
Had part in this fair maid; now be^veii hath 
And all the better is it for the maid: [all. 

Your part in her you could not kesp Arcm 

death; 
But heaven keeps his part in eternal lift?. 
The most you sought was her promotion f 
For 'twas your heaven, she should beadvant* - S 
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced, 
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself 1 
O, in this love, you love your child so ill. 
That you run mad, seeing thnt she is wt 11 : 
She's not well married, that lives married long 
But she's best married, that dies married young 
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary 
On this fair corse; and, as the custom is. 
In all her best array bear her to church : 
For though fond nature bids us all lament. 
Yet nature's te.irs are reason's merriment. 

Cap. All things, that we ordained festival. 
Turn from their office to black funeral : 
Our instruments, to melancholy bells; 
Our wedding cheer, to a sad burial feast ; 
Our solemn Lymos, to snllen dirges change; 
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse. 
And allthings change them to the contrary. 

Fri. Sir, go you in, — and, madam, go with 
And go, sir Paris ; — every one prepare [him :-- 
To fellow this fair corse unto her grave : 
The heavens do low'r upon you, for some ill ; 
Move them no more^. by crossing their hijjh 
will. [Extunt Capullt, Lady 

Capu LET, Paris, owri Friar. 

1 Mus. 'Faith we may put up our pipes, and 
be gone. 

Nurse. Honest good fellows, ah, put up ; put 

For, well you know, this is a pitiful case, [up; 

[Eiit Nurse. 

1 Mus. Ay, by my troth, the case may be 
amended. 

Enter Peter. 

Pet. Musicians, O, musicians, HearVs ease, 
hearVs ease ; O, an you will have me live, 
play — heart* s ease. 

1 Mus. Why heorVs ease? 

Pet. O, musicians, because ray heart itself 
plays — My heart is full of tvoe: Q, play me 
some merry dump*, to comfort me. 

2 Mus. Not a dump we ; 'tis no time to play 
now. 

Pet. You will not then 1 

Mus. No. 

Pet. I will then give it yon soundly. 

1 Mus. What will you give us ? 

Pet. No money, on my faith ; but the 
gleek t : I will give you the minstrel. 

1 Mus. Then will I give you the serving- 
creature. 

Pet. Then will I lay the serving-creatnre's 
dagger on your pate. 1 will carry no crotchets: 
I'll re you, I'll/fl you; Do you note me? 

1 Mus. An you re us, and fa us, you note va* 

2 Mus. Pray you, put up your dagger, au<t 
put out vour wit. 

I Pet. then have at yoa with my wit; I will 



• Dumps were heavy mournful tnnes. 
t To gleek is to scoft, and a gleekman signihed a minstrel. 



984 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act K 



dry beat you with an iron wit, and put up my 

ron dagger : —Answer me like men : 
PVhfH griping grief the heart dothwound^ 
And doleful Uw/.ps the mirbd oppress. 
Then music with her silver sound; 
Why, silver sound? why, music with her 

silver sound f 

What say you, Simon Catling? 

1 i)ius. iVfarry, sir, because silver hath a 
sweet sound. 

Fet. Pretty I What say you, Hugh Rebeck*? 

2 Mu.s, 1 say — silver sound, because rausi- 
ciaus sound tr silver. 



Pet. Pretty too! — What wy you, Jara<« 
Soundpost? 

3 Mus\ 'Faith, I know not what to say. 
Pet. O, I cry you mercy ! you are the singer: 
I will say for you. It is — jnu.sic with tier 
silver sound, because such fellows as you have 
seldom gold for soundiiig : — 

Tnen music with her silver sound, 
iVith speedy help doth lend redress. 

[Exit, singing. 

1 Mus, What a pestilent knave is this same ? 

2AIus. Hung him, Jack! Come, we'll in 

here ; tarry for the mourners, and stay dinner. 

[Kxeunt* 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. Mantua. A Street. 
Enter Romeo. 

Rom. If I may trust the flattering eye of sleep. 
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand : 
My bosom's lordt sits lightly in his throne ; 
And, all this day, an unaccnstom'd spirit 
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful 

thous/liis. 
I dreamt my lady came and found me dead ; 
(Strange dream! that gives a dead man leave 

to think,) 
And breathed such life with kisses in ray lips. 
That 1 revived, and was an emperor. 
Ah me! how sweet is love itself possessed, 
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy? 

Enter Balthasar. 
News from Verona! — How now, Balthasar? 
Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar? 
How doth ray lady ? Is my father well? 
How fares my Juliet? That I ask again ; 
For nothing can be ill, if she be well. [ill ; 

Bal. Then she is well, and nothing can be 
Her body sleeps in Capels' monument, 
And htr immortal part with angels lives; 
I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault. 
And presently took post to tell it you : 
O pardon me for bringing these ill news. 
Since you did leave it for my office, sir. 

Rom. Is it even so? then I defy you, stars! — 
Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and 

paper. 
And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night. 

Bal. Pardon me, sir, I will not leave you 
thus: 
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import 
Some misadventure. 

Ro'n. Tush, thou art deceived; 

Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do: 
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar? 

Bal. No, my good lord. 

R'>ni. No matter : get thee gone, 

And hire those horses ; I'll be with thee straight. 

[Erit Balthasar. 

Well, Juliet, I will lie with thee to-night. 

Let's see for means. —O, misct:«f; thou art 

Rwift 
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men! 



I do remember an apothecary, — 
And hereabouts he dwells, — whom late I noted 
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows. 
Culling of simples J; meigre were his looks. 
Sharp misery had worn him to tlie bones: 
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung. 
An alligator stuff 'd, and other skins 
Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves 
A beggarly account of empty boxes, 
Green earthen pots, bladders, and musty seeds. 
Remnants of packthread, and old cakes of roses. 
Were thinly scatter'd, to make np a show. 
Noting this penury, to myself I said — 
And if a man did need a poison now. 
Whose sale is present death in Mantua, 
Here lives acaitiif wretch would sell it hira. 
O, this same thought did but foj-e-rnii my need; 
And this same needy man must sell it me. 
As I remember, this should be the house: 
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.— 
What, ho! apothecary! 

Enter Apothecary. 

Ap. Who calls so loud? 

Rom. Come hither, man. — I see that thoa 
art poor; 
Hold, there is forty ducats : let me have 
A dram of poison; such soon-speeding geer$ 
As will disperse itself throui>h all the veins. 
That the life-weary taker may fall dead ; 
And that the triwrik may be discharged of breath 
As violently, as hasty powder fired 
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb, [law 

Ap. Such mortal drugs I have ; but Mantua's 
Is death, to any he that utters them, [edness, 

Rom. Art thou so bare, and full of wretch- 
And fear'st to die f famine is in tJiy cheeks. 
Need and oppression starveth in thy eyes. 
Upon thy back hangs ragged misery, [lawr 
The world is not thy friend, nor the world's 
The world affords no law to make thee rich ; 
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this. 

Ap. My poverty, but not my will, consents. 

Rom. I pay thy poverty, and not thy will. 

Ap. Put this in any liquid thing you will. 
And drink it off; and, if you had the strength 
Of twenty tnen, it would despatch you straii;ht. 

Rom. There is thy gold, worse poison to 
men's souls. 



' And (he jocund re^gcA^F sound." — Milto.v. f i. e., Love. t Herbs. J Stuffy 



K^^cene /."I 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



985 



Doing more murders in this loathsome world, 
riiau these poor com pounds that thou may 'at 

not sell: 
I sell thee poison, thon hast sold me none. 
Fireweil ; buy fuod, and get thyself in flesh.— 
Come, cordial, and not poison; go with me 
f o Juliet's grave, tor there must 1 use thee. 

{Exeunt* 

SCENE II. Friar Laurence's Cell, 
Enter Friar John. 

John. Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho! 
Enter Friar Laurence. 

JLau. 'Ihit same should be the voice of friar 
John. — 
Welcome from Mantua: What says Romeo 2 
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter. 

John, Going to find a barefoot brother out, 
One of our order to associate me. 
Here in this city visiting the sick. 
And finding him, the searchers of the town. 
Suspecting that we both were in a house 
Where the infectious pestilence did reign, 
SeaTd up the doors, and would not let us forth ; 
So that my speed to Maniua there was stay'd. 

J^au. Who bare my letter then to Romeo? 

John. I Could not send it — here it is again, — 
Kor get a messentjer to bring it thee. 
So fearful were they of infection. 

Lau. Unhappy fortune I by my brotherhood. 
The letter was not nice*, but full of dharge. 
Of dear import; and the neglecting it 
May do much danger : Friar John, go hence; 
Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight 
Unto my cell. 

Johri. Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.[£lii/. 

L,au. Now must I to the monument alone; 
Within these three hours will fair Juliet wake; 
She will beshrew me much, that Romeo 
Hath had no notice of these accidents : 
JBut I will write again to Mantua, 
And keep her at my cell till Romeo come ; 
Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb ! 

{Exit, 

6CEN E III. A Church-Yard ; in it a Monu- 
ment belonging to the Capulets. 
Enter Paris, and his Page, bearing 
Flowers and a Torch. 
Par. Give me thy torch, boy : Hence, and 
stand aloof; — 
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen. 
Under yon yew trees lay thee all a.ong. 
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground ; 
So shall no foot upon the church-yard tread, 
f Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,) 
But thoii shalt hear it : whistle then to me. 
As signal that thou hear'st something approach 
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go. 

Page. 1 am almost afraid to stand alone 
Here in the church-yard ; yet 1 will adventure. 

{Retires. 
Par. Sweet flower, with flowers I strew 
thy biidal bed : 
Sweet tomb, that in thy circuit doth contain 
tJThe perfect model of eternity ; 

♦ i. e.. On a trivial or idle subject. 



Fair Juliet, that with angels dost remain. 
Accept this latest favour at my hands ; 
That living honoured thee, and, beir.g dead. 
With funeral praises do adorn thy tomb ! 

{The Boy whistles 
The boy gives warning, something doth ap- 
proach. 
What cursed foot wanders this way to-night. 
To cross my obsequies, and true-love's rites? 
What, with a torch! — muffle me, Dii>ht, a 
while. {Retires. 

Enter Romeo and Balthasar ft;i^A a 
Torch, Mattock, 4;c. 

Rom. Give me that mattock, and the wrench- 
ing iron. 
Hold, take this letter ; early in the morning 
See thou deliver it to my lord and father. 
Give me the light : Upon thy life I charge thee. 
Whatever thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof. 
And do not interrupt me in my course. 
Why I descend into this bed of death. 
Is, partly, to behold my lady's face: [finger 
But, chiefly, to take thence from her dead 
A precious ring ; a ring that I must use 
Xn dear employ mentf: therefore hence, be 

gone : — 
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry 
In what I further shall intend to do, 
By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint 
And strew this hungry church-yard with thy 

limbs : 
The time and my intents are savage-wild ; 
iVlore fierce, and more inexorable far. 
Than empty tigers, or the roaring sea. 

Bal. I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you. 
Rom. So shalt thon show me friendship. — 
Take thou that : [fellow. 

Live, and be prosperous ; and farewell, good 
JSal. For all this same, I'll hide me here- 
about; 
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt. 

{Retires, 
Rom. Thou detestable maw, thou womb of 
death, 
Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth. 
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open, 

[Breaking open the Door of tJie 
Monument. 
And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food! 
Par. This is that banish'd haughty Monta- 
gue, [giief. 

That murder'd my love's cousin ; — with which 
It is supposed the fair creature died, — 
And here is come to do some villanous sl.ame 
To the dead bodies: 1 will apprehend him. 

[Advances, 
Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Montague; 
Can vengeance be pursued further than death? 
Condemned villain, 1 do apprehend thee: 
Obey, and go with me; for thou must die. 
Rom. I must, indeed; and therefore came I 
hither, — 
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man. 
Fly hence and leave me; — think upon these 
gone; 

t i. e,. Action of importance. 
4P 



^S6 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r 



Let ihern affriuht thee.-'I beseech thee, youth. 

Heap not another sin upon my head, 

By urging me to fury :— O, be gonel 

By heaven, I love thee better than myself; 

For I come hither arm'd against myself : 

Stay not, begone; — live, and hereafter say — 

A madman's mercy bade thee run away. 

Par. I do defy thy conjurations *, 
And do attach thee as a telon here. 

Bom. Wilt thou provoke rae 1 then have at 
thee, boy. [They fight. 

Page. O lord ! they fight: \ will go call the 
watch. [Kxit Page. 

Par. O, I am slain! [Falls.']— li thou be 
merciful, 
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet. TIHes, 

Bam. In faith, I will :— Let roe peruse this 
face ; — 
Mercutio's kinsman, noble county Paria: — 
What said my man, when my betossed soul 
l)id not attend him as we ronde ? I think. 
He told me, Paris should have married Juliet : 
Said he not so? or did I dream it sot 
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Juliet, 
To think it was so ? — O give me thy hand. 
One writ with me in sour misfortune's book! 
ril bury thee in a triumphant grave, — 
A grave? 0,no; a lanttrn+,slaughtera youth. 
For here lies Juliet, and her beauty makes 
Ihis vault a feasting presence t full of light. 
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd. 
[Laying P^ris in the Monument, 
How oft when men are at the point of death 
Have they been merry 1 which their keeepers 
A lightning before death: O, how may 1 [call 
Call this a lightning ?—0, my love! my wife! 
Beath that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath. 
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty ' 
Thou art not conqner'd ; beauty's ensign yet 
Is crimson in \.\\y lips, and in thy cheek-s, 
And death's pale Hag is not advance<i there* — 
Tybalt, lifcst thou there in thy bloody sheet? 
O, what more favour can I do to thee. 
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in 
To sunder his that was thine enemy? [twain. 
Forgive me, cousin! — Ah dear Juliet, 
Why art thou vet so fair? Shall 1 believe 
That unsubstantial death isainorous; 
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps 
Thee here in dark to be his paramour ? 
For fe,ar of that, I will still stay with thee ; 
And never from this palace of dim night 
Depart again; here, here will I remain 
With wornjs that are thy chambermaids; O, 
Will I setup my everlasting rest ; [here 

And shake the y( ke of inauspicious siars 
From this world wearied flesh. — Eyes look 

your last! 
Arms, take your last embrace I and lips, O yon 
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss 
A dateless bargain to engrossing death? — 
Come, bitter conduct^, come, unsavoury 

guide ! 
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run oo 



The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark I 
Here's to my lovel — [Drinks.] O, true apo- 

thecary I 
Thy drugs are quick. — Thus with a kiss I die. 

[ Dies, 
Enter at the other end of the Chur<:h-yard^ 
Friar Laurence, with a Lantern, Crow^ 
and Spade. 

Fri, Saint Francis be my speed ! how ofl 

to-night [therel 

Have my old feet stumbled at graves ? — Who's 

Who is it that consorts, so late, the dead ? 

Bal. Here's one, a friend, and one that 

knows you well. 
Fri. Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my 
friend , 
What torch is yond', that vainly lends hit 

light 
To grubs, and eye-less sculls? as I discern. 
It burneth in the Capel's monument. 

Bal. It doth so, holy sir, and there's my 
One that you love. [master. 

Fri. Who is it? 

Bal. Romeo. 

Fri. How long hath he been there? 
Bal. Full half an hour. 

Fri. Go with me to the vault. 
Bal. I dare not, sir| 

My master knows not, but I am gone hence; 
And fearfully did menace me with death. 
If I did stay to look on his intents. 
Fri. Stay then, I'll go aljne: — Fear comet 
upon me : 
O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing, [here, 
Bal. As I did sleep under this yew-tree 
I dreamt my master and another fought. 
And that my master slew him. 

Fri. Romeo? _ [Advances* 

Alack, alack, what blood is this, which staini 
The stony entrance of this sepulchre? — 
What mean these masterless nnd gory swordt 
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace ? 

[Enters the Monument, 
Romeo! 0, pale! — Who else? what, Paris, 
too ? [houf 

And steep'd in blood? — Ah, what an unkind 
Is guilty of this lamentable chance! — 
The lady stirs. [Ju li tr wakes and stirs. 
Jul. O, comfortable friar ! where is my 
lord? 
I do remember well where I should be. 
And there 1 am: — Where is my Romeo? 

[ ISoise Within 
Fri. I hear some noise. — Lady, come front 
that nest 
Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep; 
A greater Power than we can contrafiict 
Hath thwart* d our intents ; come, come away; 
Thy husband in thy bosom there lit s dead; 
And Paris too, come, I'll dispose of thee 
I Among a sisterhood of holy nuns: 
, Stay not to questioii, for the watch is coming; 
I Come, go, good Juliet, — [Noi^eagain.] I dare 
' stay uo longer. iKiit 



# 



Fuse to do as thon conjurest me to do, i. 6., depart. t The alluaion is to a louvr/ 

or turret full of windows, by means of which aivdent balls, 4c., are I'lamiuaterl. 
Preseoce-chauiber. & CondiM>t<>r. 



Preseoce-chaui ber 



$ Conductor. 



Scene /I I A 



ROMEO AND JULIET. 



9S7 



Jul, Go, get thee hence, for 1 will not 

away. — [hand? 

Vf hat's here? a cup, closed in my true love's 

Poison, 1 see, hath been his timeless end : — 

O chnrl ! drink all ; and leave no friendly 

drop. 
To help me after? — 1 will kiss thy lips ; • 
Haply, some poison yet doth hang on them. 
To make me die with a restorative. 

[Kisses him. 

Hiy lips are warm ! [way ? 

I Watch, {Within.'] Lead, boy :— Which 

Jid, Yea, noise?— then I'll be brief.— O 

happy dagger! 

{Snatching Romeo's Dagger, 
Hiis is thy sheath ; {Stabs her^elj'.l there rust, 
and let me die. 

{Falls on Romeo*s Body, and dies. 
Enter Watch, with the Page (>/" Paris. 
Page. This is the place ; there, where the 
torch doth burn. 

1 Watch, The ground is bloody ; — Search 

about the church-yard : 
Go, some of you, who e'er you 6nd, attach. 

[Exeunt some. 
Pitiful sight ! here lies the county slain ; — 
And Juliet bleeding; warm, and newly dead, 
Who here hath lain these iwo days buried. — 
Go, tell the prince, — run to the Capulets, — 
Raise up the Montagues, — some others search; 
{Exeunt other Watchmen. 
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie ; 
But the true ground of all ihese piteous woes. 
We cannot without circumstance descry. 
Enter some of the W?dch, with Balthasar. 

2 Watch. Here's Romeo's man, we found 

him in the church-yard. 
1 Watch, Hold him in safety, till the prince 
come hither. 
Enter another Watchman, with Friar 
Laurence. 

3 Watch, Here is a friar, that trembles, 

sighs, and weeps : 
W« took this mattock and this spade from him, 
As he was coming from this church-yard side. 
1 Watch, A great suspicion ; Stay the friar 
too. 
Enter the Prince ayid Attendants. 
Prince. What misadventure is so early up, 
Rat calls our person from our morning's rest? 
Enter Capulet, Lady Capulet, and 

Others, 
Cap. What should it be, that they so shriek 
abroad ? [Romeo. 

La, Cap, The people in the street cry — 
Some — Juliet, and some — Paris; and all run. 
With open outcry toward our monument. 
PrJrice. What fear is this, which startles in 
our ears? [Paris slain ; 

1 Watch. Sovereign, here lies the county 
And Romeo dead ; and Juliet, dead before, 
Warm and new kill'd. 

, Prince. Search, seek, and know how this 
foul murder comes. [Romeo's man; 
I Watch. Here is a friar, and slaughtered 
With instruments upon them, fit to open 



These dead men's tombs. 

Cap, O, heavens! — U, wife! look how onr 
daughter bleeds ! 
This dagger hath mista'en. — for lo! hishouse* 
Is empty on the baok of Montague, — 
And is mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom+. 
La. Cap. O me ! this sight of deaih is as a 
That warns tny old age to a sepulchre, [bell. 
Enter Montague avd Others. 
Prince. Come, Montague ; for thou art early " 
up. 
To see thy son and heir more early down. 
Man. Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to- 
night ; [breath : 
Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her 
What further woe conspires against mine ate? 
Prince. Look, and thou shait see. [this, 
Mon. O thou untaught! what manners is in 
To press before thy father to a grave ? 

Prince, Seal up the mouth of outrage for a 
Till we can clear these ambignhies, [while. 
And know their spring, their head, their true 

descent ; 
And then will I be general of your woes, 
And lead you even to death: Mean time forbear. 
And let mischance be slave to patience. — 
Bring forth the parties of suspicion. 

Fri. I am the greatest, able to do least, 
Yet most suspected, as the time and place 
Doth make against me, of this direful murder; 
And here 1 stand, both to impeach and purge 
M r.lf condemned and myself excused. 
Prince, Then say at once what thou dost 
know in this. [breath 

Fri. I will be brief, for my short date of 
Is not so long as is a tedious tale. 
Romeo, there dead, was husband to that 
Juliet; [wife: 

And she, there dead, that Romeo's faithful 
I married them ; and their stolen-marriage-day 
Was Tybalt's dooms-day, whose untimely 
death [city ; 

Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from this 
For whom, and not for Tybalt, Juliet pined. 
You — to remove that fiegej of grief from her, 
Betroth'd, and would have married her per- 
force, 
To county Paris : — Then comes she to me ; 
And, with wild looks, bid me devise some 

means 
To rid her from this second mairiace. 
Or, in my cell there would she kill herself. 
Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art, 
A sleeping potion; which so took etfect 
As I intended, for it wrought on her 
The form of death : meantime I writ to Romeo 
That he should hither come as this dire night. 
To help to take her from her borrow'd grave 
Being the time the potion's force should cease. 
But he which bore my letter, friar John, 
Was staid by accident; and yesternight 
Return'd my letter back: Then all alone. 
At the prefixed hour of her waking. 
Came I to take her from her kindred's vault j 
Meaning to keep her closely at my cell. 
Till I conveuientiv could send to Romeo: 



• i.Bcf The scabbard. 



t The dagger. 



1 Seal. 



% 
^ 



988 



SHAKSPEARB. 



[Act I 



IBnt, when I came, (some minute ere the time 
Of her awakening,) here untimely lay 
The noble Paris, and true Komeo, dead. 
She wakes; and 1 entreated her come forth. 
And bear this work of heaven with patience : 
But then a noise did scare me from I lie tomb; 
And she, too desperate, would not go with me, 
But (as it see«iis,} did violence on herself. 
.All this I know; and to the marriage 
Her nurse is privy : And, if aught in this 
Miscarried by my f^ult, lei my old life 
Bv sacrificed, some hour beforr? his time, 
Uiito the rigour t)t" severest law. 

Princ*' We still have known thee for a holy 

man. — [this? 

Where's Romeo's man? what can he say in 

Bal. i brought my master news of Juliet's 
death ; 
And then in po^t he came from Mantua, 
To this same pince, to this same monument. 
This letter he early bi<! me give his father; 
And threaten'd me with death, going in the 
If I departe i n t, and left him there. i vault. 

Prince. Give me the letter, i will look on 

it.— [watch?— 

Where is the county's page, that raised the 

Sirrah, what made your master in this place ? 

Page. He c^iiie with flowers to strew his 
lady's grave; 
And bid me stand aloof, and so 1 did : 
Anon, comes one with light to ope the tomb : 



And, by and by, my master drew on him; 
And then I ran away to call the watch. 

Prince, I his letter doth make good the 
friai's vvords. 
Their course of love, the tidings of her death: 
And here he writes — that he did buy a poison 
Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal 
C'ame to this vault to die, and lie with Juliet.-— 
Where be these enemies? Capulet! Montague!— 
See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate. 
That heaven finds means to kilt your joys with 
And I, for winking at your discords loo, [love! 
Have lost a brace of kinsmen*: ail are 
piinish'd- 

(^^ap, O, brother Montague, give me thy hand: 
This is my ''aughier's jointure, for no more 
Can I demand. 

Man, But I can give thee more: 

For 1 will raise her statue in pure gold ; 
That, while Veiona by that name is knowd. 
There shall no figure at such rate be set. 
As that of true and faithful Juliet. 

Cap. As rich shall Romeo by bis lady lie; 
Poor sac-ifices of our enmity J 

Princf. A glooming peace this morning with 

it brings; 

Thesunfor sorrew will not show his head: 

Go hence, to have more talk of thesesad things; 

Someshall be pardon'd, and some puuish'd: 

For never was a story of more woe. 

Than this of Juliet and her Romeo. lExeuntm 



* Mercutio and Pari*. 



This play is one of the most pleasing of our author's performances. The scenes are busy 
and vanons^tlie incidents numerous and important, the catastrophe irres'rstibiy affecting, and 
the procesft of the aciion carried on with sueh probability, at least with sneh eongruity to 
popular opinions. a» tragedy requires. 

Here is one of the few aitenipts of Shakspeare to exhibit the conversation of gentlemen, to 
represent the airy soriihtliness of juvenile elegance- Mr. Hryden mentions a tradition, which 
miiihl easily reach hi.-* time, of a decia ation made by Shakspeare, that he ua^ ohltgerf to kill 
Mercutio in the third Acf, lest he should have hee// k ll-'d ny fiim. Yet he thinks him 
vo surri form da de persor/^ hut tiiat h^ minM hare lived through the pi >y, 'nd (tied in 
his hed^ witltotit danger to the poet. Dryden well knew, had he been in quest of trnlh, in a 
pointed semeitce. that more legird is commonly had tt> ilie worrls than the thons^hl, and that it 
is ve:y seldom lo be rigorously understood. Mercutio's wit, uaiety, and couraire, will always 
proc re hiin friends that wish him a l«)ns£er life: b'» bi« <leath is not precipitated he has lived 
our the time allotted him in the construction of the play ; nor do I doubt ih»' ability of shak 
speire to have continued ins existence, though some of his sallies are perhaps out of the reach 
of Dryden ; whose genius was not very fertile of merriment, nor ductile to humour, but acute, 
argumentative, compiehensive, and sublime. 

The Nur.«e is one of the characters in which the author delighted : he has, with great subtilty 
of distinction, drawn her at once loquacious and secret, obsequiops and insolent, trusty and 
dl?honest 

His comic scenes are happily wrought, hut his pa»hetic strains are always polluted ^itb 
some unexpected depravations. His persons, however distrearcd, tav€ a conceit Uft tk&m 
i* their misery^ a miseravle conceit. -^i on sioum 



HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 



^etsson^ teprej»entel). 



Claudius, king of Denmark, 

Hamlet, son to the former, and nephew to 

the present, king. 
PoLON I us, lord chamberlain, 
lloK \v \o /friend to Hamlet, 
Laertes, son to Polonius, 
VoLTiMAND, Cornelius, Rosencrantz, 

GuiLDENSTKRN, courtiers, 
OsRic. A Oourtier. 
Another Courtier. 
A Priest. 

MaRCELLUS, > ^JC^^^m 

Bernardo, } '^^'"'^'"^ 



Francisco, a soldier 
Reynaldo, servant to Polonius* 
A Captain. An Ambassador. 
Ghost of Hamlet's father. 
FuRTiN bras, prince of Norway. 

Gertrude, queen of Denmark, and mothe% 

of Hamlet, 
Ophelia, daughter of Polonius, 

Lords, Ladies, Officers, Soldiers, Players, 
Grave-diggers^ Sailors, Messengers, and 
other Attendants, 

Scene—Elsinore. 



ACT I. 



8CENE I. Blsinore. A Platform befors 
the Castle, 

Francisco on his Post, Enter to kim 
Bernardo. 

Ber, Who's there t 

Fran. Nay, answer me : stand, and VRfold 
Yourself. 

£er. Lonj; live the king ! 

Fran, Bernardo T 

Ber, He. 

Fran. Yon come most carefully apon your 
hour. [bed, Francisco. 

Ber. 'TIS now struck twelve, get thee to 

Fran. For this relief much thanks ; 'tis 
And I am sick at heart. [bitter cold, 

Ber. Have you had quiet guard ? 

Fron. Not a mouse stirring. 

B*^r. Well, good » ight. 
If you do meet Horatio and Marcellns, 
The rivals* of my watch , bid them make haste. 
Entfr HoKATiofl/zri Mari eli.us. 

Fran. I think I hear them.— Stand, ho ! 
Who is there? 

Hot. Friends to this ground. 

Miir. And lietiemen to the Dane. 

Fran. Give you jjood night. 

Afar. O, farewell, honest soldier : 

Who hath relieved you? 

Fran. Bernardo hath my place. 

tJive you good night. [HLrit Francisco. 

Mai , Hoila ! Bernardo ! 

her,. Say, 

What, is Horatio thtra % 

Mof A piQc« of him. 



Ber. Welcome, Horatio ; welcome, good 
Marcellus. [to night? 

Hor. What, has this thing appear'd agairn 

Ber. I have eeen nothing. 

Mar. Horatio says, 'tis but our fantasy; 
And will not let belief take hold of him. 
Touching this dreaded sight, twice seen of os; 
Therefore I have entreated him, along 
W ith us to wateh the minutes of this night ; 
That, if again this apparition come, 
He may approve t our eyes, and speak to it. 

Hor. Tush! tush! 'twill not appear. 

Ber. Sit down awhile. 

And iet ns once again assail your ears. 
That arc so fortified against our story. 
What we two nights have seen. 

Hor. Well, sit we down. 

And let ns hear Bernardo speak of this. 

Ber. Last night of all, [the pole. 

When yon same star that's westward trom 
Had made his course to illume that part of 

heaven 
Where now it burns, Marcellus and myself. 
The bell then beating one, — 

Mar. Peace, break thee off; look, where 
it comes again! [Enter Ghost, 

Ber. In the same figure like the king t!:at's 
dead. [rafio. 

Mar. Thou art a scholar, speak to it, IJo. 

Ber. Looks it not like the king? mark it, 
Horatio. [fear and wonder. 

Hor. Most like: — it harrows j me with 

Ber. It would be spoke to. 

Mar, . Spe>4k to it, Horatio. 

Hor. What art thou that asurp'st Uiis tiiz« 
of tk\%ktt 



• Partners. 



t Make f«od or establish. 



1 Coeunen. 
4 P8 



990 



SHAKSPEAaE. 



Together with that fair and warlike form 
In which the majesty of buried Denmark 
Did sometimes march 1 by heaven 1 charge 

Alar. It i« oflfended. [thee, speak. 

Ber, See ! it stalks away. 

JJor. Stay ; speak : speak. I charge thee, 
speak. [Exit Ghost. 

Mar. *Tis gone, and will not answer. 

BeT' How now, Horatio? you tremble, and 
look pale ; 
Is not this something more than fantasy? 
What think you of if? [believe, 

Ho?\ Before my God, I might not this 
"Without the sensible and true avouch 
Of mine own eyes. 

Mar. Is it not like the king 1 

Hor. As thou art to thyself: 
Such was the ver.y armour he had on. 
When he the ambitious Norway combated; 
So frown'd he once, when, in an angry parle* 
Ife smote the sledded f PoiackJ on the ice. 
*Tis strange. 

Mar, Thus twice before, and jump § at this 
dead hour. 
With martial stalk hath he gone by onr watch. 

Hor. In what particular thought to work I 
know not; 
But, in the gross and scope of mine opinion, 
This bodes some strange eruption to our state. 

Mar. Good now, sit down, and tell me, he 
that knows, 
Why this same strict and most observant watch 
So nightly toils the subject of the land ; 
And why such daily cast of brazen cannon, 
And foreign mart for implements of war ; 
Why such impress of shipwrights, whose sore 

task 
Does not divide the snnday from the week: 
What might be toward, that this sweaty haste 
Doth make the night joint-labourer with the 
Who is't that can inform me l [day ; 

Hor. That can 1 ; 

At least, the whisper goes so. Our last king, 
Whose image even but now appeer'd to us. 
Was, as you know, by Fortinbras of Norway, 
Thereto prick*d on by a most emulate pride. 
Dared to the combat ; in which our valiant 
Hamlet [him,) 

(For so this side of our known world esteem'd 
Did slay this Fortinbras ; who, by a seal'd 

compdct. 
Well ratified by law and heraldry. 
Did forfeit with his life all those his lands. 
Which he stood seized of, to the conqueror : 
Against the which, a moiety competent 
Was gaged by our ki«g; which had rcturn'd 
To the inheritance of Fortinbras, [co-mart || 
Had he been vanquisher ; as, by the same 
And carriage of the article desigu'dU, [bras 
His fell to Hamlet: Now, sir, young Foriin- 
Of unimproved mettle hot and full**. 
Hath in the skirts of Norway, here and there, 
Shark'd ft up a list of landless resoltites, 
For food and diet, to some enterprise 



That hath a stomach Xi in't: which is no olhei 
(As it doth well appear unto ear state,) 
But to recover of us, by strong hand 
And terms compulsatory, those 'foresaid lands 
So by his father lost : And this, I take it. 
Is the main motive of our preparations, 
The source of this oar watch, and the chief 

head 
Of this post-haste and romage^^in the land. 

[Ber. I think it be no other, but even so : 
Well may it sort |llf, that this portentous figur« 
Comes armed through our watch ; so like the 

king 
That was, and is, the question of these wars. 

Hor. A mote it is to trouble the mind's eye. 
In the most high and palmy ITIi state of Rome, 
A little ere the mightiest Julius fell, [dead 
The graves stood tenantless, and the sheeted 
Did squeak and gibber in the Roman streets. 



As stars with trains of fire and dews of blood. 
Disasters in the sun; and the moist star***, 
Upon whose influence Neptune's empire 

stands. 
Was sick almost to dooms-day with eclipse. 
And even the like precurse of fierce events,— 
As harbingers preceding still the fates, 
And prologue to the omen tft coming on. 
Have heaven and earth together demonstrated 
Unto our climatures and countrymen. — ] 

Re-enter Ghost. 
But soft ; behold ! lo, where it comes again ! 
I'll cross it, though it blast me. — Stay, illusion I 
If thou hast any sound, or use of voice, 
^peak to me : 

If there be any good thing to be done, 
That may to thee do ease, and grace to me. 
Speak to me : 

If thou art privy to thy country's fate. 
Which, happily, foreknowing, may avoid, 
O, speak ! 

Or, if thou hast uphoarded in thy life 
Extorted treasure in the womb of earth. 
For which, they say, you spirits oft walk in 
death, [Cock crorvs. 

Speak of it : — stay, and speak. — Stop it, Mar- 
cellus. 

Mar. Shall I strike at it with my partisan?' 

Hor. Do, if it will not stand. 

Ber. 'Tishere! 

Hor. Ti» here. 

Mar. 'Tis gone ! [Exit Ghost. 

We do it wrong, being so majestical. 
To offer it the show of violence ; 
For it is, as the air, invulnerable. 
And our vain blows malicious mockery. 

Ber. It was about to speak when the cock 
crew. 

Hor. And then it started, like a guilty thing 
Upon a fearful summons. I have h^-^rd. 
The cock, that is the trumpet of the morn, 
Doth with his lofty and shrill sounding throat 
Awake the god of day ; and, at his warning. 
Whether in sea or fire, in earth or air. 



• Dispnte. t Sledge. 

II Joint birgain. 
•• Full of spirit without 'Hperienre. 
%% Victoiiuus. 



X Polandcr, an inhabitant of Poland. $ Just. 

If The covenant to confirm that bari^in- 

tt Picked. i: Resolution >;)> Sf-aich. Illl Suit. 
••* 'IV.e moon. tit Event. 



.Scene I 



HAMLET, PRINC 4 OF DENMARK. 



591 



The extravagavant and erring* spirit hies 
To his confine : and of tlie truth herein 
This present object made probation t- 

Mar. It faded on the crowing of the cocfr. 
Some say, that ever 'gainst that season conj*s 
Wherein our Saviour's birth is celebrated. 
This bud ofdawuiug smgeth all nightlong: 
And then tliey say no spirit dares stir abroad ; 
The nights are wholesome ; then no planets 
strike, [charm, 

No fairy takes, nor witch hath power to 
So hallow'd and so gracious is the time. 

Hor. So have 1 heard, and do in part be- 
lieve it. 
But, look! the morn, in russet mantle clad. 
Walks o'er the dew of yon high eastern hill: 
Break we our watch up: and, by my advice. 
Let us impart what we bav seen to-night 
Unto young Hamlet; for, pon my lite, 
This spirit, dumb to us, w J speak to him : 
Do you consent we shall xqnaint him with it, 
As needful in our loves,^ ^tting our duty? 

Mar. Let's do*t, I pr iy ; and 1 this morning 
know 
Where we shall find him most convenient. 

{Exeunt. 

SCENE IL The same. A Room of State 
in the same. 

Enter the King, Quern, Hamlet, Polo- 
Nios, Laertes, Voltimand, Corne- 
lius, Lords, a7id ^,/tendants. 
King. Though yet of Hamlet, our dear 
brother's deatli 

The memory be gree.\; and that it us befitted 

To bear our hearts in grief, and our whole 
kingdom 

To be contracted in one brow of woe ; 

Yet so far hath discretion fought with nature. 

That we witli wisest sorrow think on him. 

Together with remembrance of ourSt- Ives. 

Thererore our sonietinie sister, now our queen. 

The imperial jointress of this warlike state. 

Have we, as 'twere, with a defeated joy, — 

With one auspicious, and one-dropping eye ; 

With mirth in funeral, and with dirge in mar- 
riage, 

In equal scale weighing delight and dole J, — 

Q aken to wife : nor have we herein barr'd 

Tour better wisdoms, which have freely gone 

With this affair along : — For all, our thanks. 
Now follows, that you know, young Fortin- 
bras, — 

Holding a weak supposal of our worth ; 

Or thinking, by our late dear brother's death. 

Our state to be disjoint and out of frame, 

Coll»agued with tliis dream of his advantage, 

Hehatli not fail'd to pester ns with message. 

Importing the surrender of those lands 

Lost by his father, with all bands 5 of law. 

To our most valiant brother. — So much for 
Mm. 

Now for ourself, and for this lime of meeting. 

Thus much the business is: We have here writ 

To Norway, uncle of young Fortinbras, — 

* Wandering. t Proof. J Grief. ^ Bonds, 

little more than a kiusnian, and les6 than a natural one. 



Who, impotent and bed-rid, scarcely hears 
Of this his nephew's purpose, — to suppress 
His f'lrther gait ii herein in that the levies. 
The iiits, and full propori.ons, are all made 
Out of his subject : — and we here despatch 
^ ou, good Cornelius, and you, Voltimand, 
For bearers of this greeting to old Norway; 
Giving to you no further personal power 
To business with the king, more than the scope 
Of these dilated articles allow. 
FareweU ; and let your haste commend yoar 
duty. [show our duty. 

Cor. Vol. In that, and all things, will we 

ATmg.Wedoubt it nothing;heariily farewell, 
[ Exeu7i ^ Vo lt i«M A N 1) a7ui Corse Livs 
And now, Laertes, what's the news with yout 
You told us of some suit ; What is't, Laertes? 
You cannot speak of reason to the Dane, 
And lose your voice : What wouldst thou beg, 

Laertes, 
That shall not be my ofiFer, not thy asking? 
The head is not more native to the heart. 
The hand more instrumental to the mouth. 
Than is the throne of Denmark to thy father. 
What wouldst thou have, Laertes ? 

Laer. My dread lord. 

Your leave and favour to return to France ; 
From whence though willingly I came to Den- 
To show my duty in your coronation ; [mark. 
Yet now, I must confess, that duty done, 
My thoughts and wishes bend again toward 
France, [pardon. 

And bow them to your gracious leave and 

King. Have you your father's leave? What 
says Polonius 1 [slow leave, 

Pol. He hath, my lord, [wrung from me my 
By laboursome petition ; awd, at last, 
Upon his will I seal'd my hard consent :] 
I do beseech you, give him leave to go. 

King. Take thy fair hour, Laertes ; time be 
thine. 
And thy best graces : spend it at thy will. — 
But now, my cousin Hainlet, and my son, 

Ham. A little more than kin, and less than 
kind If. [Asiae, 

King. How is it that the clouds still hang on 
you? [smi. 

Ham. Not so, my lord, I am too much i'the 

Queen. Good Hamlet, cast thy nighted co- 
lour off, [mark. 
And let thine eye look like a friend on Den« 
Do not, for ever, with thy valid lids** 
Seek for thy noble fat-her in the dust : 
Thou know'st'tis common; all, that live, must 
Passing through nature to eternity. [die. 

Ham. Ay, madam, it is common. 

Queen. If it be. 

Why seems it so particular with thee 1 

Hain. Seems, madam! nay, it is; I know 
not seems. 
'Tis not alone my inky cloak, good mothef> 
Nor customary suits of soleuin black. 
Nor windy suspiration of forced breath. 
No, nor the fruitful river in the eye. 
Nor the dejected haviour of the visage. 



II Way, path. % Nature,* 
•• I owering eyett. 



992 



SHAKSPE4RE. 



[Act /. 



Together with all forms, modes, shows of grief. 
That can deoote me truly: These, indeed, 

seem. 
For they are actions that a man mi^ht play: 
But 1 have that within, which passeth show ; 
These, but the frappintjs and the suits of woe. 
King. * Tis sweet and commendable in your 
nature, Hamlet, 
To ^ve these mourning duties to your father : 
But, yoti must know, your father lost a father ; 
That father lost his ; and tiie survivor bound 
In till il obligation, for some term 
To do obsequious sorrow : But to pers^ver 
In obstinate comtolement. is a course 
Of impious stubb»)rtine8s ; 'tis unmanly grief : 
It shows a will most incorrect to heaven; 
A heart unfortified, or mind impatient ; 
An understanding simple and unschool'd : 
For what, we know, must be, and is as com- 
mon 
As any the most vuli^ar thing to sense. 
Why should wt\ in our peevish opposition. 
Take it to heart? Fie! *tisa fault tv» heaven, 
A fault against the dead, a fault to nature. 
To reason most absurd ; whose common theme 
Is death of fathers, and who still hath cried. 
From the first cui.ie, till he that died to-day. 
This must he u). We pray you, throw to earth 
Thisunprevailing woe; and think of us. 
As of a father : for let the world take note, 
You are the most immediate to our throne; 
An'l, with no less nobility of love 
Than that which dearest father bears his son. 
Do I impart toward you. For your intent 
In goini; back to school in Wittenberg, 
It is most retrotirade • to our desire: 
And, we beseech you, bend you to remain 
Here, in the cheer and conjfort of our eye, 
Onr chiefest courtier, cousin, and our son. 
Queen. Let not thy mothei lose her prayers, 
Hamlet : 
I pray thee, stay with us, go not to Wittenberg. 
Hcm.l shall in all my best obey you, madam. 
King. Why, 'tis a loving and a fair reply ; 
Be as ourself in Denmark. — Madam, come; 
This gentle and unforced accord of Hamlet 
Sits smilinsj to my heart : in grace whereof, 
Iso jocund health that Denmark drinks to-day, 
But the great cannon to the clouds shall tell ; 
And tlie king's rouse t the heaven shall bruit J 

again, 
Re-speaking earthly thunder. Come away. 
[Exeunt King, Queen, Lords, 4:<^., Polo- 
Nius, and L^rrtes. 
Ham. O, that this too too solid fleih would 
Thaw, and resolve $ itself into a dew ! [melt, 
Or that the Everlasting had not fix'd [God ! 
His canonlj 'gainst self-slaughter! O Cod! O 
How weary, stale, flat, and unprofitable 
Seem to me all the use» of this world ! 
Fie ©n't! O fie! 'tis an un weeded garden. 
That grows to seed ; things rank, and gross in 

nature, 
Possess it merely f . That it should come to thisl 



Bnttwo months dead ! — nay, not so much, not 
So excellent a king ; that was, to this, [two : 
Hyperion** to a satyr: so loving to my mother. 
Thai he might not beteemtt the winds of heaven 
Visit her face too roughly. Heaven and eanh ! 
Must I remember 1 why, she would hang on 
A» if increase ot appetite had grown [him. 

By what it ie^X on : And yet.within a month, — 
Let me nut think on't ; — Frailty, thy name is 

woman ! — 
A little month ; or ere those shoes were old. 
With which she followed my poor father's body. 
Like Niobe, all tears; — why she, even she, — 

heaven! a beast, that wants discourse of 

reason, [my uncle. 

Would have mourn'd longer, — married with 
My father's brother; but no more like my fa- 
Than I to Herculet: Within a month; [ther 
Ere yet the salt of mast unrighteous tears 
Had left the flushing in her galled eyes, 
She married : — O most wicked speed, to post 
With such dexterity to incestuous sheets 1 
It is not, nor it cannot come to, good ; 
But break, my heart: for I must hold my 

tongue ! 
Enter Horatio, Bernardo, and Mar- 

CKLLUS. 

Hor, Hail to your lordship ! 

Ham. I am glad to see yon ^ 

Horatio, — or I do forget myself. 

Hor. The same, my lord, and your poor 
servant ever. [name with yoa. 

Ham, Sir, my good friend ; I'll change that 
And what make you from Wittenberg, Ho- 
MarcellasT [ratio? — 

Mar. My good lord, [sir.— 

Ham. I am very glad to see you ; good even. 
But what, in faith, make you from Wittenberg! 

Hor. A truant disposition, good my lord. 

Hum. I would not hear your enemy say so * 
Nor shall yoa do mine ear that violence, 
To make it truster of your own report 
Against yourself: I know, yc-n are no truant. 
But what it your affair in Elbinore? 
We'll teach you to drink deep ere you depart, 

Hor. My lord, I came to See > our father's 
fuBeral. [student , 

Ham. I pray thee, do not mock me, fellow 
I think. It was to see ray mother's wedding. 

Hor. Indeed, my lord, it follow'd hard up(m. 

Ham. Thrift, thrift, Horatio! the funeral 
baked meats Jj 
Did coldly furnish forth the marriage tables. 
'Would 1 had met my dearest §^ foe in heaven 
Or ever I had seen th^t day, Horatio !— 
My father, — Methinks, 1 see my father. 

Hor. Where, 

My lord? 

Ham. In my mind's eye, Horatio. 

Hor. I saw him once, he v/as a goodly king. 

Ham. Ke was a man, take Uitn for all in all^ 
I shall not look upon his like again. 

1 Hor. My lord, I think I saw him yesternight, 
' Ham. Saw ! who f 



I 



• Contrary. 

•• Apollo. 



t Draught. t Report. $ Dissolve. |I Law. IT Entirely, 

ft Suffer. tX Jt was anciently the custom to give a cold enteitainment at 

a funeral. % Chiefest. 



Scene II.] 



HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 



9M 



JJor, My lord, the king your father. 
Ham. ' The king my father ! 

Hor. Season yonr admiration for a while 
With an attent * ear ; till 1 may deliver. 
Upon the witness of these gentlemen. 
This marvel to yon. 

Ham. For God's love, let me hear. 

Hor. Two nights together had these gentle- 
Marcellus and Bernardo, on their watch, [men, 
In the dead waist and middle of the night, 
Been thus encounter'd. A figwe like your 
Armed at point, exactly, cap-a-pe, [father, 
Appears before them, and, with solemn .march,! 
Goes slow and stately by them : thrice he 

walk'd, 
By their oppress'd and fear-surprised eyes. 
Within his truncheon's lepgth ; whilst they. 
Almost to jelly with the act of fear, [distill'd 
Stand dumb, and speak not to him. This to 
In dreadful secrecy impart they did; [me 

And 1 with them, the third night kept the 

watch : 
Where, as they had deliver'd, both in time. 
Form of the thing, each word made true and 

good. 
The apparition comes : I knew your father ; 
These hands are not more like. 

Ham, ' But where was this 1 

Hor. My lord, upon the platform where we 
Ham. Did you not speak to it? [watch'd. 
Hor. My lord, I did ; 

But answer made it none : yet once, methought. 
It lifted up its head, and did address 
Itself to motion, like as it would speak : 
But, even then, the morning cock crew loud ; 
And at the sound it shrunk in haste away, 
Aii.d vanish'd from our sight. 

Ham. *Tis very strange. 

Hot. As I do live, my honour'd lord, 'tis 
tvne ; 
And we did think It writ dovrn in our duty. 
To let you know of it. [me. 

Ham. Indeed, indeed, sirs, but this troubles 
Hold you the watch to-night 1 
All. We do, my lord. 

Ham, Arm'd, say yon 1 
All. Arm'd, my lord. 

Ham. From top to toe? 

All. My lor i, from head to foot. 
Ham. Then saw you not 

ilis face. 
Hor. O, yes, my lord ; he wore his beaver f 
Ham. What, look'd he frowninglyi [up. 
Hor. A countenance more 

In sorrow than in anger. 

Ham. Pale, or red ? 

Hor. Nay, very pale. 
Ham. And fix'd his eyes npon you 1 

Hor. Most constantly. 
Ham, I would, I had been there. 

Hor, It would have much amazed you. 
Hum. Very like. 

Very like : Stay'd it long ? [tell a hundred. 
Hor. While one with moderate haste might 
Mar. Ber. Longer, longer. 



Hor. Not when I saw it. 
Ham. His beard was grizzled? not 

Hor. It was, as I have seen it in his life, 
A sable silver'd. 

Hum. I will watch to-night ; 

Perchance, 'tw'll walk again. 

Hor. I warrant, it will. 

Ham. If it assume my noble tather's person, 
I'll speak to it, though hell itself should g^pe. 
And bid me hold my peace. I pray you ell. 
If you have hitherto couceal'd tliiJ si^ht. 
Let it be tenable in your silence still ; 
And whatsoever else shall hap to-night, 
Give it an understanding, but no tongue ; 
I will requite your loves : So, fare you well : 
Upon the platform, *twixt eleven and twelve, 
I'll visit you. 
All. Our duty to your honouu 

Ham, Your loves, as mine to you : Fare- 
well. 

[Exeunt Horatio, MarcellcJs, and 
Bernardo. 
My father's spirit in arms ! all is not we3 ; 
I doubt some foul play : 'would, the night 

were come I 
Till then sit still, my soul: Foul deeds will rise. 
Though all the earth o'crwhelm them to men'» 
eyes. [tUit. 

SCENE III. A Boom in Polonius' House, 
Enter Laertes and Ophelia. 

Lner. My necestaries are embark'd ; fare- 
And, sister, as the winds give benefit, [well : 
And convoy is assistant, do not sleep. 
But let me hear from you. 

Oph. Do you doubt that % 

Laer. For Hamlet, and the trilling of his 
Hold it a fashion, and a toy in blood : [favour, 
A violet in the youth of priiny nature. 
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting. 
The perfume and suppliance of a minute ; 
No more. 

Oph. N© more but so ? 

Laer. Think it no more : 

For nature, crescent J, does not grow alone 
In thews §, and bulk; but, as this temple waxes, 
The inward service of the uind and soul 
Grows wide withal. Perhaps, he loves /oa 

now ; 
And now no soil, nor cautel l|, doth besmirch ^ 
The virtue of his will : but, you must fear. 
His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own ; 
For he himself is subject to his biith : 
He may not, as unvalued persons do. 
Carve for himself; for on his choice dependf 
The safety and the health of the wl'-ole state ; 
And therefore must his choice becircuinsoribed 
Unto the voice and yieldin-i ot thai body, 
Whereor he is the head : Then if he says he 

loves you. 
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it, 
As he in his particular act and place 
May give his saying deed ; which is no further. 
Than the main voice of Denmaik g*ies withaU 
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustaiu^ 



• Attentive. 
X Increasing. 



t That part of the helmet which may be lifted up. 
$ Sinews. |i Subtlety, deceit. t Discoloiir. 



994 



SHAKSPEARK. 



If with too credent • ear you listt his songs ; 
Or lose your lieart; or your chaste treasure 
To his unmaster'd j importunity. [open 

Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, njy dear sister ; 
And keep you in the rear of your aftection. 
Out of tlie shot and danger of desire. 
The chariest i maid is prodigal enough, 
If she unmask her beauty to the moon : 
Virtue itself scapes not calumnious strokes : 
The canker galls the infants of the spring. 
Too oft before their buttons be disclosed ; 
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth 
Contagious blastments are most imminent. 
Be wary then : best safely lies in fear ; 
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near. 
Oph. I shall the effect of this good lesson 
keep, [brother. 

As watchman to my heart : But, good my 
Do not, as some uno;racious pa&tors do. 
Show me the steep and thorny way to heaven ; 
Whilst, like a putf'd and reckless || libertine, 
Himself the primrose path of dalliance treads. 
And recks not his own read IF. 

JLaer. O fear me not. 

I stay too long ; — But here my father comes. 

Enter Polonius. 
A double blessing is a double grace ; 
Occasion smiles upon a second leave, [shame ; 
Pol^ Yet here, Laertes! aboard, aboard, for 
The wind sits in the shoulder of your sail, 
And you are staid for : There, — my blessing 
with you ; 
[Laying his Hand on Laertes' Head, 
And these few precepts in thy memory 
Look thou character**. Give thy thoughts no 

tongue. 
Nor any unproportion*d thought his act. 
Be thou familiar, hut by no means vulgar. 
fhe friends thou hast, and their adoption tried. 
Grapple them to thy scml with hooks of steel ; 
But do not dull thy palm ft with entertain- 
ment [ware 
Of each new-hatchVJ, unfledged comrade. Be- 
Of entrance to a quarrel : but, being in. 
Bear it that the opposer may beware of thee. 
Give every man thine ear, but few thy voice: 
Take each man's censure j;, but reserve thy 

judgment. 
Costly thy habit as thy purse can buy. 
But not express'd in fancy ; rich, not gaudy : 
For the apparel oft proclaims the man; [tion. 
And they in France, of the best rank and sta- 
Are most select and generous ^$, chief |IH in 
Neither a borrower, nor a lender be ; [that. 
For loan oft loses both itself and friend ; 
And borrowing dulls the edge of husbandry HIT. 
This above all, — To thine ownself be true ; 
And it must follow, as the night the day. 
Thou canst not then be false to any man. 
Farewell; my blessinij season ♦•• this in thee 1 
Laer, Most humbly do I take my leave, my 
lord. 



Pol. Ihe lime invites you ; go, your 

vants tend t+t. 
Laer. Farewell, Ophelia; and remember 
"W hat I have said to you. [well 

Oph. His in my memory lock*d 

And you yourself shall keep the key of it. 
Jjuer. Farewell. {Eiit Laertes. 

Pol. What is't, Ophelia, he hath said to you ? 
Oph. So please you, something tonching the 
Pol. Marry, w<;ll bethought: [lord Hamlet. 
Tis told me, he hath very ott of late 
Given private time to you : and you yourself 
Have of your audience been most free and 
if it be so, (as so His put on me, [bounteous : 
And that in way of caution,) 1 must tell you. 
You do not understand yourself so clearly 
As it behoves my daughter, and your honour : 
What is between you ? give me up the truth. 

Oph. He hath, my lord, of late, made many 

Of his affection to me. [tenderi 

Pol. Atfection 1 puh ! you speak like a green 

girl, 

Unsifted txt in such perilous circumstance. 

Ife you believe his tenders, as you call them T 

Oph. I do not know, n>y lord, what I should 

think. [a baby ; 

Pol. Marry, 1*11 teach you ; think yourself 

That you have ta'en these tenders lor true pay. 

Which are not sterling. Tender yourself more 

dearly ; 
Or (not to crack the wind of the poor phras«. 
Wronging it thus,) you'll tender mi* a fool. 

Oph. My lord, he hath importuned me with 
In honourable fashion $§^. [io-ve, 

PoL Ay, fashion you may call it; feoto, go 
to. [speech, my lord, 

Oph. And hath given eountenanoe to his 
With almost all the holy vows of heaVen. 
Pol. Ay, springes to catch woodcocks. I 
do know. 
When the blood burns, how prodigal the soul 
Lends the tongue vows : these blazes, daughter. 
Giving more light than heat,— extinct in both. 
Even in their promise, as it is a making. — 
You must not take for fire. From this time. 
Be somewhat scanter of your maiden presitnce ; 
Set your entreatments |||111 at a higher rate, 
Than a command to parley For lord Hamlet, 
Believe so much in him, that he h young ; 
And with a larger tether HU^i may he walk. 
Than may be given you : In few, Ophelia, 
Do not believe his vows; for they are brok- 

ers****, 
Not of that die which their investments show. 
But mere implorators tttt of unholy suits. 
Breathing like sanctified and pious bonds. 
The better to beguile. This is for all, — [forth, 
I would not, in plain terms, from this time 
Have you so slander any moment's leisure, 1 

As to give words or talk with the lord Hamlet. 
Look to't, I charge you ; come your ways. 
Oph. I shall obey, my lord. [Exeunt, 



• Believing. + Listen to. % Licentious. ^ Most cautious. || Careless^ 

% Regards not his own lessons. •• Write. tf Palm ofthe hand. tt Opmion, 

^) Noble. nil Chiefly. ^% Economy. ••* Infix. ftt Wait. 

J:t Untempted. $$^ Manner. |||||| Company. 1[1I1I Longer line ; a horse 

fastened by a string to a stake, is tethetfd. •••• Pimps. ttt1 Iniplorers. 



HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 



995 



SCENE IV. The Platform, 
Enter Hamlkt, Horatio, and Mar- 

CELLUS. 

Ham. The air bites shrewdly ; it is very cold. 
r! lior. It is a nipping and an eager* air. 

Ham. What hour now ? 

Hor. I think it lacks of twelve. 

Mar. No, it is struck. 

Hor. Indeed? I heard it not ; it then draws 
near the season, 
Wherein the spirit held is wont to walk. 

lA Flourish of Trumpets, and Ord- 
nance shot off, within. 
What does this mean, my lord 1 

Ham, The king doth wake to-night, and 
takes his rouse t. [spring^ reels ; 

Keeps wassel i, and the swaggering up- 
And as he drains his draughts of Rhenish down. 
The kettledrum and trumpet thus bray out 
The triumph of his pledge. 

Hor. Is it a custom ? 

Ham. Ay, marry, is't : 
But to my mind, — though I am native here. 
And to the manner born, — it is a custom 
More honour'd in the breach, than the ob- 
servance. 
This heavy-headed revel, east and west, 
Makes Hstra(luced,and taxedof other nations r 
They clepe|| us, drunkards, and with swinish 
Soil our addition ; and, indeed it takes [phrase 
From our achievements, though performed at 
The pith and marrow of our attribute, [height. 
So, oft it chances in particular men. 
That, for some vicious mole of nature in them. 
As, in their birth, (wherein they are not guilty. 
Since nature cannot choose his origin,) 
By the o'ergrowth of some complexion IT 
Oft breaking down the pales and forts of reason; 
Or by some habit, that too much o'er-leavens 
The form of plausive manners ; — that these 

men, — 
Carrying, I say, the stamp of one defect ; 
Being nature's livery, or fortune'* star, — 
Their virtues else (be they as pure as grace. 
As infinite as man may undergo,) 
Shall in the general censure take corruption 
From that particular faalt : The dram of base 
Doth all the noble substance often dout**, 
To his own scandal. 

Enter Ghost. 

Hor. Look, my lord, it comes ! 

Ham. Angels and ministers of grace, defend 
us ! — 
Be thou a spirit of health, or goblin damn*d, 
Bring with thee airs from heaven, or blasts 
Be thy intents wicked, or charitable, [from hell, 
Tliou com'st in such a questionable+t shape. 
That I willspeak to thee ; I'll call thee, Hamlet, 
King, father, royal Dane : O, answer me : 
Let me not burst in ignorance ! but tell. 
Why thy canonized bones, hearsed in death. 
Have burst their cerements ! why thesepulchre. 
Wherein we saw tbee quietly in-urn'd. 



• Sharp, 
•f Humour. 

iliralue. 



Hath oped his ponderous and marble jrtvvs. 
To cast thee up again ! What may this mean. 
That thou, dead corse, again in complete steel 
Revisii'st thus the glimpses of the moon. 
Making night hideous ; and we fools of nature. 
So horridly to shake our disposition jij:, 
With thoughts beyond the reaches of our souls ? 
Say, why is this? wherefore? what should 
we do? 

Hor. It beckons you to go away with it. 
As if it some imparlment did desire 
To you alone. 

Mar. Look, with what courteous action. 
It waves you to a more removed §§ ground : 
But do not go with it. 

Hor. No, by no means. 

Ham. It will not speak ; then I will folia w 

Hor. Do not, my lord. [it. 

Ham. Why, what should be the fear? 

I do not set my life at a pin's fee JUJ ; 
And for my soul, what can it do to that. 
Being a thing immortal as itself? 
It waves me forth again ; — I'll follow it. 

Hor. What, if it tempt you toward the 
flood, my lord. 
Or to the dreadful summit of the cliff. 
That beetles nil o'er his base into the sea? 
And there assume some other horrible form. 
Which might deprive your sovereignty of rea 
And draw you into madness ? think of it : [son. 
The very place puts toys*** of desperation. 
Without more motive, into every brain. 
That looks so many fathoms to the sea. 
And hears it roar beneath. 

Ham. It waves me still:— 

Go on, I'll follow thee. 

Mar. You shall not go, my lord. 

Ham. Hold otf your hands. 

Hor, Be ruled, you shall not go. 

Ham. My fate cries out 

And makes each petty artery in this body 
As hardy as the Nemean lion's nerve. — 

[Ghost beckons. 

Still am I call'd; — unhand me, gentlemen;- • 

{Breakin^Jrom them. 

By heaven, 1*1 make a ghost of him that letsjlt 

I say, away : — Go on, I'll follow thee, [nie ; 

[Exeunt Ghost and Hamlet 

HW. He waxes desperate with imagination. 

Mar. Let's follow ; 'tis not fit thus to obey 
him. [come ? 

/Zor.^Have after: — To what issue will this 

Mar. Something is rotten in the state of 

Hor. Heaven will direct it. [Denmark. 

Mar, Nay, let's follow him. 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE V. A more remote part of the 
Platform. 
Re-enter Ghost and Hamlet. 
Ham. Whither vAiilt thou lead me ? speak. 
Ghost. Mark me. [I'll go no further. 

Ham. I will. 

Ghost. My hour is almost come 

irjovial draught. + Jollity. § a dance. H CalU 

■* Do out. ft Conversable. +; Frame. % Remote 

^ir Hangs. ••* Whims. ttt Hinders. 



996 



8HAKSPEARE. 



r^cf/.L 



Wlien 1 lo sulphurous aud toiuieiaius^ Uaiues • 
Must render up myself. I 

Ham. Alas, poor ghost ! ' 

Ghost. Pity me not, but lend ihy serious 
To what I shall unfold. [hearinii 

Ham. Speak, I am bound to hear. 

Gliost. So art thou to revenge, when ihou 

Ham. What? [shall hear. 

Ghost. I am thy father's spirit ; 
Doom'd for a certain term to walk the night ; 
And, for the day, confined to fast in fires, 
Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature 
Are burnt and purged away. But that I am 
To tell the secrets of my prison-house, [forbid 
I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word 
Would harrow np thy soul ; freeze thy young 
blood ; [spheres ; 

Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their 
Th> knotted and combined locks to part, 
And each particular hair to stand on end, 
Like quills upon the fretful porcupine; 
But this eternal blazon ♦ roust not be 
To ears of flesh and blood :— List, list, O list ! 
If thou didst ever thy dear father love, — 

Ham. O heaven ! 

Ghost. Revenge his foul and most unnatural 

Ham. Murder? [murder. 

Ghost. Murder most foul, as in the best it is ; 
But this most foul, strange, and unnatural. 

Hat/i.HAite me to know it; that I, with wings 
As meditation, or the thoughts of love, [as swift 
May sweep to my revenge. 

Ghost' I find thee apt ; 

And duller shouldst thou be than the fat weed 
That rols itself in ease oh Lelhe wharf, [hear 
WoulHst thou not stir in this. Now, Hamltr-t, 
'Tis givt-n out, that sleeping in mine orchardt, 
A serpent stung me ; so the whole ear of Den 
Is by a forged process of n.y death [mark 

Rankly abused: but know, thou noble youth 
The serpent that did sting thy fathei's life, 
]Sow wears his crown. 
Ham, O, my prophetic soul! my uncle I 
Ghost, Ay, that incestuous, that adulterate 
beast, [gifts 

With witchcraft of his wit, with traitorous 
(O wicked wit, and gifts, that have the power 
So to seduce!) won to his shameful lust 
The will of my most seeming virtuous queen : 
O, Hamlet, what a fdlling ott wa« there I 
From me, >ivhose love was of that dignity, 
That it went hand in ha^id even with the vow 
I ma^e to her in marriage ; and to decline 
Upon a wretch, whose natural gifts were poor 
To those of mine ! 

But virtue, as it never will be moved. 
Though lewdness court it in a shape of heaven; 
So lust, though to a radiant angel liuk'd. 
Will SHte j itself in a celestial bed. 
And prey on garbage. 

But, si.fi! methinks, I scent the morning air ; 
Brief let n.e be; — Meeping within mine or- 
M> custom always of the afternoon, [chard. 



Upon jny secure hour thy uncle stole, 
With juice of cursed hebenon^ in a vial. 
And in the poi ch<s of mine ears did pour 
Ihe leperous distilnient : whose ettect 
Hoids such an enmity with blood of man. 
That, swift as quicksilver, ii c< urses through 
The natural gales and alleys of the body ; 
And, with a sudden vigour, it doth posset 
And curd, like eager droppings into milk, | 
The thin and whoksome bh>od : so did it mine ' 
And a most insiant tetter || bark'd about. 
Most lazarHlike, with vile and loathsotne crnity [| 
■ 11 my smooth bocty. 

Thus was I, sleeping, by a brother's hand, p 
OflifejOfcrown.ofqueenjatoiicedespatch'd"** 
Cut oti even in the blossoms of my sin, 
Lnhouserdf, « isapptiintedjj, unanel'd^^; j 

No reckoning made, but sent to mj account 
With all my intpei factions on my head : ^ 

O, horrible ! (), horrible ! most hoiribie I 
If thou hast nature in thee, benr it not ; 
Let ukA the royal bed of Denmark be 
A conch for luxury and damned incest. 
Bui, howsoever thou pursuest this i»ct, 
laint not thy mind, nor let thy eoul contrive 
Agrtinst thy mother aught ; leave her to heaven 
And to those thorns thrit in herbosom lodge, 
lo prick andstUigher. Fare thee well at once I 
The glow worm show* the matin to be near. 
And 'gins to pale his uneffectual fire : ~ 

Adieu, adieu, adieu! reniember me. [Exit, 
Ham. O all you host of heaven ! O earth I 
What else? [my heart ; 

And shall 1 couple hell?— O fie!— Hold, hold. 
And you, my sinews, grow not instant old, . 
But bear me stiffly up!— Remember iheeT t 
Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds t " 

seat 
In this distracted globe 11||. Rerhember theet 
Yea, from the table of my memory 
I'll wipe away all trivial fond records, [past 
All sawsf^ of books, all forms, all pressure! 
That youth and observation copied there ; 
Awl thy commandment all alone shall live 
Within the book and volume of my brain, 
Unmix'dwith baser matter : yes, by heaven, 
f) most pernicious woman ! 

villdiu, villain, smiling, damned villain I 
My tables *•♦, — meet it is, I set it down. 
That one may smile, and smile, and be a villain; 
At least, I am sure, it may be so in Denmark : 

[JVriting, 
So, uncle, there you are. Novr to my word ; 
It is, Atiicut Adieu! remember me. 

1 have sworn't. 

Hor. [H ithin.'] My lord, my lord,— 

Mar. [U^'ithift,] Lord Hamlet, 

Hor, [ff'ithin,] Heaven secure him : 

Ham. So be it I 

Mar, [IVithin.'] Illo, ho, ho, my lord! 
Ham. Hillo, ho,ho, boy! come, bird, come 

Enter Horatio and Marcellus. 
Mar, How is't, my noble loi d f 



> Display. t Gardes. t Satiate. $ Henbane. )| Scab, scnrf. 

H Leprous. •• Bereft. Jt Without having received the Sacrament. 

IX Unappointed, unprepared^ ^§ Without extreme unction. 

Ij Head. f T Sayings, seuteacet. •** !Vletuo(H»iduiii b<K»lr 



iSeene VA 



HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 



997 



Hor. What news, my lord ? 

Ham, O wonderful ! 

Hor^ Good my lord, tell it. 

Ham, No ; 

You wiL reveal it. 

Hor, Not I, my lord, by heaven. 

Mar, Nor I, my lord. 

Ham. How say yon then ; would heart of 

man once think it"? 

But you'll be secret, 

Hor, Manr, Ay, by heaven, my lord. 

Ham, There's ne'er a villain, dwelling in 
But he's an arrant knave. [all Denmark, 

Hor. There needs no ghost, my lord, come 
To tell us this. [from the grave, 

Ham. Why, right ; you are in the right ; 
And so, without more circumstance at all, 
I hold it fit, that we shake hands, and part : 
You, as your business and desire shall point 
For every man hath business and desire, [you ; 
Such as it is, — and, for my own poor part. 
Look you, 1 will go pray. 

Hor, These are but wild and whirling words, 
my lord. [yes. 

Ham. I am sorry they oflfend you, heartily ; 
'Faith, heartily. 

Hor, There's no oflFence, my lord. 

Ham. Yes, by Saint Patrick, but there is, 
Horatio, 
And much offence too. Touching this vision 

here, — 
It is an honest ghost, that let me tell yon ; 
For your desire to know what is between us, 
O'ermaster it as you may. And now, good 

friends. 
As you are friends, scholars, and soldiers. 
Give me one poor request. 

Hor. What is't, my lord ? 

We will. [seen to night. 

Ham, Never make known what you have 

Hor. Mar, My lord, we will not. 

Ham, Nay, but swear't. 

Hor. In faith, 

My lord, not I. 

Mar. Nor I, my lord, in faith. 

Ham, Upon my sword. 

Mar. We have sworn, my lord, already 

Hum. Indeed, upon my sword, indeed. 

Ghost, [Beneaih.] Swear. 



Ham. Ha, ha, boy ! say'st thou so ; art tho« 
there,^ true-penny ? 
Come on, — you hear this fellow in the cellar- 
Consent to swear. [''gc»-~* 

Hor. Propose the oath, my lord. 

Ham, Never to speak of this ihat yon have 
Swear by my sword. [seen. 

Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear. 

Ham. Hie et u/ngue * ? then we*ll shift otw 
Come hither, gentlemen, [ground : — 

And lay your hands again upon rcy sword; 
Swear by my sword. 
Never to speak of this that you have heard. 

Ghast. [Beneath.] Swear by his sword. 

Ham. Well said, old mole! can'st work 

i'the earth so fast? [friends. 

A worthy pioneer!— Once more remove, good 

Hor. O day and night, but this is wondrous 
strange! [welcome. 

Ham. And therefore as a stranger give it 
There are more things in heaven and eai th, 1 1 o- 
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy, [ratio. 

But come : 

Here, as before, never, so help you mercy! 
How strange or odd soe'er I bear myself, 
As I, perchance, hereafter shall ihink meet 
To put an antic (fis position on, — 
That you, at such times seeing me, never shall, 
With arms encumber'd thus, or this head- 
shake, 
Or by pronouncing of some doubtful phras^ 
As, ff'ell, well, we knotv ; — or, We could, an 
if we would ; — or. If we list to syeak ; — or, 
There be, an if they might ; — 
Or such ambiguous giving out, to note [swear. 
That you know aueht of me: — This do yon 
So grace and mercy at your most need help 

Ghost. [Beneath.] Swear. [you ! 

Ham. Rest, rest, perturbed spirit! So, gen- 
tlemen. 
With all my love I do commend me to you : 
And what so poor a man as Hamlet is [you. 
May do to expiess his love and friending to 
God willing, shall not lack. Let us go in to 

gether; 
And still your fingers on your lips, I pray. 
! he time is out of joint ;— O cursed spite ! 
That ever I was born to set it right ! 
Nay, come, let's go together. [Exeunt 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. A Room in Polonius's House, 

Enter Polonius and Reynaldo, 

I Pol. Give him this money, and these notes, 
Rey. I will, my lord. [Reynaldo. 

I*oL You shall do marvellous wisely, good 
Reynaldo, 
Before you visit him, to make inquiry 
jOf bis behaviour. 

Rey. My lord, I did intend it. 

Pol. Marry, well said : very well said. Look 
you, sir, 
nquire me first what Danskerst are In ParU; 



And how, and who, what means, and where 

they keep. 
What company, at what expense ; and finding. 
By this encompassment and drift of question. 
That they do know my son, come you more 

nearer 
Than your particular demands will touch it: 
Take you, as 'twere, some distant knowledge 

of him ; 
As thus, — 1 know his father, and his friends^ 
And, in part, him;— Bo yon mark this, Rey 

n.ddo? 
Rey. Ay, very well, my lord. 



* Here and every wbere. 



t lianes. 



4Q 



90S 



SHAK.^IPEAaE. 



[Act ir. 



I'oL And,inpartf him; — but, you may say, 

nut ueli: 
Bvt^ 2j'*t he lit I mean, he\s verytvild ; 
A dieted so a fid .so; — and there put on him 
VN katiorgeriesjou pi ase; iiirt»ry, none so rank 
As may dis^hononr him; take heed oi itiat ; 
1 ut, sir, such wanton, v\iid, and usual siips. 
As are ci>nipani()n8 noted and most known 
Fi* youth and liberty. 

/iei/. As gaming, my lonl. 

P(i. Ay, or drinking, fencing, swearing, 
Drahbing: — ^ on may go so far. [quarrelling, 

fte>/ My loni, thai wouW di.Hhooour hiai. 

J^ul 'Faith, no ; as you may season it in the 
charge. 
Von mu^t not put another scandal on him, 
Ihat he is open to incoutinency ; so quaintly, 
That'.< not my meaning: bui tireathe tiis faults 
Tt.at tl ey may seem the taii.ts of libeity ; 
Tlu- flash and out-break of a fiery mind; 
A »av.igene$s* in unreclaimed blood. 
Of g neral assault. 

Ji(^jf. But, my good lord, 

Pol, Wherefore should you do this? 

Bey. Ay, my lord, 

I would know that. 

Pol, Marry, sir, here's my drift ; 

And, I believe, it is a ietci> of warrant: 
Yon lading these slight sullies on my son, 
As 'twere a thing a little »oil*d i* the working, 
Mark you, 

Your pa. ty in converse him you would sound, 
Haviuii ever seen in the predoininatet crimes. 
The youth you breathe of, guilty, be assured, 
tie closes with you in this consequence; 
Good sir, or so ; or J'rienu, « r gi /Uletn-an,— 
Accoiding to the phrase, or the addition, 
Of man, and country. 

Hey, Very good, my lord. 

Pol. And then, sir, dots he this, — He does— 
What was 1 about to say 1— By the mass, I was 
about to >ay tiome something: —Where did 1 
leave? 

Rey, At, closes in the consequence [marry; 

Pol, At, closes in the consequence, — Ay, 
He closes with you thus :— / kiioiv the gentle- 
J sit If nim yestt'iday, or t'other oay, [man; 
Or then, or then; uith such, or such; and, 
OS you say, [rouse; 

Tkefe iras he gami/ig ; there overtook in his 
Tht re falling out at tennis ; or, perchance, 
I sate him enter .^uch a house of sale, 
( V'delicetX, a brothel), or so forth, — 
8t-e you now ; 

Yoxn bail of falsehood takes this carp of truth : 
And thus do we of wisdom and of reach. 
With uindtaces, and with assays of bias, 
Ijy indirections find directions out; 
So, by former lecture aud advice, [not? 

Shall you my *on : You have me, have you 

Heiu My lord, I have. 

Pol, God be wi' you ; fare you well. 

Pey. Cood, my lord, 

Pot, Observe his inclination in yourself. 

Rey, I shall, my lord. 



Pol. And let him ply his music. 

Rey. Well, my lord. [Exit. 

Enter Ophllia. 

Po/. Farewell!— How now, Optielia? what's, 
the matter; [altri ht<df 

Oj^h. «), niy iord, my lord, 1 have bteu so 

PoL, With what, in the name of heaven? 

O-ph, My lord, a» 1 was sewing in my ch>stt. 
Lord Hamlet, — with hi»d<»nblet all unbraced;. 
No hat upon l>is head ; his stockings foul'd, 
Ungaiter'd, and down-gyve<i) to his ancle; 
Pale as his shirt; his knees knocking each I 
And with a look so piteous in purport, [other; 
As if he had b^ en loosed out of hell. 
To speak o\' horrors,— he comes before me. 

Pol. Mad for thy love? 

Oph. My lord, I do not know J 

But, truly, I do fear it. 

Pol. What said he? [hard; 

Oph. He took me by the wrist, and held me 
Then jioes he to the leni;th of all his ai m ; 
And, with his other hand thus o'er his brow. 
He falls to such perusal of m> face, 
As he v/oiild draw it. Long siay'd he so; 
At last, — a little shaking of mine arm. 
And thrice his head t* us waving up M\h down. 
He raised a >igh so piteous and profound. 
As it did seem to shatter all his bulk ||, 
And end his being: That dot»e, he lets me go; 
And, with his head over his shoulder lurn'd, 
He seemVl to find his way without his eyes; 
For out o* doors he went without their hf^lps. 
And, to the last, benvicd their lii:lu on me. 

Pol. Come, go v\ith me; i will gosetk the 
This is the very ecstasy of love ; [king. 

Whose violent property foredoes IT itself. 
And leads the will to desperate undertakings. 
As oft as any p tssion under heaven. 
That does afflict our natures. I am sorry, — 
What, have you given hini any hard words ol 
late? [command 

Oph. No, my good lord; but, as you did 
I did repel his letters, and denied 
His access to me. 

Pol, That hath made him mad 

I am sorry, that with better heed and judgment 
I had not quoted •• him: 1 fear'd he did but 
trifle, [jealousy! 

And meant to wreck thee; but beshrew mj 
It seems it is as proper to our ai^e 
To cast beyond ourselves in our opinions. 
As it is common for the younger sort 
To lack discretion. Conie, go we to the kingt 
This must be known ; which, being kept clo«e, 

might move 
More grief to hide, than hate to utter love. 
Come. [Exeunt, 

SCENE II. A Room in the Castle, 
Enter King, Queen, Rosencrantz, Guil* 
Dii.fiS\v.iMi,and Attendants. 
King. Welcome, dear Rosencrantz, and 
Guildenstern ! 
Moreover that we much did long to see yoa 
The need we have to use you, did provoke 



• Wlldness. t Already named. t That is to say. 

$ Hangiag d^wn like fetters. |i BoOy. % Destroys. •• Observed. 



Srenrll.) HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 



909 



Onr hasty sending. Sonieihiuii have you heard 
Of Hamlet's transformatioii; so I call il, 
Since not the exterior nor the inward man 
Resembles that it was: What it should be. 
More than his father's death, that thus hath 

put him 
So much from the understanding of himself, 
I cannot dream of: I entreat you both, [him : 
That, — being of so young days broughtup with 
And, since, so neighbour'd to his youth and 

humour,- 
That you vouchsafe yonrrest herein our court 
Some little time: so by youV companies 
To draw him on to pleasures; and to gather, 
So much as from occasion you may tjlean, 
Whether aught, to us unknown, afflicts him, 
That, open'd, lies within our remedy, [thus. 

Queen. Good gentlemen, he hath much 
talk'd of you ; 
And, sure I am, two men there are not living, 
To whom he more adheres. If it will please 

you 
To show us so much gentry*, and good will, 
As to expend your time with us awhile. 
For the supply and profit of our hope, 
Y')ur visitation shall receive such thanks 
As fits a king's remembrance. 

Ros. Both your majesties 

Might, by the sovereign power you have of us, 
Pih your dread pleasures more into command 
Than to entreaty. 

GuiL But we both obe^^ ; 

And liere give up ourselves, in the full bentt. 
To lay our service freely at your feet. 
To be commanded. 

King. Thanks, Rosencrantz, and gentle 
Gnildenstern. 

Queen. Thanks, Guildenstern, and gentle 
Rosencrantz: 
And I beseech yon instantly to visit 
My too much changed sou. — Go, some of you. 
And bring these gentlemen where Hamlet is. 

Guil. Heavens make our presence, and our 
Pleasant and helpful to him! [practices. 

Queen* Ay, amen ! 

[Exeunt Rosencrantz, Guildemstern, 
and some Attendants. 

Enter Polonius. 

Pol. The embassadors from Norway, my 
Are joyfully return'd. [good lord, 

Kmg. Thou still hast been the father of good 
news. [good liege, 

Pol. Have I, my lord? Assure you, my 
I hold my duty, as I hold my soul, 
"Both to my God, and to my gracious king: 
And I do think, (or else this brain of mine 
Hunts not the trail i of policy so sure 
As it haih used to do,) that I have found 
The very cause of Hamlet's lunacy. 

King. O, speak of that ; that do I long to 
hear. [sadors ; 

Pol. Give first admittance to the embas- 
My news shall be the fruit ;) to that great feast. 

King, lliyself do grace to them, and bring 
them in. [Exit Polokiv a. 



Complaisance. 



t Utmost exertion. 
% Imposed un. 



Ke tells me, my <lear Gertru<ie, he hath found 
The head and source of all your son's disteniper. 

Queen. 1 doubt, it is no otheihut the main ; 
His father's death, and our o'erhasiy marriage. 
Re-enter Polonius, with Voi.i Tmand a//d 
Corn ELI LIS 

Kiffg. Well, we shall sift him. — Welcome, 
my good friends! 
Say, Yoltimand, what from our brother Nor- 
way? [desires. 

Volt. Most fair return of greetings, and 
Upon our first, he sent out to suppress 
His nephew's levies; which to him appear'd 
To be a preparation 'gainst the Polack||; 
But, better look'd into, he truly found 
It was against your highness : Whereat grieved. 
That so his sickness, aye, and impotence. 
Was falsely borne in hand H. — sends out arrests 
On Fortinbras ; which he, in brief, obeys ; 
Receives rebuke from Norway ; and, in fine. 
Makes vow before his uncle, never more 
To give the assay of arms against your majesty. 
Whereon old Norway, overcome with joy. 
Gives him three thousand crowns in annual fee ; 
And his commission, to employ those soldiers. 
So levied as before, against the Polack : 
W ith an entreaty, herein further shown, 

[Gives a Pwper. 
That it might please you to give quiet pass 
I hrough your dominions for this entei prise ; 
On such regards of safety, and allovvauce. 
As therein are set down. 

King. It likes us well : 

And, at our more considered time, we'll read. 
Answer, and think upon this business. 
Mean time, we thank you for your well-took 

labour : 
Go to your rest; at night we'll feast together: 
Most welcome home 1 

[ExeuntyoiuMiAKVD and Cornelius. 

Pid. This business is well ended. 

My liege, and madam, to expostulate ** 
What majesty should be, what duty is, 
Why day is day, night, night, and time is time. 
Were nothing but to waste night, day, and 

time. 
Therefore, — since brevity is the soul of wit, 
And tediousness the limbs and outward flou- 
rishes, — 
I will be brief: Your noble son is mad : 
Mild call 1 it ; for, to define true madness. 
What is't, but to be nothing else but mad : 
But let that go. 

Queen. More matter, with less art. 

Pol. Madam, I swear I use no art at all. 
That he is mad, 'tis true : 'tis true, 'tis pity ; 
And pity 'ti«, 'tis true : a foolish figure ; 
But farewell it, for 1 will use no art. 
Mad let us grant him then : and now remains. 
That we find out the cause of this eltect; 
Or, rather say, the cause of this defect ; 
For this eftect, defective, comes by cause: 
1 hus it remains, and the remainder thus. 
Perpend. 
I have a daughter ; have, while she is mine ; 

X Scent. % Dessert |i PolantL 

•• DUcnss. 



000 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Act Ji 



Who, in h«r duty and obedience, mark, 
Hath ^iven me this; >iow gHtheraiul surmise. 
■ — To the celestial and my soul's idol, the 

most beautified Ophelia^ 

That's an ill phrase, a vile phrase; beautified 
b a vile phrase ; bul yoash.iU hear. — Thus-: 

In her excellent tvhite bosom, these, &c. 

Queen, Came this from Hamlet to her? 

Pol. Good madam, stay awhile ; I will be 
faithful 
Doubt thou, the stars are fire; [Reads. 

Doubt, that the sun doth move: 
Doubt truth to be a liar ; 
But never doubt, J love. 

O iear Ophelia, Jam ill at these numbers; 
I have not art to reckon my groans; but 
that I love thee best, O most best, believe it* 
A iieu. 

Thine evermore, tnost dear lady, whilst 
this machine is to him., Hamlet. 
This^ in obedience, hath my daughter shown 
And more above, hath his solieitiiigs, [me : 
As they fell out by time, by means, and ptace, 
All given to mine ear. 

King. But how hath she 

Received his love? 

Pol. What do you think of me ? 

King. As of a man faithful and honourable. 

Pol. I would fain prove so. But what 
might you think, 
When I had seen this hot love on the wing, 
(As I perceived it, 1 must tell you that, 
Before my daughter told me,) what might you, 
Or my dear majesty your queen here, think. 
If I had playM the desk, or table book ; 
Or given my heart a working, mute and dumb; 
^)r lookM upon this love with idle sight; 
What might you think ? no, I went round * to 

work, 
And my young mistress thus did I bespeak ; 
LiOrd Hamlet is a prince out of thy .sphere ; 
This must not be :a.n(\ then I precepts gave her. 
That sl)e should lock herself from his resort, 
Adiiiii no messengers, receive no tokens. 
Which done, she took the fruits of my advice ; 
And he, repulsed, (a short tale to make,) 
Fell into a sadness ; then into a fast; 
U'hence to a watch; thence into a weakness; 
Thence to a lightness; and, by this declension. 
Into the madness wherein now he raves. 
And all we mourn for. 

King. Do you think, 'tis this? 

Queen. It may be, very likely, 

Pol. Hath there heen such a time, (I'd fain 
That I have positively said, '2V^^y,[know that,) 
When it proved otherwise? 

King. Not that I know. 

Pol. Take this from this, if this be otherwise : 
[Pointing to his Head and Shoulder. 
If circumstances lead me, I wi;l tind 
Where truth is hid, though it were hid indeed 
Within the centre. 

King. How may we try it further? 

Pol. You know, sometimes he walks ft.ur 
Here in the lobby. [hours together 



Queen. So he does, indeed. 

Pol. At such a time I'll loose my daughter 
to him : 
Be you and I behind an arras+ then; 
Mark the encounter: if he love her not, 
And be not from his reason fallen thereon. 
Let me be no assistant for a state. 
But keep a farm, and carters. 

King. We will try it. 

Enter Hamlet, reading. 

Queen. But, look, wLere sadly the poor 
wretch comes reading. 

Pol. Away, I do beseech you, both away ; 
1*11 board ; i4m presently : — O, give me leave. 
[Exeunt King, Queen, and Attendants. 
How does my good lord Hamlet? 

Ham. Well, god-'a-mercy. 

Pol. Do you know me, my lord ! 

Ham. Excellent well; you are a fishmonger. 

Pol. Not I, my lord? [man. 

Ham. Then I wouhl you were so honest a 

Pol. Honest, my lord? 

Ham. Ay, sir; to be honest, as this world 
goes, is to be one picked man out of ten thou- 
sand. 

Pol, That's very true, tny lord. 

Ham. For if the sun breed maggots in a 
dead dog, being a god, kissing carrion, — — 
Have you a daughter? 

Pol. 1 have, my lord. 

Ham. Let her not walk i'the sun : concep- 
tion) is a blessing; but hs your daughter may 
conceive (j, — friend, look to't. 

Pol. How say you by th.jt? [Aside.'] Still 
harping on my daughter: — yet he knew me 
not at first; he said,-I was a fishmonger: He 
is far gone, far gone : and, truly in my youth 
1 suffered much extremity for love; very near 
this. I'll speak to him again. — What do you 
read, my lord? 

Ham. Words, words, words I 

PoL What is the matter, my lord? 

Ham. Between w ho ? 

Pol. I meaii, the matter that you read, my 
lord. 

Ha?n. Slanders, sir: for the satirical rogue 
says here, that old men have grey beards ; that 
llieir faces are wrinkled ; their eyes purging 
thick amber, and plum-tree gum; and that 
they have a plentiful lack of wit, togctl-.er 
with most weak hams: All of which, sir, 
though I most powerfully and potently be- 
lieve, yet I hold it not honesty to have it thus 
set down ; foryouiself, sir, shall be as old as 
1 am, if, likea crab, you could go backward. 

Pol. Tliough this he madness, yet there's 
method in it. [A.sidc.l Will you walk out ol 
the air, my lord? 

Ham. into my grave? 

Pol. Indeed, that is out o'the air. — How 
pregnant^ sometimes his replies are! a hap- 
pintiss that often madness hits on, which reason 
and sanity** could not so prosperously be de- 
livered of. I will leave him, and suddenly 
contrive the means of meeting between him 



•I 



•^ Roundly, without reserve. 
i 1^€ pie^juaui. 



+ Tapostry. 1 Accost. $ Understanding 

5i Heady, apt. •• tSouuduess of mind. 



1 



Scene II.] 



HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK, 



1001 



and my daughter.— My honourable lord, I 
will most humbly take my leave of you. 

Ham. You cannot, sir, take from me any 
thing that I will more willingly part withal; 
except my life, except my life, except my 
life. 

Pol. Fare you well, my lord. 

Ham, These tedious old fools? 
Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 

Pol. You go to seek the Lord Hamlet; there 
he is. 

Has. God save you, sir! [To Polonius. 

{Exit POLONIOS. 

Guil. My houour'd lord ! — 
Ros. My most dear lord! — 
Hum. My excellent good friends! how dost 
thou, Guildenstern? Ah, Rosencrantz! Good 
lads, how do you both ? 

Ros. As the indifferent children of the earth. 
GmU. Happy, in that we are not over- 
happy; 
On fortune's cap we are not the very button. 
Ham. ISor the soles of her shoe? 
Ro.s. Neither, my lord. 
Ham. Then you live about her waist, or in 
the middle of her favours? 
Guil. 'Faith her privates we. 
Ham. In the secret parts of fortune? O, 
most true ; she is a strumpet. What news? 

Ros, Kone, my lord ; but that the world is 
grown honest. 

Ham. Then is dooms-day near : But your 
news is not true. Let me question more in 
particular; What have you, my good friends, 
deserved at the hands of fortune, that she sends 
you to prison hither? 
Guil. Prison, my lord I 
Ham. Denmark's a prison. 
Ros. Then is the world one. 
Ham. A goodly one ; in which there are 
many contines, wards, and dungeons; Den- 
mark being one of the worst. 
Ros. Wc think not so, my lord. 
Ham. Why, then, *tis none to you; for there 
is nothing either good or bad, but thinking 
makes it so : to me it is a prison. 

Ros. Why, then your ambition makes it 
one; 'tis too narrow for your mind. 

Ham. O God ! I could be bounded in a nut- 
shell, and count myself a king of infinite space ; 
were it not that 1 have bad dreams. 

Guil. Which dreams, indeed, are ambition; 
for the very substance of the ambitious is 
merely the shadow of a dream. 

Ham. A dream itself is but a shadow. 
Ros. Truly, and I hold ambition of so airy 
and light a quality, that it is but a [shadow's 
shadow. 

Hum. Then are our beggars, bodies ; and 
onr monarchs, and ont-etreich'd heroes, the 
beggars' shadows : Shall we to the couit? for, 
by niy fay, 1 cannot ri^ason. 

Ron. Guil. We'll wait upon you. 
Horn, No sncl; mntter : I will not sort you 
with the re?t of my servants ; for, to speak to 
yon like an bonesl man, I am most dreadfully 

• Spare. 



attended. But, in the beaten way of friend- 
ship, what make you at Elsinore ? 

Ros. To visit you, my lord ; no other oc- 
casion. 

Ham. Beggar that I am, I am even poor of 
thanks; but I thank you: and sure, dear 
friends, my thanks are too dear, a halfpenny. 
Were you not sent for? Is it your own inclin- 
ing? Is it a free visitation ? Come, come ; deal 
justly with me: come, come; nay, speak. 

Guil. What should we say my lord? 

Ham, Any thing — but to the purpose. You 
were sent for ; and there is a kind of con- 
fession in your looks, which your modesties 
have not craft enough to colour : I know, the 
good king and queen have sent fur you, 

Ros. To what end, my lord? 

Ham. That you must teach me. But let me 
conjure you by the rights of our fellowship, 
by the consonancy of our youth, by the obli- 
gation of oor ever- preserved love, and by what 
more dear a better proposer could charge you 
withal, be even and direct with me, whether 
you were sent for, or no? 

iJo*. What say you? ToGuildenstern. 

Ham. Nay, then 1 have an eye of you ; 
{A.side.'X — if you love me> hold not off. 

Guii. My lord, we were sent for. 

Ham. I will tell you why ; so shall my an- 
ticipation prevent your discovery, and your 
secrecy to the king and queen moult no fealhei. 
I have of late, (but wherefore, 1 know not,) 
lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exer- 
cises : and, indeed, it goes so heavily with my 
disposition, that this goodly frame, the earth, 
seem* to me a steril promontory ; this most 
excellent canopy, the air, look you, this brave 
o'erhanging firmament, this majestical roof 
fretted with golden fire, why. it appears no 
other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent con- 
gregation of vapours. What a piece of work 
is a man! How noble in reason! how infinite 
in faculties! in form, and moving, how ex- 
press and admirable! in action, how like an 
angel ! in apprehension, how like a god ! the 
beauty of the world 1 the paragon of animals I 
And yet, to me, what is this quintessence of 
dust? man delights not me, nor woman nei- 
ther; though, by your smiling, you seem to 
say so. 

Ros. My lord, there's no such stuff in my 
thoughts. 

Ham. Why did you laugh then, when I 
said, Man dt lights not me? 

Ros. To think, my lord, if you delight not 
in man, what lenten* entertainment the players 
shall receive from you: we cotedt ihem on 
the way ; and hither are they coming, to offer 
you service. 

Hum. He that plays the king, shall be wel- 
come; his majesty ^hall have trilute of me: 
the adventurous kiiiighi shall use his foil, and 
target: the lover shall not Rjgh gratis; the 
buiiiorous man siialknd his part in peace: the 
clown shall make those lauah. whose lungs ar« 
tickled o'the sere ; and the lady shall say bcr 

t Overtook* 

K O 3 



1002 



SHAKSPEAKE. 



[Act n 



mind freely, or the blank verse shall halt 
for't. — What players are (hey? 

/ios. Even those you were wont to take such 
delii^ht in, the tragedians of the city. 

Hatn. How chances it, they travel*? their 
lesidence, both in reputation and profit, was 
better both ways. 

Bos. I think, their inhibition comes by the 
means of the late innovation. 

Bam. Do they hold the same estimation 
they did when 1 was in the city i Are they so 
followed ? 

Jio<. No, indeed, they are not. 

H<tm. How comes it? Do they grow 
rusty ? 

Hos. Nay, their endeavour keeps in the 
wonted pace: But there is, sir, an aiery of 
children, little eyases +, tliat cry out on the top 
or question;, and are most tyrannically clap- 
ped for't: these are now the fashion; and so 
berattlethe common stages, (so they call them) 
that many, wearing! apiers, are afraid of goose 
quills, and dare scarce come thither. 

Ham. What, are they children ? who main- 
tains them ? how are they escoted § ? Will they 
pursue the quality ij no longer than they can 
Bin ? will they not say afterwards, if they should 
grow themselves to common players, (as it is 
most hke, if their means are no better.) their 
writers do them wrong, to make them exclaim 
against their own succession? 

Rus. 'Faith, there has been much to do on 
both sides ; and the nation holds jt no sin, to 
tarred them on to controversy : tlieie was, for 
a while, no money bid for argument, unless 
the poet and the player went to cuflfs in the 
question. 

Ham. Is it possible? 

Guil. O, there has been much throwing 
about of brains. 

Ham. Do the boys carry it away? 

Ro.s. Ay, that they do, my lord ; Hercules 
and his load too**. 

Ham. It is not very strange : for my uncle 
is king of Denmark, and those, that would 
make mouths at him while my father lived, 
give twenty, forty, fifty, an hundred ducats 
a-piece, for his picture in little +t- 'Shlood, 
there is something in this more than natural, 
if philosophy could find it out. 

{Flourish of trumpets ivithifi, 

Guil, Tl"ere are the players. 

Ham. Gentltmen, you are welcome to El- 
sinore. Your hands. Come then : the ap- 
purtenance of welcome is fashion and cere- 
mony ; let me comply H with you in this garb ; 
lest my extent to the playersj, which, I tell 
you, must show f;urly outward, should more 
appear like entertainment thnn yotirs. You 
are welcome: but my uncle-father, and aunt- 
mother, are deceived. 

Guil. in what, my dear lord? 

Ham. I am but mad north-north west: 



when the wind is soatheriy, I know a hawk 
from a hand-iiaw. 
j A'w^er PoLONius. 

Pol. Well be with you, gentlemen! 
: Ham. Hark you, Guildenstern;— and you 
too; — at each ear a hearer: that ijreat baby, 
you see there, is nut yet out of his swaddling- 
cionis. 

j Ros, Happily, he*s the second time come 
i to them ; for, they say, an old man is twice a 
child. 

Ham. I will prophesy, he comes to tell me 
of the players; mark it. — You say right, sir .* 
o'Monday morning; *twas then, indeed. 

Pol. My lord, 1 have news to tell you. 

Ham. My lord, 1 have news to tell you; 
When Roscius was an actor in Rome, 

Pol. The actors are come hither, my lord. 

Ham. Buz, buz! 

Pol. Upon my honour, 

H»im. yyien came each actor on his afts, — 

PoL. The best actors in the world, either for 
tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral 
comical, historical-pastoral, [tragical-historical, 
tragical-comical] historical-pastoral, scene indi- 
vidable, or poem unlimited : Seneca cannot be 
too heavy, nor Plautus too light. For the law of 
writ ^§, and the liberty, these are the only men. 

Ham. O Jepht I ally judge of J srae I, —what 
a treasure hadst thou ! 

Pol. What a treasure had he, my lord? 

Ham. Why, — Onejair daughter, and no 
more. 
The which he loved passing well. 

Pol. Still on my daughter. [Aside, 

Hum. Am I not i'the right, old Jephlhah? 

Pol. If you call me Jepiithah, my lord, I 
have a daughter, that 1 love passing well. 

Ham. Nay, that follows not. 

PoL What follows then, my lord? 

Ham. Why, As by lot^ God wot, and then 
you know. It came to pass. As most like it 
was, — The (irst row of the pio.«s chansonjijl 
will show you more ; for look, my abridgment 
comes. 

Enter four or jive Players. 
You are welcome, masters ; welcome, all : — I 
am glad to see thee well: — welcome, good 
friends. — O, old friend ! W hy, thy 4^ce is va- 
lanced^^ since I saw thee last; Comesrtlion to 
beard*** me in Denmark? — What! my joung 
lady and mistress! 1 y-»er lady, your ladyship 
is nearer to heaven, than when 1 saw you last, 
by the altitude of a chopinejn^ Pray God, 
your voice, like a piece of uncurrent gold, b« 
not cracked within the ring. — Masters, 3011 
are all welcome. We'll e'en to't like French 
f Iconers, tly at any thing we see: We'.l have 
H speech straight : come, t'ive us «t taste of your 
tyilj; ipialiconie, a pas-ionate speech. 

1 Play. What speech, my lord? 

Ham. I he^rd ihee sptak me a speech 
once, — 'aut it was never acted; 01, if it was. 



I 



• Become strollers. f Young nestlings. t Dialogue. $ Paid. 

I Profession. H Provoke. •* i. 6., The Globe, the sign of Shakspeare's theatre^ 

tt Miniature. W Compliment. $$ Writing. |!|| Christmas carols, 

fU fringed. ••• Defy. W Clog. j+j Professiou. 



^0<9M //.] 



HAMLST, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 



1003 



not above once : for the play, I remember, 
pleased not the million ; 'twas caviare* to the 
general t: but it was (as 1 received it. and 
otht^rs, whose judi^ments, in such matters, 
CI led in the top; *)f mine,) an excellent play; 
well dit^ested in the scenes, «et down with as 
much modesty as cunning. 1 remember, one 
said, there were no saiada in the lines, to 
make the matter savoury ; nor no matter in 
the phrase, that migtit indite^ the author of 
affection [j : but called it an honest method, as 
wholi'Soaie as sweft, aud by very much more 
handsome than tine. One speech in it 1 
chiefly loved: 'twas iEneas' tale to Dido; 
and thereabout of it especially where he speaks 
ot Priam's slaughter : li it live in your me- 
mory, begin at this line ; let me see, let 
me see ; — 
Tae rugged Pyrrhics, like the Hyrcanean 
btastt — 
*ti8 not so ; it begins with Pyrrhus. [arm^. 
The rugged Pyrrhus, — tie, whose sable 
Black as his purpo^ie, did the night re- 
semble 
When he Lay couched in the ominous horse, 
Hath now this dread and black com- 

pltdion smear'd 
With heraldry more dismal ; head to foot 
Now is he total gules^ ; twrridly tricf^d ** 
With blood of fathers, mothers, daugh- 
ters, sons, [streets. 
Baked and impasted with the parching 
That lend a tyrannous and a damned light 
To their lora's murder: Roasted in wrath 

and fire. 
And thus o'er-sized with coagulate gore. 
With eyes like carbuncles, the hellish 
Pyrrhus [y«»« 

Old grandsire Priam seeks ; — So proceed 
Pol. 'Fore God, my lord, well spoken ; 
«rath good accent and good discretion. 

1 flay. Anon he finds him [sword, 

Strikins, too short at Greeks ; his antique 
Rebellious to his arm, lies tvhere it falls, 
Repugnant to command: Unequal ma tch*d, 
Pyrrhus at Priam drives, in rage strikes 
wide ; [sword. 

But W'th the whiff and wind of his fell 
The unnerved father falls. Then senseless 

Ilium, ' 

Seeming to feel this blow, with flaming 

top ^crash 

Stoops to his base, and with a hideous 

Takes prisoner Pyrrhu^ ear ; for, lol his 

stvord. 
Which was declining on the milky head 
Of reverend Priam, seem'd »' the air to 

stick : 
So, as a painted t'/rant, Pyrrhus stood ; 
And, like a neutral to his will and mat- 
Did nothing. [f^r, 
But, (IS ice iften see against some stortn 
A silence in t/ie heavens, the rackft stand 
still. 



The bold winds speechless, and the orb 

beluw 
As hush as death : anon the dreadful 
thunder [i ause, 

Duth rend the rei^ion : So, after Pyrrhu^^ 
A roused vengeance sets nim new a wo. k , 
And 7tet€r did /he Cyclops* liuminersjall 
On Mars*s armour, joiged Jor ytoof 
eternt^ [mg suord 

With less remorse than Pyrrhus' bleed- 
Now falls on Pnam. — \vou gods. 

Out, out, thou strumpet Fortune! Ad 
In general synod, tune away her power ; 
Break all the spokes anafelUes p vm her 
wheel, [ of heat en. 

And bowl the round nave down tue hill 
As low as to the fiends! 
Pol. I his is too lonj;. 

Bam. It shall lo t4ie barber's with your 
beard. — Pr'ythee, say on : He's tor a gig or a 
tale of bawdry, or he sleeps : say on : come 

to iiecuba. [mobced^^ queen 

1 Play. But irho, uh noe! i^uu .seen the 
Ham. The mobled queen 1 
Pol. 1 hat's good ; moiled queen is good, 
1 Play. Run barefoot up and down 
threat* ning thejiames 
With bis so n^^\ rheum; a aout upon that 
head [u robe 

Where late the diadem stood ; and, for 
About her lank and all o*erteemen loins, 
A blanket, in the alarm of j ear caug.^t 
up; [nom stefp'd 

Who this Jiad seen, with tongue in ve- 
'Gainst fortune's state would treason 

have pronounced : 

But if the god\ themselves did see her then^ 

When she satv Pyrrhus make malicious 

sport [imbs ; 

In mincing with his ciword her husband*^ 

The instu7it burst of clamour that she 

made, {all,} 

(Unless thijigs mortal move them not at 

li ould ha ve made miich^^ the bur*. ing f ye 

And passion in the gods. [ofheu en, 

Pol. Look wheilier he has not turn'd his c - 

lour, and has learsin's eyes. I'r'^thee, no more. 

Ham. 'lis well; I'll have th*e sptak out 

the re«t of this soon — Good iiiy hud, will \ou 

see the players well be-iowed i Do }ou iifar f 

let them be .\ ell used ; for they are the ab-tract 

and brief chronicles of the time: After your 

death you were belter have a bad epitaph, 

than their ill report while you live. 

/^ol. My lord, 1 will use them according to 
theT desert. 

Hiim. Odd's bodikin, man, rruch better: 
Use every man after his desert, and who shall 
'scape whipping i Use thtm after >our owu 
honour and diguKy : The less they deserve, 
the more meiii is in your bounty. Tak« 
them in. 

Pol. Come, sir*. 
[Exit PoLONius, with some of the Players. 



* kn Italian dish made of the roes ef flsh^. 
$ Convict. )[ Affectation. % Red. 

U Ivteraal $$ Moffied. |j|, 



t Multitude. t Above. 

•• Blazone<i. t^ Liglt cloodA. 

Uliad. %^ Milkv- 



1004 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act U. 



Ham. Follow him, friends: we'll hear a 
play to-inorrow. — Dost thou hear nie, old 
friend ? czjk you play the Murder of Gonawgo? 

1 Play. Ay, ray lord. 

H<im. We'll have it t »-morrcw night You 
could, for a need, study a speech of some.dozen 
or sixteen lines, which I would set down, and 
insert in't ? could you not? 

I Play. Ay, my lord. 

Ham. Very well. — Follow that lord, and 
look you mock him not. [Exit Player.] My 
good triends, [To Ros. and Gun..] I'll leave 
yon till night : yon are welcome to Elsinore. 

Ros. Good my lord ! 

[Elreunt Ros. and Guild. 

Ham. Ay, so, God be wi' you : — Now I am 
alone. 
O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! 
Is it not iiionstious, that this player here, 
Vtut in a fiction, in a dream of passion. 
Could force his soul so to his own conceit, 
'I hat fi om her workins^ all his visage wann'd ; 
Tears in his eyes, distraction in's aspect, 
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting 
With forms to his conceit! And all for nothing! 
For Hecuba I 

What's Kecuba to him, or he to Hecuha, [do. 
That he should weep for her? What would he 
Had he the motive and the cue for piission 
That I have ? He would drown the stage with 
tears, [spoecli ; 

And cleave the general ear with horrid 
Make mad the guilty, and appal the free, 
Confound the ignorant, and amaze, indeed. 
The very faculties of eyes and ears. 
Yet I, 

A dull and muddy-mettled rascal, peak. 
Like John a-dieams, unpregnant of my cause. 
And can say nothing; no, not for a king. 
Upon whose property and most dear life. 



i 



A damn'd defeat* was made. Am I a coward? ^ 
Who calls me villain ? breaks my pate across? 
Plucks off my beard, and blows it in my face? 
Tweaks me by the nose ? gives me the lie i'the | 

throat, u 

As deep as to the lungs? Who does me this? J 
Ha! 

Why, I should take it : for it cannot be. 
But I am pigeon-liver'd, and lack gall 
To make oppression bitter: or, ere this, 
I should have fatted all the region kites 
With this slave's offal : Bloody, bawdy villainl 
Remorseless, treacherous, lecherous, kindlesst 

villain ! 
Why, what an ass am I? This is most brave; 
That 1, the son of a dear father murder'd. 
Prompted to my revenge by heaven and hell, 
Must, like a whore, unpack my heart with 
And fall a cursing, like a very drab, [words, 
A scullion ! [1 have heard. 

Fie upon't ! foh ! About my brains ! Hnmphl 
That guilty creatures, sitting at a play. 
Have by the very cunning o-f the scene 
Been struck so to the soul, that presently 



!! 



4 

4a * 



They have proclaim'd their malefactions; 

;peak [players 



For murder, though it hath no tongue, wil 



4 

rs* 



With most miraculous organ. Pll have these 
Play something like the murder of my father. 
Before mine uncle : Pll observe his looks; 
Pll tentliimi to the quick; if he do blench $, 
I know my course. The spirit, that I have seen. 
May be a devil : and the devil hath power 
To assume a pleasing shape ; yea, and, perhaps. 
Out of my weakness, and my melancholy, 
(As he is very potent with «nch spirits,) 
Abuses me to danm me: Pll have grounds 
More relative than this : The play*» the thing. 
Wherein I'll catch the conscience of the king. 



ACT HI. 



SCENE I. A Room in the Cattle. 
Enter King, Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, 

ROSENGRANTZ, und Gui LDENSTERN. 

King. And can you, by no drift of con- 
ference 
Get from him, why he puts on this confusion ; 
Grating so harshly all his days of quiet 
With turbulent and dangerous lunacy ? 

Ros. He does confess, he feels himself dis- 
tracted ; [speak. 
But from what cause he wiJI by no means 
GuiL Nor do we find him forward to be 
sounded ; 
But, with a crafty madness, keeps aloof, 
When we would bring him on to some con- 
Of his true state. [fession 
Queen. Did he receive 3 on well? 
Ros. Most like a gentleman 
Guii. !;ot with much forcing of his dispo- 
sition. 



Ros, Niggard of question ; but, of our de- 
Most free in his reply. [mands. 

Queen. Did you assay him 

To any pastime ! [players 

Ros. Madam, it so fell out, that certain 
We o'er-ranght || on the way : of these we told 
And there did seem in him a kind of joy [hin.; 
To hear of it : They are about the court ; ., 

And, as I think, they have already order -^ 

This night to play before him. 

Pol, 'Tis most true • 

And he beseech'd me to entreat your rna- 
To hear and see the matter. ijesties, 

Kinn. With all my heart ; and it doth much 
To hear him so inclined. [content me 

Good gentlemen, give him a further edge, 
And drive his purpose on to these delights. 

Ros, We shall, my lord. 

{Eaeinit Rosen, and Gcildem 

K'ntg, Sweet Gei Irude, leave us too , 

For we have closely sent for Hamlet hither; 



* D«etroctioD« 



i Shrink or start. 



t Unnatural. 



X Search his wouudft. 
Ov rttHxk. 



Scene J .^ 



HAMLET, PRI3NCE OF DENMARK. 



1005 



That lie, as 'twere by accident, may h^re 
Atfront* Ophelia; 

"Aer father, and myself (lawful espials t,) 
Will so bestow ourselves, that, seeing, uiiaeen, 
We may of their encounter frankly j judge ; 
And gather by him, as he is behaved, 
Ift be the affliction of his love, or no. 
That thus he suffers for. 

Queen, I shall obey you : 

And, for your part, Ophelia, I do wish. 
That your good beauties be the happy cause 
Of Hamlet's wildness : so shall I hope, your 

virtues 
Will bring him to his wonted way again. 
To both your honours. 

OpA. Madam, I wish it may. 

[Exit Queen. 

PqL Ophelia, walk you here : — Gracious, 

so please you. 
We will bestow 5 ourselves : — Read on this 

book ; [To Ophelia. 

That show of such an exercise may colour 
Your loneliness. — We are oft to blame in this, 
lis too much proved ||,— that, with devotion's 
And pious action, we do sugar o'er [visage, 
The devil himself. 

King. O, *tis too true ! how smart 

.*A lash that speech doth give my conscience! 
The harlot's cheek, beautied with plastering 

art. 
Is not more ugly to the thing that helps it. 
Than is my deed to my most painted word : 
O heavy burden I [Aside. 

Pol. I hear him coming ; let's withdraw, 

my lord. 

[Exeunt King and Polonius. 
Enter Hamlet. 
Ham. To be, or not to be, that is the ques- 
tion : — 
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind, to suffer 
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortime ; 
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles. 
And, by opposing, end them? — To die, — to 

sleep, — 
No more; — and, by a sleep, to say we end 
The heart-ach, and the thousand natural shocks 
Tha-t flesh is heir to,— 'tis a consummation 
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die; — to sleep; — 
To sleep ! perchance to dream ;— ay, there's 

the rub ; [come. 

For in that sleep of death what dreams may 
When we have shuffled off this mortal coiMI, 
Most give us pa»>se: There's the respect**. 
That makes calamity of so long life : 
For who would bear the whips and scorns of 

time, [tumelytt, 

The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's con- 
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay. 
The insolence of office, and the spurns 
I That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 
When he himself might his quietus jj make 
With a bare bodkin ^), who would fardels ||1| 
To grant and sweat under a weary life ; [bear. 



But that the dread of something after death, — • 
The undiscover'd country, from whose bourn^^ 
No traveller returns, — puzzles the will ; 
And makes us rather bear those ills we have. 
Than fly to others that we know not of? 
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; 
And thus the native hue of resolution 
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought ; 
And enterprises of great pith and moment, 
With this regard, their currents turn awry. 
And lose the name of action.— Soft you, now I 
The fair Ophelia : Nymph, in thy orisons***. 
Be all my sins remeniber'd. 

Oph. Good, my lord. 

How does your honour for this many a day? 

Ham. I humbly thank you ; well, [your's, 

Oph. My lord, I have remembrances ©f 
That I have longed long to re-deliver ; 
I pray you, now receive them. 

Ham. No, not I ; 

I never gave you aught. 

O'ph. xMy honour'd lord, you know right 

well, you did ; [composed 

And, with them, words ©f so sweet breath 

As made the things more rich : their perfume 

lost. 
Take these again ; for to the noble mind. 
Rich gifts wax poor, when givers prove un- 
There, my lord. [kind. 

Ham. Ha, ha! are you honest? 

Ojph. My lord? 

Ham. Are yon fair? 

Oph. What means your lordship? 

Hum. That it you be honest, and fair, yon 
should admit no discourse to your beauty. 

Oph, Could beauty, my lord, have better 
commerce than with honesty? 

Ham. Ay, truly ; for the power of beauty 
will sooner transform honesty from what it is 
to a bawd, than the force of honesty can 
translate beauty into his likeness ; this was 
some time a paradox, but now the time gives 
it proof. I did love you once. 

Oph, Indeed, my lord, you made me be- 
lieve so. 

Ham. You should not have believed me : 
for virtue cannot so inoculate our old stock, 
but we shall relish of it : I loved you not. 

Oph. I was the more deceived. 

Ham. Get thee to a nunnery ; Why wonldst 
thou be a breeder of sinners? I am myself in- 
different honest; but yet I could accuse me of 
such things, that it were better, my mother 
had not borne me : I am very proud, reveuge- 
fal, ambitions; with more offences at my 
beck +tt, than I have thoughts to put them in, 
imagination to give them shape, or time to act 
them in : What should such fellows as I do 
crawling between earth and heaven! We are 
arrant knaves, all; believe none of us: Go 
thy ways to a nunnery. Where's your father t 

Oph^. At home, my lord. 

Ham. Let the doors be shut upon him; 



• Meet. + Spies. t Freely. $ Place. 

% Stir, bustle. •* Consideration. 

tJ Acquittance. $§ The ancient terra for a small dagger. 

%^ Boundary, limits. ••• Prayers 



II Too frequent. 
W Rudeness. 

|;|1 Pack, burden* 
m Call. 



1000 



SHAKSPKARE. 



[Act lit 



t-hat he may play the fool no where but in'it 
own house. Farewell. 

Oph. O, help hiin, you sweet heavens! 
Ham, If thou <lost marry. Til give ihee thii 
plagtie for thy dowry ; Be thou as chaste as 
ice, as pure as snow, thou shalt not escape 
calumny. Get thee to a nunnery ; Farewail: 
Or, if thou wilt needs marry, marry a fool ; tor 
wise men know well enoagh, what morsters 
you make of ihem. To a nunnery, go; and 
quickly too. Farewell. 

Oph. Heavenly powers, restore him I 
Ham. 1 have heard of your paintinps too, 
well enough ; God hath ^iven you one face, 
and you make yourselves auotber: you jig, yon 
am hie, and you lisp, and nick-name God's 
creatures, and make your wantonness your ig- 
nor nee: Go to; I'll no more oft; it bath 
made me mad. I say, we will have no more 
marriages : those that are married already, all 
but one shall live; the rest shall keep as they 
are. To a nunnery go. [Exit Hamlei. 

Oph. O, what a noble mind is here o'er- 

thrown! [sword: 

The courtier's, soldier's, scholar's, eye, tongue, 
The expectancy and rose of the fair state, 
The glass of fashion, and the mould* of form, 
Ihe observed of all observers! quite, quite 

down ! 
And I, of ladies most deje*t and wretched, 
7'hdt suck'd the honey of his music vows, 
Now see that noble and mostsovereii^n reason, 
Like sweet bells jangled, out of tune and harsh ; 
"j'iiat unmalchM form and feature of blown 
lilasted with e-stasyf: O, woe is me! [youth, 
1 o have seen what I have seen, see what I 

see ! 

Re-enter King and Polonius. 
Kinii. Love I his affections do not that way 

tend ; [little, 

Nor what he spake, though it lack'd form a 
Was not like madness. There's something in 

his soul. 
O'er which his melamcholy sits on brood ; 
And, 1 do doubt, the hatch, and the disclose. 
Will be some damper : Which for to prevent, 
I have, in quick determination, [land, 

I bus set it down ; he shall with speed to Eng- 
For the di'inand of our neglected tribute: 
ILiply, the seas, and countries diff rent. 
With variable objects, shall expel 
'J his something-settled matter in hi? heart ; 
\V hereon his brains still heating, puts him thus 
From fashion of himself. What think yoa 

on't ? 
Pol. It shall do well : But yet T do believe, 
Thcoriijin and commencement of his grief 
Sprung from neglected love. — How now, 

Ophelia, 
Yon need not tell as what lord Hamlet said ; 
VVe heard it all. — My lord, do as you please; 
Pitt, if yon hol'l it fit, after the play, 
Let his qneen mother all alone entreat him 



To show his grief; let her be round J with him ; 
And I'll be placed, so please yi»u, in the ear 
Of all their conference : If she tind him not, 
1 o England send him ; or confine him, where 
Your wisdom best shall think. 

King. It shall be so : 

Madness in great ones must not unwatch'd go. 

[b:xeunt. 
SCENE II. A Hall in the same. 
■i Enter HAUL.ET, and certain Players. 

Ham. Speak the speech, I pray you, as I i 
pronounced it toyoa, trippingly on the tongue: 
but if you mouth it, as many of our players 
do, I had as lief the town-crier spoke my i 
tines. Nor do not saw the air too much with j 
your hand, thus ; but use all gently: tor in the \ 
very torrent, tempest, and (as 1 may say) i 
whirlwind ofyour passion, you must acquire 
and beget a temperance, that may give it 
smoothness. O, it ottends me to the soul, to 
hear a robustious periwig-pated fellow tear a 
passion to tatters, to ver> rags, to split the ears 
of the groundlings 5; who, for the most part, 
are capable ot nothing but inexplicable outnb 
shows, and noise : I would have such a fellow 
whipped for o'er-doing Termagant; it out 
herods Herod || : Pray you, avoid it. 

1 Play. I warrant your honour. 

Ham. Be not too tame neither, but letyonr 
own discretion be your tutor: suit the action 
to the word, the word to the action; with this 
special observance, that you o'ei-slep not the 
modesty of nature : for any thing so overdone 
is from the purpose of playing, whose end, 
both at the first, and now, was, and is, to hohl, 
as 'twere, the mirror up to nature; to show 
virtue her own feature, scoin her own image, 
and the very age and body of the time, his 
form and piessuielT. Now this, ovtrdone, or 
come tardy off, though it make the unskiltni 
laugh, cannot but make the juditious grieve ; 
the censure of which one, must, in >oural- 
lowance**,o'er.weigh a whole theatre of others. 
O, there be players, that I have seen pl'*y,— 
and heard others praise, and that highly,— 
not to speak it profanely, that, neither having 
the accent of christians, nor the gait of christian, 
pagan, nor man, have so stunted, and bel- 
lowed, that 1 have thought some of nature's 
journeymen had made men, and not made 
them well, they imitated humanity so abo- 
minably, y 

1 Play. I hope, we hare reformed that in- 
differently with us. 

Ham, O, reform it altogether. Ami let 
those, that play your clowns, speak no more 
than is set down for them : for there be of 
them, that will themselves lau'^h, to set on 
some quantity of barren spectators to Ivtngh 
too ; though, in the mean time, some neces- 
sary question tt of the play be then to be con- 
sidered : that's villanous ; and shows a most 



• The model by whom all endeavoured to form themjelvea. + Alienation of mind. ' 

X Reprimand him with freedom. $ The meaner people then seem to have sat in the pit. 

ii Herod's character was always \'iolent. ^ Impression, resemblance. 

•• Approbation. It ConvefsatJon, discourse. 



i 



Scene JL] 



HAMLET, PRINCE OF DEXMARK, 



loot 



pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it. Go, 

make you ready. [Kteunt Players. 

Enter Polonius, Hosencrantz, and 

GUILDENSTEKN. 

How now, my lord ? will the king hear this 
piece of wtrk 1 

Pol. And the queen too, and that presently. 

Ham, Bid the players make haste. — 

\^Exit POLONIUS. 

Will you two help to hasten theml 

Both. Ay, my lord. 

[Exeunt Rosen. an^GuiLDEN. 

Ham. What, ho; Horatio! 
Enter Horatio. 

Hor. Here, sweet lord, at your service. 

Ham. Horatio, thou art e'en as just a man 
As e'er my conversation coped withal. 

Hor. (), my dear lord, 

Ham, Nay, do not think I flatter : 

For what advancement may 1 hope from thee, 
That no revenue hast, but thy good spirits, 
To feed, and clothe thee? VVhy should the 

poor be flatter'd 1 
No, let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp; 
And crook the pregnant* hinges of the knee, 
Where thrift may follow fawning. Dost thou 

hear? 
Since my dear soul was mistress of her choice. 
And could of men distinguish her election, 
She hath seal'd thee for herself: for thou hast 

been 
A* one, in suffering all, that suffers nothing; 
A man, that fortune's buftets and rewards 
Has ta'en with equal thanks : and bless'd are 
those, [mingled, 

Whose blood and judgment are so well co- 
That they are not a pipe for fortune's tinger 
To sound what stop she please: Give me that 

man 
That is not passion's slave, and I will wear him 
In my heart's core, ay, in my heart of heart. 
As I do thee. — Something too much of this. — 
There is a play to-night before the king; 
One scene of it comes near the circumstance, 
Which I have told thee of my father's death. 
1 pr'ythee, when thou seest that act afoot. 
Even with the very comment of thy soul 
Observe my uncle : if his occulted + guilt 
Do not itself unkennel in one speech. 
It is a damned ghost that we have seen ; 
And my ima«ji nations are as foul 
As Vulcan's stithy +• Give him heedful note: 
For I mine cye» will rivet to his face; 
And, after, we will both our judgments join 
In censure j of his seeming. 

Hor. Well, my lord : 

if he steal aught, the whilst this play is playing. 
And 'scape detecting, I will pay the theft. 

Ham. They are coming to the play ; I must 
Get you a place. [be idle: 

Danish March. A Flourish. Enter King, 

Queen, Polonius, Ophelia, Rosen- 
CRA.NTZ, Guildenstern, and Others. 

King. How fares our cousin Hamlet? 

Ham. Excellent, i'faith ; of the camelion's 



dish: I eat the air, promise-crammed: Yoa 
cannot feed capons so. 

King. I have nothing with this answer, 
Hamlet; these words are not mine. 

Hum. No, nor mine now. My lord, — you 
played once in the University, >ou say? 

[To PoLONIl'S. 

Pol. That did I, my lord ; and was accounted 
a good actor. 

Hum. And what did you enact? 

Pol, I did enact Julius Caesar: I was killed 
i'the Capitol ; Brutus killed me. 

Ham» It was a brute part of him, to kill so 
capital a calf there. — Be the players ready? 

Ros. Ay, my lord; they stay j| upon your 
patience. 

Queen. Come hither, my dear Hamlet, sit 
by me. 

Ham. No, good mother, here's metal more 
attractive. 

Pol. O hoi do you mark that? 

[To the King. 

Ham, Lady, shall I lie in your lap ? 

[Lying down at OPHELiA*s/ee?# 

Oph. No, my lord. 

Ham. I mean my head upon your lap? 

Oph. Ay, my lord. 

Ham. Do you think, 1 meant country mat- 
ters? 

Oph. I think nothing, my lord. 

Ham. That's a fair thought to lie betweea 
maids' legs. 

Oph. What is, my lord? 

Ham. Nothing. 

Oph. You are merry, my lord. 

Ham. Who, I ? 

Oph. Ay, my lord. 

Ham. O I your only jig-maker. What 
should a man do, but be merry ; for, look yon, 
how cheerfully my mother looks, and my 
father died within these two hours. 

Oph. Nay, 'tis twice two mr nths, my lord. 

Ham. So long? Nay, then let the flevil wear 
black, for I'll haveasnitofsnbles1I. O heavens! 
die two months ago, and not forgotten yet? 
Then there's hope, a great man's men ory niay 
outlive his life half a year: But, by'r-Iady, he 
must build churches then : or else shall he 
snflFer not thinking on, Mith the hobb} -horse; 
whose epitaph is. For, O,jor, O, the hobby- 
horse is forgot. 
Triimpet^ scund. The dumb shotu follows. 
Enter a Kirrg and a Queen, very loii,.gly , 

the Queen embracing him, and he her. 

,\he kneels, and makes show of protesta- 

tio7i unto him. He takes htr up, aud 

declines his head up< n her neck: I ys him 

down upon a bank of Jiou ers ; she, seeing 

him asleep, leaves him. At.on comes in a 

fellow, takes off his croun, kisses it, and 

pours poison in the King's ears, and exit. 

The Queen returns ;Jinds the King rt* ad, 

and makes passionate action. The poi- 
soner, with some two or three Mutes 

comes in again, seeming te lament witk 



Qoick, ready. 

^ Opinion. 



t Secret. 

U Wal.. 



I Shop, stithy is a smith's shop, 
H The liclie.xl drca*. 



1008 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act W 



ker. The dead body is carried away* The 

poisoner wooes the Queen with gifts ; she 

seems loath and unwilling awhile, but, in 

the end, accepts his love. [Exeunt. 

Oph, What means this, my lord ? 

Ham. Marry, this is miching mallecho* : 
it means mischief. 

Oph. Belike, this show imports the argu- 
ment of the play. 

Enter Prologue. 

Ham. We shall know by this fellow: the 
players cannot keep counsel ; they'll tell all. 

Oph. Will he tell us what this show meant? 

Ham, Ay, or any show that you'll show 
him : Be not you ashamed to show, he'll not 
shame to tell yoa what it means. 

Oph. You are naught, you are naught; I'll 
mark the play. 

Pro. For us, and for our tragedy. 
Here stoophig to your clemency. 
We beg your hearing patiently. 

Ham. Is this a protogue, or the posy of a 
ring? 

Oph. Tis brief t, my lord. 

Ham. As woman's love. 

Enter a King and a Queen. 

P. King. Full thirty times hath Phoebus' 
cart J gone round [ground; 

Neptune's salted wash, and Tellus'^ orbid 
And thirty dozen moons, with borrow'd 
sheen ||, [been ; 

About the world have times twelve thirties 
Since love our hearts, and Hymen did our 

hands, 
Unite eommiitual in most sacred bands. 

F. Queen. So many journeys may the sun 
and moon 
Make us again count o'er, ere love be done! 
But, woe is me, you are so sick of late. 
So far from cheer, and from your former state. 
That I distrust you. Yet, though I distrust. 
Discomfort you, my lord, it nothing must : 
For women fear too much, even as they love; 
And women's fear and love hold quantity; 
In neither anght, or in extremity. [know ; 
"Now, what my love, is proof hath made you 
And as my love is sixed V, my fear is so. 
Where love is great, the littlest doubts are 
fear ; [there. 

Where little fears grow great, great love grows 

P. King. 'Faith, I must leave thee, love, 
and shortly too ; [do : 

My opirant** povvers their functions leave to 
And thou shall live in this fair world behind, 
Honour'd, beloved ; and, haply, one as kind. 
For husband shalt thou 

P. Queen. O, confound the rest! 

Such love must needs be treason in my breast : 
In second husband let me be accurst! 
None wed the second, but who kill'd the first. 

Ham. That's wormwood. 

P. Queen. The instances ft that second 
marriage move. 
Are base respects of thrift, bat none of love ; 



A second time I kill my husband dead. 
When second husband kisses me in bed. 

P, King, I do believe, you think what now 
you speak; 
But, what we do determine, oft we break. 
Purpose is but the slave to me^nory ; 
Of violent birth, but poor validity : [tree ; 

Which now, like fruit unripe, sticks on the 
But fall, unshaken, when they mellow be. 
Most necessary 'tis, that we forget 
To pay ourselves what to ourselves is debt : 
What to ourselves in passion we propose. 
The passion ending, doth the purpose lose. 
The violence of either grief or joy [stroy : 
Their own enactures$| with themselves de< 
Where joy most revels, grief doth most la^ 

ment; 
Grief joys, joy grieves, on slender accident. 
This world is not for aye§§ ; nor 'lis not strange 
That even our loves should with our fortunes 

change ; 
For 'tis a question left us yet to prove. 
Whether love lead fortune, or else fortune 
love. [Hies; 

The great man down, yon mark his favourite 
The poor advanced makes friends of enemies. 
And hitherto doth love on fortune tend : 
For who not needs, shall never lack a 

friend ; 
And who in want a hollow friend doth try 
Directly seasons him his -gnemy. 
But, orderly to end where I begun,— 
Our wills, and fates, do so contrary run. 
That our devices still are overthrown; [own : 
Our thoughts are our's, their ends none of our 
So think thou wilt no second husband wed ; 
But die thy thoughts, when thy tirst lord is 
dead. [heaven light ! 

P. Queen. Nor earth to give me food, nor 
Sport and repose lock from me, day and 

night ! 
To desperation turn my trust and hope! 
An anchor's |||| cheer in prison be my scope ! 
Each opposite, that blanks the face of joy, 
Meet what I would have well, and it destroy ! 
Both here, and hence, pursue me lasting strife. 
If, once a widow, ever I be wife ! 

Ham. If she should break it now, 

{To Ophelia. 

P. King. 'Tis deeply sworn. Sweet, leave 
me here a while ; 
My spirits grow dull, and fain I would beguile 
The tedious day with sleep. [Sleeps. 

P. Queen. Sleep rock thy brain } 

And never come mischance between us twain I 

\Eiit. 

Ham. Madam, how like you this play 1 

Queen. The lady doth protest too much, 
methinks. 

Ham. O, but she'll keep her word. 

King. Have you heard the argument? Is 
there no offence in't ? 

Ham. No, no, they do but jest, poison in 
jest ; no offence i'the world. 



• Secret wickedness. + Short. t ^^i*"* chariot. 
% Ma^niinde, proportion. •• Active. ++ Motives. 

mi Anchoret. 



$ The earth. H Shining, lustre. 

;i Determinations. 5J )Lsi6X* 



Scene II.] 



HAMLET, PklNCK OF DK^MARK. 



loig 



King, What do you call the play ? 

HiTm. The mouse-trap*. Marry, how! Tro- 
pically. This play is the image of a murder 
done in Vienna: Gonzago is the duke's 
name ; his wife, Baptista : you shall see anon ; 
'tis a knavish piece of work : But what of 
that? your majesty, and we that have free 
aouls, it touches ua not : Let the galled jade 
wince t, our withers are unwrung. — 

iK//./er LuciAN us. 
This is one Lucianus, nephew to the king. 

Oph. You are as good as a chorus, my lord. 

Ham. I could interpret between you and 
your love, if I could see the puppets dallying. 

Opii. You are keen, my lord, you are keen. 

Ham, It would cost you a groaning, to take 
oflf my edge. 

Oph. Still better, and worse. 

Ham. So you mistake your husbands. — 
Begin, murderer ; — leave thy damnable faces, 

and beyn. Come; 

The croaking raven 

Doth bellow foV revenge. 

Luc. Thoughts black, hands apt, drugs fit, 
and time agreeing ; 
Confederate season, else no creature seeing; 
Thou mixture rank, of midnight weeds col- 
lected, [fected, 
With Hei-at's ban| thrice blasted, thrice in- 
Thy natural magic and dire property, 
. On wholesome life usni p immediately. 

[Pours the Poisoninto the Sleeper's Ears. 

Ham. He poisons him i' the garden for his 
estate. His name's Gonzago ; the story is ex- 
taut, and written in very choice Italian : You 
shall see anon, how the murderer gets the love 
of Gonzago's wife. 

Oph. The king rises. 

Ham. What I frighted with false fire ! 

Queen, How fares my lord ? 

Pol. Give o'er the play. 

King. Give me some light: — away! 

Pol. Lights, lights, lights! 
{Exeunt all but. Hamlet and Horatio. 

Ham. Why, let the strucken deer go weep. 
The hart ungalled play : 

For some must watch, while some must 
Thus runs tb/^ world away. — [sleep, 
Would not this, sir, and a forest of feathers 5, 
(if the rest of my fortunes turn Turk || with 
*ne,) with two Provencial roses on my razed *fF 
•shoes, get me a fellowship in a cry **of players, 
sir? 

Hor, Haifa share. 

Ham. A whole one, I. 
For thou dost know, O Damon dear. 

This realm dismantled was 
Of Jove himself ; and now reigns here 
A very, very — peacock. 

Hor, You might have rhymed. 

Ham. O good Horatio, I'll rake the ghost's 
word for a thousand pound. Didst perceive? 

Hor, Very well, my lord. 



^ Ham. L^pon the talk of the poisoning, — 

Hor. i did very well note hiin. 

Ham. Ah, ha 1 — Come, some nmsic ; come, 
the recorders W. — 

For if the king like not the comedy. 
Why then, belike, — he likes it not, perdy X^. — 

£'n?e7-R0SENCRANTZ««rfGuiLDENSTERN. 

Come, some music. 

GnU. Good, my lord, vouchsafe me a word 
with you. 

Ham. Sir, a whole history. 

GuiL The king, sir, 

Ham, Ay, sir, what of him? 

Guil. Is, in his retirement, marvellous dis- 
tempered. 

Ham. With drink, sir? 

GuiL No, my lord, with choler. 

Ham, Your wisdom should show itself more 
richer, to signify this to the doctor ; for, for 
me to put him to his purgation, would, per- 
haps, plunge him into more choler. 

Gwi/.Good my lord, put your discourse rnto 
some frame, and start not so wildly from my 
affair. 

Ham. I am tame, sir : — pronounce. 

Guil. The queen, your mother, in most 
great affliction of spirit, hath sent me to you. 

Ham. You are welcome. 

Gull. Nay, good my lord, this courtesy is 
not of the right breed. If it shall please you 
to make me a wholesome answer, I will do 
your mother's commandment; if not, yont 
pardon, and my return, shall be the end of my 
business. 

Ham. Sir, I cannot. 

Guil. What, my lord? 

Ham. Make you a wholesome answer; my 
wit's diseased : But, sir, such answer as I can 
make, you shall command; or, rather, as you 
say, my mother : therefore no more, but to 
the matter : My mother, you say, 

Ros. Then thus she says; Yonr behaviour 
hath struck her into amazement and admira- 
tion. 

Ham. O wonderful son, that can so asto- 
nish a mother! — But is there no sequel at the 
heels of this mother's admiration? impart. 

Ros. She desires to speak with you in her 
closet, ere you go to bed. 

Ham. We shall obey, were she ten times 
our mother. Have you any further trade |lj| 
with us? 

Ros. My lord, you once did love me. 

Ham. And do still, by these pickers and 
stealers HH. 

Ros. Good my lord, what is yonr cause of 
distemper ? you do, surely, but bar the door 
upon your own liberty, if you deny your griefs 
to your friend. 

Ham. Sir, I lack advancement. 

Ros. How can that be. when you have the 
voice of the king himself for your succession 
in Denmark ? 



-The thing 



In which he'll catch the conscience of the king. 
This is a proverbial ?aying. | Cnr.«e. § For his head. I. Change conditions, 

f Slashed, ** Pack, company. tt A kind of tlute. 5:; P«r i?ieu. Ijj Busiiws 

^ Hands. 4 R 



1010 



SHAKSPEARE. 



^Act rr 



Ham, Ay, sir, but, fVhile the grass gr&ws, 
—the pre verb is something musty. 

Enter the Players, uith Recorders, 
O, the record trs : — let rue see one. — To with* 
dritw with you : — Why do you go about to re- 
cover tise wiuii of me, as if you would drive 
me into a toil ? 

GoiL, O my^ord, if my duty be too bold, 
my love is too unm mnerly. 

H >in. I do not well understand that. Will 
you play npou this pipe? 

Gutl. My lord, I cannot. 

Hum. V pray you. 

GuiL Believe me, I cannot. 

Ham, r <lo beseech you. 

Gnil. I know no touch of it, my lord. 

flam, 'J is as e^sy as lying : govern these 
ventages*, with your fingers andthuiiib, give it 
breuh with your mouth, and it will discourse 
most eloquent music. Look you, these are 
the slops 

GhU. But these cannot I command to any 
utterance of harmony ; 1 have not the skill. 

H III, Why, li>ok you now, how unworthy 
a thing you make of me ? You would play 
upon mc ; you would seem to know my slops ; 
you would pluck out the heart of my mystery; 
you would sound me from my lowest noie to 
the top of my compass: and there is much 
music, ex« elleut voice, in this little organ ; 
yet cannot you make it speak. 'Sblood, do 
yon think, I am easier to he played on than a 
pipe? Call me what instrument you will, 
though you can fret me, you cannot play upon 
me. 

Enter PoLONius. 
Gofl bless you, sir! 

Pol. My lord, the queen would ipeak with 
you and presently. 

Ham. Do you see yonder cload,that's almost 
in shape of a camel? 

Pol. By the mass, and His like a camel in- 
deed. 

Ham. Methinks, it is like a weasel. 

Pol. It is backed like a weasel. 

Ham. Or, like a whale? 

Pol. Very like a whale. 

Ham. Then will I come to my mother by 
and by.— They fool me to the top of my bentf. 
—I will come by and by. 

Pol. 1 will say so. {Exit Polonius. 

Horn. By and by is easily said. — Leave me, 
friends. [Eitunt Ron. GuiL. Hor., 4c. 

Tis now the very witching time of night 
"When churchyards yawn, and hell itself 
breathes out [hot biuod, 

Contagion to this world : Now could 1 drink 
And do such business as the bitter day 
Would quake to look on. Soft ; now to my 

mother. — 
O, heart, lose not thy nature ; let not ever 
The soul of Nero enter this firm bosom: 
Let me be cruel, not unnatural : 
I will speak daiigeisto her, but use none; 
My tongue and soul in this be hypocrites: 



How in my words soever she beshent J, 

To give them seals § never, my soul, consent I ' 

[Exit. 

SCENE III. A Boom in the same. 
Enter King, Rosencrantz, and Guildbn- 

STERN. 

King. I like him not; nor stands it safe 
with us, [you ; 

To let his madness ransje. Therefore, prepare 
I your commission will forthwith despatch. 
And he to Kngland shall along with you; 
The terms of our estate may not endure ' 

Hazard so near us, as doth hourly grow 
Out of his lunesj). 

Guil, We will ourselves provide : 

Most holy and religious fear it is, 
To keep those many many bodies safe. 
That live, and feed, upon your majesty. 

Bos. The singfle and peculiar life is bound. 
With all thestren thand armour of the mind. 
To keep itselt from 'noyance ; but much more 
That spirit, upon whose weal depend and rest 
The lives of many. Ihe cease of majesty 
Dies not alone ; but, like a gulf, doth draw 
What's near it, with it ; it is a massy wheel, 
Fix'd on the summit of the highest mount. 
To whose huge spokes ten thousand lesser 
things [falls, 

Are mortised and adjoined ; which, when it ' 
Each small annexment, petty consequence. 
Attends the boist'rous ruin. ISever alone 
Did the king siiih, but with a general groan. 

King. Arm you, I pray you, to this speedy 
voyage ; 
For we will fetters put upon this fear, 
Which now goes too free-footed. 

Bos. Guil. We will haste ns, 

[ifcjrewwf RosENCRANTZ and Guilden- 

STKRN. 

Enter Polonius. 
Pol. My lord, he's going to his mother's 
Behind the arrasH Til convey myself, [closet : 
To hear the process ; I'll warrant, she'll tax , 

him home : 
And, as you said, and wisely was it said, 
'lis meet, that some more audience, than a 

mother, 
Since namre makes them partial, should o'er ' 

hear 
The speech of vantage. Fare you well, my 
I'll call upon you ere you go to bed, L'^^ge, 
And tell you what I know. 

King. Thanks, dear my lord 

[Exit PoLoNiuat 
O, my offence is rank, it smells to heaven ; 
It hath the primal eldest curse upon't, 
A brothei'a murder! — Pray can 1 not, 
1 hough inclination be as sharp as will ; 
My stront:er guHl defeats my strong intent; 
And, like a man to double business bound, 
I stand in pause where I shall first beuin, , 

And both ne-lect. What if this cursed hand 
Were thicker than itself with brother's blood 
Is there not rain enough in the sweet heaven* 



Holes t Utmost stretch. % Reproved. $ Authority to put them in executioo 

H Lunacies* IT Tapectry 



\SteneJJI.] HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 



1011 



I To wash it white as snow 1 Whereto serves 

merry, 
But to CKiilront the visage of oflfence? 
And what's in prayer, but this two-fold force. 
To l>e foiestalled, ere we come to fill, 
Or pardonM, being down { Then I'll look dr; 
My fault is past, but, O, what form of prayer 
Can serve my turn? Forgive me rayf&ulmur- 

dfi!— 
Th^t cannot be; since lam still possessed 
()t t 0!»e eltVcis tor which I did the murder. 
My crown, iijne own ambition, and my queen, 
Ma\ one be p.tr<h>n*d, and retain theotfeuce'? 
In the corrupted currents of this world, 
Ort nce's jiildcd hand may shove by justice; 
And oft 'tl^ seen, the wicked prize itself 
B )8 out the law : But tis not so above : 
There is no ."hutfling, there the action lies 
III histi u^ nature: and we ourselves coinpell'd 
Even to the teeih and forehead of our faults, 
lu sive in evidence. What then? what rents? 
Try what repentance can: What can it not? 
Yet what can it, when <»ne cannot repent? 
retched state! O bosom, black as death! 
timed ♦ soul ; that struggling to be free, 
Art more ei. gaged ! Help, angels, make as- 
say ! [of steel ; 
Bowi stubborn knees! and heart, with strings 
Be sojt as sinews of the new-born bibe ; 
All ina> be well ! [Hetires and Kneels. 
Enter Hamlet 
Ham. Now might I do it, pat, now he is 

praying; 
And now 1*11 do't; and so he goes to heaven : 
And so am I levenged? ihat would be 

scann'd t : 
A villain kills my father; and, for that, 
I, his sole X son, do this same villain send 
To heaven. 

Vv hy. this is hire and salary $, not revenge. 
He look my father grossly, full of bread; 
With all his crimes broad blown, as flush as 

May ; heaven? 

And how his audit stands who knows, save 
But, in our circumstance and course of thought, 
'lis heavy with him : And am I then revenged, 
To take him in the purging ot his soul. 
When he is fit and eeason'd for bis passage ? 
No. [Iient||: 

Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid 
W hen he is drunk, asleep, or in his rage ; 
Or in the incestuons plensurts of his bed ; 
At gaming, swearing ; or about some act 
That has no relish of salvation in't : 
Then trip him, that his heels may kick at 

heaven: [black 

And that his soul may be as damn'd and 
As hell, whereto it goes. My mother stays: 
This physic but prolongs thy sickly days. 

[Exit. 

The King rises and advances. 
King. My words fly up, my thoughts remain 

below: 
Words, withent thoughts, never to heaven go. 

[Exif. 



SCENE IV. 

Another Room in the same. 

Enter QvEEN and Polonius. 

Pol. He will come straight. Look, you lay 

home to him : [bear with ; 

Tell him, his pranks have been too broad to 

And that your grace hath screea'd and stood 

between 
Mnch heat and him. I'll silence me e'en here. 
Pray you, be round with him 

Queen I'll warrant you ; 

Fear me not: — withdraw, I hear him coming. 

[Polonius hides himself. 

Enter Hamlet. 

Ham, Now, mother ; whai's the matter? 

Queen. Hamlet, thou hast thy father much 

offended. 

Hem. Mother, you have my father much 

offended. [idle tongue. 

Queen. Come, come, yon answer with an 

Ham. Go, go, you question \>ith a wicked 

Queen. Why, how now, Hamlet? [tongue. 

Ham. Vv hat's the matter now ? 

Queen. Have you forgot me? 

Ham. No, by the rood IT, not »o : 

You are the queen, your husband's brother's 

wife; [mother. 

And, — 'would it were not so! — y©« are my 

Queen. Nay, then I'll set those to you that 

can speak. 
Ham. Come, come, and sit you dow n ; yoo 
shall not budge ; 
You go not, till I set you up a glass 
Where you may see the inmost part of you. 

Queen. What wilt thou do? thou wilt not 
Help, help, ho ! [muriler nie? 

PoL {Behind.] What, ho! help! 
Ham. How now? a rat! 

[ Draus, 
Dead, for a ducat, dead. 
[H A M let makes a pass through the Arras, 
Pol. [Behind.] O, I am slain. 

[Falls, and dies. 
Queen, O, me ! what hast thou done ? 
Ham. Nay, I know not: 

Is it the king? 

[Lifts up the Arras, arid drows forth 

POLUNII'S 

Queen. O, what a rash and bloody deed is 
this ! [good mother. 

Ham. A bloody deed! — almost as bad. 
As kill a king, and marry with his brother. 

Queen. As kill a king ! 

Ham. Ay, lady, 'twas my word.— 

Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell 

[To POLOMUS 

I took thee for thy better ; take thy fortune : 
Thou find'st to be too busy is some danger. — 
Leave wringing of your hands: Peace; sit 

you down, 
And let me wring your heart : for so I shall, 
If it be made of penetrable atuff ; 
If damned custom have not brazed it so, 
That it be proof and bulwark against sen«e. 



Caught as with bird-lime. ♦ Shonid be considered. 

U Seize hira at a moie horrid time. 



t Only. 
% Close. 



§ Reward. 



1012 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[A a lir^ 



Queen. What have I dooe, that thou darcst 

"wag thy tongue 
In noise so rude against me ? 

Ham. Such an act. 

That blurs the grace and blush of modesty ; 
Calls virtue hypocrite ; takes off the rose 
From the fair forehead of an innocent love, 
And sets a blister there ; makes marriage vows 
As false as dicers* oaths: O, such a deed 
As from the body of contraction* plucks 
The very soul ; and sweet religion makes 
A rhapsody of words : Heaven's face doth 

glow ; 
Yea, this solidity and compound mass. 
With tristful t visage, as against the doom. 
Is thought-sick at the act. 

Queen. Ah me? what act! 

That roars so loud, and thunders in the indexjt 

Ham. Look here, upoa this picture, and on 

this; 
The counterfeit presentment of two brothers. 
See what a grace was seated on this brow : 
Hyperion's curls §; the front of Jove himself; 
An eye like Mars, to threaten and command ; 
A station |j like the herald Mercury, 
New-lighted on a heaven-kissing hill; 
A combination, and a form, indeed, 
Where every god did seem to set his seal. 
To give the world assurance of a man : 
This was your husband. — Look you now, what 

follows : 
Here is your husband, like a raildew'd ear. 
Blasting his wholesome brother. Have you 

eyes ? 
Could you on this fair mountain leave to feed, 
And batten IT on this moor 1 Ha ! have you 

eyes? 
You cannot call it love ; for, at your age. 
The hey-day in the blood is tame ; it's humble. 
And waits upon the judgment; And what 

judgment 
Would step from this to this? Sense**, sure, 

you have, [ihat sense 

Else could you not have motion : But, sure. 
Is apoplex'd: for madness would not err; 
Nor sense to ecstasy tt was ne'er so thrall'd 
But it reserved some quantity of choice 
To serve in such a difference. What devil 

was*t, 
That thus hath cozen'*d youathoodman-blindjt? 
Eyes without feeling, feeling without sight. 
Ears without hands or eyes, smelling sans$§ all. 
Or but a sickly part of one true sense 
Could not so mope |1|I. 

O shame ! where is thy blush? Rebellious hell, 
If thou canst mutine in a matron's bones. 
To flaming youth let virtue be as wax, 
And melt in her own fire : proclaim no shame 
When the compulsive ardour gives the charge ; 
Since frost itself as actively doth burn. 
And reason panders will. 



Queen. O, Hamlet! speak no . •■ 

Thou turn'st mine eyes into my very s,u\\\ , 
And ihere I see such black and gramed s^ols. 
As will not leave their tinct ^f . ' 

Ham. N ay, but to live ' 

In the rank sweat of an enseamed *** bi c 
Stew'd in corruption; honeying, and making 

Over the nasty stye ; [n ve 

Queen, O, speak to me no more ; . 

These words like daggers enter in mine ears : ' 
No more, sweet Hamlet. 

Ham. A murderer, and a villain : 

A slave, that is not twentieth part the tithe 
Of your precedent ttt lord : — a vice of kiijgs : 
A cttipurse of the empire and the rule ; 
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, 
And put it in his pocket 1 
Queen, No more. 

Enter Ghost. 
Ham, A king 

Of shreds and patches :■— 
Save me, and hover o'er me with your wing?, 
You heavenly guards! — What would your 
Queen. Alas! he's mad. [gracious figure I 
Ham. Do you not come your tardy son to 
chide. 
That, lapsed in time and passion, lets go by 
The important acting of your dread command ? 
O, sayl 

Ghost. Do not forget : This visitation 
Is but to whet thy almost blunted purpose. 
But, look ! amazement on thy mother sits : 
O, step between her and her fighting soul ; 
Conceit jji in weakest bodies strongest works ; 
Speak to her, Hamlet. 
Ham. How is it with you, lady ! 

Queen. Alas! how is't with you? 
That you do bend your eye on vacancy. 
And with the incorporal air do hold discourse ? 
Forth at your eyes your spirits wildly peep ; 
And, as the sleeping soldiers in the alarm, 
Your bedded hair, like life in excrements <;lj!'. 
Starts up, and stands on end. O, gent e son,. 
Upon the heat and flame of thy (iisiemper 
Sprinkle cool patience. Whereon do you look T 
Ham. On him! on him!— Look you, how 
pale he glares I [stones. 

His form and cause conjoin'd, preaching to 
Would make them capable HiriF.— Do not look 

upon me ; 
Lest, with this piteous action, you convert 
My stern effects****: then what I have to do 
Will want true colour ; tears, perchance+tlt, for 
Queen. To whom do you speak this? [blood. 
Ham, Do you see nothing tl.ere? 

Queen. Nothing at all ; yet all, th;u is, 1 see. 
Ham, Nor did you nothing hear? 
Queen. No, nothing, but ourselves- 

Ham. Why, look you there! look, how iS 
steals away ! 
My father, in his habit as he lived I 



* Marriage contract. t Sorrowful. 1 Index of contents prefixed to a book. 

§ Apollo's. II The act of standing. If To grow fat. ** Sensation. 

tf Frenzy. Jj Blindman's-buff. §§ Without. |||| Be so stupid. HIF Colour. 

•** Greasy, fH" Mimic. Itt Imagination. 

mill The hair of animals is excrementitious; that is, without life or sensation, 

^Hir Inl.;liij;ent. *••♦ Actions. tttt Tcrhaps. 



il 



Scene IV,] 



HAMLET. 



1013 



Look, where he goes, even now, oat at the 
portal I [Exit Ghost. 

Queen. This is the very coinage of your 
This bodiless creation ecstasy • [brain : 

Is very cunning in. 

Hum, Ecstasy ! 
My puise, as yours, doth temperately keep 
time, [ness, 

And makes as healthful music: It is not mad- 
That I have utter*d : bring me to tie test, 
And I the matter will re-word; whidi madness 
Would gambol from. Mother,for love of grace. 
Lay not that flattering unction to yonrsoul. 
That not your trespass, but n»v madness speaks: 
It will hut skin and film the ulcerous place ; 
Whiles rank corruption, mining all within, 
Infects unseen. Confess yourself to heaven ; 
Repent what's past ; avoid what is to come ; 
And do not spre.id the compostt on the w eeds, 
To make itiem ranker. Forgive me this m\ 
For in the fatness of these pursy times, [virtue : 
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg; 
Yea, curb: and \vo.>,tor leavt to do him good. 

Queen.O H unlet! thou hast cleft my heart 
in twain. 

Horn. O, throw away the worser part of it 
And live the purer with the (/ther half. 
Good night; but go not to my uncle's bed; 
Assume a virtue, if you have it not. 
That mons er, custom, who all sense doth eat 
Of habit's devil, is angel yet in this ; 
That to the use of actions fair and good 
He likewise gives a frock, or livery. 
That aptly is put on : Refrain to-night; 
And that shall lend a kind of eisiness 
To the next al>stinence : the next more easy : 
For use almost can change the siamp of nature. 
And either curb the devil, or ihrow him out 
With wondrous potency. Once more, good 

night ! 
And when you are desirous to be bless'd, 
I'll blessing beg of you. For this same lord, 
[Pointijig to PoLONius. 
I do repent : But heaven hath pleased it so, — 
To punish me with this, and this with me, 
That I must be their scourge and niinister. 
T will bestow him, and will answer well 
The death I gave him. So, again, good night I— 
I must be cruel, only to be kind ; 



Thus bad begins, and worse remains behind. — 
Bat oue word more, good lady. 

Queen. VV hat shall I do ? 

Ham. Not this, by no means, that 1 bid 
you do : 

Let the bloat king tempt yon again to bed ; 
Pinch wanton on your cheek ; call yon his 

mouse ^ ; 
And lei him, tor a pair of reech\ j| kisses, 
Or paddling in your neck with his damn'd 

fingers. 
Make you to ravel all this matter out, 
That 1 essentially am not in madness, [kr:ow * 
But mad in cratt. 'Tvvere good, you let hira 
For who, that's but a queen, fair, K)ber, wise, 
Would from a paddock*", trom a bat. a gib**. 
Such de tr concernings hide? who would d«>so? 
No, in despite? of sense, and secrec}'. 
Unpeg the basket on the house's lop. 
Let the birds lly ; and, like the fan)ous ape. 
To try conclu.«ion8++, in the basket creep, 
And break \our own neck down. [bieath, 

Queen. Be thou assured, if words be made of 
And breath of life, I have no life to breathe 
What thou hast said to rae. 

Ham. I must to England ; you know that? 

Queen, AUck, 

I had forgot ; 'tis so concluded on. 

Hani. There's letters seal'd : and my two 
school -fellow 8,— 
Whom I w ill trust, as I will adders fang'dij, — 
They bear the mandate; they must sweep my 

way, 
And marshal me to knavery : Let it work ; 
For 'tis the sport, to have the engineer [hard, 
Hoist with his own petar^^: audit shall go 
But I will delve one yard below their mines, 
And blow them at the moon : O, 'tis most 

sweet, 
W^hew in one line two crafts directly meet.— 
This man shall set me packing. 
Til lug the guts into the neighbour room : — 
Mother good ni(j;ht. — Indeed, this counsellor 
Is now most still, most secret, and m* st grave, 
Who was in life a foolish prating knave. 
Come, sir, to draw toward an end with you : — 
Good night, mother. 

[Exeunt severally Hamlet draggi?ig 
in PoLONltS. 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. The same. 
Enter King, Qneen, Rosencrantz, and 

GUILDENSTERN. 

King, There's matter in these sighs; these 

profound heaves ; 

You must translate; 'tis fit we understand 

Where is your son ? [them : 

Queen. Bestow this place on us a little 

while. — 

[ToRoSENCR ANTa tf Wtf GUILDENSTERN, 

who go out. 



Ah, my good lord, what have T seen to.nightf 
King. What, Gertrude? How dof»« Hmil'^'.? 
Queen, Mad as the sea, and wind, wiien 
both contend 

Which is the mightier : In his lawless Gi, 

Behind the air as hearing soniething sfir, 

Whips out his rapier, cries, .4 rat ! a rut! 

And, in this brainish apprehension, kills 

The unseen good old man. 

King. O heavy deed \ 

It had been so with us, had we been there : 



* Frenzy. + Manure. % Bend. $ A term of endearment. 

B Steaming with hc-it. f Toad. ♦♦ C^r. +Mi:xp*fiimei»t8, 

II Havinc their teeth. 5§ KIo-.vm ho with Isi^ own bftmb. 



1014 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV 



Bis liberty is full of threats to all; 

To you yourself, to us, to every one. 

Alas ! how shall this bloody deed be answered? 

It will be laitl to ns, whose providence 

Should have kept short, restraiiiM, and out of 

haunt*, 
This mad young man : but^ so much was our 

'ove, 
We would not understand what was most fit; 
But like the owner of a foul disease. 
To kec p it from divul^iag, kt it feed 
Even on the pith of life. Where is he ?oneT 
Queen. To draw apart the body he hath 
kiird : 
O'er whom his very madness, like some ore, 
Amouj^ a mineral t of metals base, 
Jshows itself pure ; he weeps for what is done. 

King. O, Oertrude, come away ! 
The sun no sooner shall the mountains touch. 
But we will ship him hence: and this vile deed 
We must, with all our majesty and skill, 
Both coimtenance and excuse. — Ho! Guil- 

denstern ! 
JEnter RostNCRANTZ and Guildenstern. 
Friends both, go join you with some further 
Hamlet in madness hath Polonius slain, [aid : 
And from his mother's closet hath be dragg'd 
him : [body 

Go, seek him out; speak fair, and bring the 
•Into the chapel. I pray you, haste in this. 

[Exeunt Ros. and Guil. 
Come,Gertrnde,weMl call up our wisest friends; 
A nd let them know, both what we mean to do. 
And what's untimely done : so, hap'y, slan- 
der, — 
Whose whisper oVr the world's diameter. 
As level as the cannon to his blankj, [name, 
Transports his poison'd shot, — may miss our 
And hit the wonndless air. — O come away ! 
My soul is full of discord and (\\s,mAy .{Exeunt, 

SCEME II. Another Room in the same. 
Enter Hamlet. 

Hnm. Safely stowed, — [Ros. Sec. with- 
in. Hamlet! lord Hamlet I] But soft!— what 
noise? who calls on Hamlet? O, here they 
come. 
Enter Rosencrantz and Guildenstern. 

Ros. What have yon done, my lord, with 
the dead body? ['tis kin. 

Ham. Compounded it with dust, whereto 

Ros, Tell us where 'tis ; that we may take 
And bear it to the chapel. [it thence. 

Ham. Do not believe it. 

Ros. Btlieve what? 

Ham, That lean keep your counsel, and not 
mine own. Besides, to be demanded of a 
sponge! — what replication should be made by 
the son of a. king ? 

Ros. Take you me for a sponge, my lord ? 

Ham. vXy, sir; that soaks up the king's 
countenance, hi« rowards, his authorities. But 
fcuch officers do rtie king best service in the 
end : He keeps them, like an ape, in the cor- 
ner of his jaw ; first mo-Jthed, to b«; last swal- 
io-red : When be needs what you have glean- 



ed, it is but squeezing you, and, sponge, yoa 
shall be dry again. 

Ros. I understand you not, my lord. 

Ham, I am iilad of ij : A knavish spetci 
sleeps in a foolish ear. 

Ros. My lord, you must tell us where the 
body is, and go wiih us to the king. 

Ham. The body is with the king, but the 
king is not wilk the body. The king is a 
thing 

Guil. A thing, my lord ? 

Ham. Of nothing: bring me to him. Hide 
fox, and all after j. {Exeunt, 

SCENE III. Another Room in the same. 
Enter King attended. 

King. I have sent to seek him, and to find 
the body. 
How dangerons is it, that this man goes loose? 
Yet must not we put the strong law on hira ; 
He's loved of the distracted multitude, 
Who like not in their judb^ineni, hut their eyes; 
And, where 'lis so, the ofleuder's scourge is 
weiiihM, [and even. 

But never the offence. To bear all smooth 
This sudden sending him away must seem 
Deliberate pause : Diseases, desperate grown, 
By desperate appliance are relieved. 

Enter Rosencrantz. 
Or not at all. — How now? what hath befallen? 

Ros. Where the dead body is bestow'd, my 
We cannot get from him. [lord, 

King. But where is he ? 

Ros. Without, my lord ; guarded, to know 

King. Bring him before us. [your pleasure. 

Ros. Ho, Guildenstern? bring in my lord. 
Enter Hamlet and Guildenstern. 

King. Now, Plamlet, where's Polonius ? 

Ham. At supper. 

King. At supper? Where? 

Ham. Not where he eats, but where he is 
eaten : a certain convocation of politic wornis 
are e'en at him. Your worm is your onl^ em- 
peror for diet : we fat all creatmes else to fat 
us ; and we fat ourselves for maggots : Your 
fat king, and your lean beav^ar, is luu variable 
service ; two dishes, but to one table ; that's 
the end. 

King. Alas, alas ! 

Ham.. A man may fish with the worm that 
hath eat of a king ; and eat of the fish that 
hath fed of that worm. 

King. What dost thou mean by this ? 

Ham. Nothing, but lo show you how a king 
may go a pi ogress through the guts of a beggar. 

hing. Where is Tolonius? 

Ham. I'll heaven ; send thither to see : if 
your messenger find him not there, seek him 
i' the other place yourself. But, indeed, if 
you find him not within this month, you shall 
nose him as you go up the stairs into the lobby. 

King, Go seek him there. 

\To some Attendant*. 

Ham. He will stay till you come. 

[Exeunt Attendants. 



• Company. 



t Min«. 



X Mark. 



§ A sport among chil«ren. 



fcene IIJ,} 



HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 



1015 



HCing. ITamlet, this deed, for thine especial 
safety,— 
Which we do tender, as we dearly grieve 
For that which thou hasr done,— must send 
thee hence [self; 

With tiery quickness : therefore prepare thy- 
The bark is ready, and the wind at help*. 
The associates tendf, and every thing is bent 
For England. 

Ham. For England 1 

J^^^'g' Ay, Hamlet. 

Bam. Good. 

Ahtg. So is it, if thou knew'stour purposes. 

Ham. I see a cherub, that sees them. — But, 
eomc ; for England !— Farewell, dear mother. 

Jibing. Thy loving father, Hamlet, 

Hon. My mother: Father and mother is 
man and wife; man and wife is one flesh; 
and so, my mother. Come, for England. 

[Exit. 

King. Follow him at foot ; tempt him with 
speed aboard ; 
Delay it not, Pll have him hence to-night : 
Away; for every thing is seal'd and done 
That else leans on the affair : Pray you, make 
haste. [Exeunt Ros. and Guil. 

And, England, if my love thoii hold'st at augh*, 
(As my great power thereof may give thee 

sense; 
Since yet thy cicatrice looks raw and red 
After the Danish sword, and thy free awe 
Pays homage to us,) thou may'st not coldly 

sett 
Our sovereign process; which imports at full, 
By letters conjuring to that eflFect, 
The present death of Hamlet. Do it, England ; 
For like the hectic in my blood he rages, 
And thou must cure me : Till I know»tis done, 
Howe'er my haps §, my joys will ne'er begin. 

[Exit. 
SCENE IV. A Plain in Denmark. 
Mnter Fortinbras, and Force«, marching. 

For. Go, captain, from me greet the Danish 
Tell him, that, by his license, Fortinbras [king; 
Craves the conveyance of a promised march 
Over his kingdom. You know the rendezvous. 
If that his majesty would aught with us, 
We shall express our duty in his eye 1|. 
And let him know so. 

Cap. I will do't, my lord. 

For. Go softly on. 

[Exeunt FoRTiNBRAg and Forces. 
Enter Hamlet, Rosencrantz, Guilden- 

STERN, 8(C, 

Ham. Good sir, whose powers IT are these? 

Cap. Ihey are of Norway, sir. 

Ham. How purposed, sir, 

I pray you ? 

Cap. Against some part of Poland. 
I Ham. Who 

Commands them, sir? [bras. 

Cup. The nephew to old Norway, Fortin- 1' 



Ham. Goes it against the main of Poland, 

Or for some frontier? [sir. 

Cup. Truly to speak, sir, !ind with no ad- 
dition. 
We go io gain a little pntch of ground. 
That hath in it no profit but the name, 
lo pay five ducnts, five, 1 would not farm it ; 
Nor will it yield to Norway, or t-he Pole, 
A ranker rate, should it be sold in fee. 

Ham. Why, then the Polack ** never will 

defend It. 
Cap. Yes, 'tis already garrisoned. 
Hum. Two thousand souls, and twenty 

thoasand ducats, 
Will not debate the question of this straw : 
This is the imposthume of much wealth and 

peace: out 

That inward breaks, and shows no causp with- 

Why the man dies. — I humbly thank yon, sir. 

Cap. God be wi*you, sir. [Exit Cnptain. 

Ros. Wiirt please yon go. my lord? 

Ham. I will be with you straisiht. Go a 

little before. [Exeunt B.os and GuiL. 
How all occasions do inform against me. 
And spur my dull revenge! What is a man. 
If his chief good, and markettf of his time. 
Be but to sleep, and feed? a beast, no more. 
Sure, he, that made us with such large di». 

course ti, 
Looking before, and after, gave ns not 
That capability and godlike reason 
To fust ^^ in us unnspd Now, whether it be 
Bestial oblivion, or some craven 1 1| scruple 
Of thinking too precisely on the event, — 
A thought, which, quarter'd, hath but one part 

wisdom. 
And, ever, three parts coward, — I do not 

know 
Why yet 1 live to say, This thing's todo ; 
SithH^' 1 have cause, and will, and strength, and 

means. 
To do't. Examples, gross as earth, exhort me: 
Witness, this army of such mass, and charge, 
Led by a delicate and tender prince ; 
Whose spirit, with divine ambition pufF'd, 
Makes mouths at the invisible event; 
Exposing what is mortal, and unsure, 
To ail that fortune, death, and danger, dare 
Even for an egg-shell. Rightly to be great. 
Is, not to stir without great argument; 
But £;reatly to find quarrel in a straw, [then. 
When honour's at the stake. How stand I 
That have a fither kill'd, a mother stain'd. 
Excitements of my reason, and my blood, 
And let all sleep? while, to my shame, I see 
The imminent death of twenty thousand men, 
That, for a fantasy, and trick of famt 
Go to their graves like bt <1s; fi- hi for a plot 
Whereon the numbers cai.not try the cause, 
Wiiic'h is not tomb enougli, and continent, 
To hide the slain?— O, from this lime foith. 
My thoughts be bloody, or be nothing v. orth ! 

[I'b^it 



• Right, ready. t Attend. J Value, estimate. § Successes. 

Presence. H Force*. •♦ Polander. +t Profit. jl Power of comprehension 

$j Grow mouldy. jjlj Cowardly. H^ i^ine. 



1315 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IT 



SCENE V. Elnrore. A Room in the Castle, 
Enter Queen and Horatio. 

Queen. 1 will n.ot ?pc?.k with her. 

Hor. She is importunate ; indeed, distract ; 
Her mood will needs be pitied. 

Queen, What would she have! 

jflor, vShe speaks much of her father ; says, 
she hears, [beats her heart; 

There's tricks i'the world ; av.d hems, and 
Spurns enviously at straws; speaks things in 
doubt, [thing, 

That carry but half sense : her speech is no- 
Yet the unshaped use of it doth move 
The hearers to collection ; they aim* at it, 
And botch the words up lit to their own 

thoughts ; 
Which, as lier winks, and nods, and gestures 

yield them, 
Indeed would make one think, there might be 

thouj'it, 
Though nothing sure, yet much unhappily. 
Queen. *T were good, she were spoken with ; 
for she may sfrew 
Dangeious conjectures in ill-breeding minds : 
Let her come in. \^Exit Horatio. 

To my sick soul, as sin's true nature is, 
P'ai.V tcj' t seems nro'cgi e to some great amiss: 
So tiid of artless jea'ci.sy is guilt. 
It spills itself in fearing to be spilt. 

Re-enrer Horatio, with Ophelia. 
Oph. Where is the beauteous majesty of 

Denmark ? 
Queen. How now, Ophelia? 
Oph. Ho7v should I your true love knoiv 
From another one? 
By his cockle hat and staffs 
And his sandal shoont. [Singing. 
Queen. Alas, sweet lady, what imports this 

song? 
Oph, Say you ? nay, pray you, mark. 

He is dead and gone, lady, [Sings. 

He is dead and gojie ; 
At his head a grass-green turf^ 
At his heels a stone. 
O, ho! 

Queen. Nay, but Ophelia, 

Oph. Pray you, mark. 

White his shroud as the mountain 
snow, [Sings. 

E7iter King. 
Queen. Alas, look here, my lord. 
Oph. Larded ^ all with sweet floicers ; 
VVldch bcwept to the grave did go, 
With true-love showers. 
Kins.' How do you, pretty lady? 
Oph. Well, God'ield (| yoiii They say, the 
owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know 
what we are, but know not what \^e may be. 
God be at your table! 

Kin^. Conceit upon her father. 

Oph. I'ray, let us have no words of this ; 

• Guess. t Trifle. ♦ Shoe. 

% Do on, i e., put on. ♦* Do up. 

JJ Without judgment 



but when they ask you, what it means, say 

you this: 

Good morrow, His Saint Valentine's 
All iji the morning betime, [day. 

And I a maid at your zvindow. 

To be your Valentine : 
Then up he rose, and doned IT his clothes, i 

A7id dupp*(l ** the chamber door ; 
Let in the maid, that out a maid 
Never departed more. 
King, Pretty Ophelia! 
Oph. In ieed, without an oath, Pll make an 
end on't: 
By Gin, and by Saint Charity W, 

Alack, and fief or shame ! 
Young men tv II d(/t, if they come to*l ; 

By cock, they are to blame. 
Quoth she, before you tumbled me, 
Yeu promised me to wed: 
[He answers.] 
So would I ha' done, by yonder sun, 
An thou had St not come to my bed. 
King. How long hath she been thus? 
Oph. I hope, all will be well We mustb 
patient : but I cannot choose but weep, tc 
think, they should lay him i'the col I ground i 
My brother shall know of it, and so I thank 
yon for yo«r good counsel. Come, my coach : 
Good night, lidies; good night, sweet ladies! 
good night, good night. {Exit, 

King Follow ht.r close ; give her good watch 
1 pray you. [Exit Horatio. 

O! this is the poison of deep grief; it springs 
All from her father's death : And now behold, 
O Gertrude, Gertrude, [spies, 

When sorr«^v8 conie, they come not siiigle 
But in battalions I First, her father slain : 
Next, your son gone ; and he most violent 

author 
Of his own just remove : The people muddied. 
Thick and unwholesome in their thoughts and 
whispers, [but greenly :|:J. 

For good Polonius* death ; and we have done 
In hugger-mugger 5J to inter him : Poor Ophe« 

iia 
Divided from herself, and her fair judgment ; 
Without the which we are pictures, or mere 

beasts. 
Last, and as much containing as all these, 
Her brother is in secret come from France: 
Feeds on his wonder, keeps himself in clouds. 
And wants not buzzers to infect his ear 
With pestilent speeches of his father's death; 
Wherein necessity, of matter beggar'd. 
Will nothing stick our person to arraign 
In ear and ear. O my dear Gertrude, this. 
Like to a murdering piece, in many places 
Gives me superfluous death! \^A iioise within. 
Queen. Alack! v/hat noise is this? 

Enter a Gentleman. 
King. Attend. 

$ Garnished. P Reward, 

ft Saints in the Roman Catholic calendar. 
^ Privately. 



Sifr,e v.] 



HAMLKT, PRINCE OF DEMMARK. 



1017 



Where are my Switzers*! Let them guard the 
What is the matter^ [door ; 

Gent. Save yourself, my lord ; 

The ocean, overpeering of his listt, 
Eats not the fiats with more impetuous haste, 
Thau young Laertes, in a riotous head, [lord ; 
O'erbears your officers! The rabble call him. 
And, as the world were now but to begin. 
Antiquity forgot, custom not known. 
The ratifiiers and props of every word, 
I'hey cry. Choose ive ; Laertes shall be king. 
Caps, hands, and tongues, applaud it to the 
iMxertes shall be kmg ! Laertes king ! [clouds. 

Queen. How cheerfully on the false trail | 
they cry ! 
.0, this is counter §, you false Danish dogs. 

King. 1 he doors are broke. [Noise within. 
Enter L\ertks, a^med; Danesfollon-ing, 

Laer. Where is this king? — Sirs, stand you 

Duji. No, let's come in. [all without. 

Laer, 1 pray you, give me leave. 

Dan. We will, we will. 

[They retire without the door. 

Laer, I thank you : — keep the door. — O 
Give me my father. [thou vile king. 

Queen. Calmly, good Laertes. 

Laer. That drop of blood, that's calm, pro- 
claims me bastard ; [harlot 
Cries, cuckold, to my father; brands the 
Even here, between the chaste unsmirchedjl 
Of my true mother. [brow 

King. What is the cause, Laertes, 

■J'hat thy rebellion looks so giant-like? — 
Let hiu) go, Gertrude ; do not fear our person ; 
There's such divinity doth hedge a king, 
That treason can but peep to what it would, 
Acts little of his will. — Tell me, Laertes, 
Why thou art thus incensed; — Let him go, 
Speak, man. [Gertrude; — 

Laer. Where is my father? 

King. Dead. 

Queen. But not by him. 

King. Let him demand his fill, [gled with ; 

Laer. How came he dead? I'll not be jug- 
To heil, allegiance! vows, to the blackest devil! 
Conscience, and grace, to the profoundest pit! 
I dare damnation : To this point I stand, — 
That both the worlds 1 give to negligence. 
Let come what comes ; only I'll be revenged. 
Most thoroughly for my father. 

King. Who shall stay you? 

Laer. My will, not all the world's : 
And, for my means, Pll husband them so well. 
They shall go far with little. 

Ki7ig. Good Laertes, 

If you desire to know the certainty [revenge, 
Of your dear father's death, is't writ in your 
That, sweepstake, you will draw both friend 
Winner and loser? [and foe, 

Laer. None but his enemies. 

King, Will you knc^w them then? 

Laer. To his good friends thuswid^i I'll ope 
my arms ; 



And, like the kind life-rend*ring uelican. 
Repast them with my blood. 

King, Why, now you speal 

Like a good child, and a true gentleman. 
That I am guiltless of your father's death. 
And am most sensibly in grief for it, 
It shall as level to your judgment 'pear ^, 
As day does to your eye. 

Danes, [ff'ithin.] Let her come in. 

Laer, How now! what noise is that? 
Enter O'pb.eIuW, fantastically dress*divith 

Straws and Fioivers. 
O heat, dry up my brains! tears seven timci 

salt. 
Burn out the sense and virtue of mine eye!— 
By heaven, thy madness shall be paid with 

weight. 
Till our scale turn the beam. O rose of May I 
Dear maid, kind sister, sweet Ophelia! 
O heavens! is't possible, a young maid's wits 
Should be as mortal as an old man's life? 
Nature is fine** in love : and, where 'tis fine. 
It sends some precious instance of itself 
After the thing it loves. 

Oph. They bore hint barefaced onthe bier : 
Hey no nonny, nonny hey nonny : 
And in his grave rai?i*dmany a tear; 
Fare you well, my dove ! 

Laer. Hadst thou thy wits, and didst per- 
il could not move thus. [suade revenge, 

Oph. You must sing, Dou7i-a-doirn, ait 
you call him a-down-a. O, how the wheel rf 
becomes it! It is the false steward, that stola 
his master's daughter. 

Laer. This nothing's more than matter. 

Oph. There's rosemary, that's for remem- 
brance ; pray you, love, remember : and there 
is pansies, that's for thoughts. 

Laer. A document in madness; thoughts 
and remembrance fitted. 

Oph. There's fennel for you, and colum- 
bines :— there's rue for you ; and here's some 
for me : — we may call it, herb of grace o'Sun- 
days : — you may wear your rue with a differ- 
ence :j:J. — There's a daisy : — I would give you 
some violets; but they withered all, when my 
father died : — They say, he made a good 

end, 

For bonny sweet Robi?i is all my joy. — 

[Sintis. 

Laer. Thought §§ and affliction, passion, hell 

She turns to favour, and to prettiness. [ilst If, 

Oph. And will he not come again? [Sings. 
And will he not cotne again 7 

Noy no, he is dead. 

Go to thy death-bed. 
He never will come again. 

His beard teas as white as snoiv, 

AU flaxen was his poll : 
He is gone, he is gone. 
And 71 e cast atvay moan; 

God 'a mercy on his soulJ 



* Guards. + Bounds. t Scent. 

§) Hounds run counter w hen they trace the set nt backwards. 
*ff Appear. ** Artful. tt The bui then. xj i.e. 

of grace" mine is inerdy rue, i. e., sorrow. 



Clean, undefiled. 
By its Sun(!.iv nauic " her' 
^ Melancholv. 



1018 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act IV 



And of all Christian Suuls ! I pray God. God 
be wi' you I [£'.ni Oa-helia. 

Laer. Do you see this, O God? [grief, 

King. Laertes, i must commune with your 
Or yon deny me right. Go but apart, [wiU, 
Make choice of whom your wisest friends you 
And they shall hear and judge 'tvyixt you ^d 
If by direct or by collateral hand [me : 

They find us touch'd, we will our kingdom give, 
Oi?r crown, our life, and all that we call ours, 
To you in satisfaction ; but if not. 
Be you content to lend your patience to us, 
And we shall jointly la-bour with your soul 
To give it due content. 

Laer. Let this be so ; 

His means of death, his obscure funeral, — 
No trophy, sword, nor hatchment o*er his 

bones, 
No noble rite, nor formal ostentation, — 
Cry to be heard as 'twere from heaven to earth 
That I must call't in question. 

King. So you shall ; 

And where the offence is, let the great axe fall 
I pray you, go with me. {Exeunt. 

SCENE VL Another Room in the same, 
Enter Horatio, and a Servant. 

Hor. What are they, that would speak with 
me ? 

Serv. Sailors, sir : 

They say they have letters for you. 

Hot. Let them come in ;— 

{Exit Servant. 
1 do not know from what part of the world 
1 should be greeted, if net from lord Hamlet. 
Enter Sailors. 

1 Sail. God bless you, sir. 

Hor. Let him bless thee too. 

1 Sail. He shall, sir, au't please him. 
There's a letter for you, sir : it comes from 
the ambassador that was bound for England ; it 
your name be Horatio, as lam let to know it iie. 

Hor. {Reads.'] Horatio, tvlien thou skalt 
have our looked this, give these fellows some 
means to the king: they have letters for 
him. Ere we were ttvo days old at sea, a 
pirate of very warlike uypointatent g<iie us 
chase: Finding ourselves too slow of sail, 
tve put on a compelled valour, and in the 
grapple I boarded them: on the instant, 
they got clear of our ship, so I alone be- 
came their j risoner. They have dealt with 
me, like thieves of mercy ; but they knew 
iJhat they did ; I am to do a good turn 
for them. Let the ki?ig have the letters I 
have sent : and repair thou to me with as 
much haste as thou ivonldst fly death. J 
have words to speak in thme ear,ivill make 
thee dumb ; yet are they much too light for 
the bore of the matter. These iiood felloivs 
will bring thee where I am. Rusencruntz 
and Guildenstern hold their course for 
England: of them I have much to tell tnee, 
Farewell. He that thou knowest thine, 

Hamlet, 



Come, I will give you way for these ^v^ur 

letters ; 
And do't the speedier, that you may direct me 
To him from whom you brought the n 

{Exeunt, 

SCENE VII. Another Room in the same, 
Efiter King and Laertes. 

King. Now must your conscience my ac- 
quittance seal. 
And you must put me in your heart for friend ; 
Sith* you have heard, and with a knowing ear. 
That he, which hath your noble father slain. 
Pursued my life. 

Laer. It well appears : — But tell me. 

Why you proceeded not against these feats. 
So crimeful and so capital in nature. 
As by your safety, greatness, wisdom, all things 
You mainly were stirr'd up. [else, 

King. O, for two special reasons. 

Which may to you, perhaps, seem much un- 
sinewed t, [mother, 

But yet to me they are strong. The queen his 
Lives almost by his looks ; and for myself, 
(My virtue, or my plague, be it either which,) 
She is so conjunctive to my life and soul, 
That, as the star moves not but in his sphere, 
I could not but by her. The other motive, 
Why to a public count I might not go. 
Is, the great love the general gender j bear him : 
Who, dipping all his faults in their aflection. 
Work like the spring § that turneth wood to 
stone, [rows. 

Convert his gyves l| to graces ; so that my ar- 
Too slightly timberM for so loud a wind, 
Would have reverted to my bow again. 
And not where I had aim'd them. 

Laer. And so have I a noble father lost ; 
A sister driven into desperate terms ; 
Whose worth, if praises may go back again, 
Stood challenger on mount of all the age 
For her perfections: — But my reven^re will 
come. [must not think, 

King. Break not your sleeps for that : you 
That we are made of stuff so Hat and dull, 
rhat we can let our beard be shook with 
danger, [more: 

And think it pastime. You shortly shall hear 
I loved your father, and we love onrself ; 
And that, I hope, will teach you to imagine,— 
How now? what news? 

En'er a Messenger. 

Mess. Letters, my lord, from Hamlet: 

This to your majesty ; this to the queen. 

King. From Hamlet! who brought them? 

Aless. Sailors, my lord, they say : I saw 
them not ; [them 

They were given me by Claudio, he received 
Of him that brought them. 

King. Laertes, you shall hear them : — 
Leave us. {Exit Messenger. 

[Reads,] High and mighty, you shall know, 
I am S(t naked on your kingdom. To-mor- 
row shall 1 beg leave to sec your kingly eyes : 
when I shall, first asking your pardon the^e* 



• Since 
i Petrifying ; 



+ Deprived of strength. t Common people, 

prings are common in many parts of Enj^land. ij Chains. 



1= 



i^c£ne VIl.] 



HAMLET, PRINCE OF DEIVxliAiiK. 



lOi^ 



tirlto, recount the occasioh vf my sudden and ^ 
more strange return, Hamlet. 

What should this meaR I Are all the rest come 
Or is it some abuse, and nosnch thing? [back? 

Laer. Kaow you the hand % 

King. 'Tis Ilauilefs character. Nuked, — 
And in a postscript here, tie saj's, almie: 
Ctn you advise me ? [come ; 

Laer. I am lost in k, my lord. B-Ht let him 
it warms the very sickness in my heart, 
That I shall live and tell him to his teeth, 
Thus diddest thou. 

King. If at be so, Laertes, 

As how should it be so ( how otherwise? 
Will you be rnled by me? 

Laer. Ay, ray lord ; 

So you will not o'er-itile me to a peace. 

King. To Uiine own peace, if he be now 
retnrn'd, — 
As checking* at his voyage, and that he means 
No more to undertake it, — I will work him 
Te an exploit, now ripe in my ^levice. 
Under the which he shall not choose but fall : 
And for his death no wind of biame sliall 
breathe ; [tice, 

Bnt even his mother shall uncharge the prac- 
And call it, accident. 

La,er, My lord, I will be ruled ; 

The rather, if you could devise it so. 
That I might be the organ. 

King, It falte right. 

You have been talked of since your travel much, 
Aud that in Hamlet's hearing, for a qna'i'y 
Wherein, they say, you shine : your sum ur 

parts 
Did not together piuck such envy from him, 
A« did that one ; aud that^ in my regard. 
Of the unvvorthiest siege t. 

Laer. What part is that, my lord 1 

King. A very riband in the cap of youth, 
Yet needful too ; for youih no less becomes 
The light aud careless livery that it wears. 
Than settled age his sables, and his weeds. 
Importing bealihand graveness. — Two months 

since, 
H^re was a gentleman of NGrmand3', — [French, 
I have s^n myself, and served against, the 
And they can well on horseback ; but this 

gallant 
Had witchcraft in't ; he grew unto his seat ; 
And to such woiuirous doing brought his horse, 
As he had been incorpsed aofl demi-natured 
With the brave bt^ast : so far he tonp'd my 
That I, in forgery of shapes and tricks, [thought, 
€ome short of what he did. 

Laer. A Normac, was*t ? 

King. A Norman. 

Laer. Upon my life, Lamord. 

King. J he very same. 

Laer. I know him well : he is the brooch J, 
And gem of all the nation. [indeed, 

King. He made confession of yon; 
And gave you such a masterly r*'port. 
For art and exercise in your defence §, 



And for your rapier most especial. 

Tnat he cried out, 'twould be a sight indeed, 

if one could match you ; t-he scriraersfi of their 

nation, 
He swore, had neither motion, g«ard, nor eye. 
If >ou opposed them : JSir, this report of his 
Did Haitilet so envenom with his envy, 
That he could nothing do, but wish and beg 
Your sudden coming o'er, to play with you. 
Now, out of this, «*i*y 

Laer. What o^it of this, my U rd % 

King. Laertes, was your father dear to j v»a^ 
Or are you like the painting of a sorrow, 
A face without a heart '? 

Laer. Why ask you this? 

King. Not that I think you did not love 
your father ; 
Bat that I know, love is begun by time ; 
And that I see, in passages of proof ^, 
Time qualifies the spark and fire of it. 
There lives within the very flame of love 
A kind of wick, or snuflf, that will nbaie it ; 
And nothing is at a like goofiness still ; 
For goodness, growing to a pleui isy, 
Dies in his own too-much : J'hat we wutiid do. 
We should do when we would ; for this would 

changes. 
And hath abatements and delays as many. 
As there are tongues, are hands, are accidents. 
And then this should is like a spendthrift feigh. 
That hurts by easing. But to the quick o'lhe 
ulcer : [take, 

Hamlet comes back ; What would you under- 
1u show yourself indeed your father's son 
M::re than in words 1 

Laer. To cut his throat i'the church. 

King, No place, indeed, should nmider 
sanctuarize ; [Laertes, 

Revenge should have no bounds. But, good 
Will you do this, keep close within your cham ■ 
ber: [home: 

Hamlet, returned, shall know j'ou are come 
We'll put on those shall praise your excellericf^ 
And set a double varnish on the fame 
The Frenchman gave you ; bring you, in Snc^ 

together. 
And wager o'er yotxr heads : lie, being remiss. 
Most generous, and free from all contriving. 
Will not peruse the foils ; so that, wiih ease. 
Or with a little slmffling, jou may chouse 
A sword unbated**,and,iM a pass of practiceft. 
Requite him for your father, 

Laer. I will do't : 

And, for the purpose, I'll anoint my sword. 
I bought an unction of a mountebank. 
So mortal, that but dip a knife in it. 
Where it draws blood no cataplasm so rare. 
Collected from all simples that have virtue 
Under the moon, can save the thing from »UH(h, 
That is but scratched withal : I'll touch my 
point [ly. 

With this contagion ; that, if I gall him slight 
It may be death. 

King, Ijct's further think of tnis ; 



* Ol'jecting to. 
i S<iesC« of defence, i. e., fencing. 

** Not biaiucdas fc»»i?<«>^e- 



♦ P'?irc. t Ornament. 

U Fencers. ^ Daily experience, 

tt Exercise. 



1020 



SHAKSFEARE. 



[Act r 



Weigh, wtiat conveDtence, both of time and 

means, 
May fit ns lo onr shape : if this should fail, 
Aud that onr drift look through fur bad per- 
formance, ■ fject 
Twere beiter not assay M : therefore this pro- 
Should have a back, or second, that might hold. 
If this siionld blast in proof*. Soft,— let me 

see : — [ningsf, — 

We'll make a solemn wager on your cun- 
Ih.'t: 

When in your motion you are hot and dry, 
(As make your bouls more violent to tiiat end,) 
And that he calls for drink, 1*11 have pre 

feri'dt him [pi'ig. 

Achalice f«»r the nonce§; whereon but sip- 
If he by chance escape your venomM fctuck||, 
Our purpose may hold there. But stay, what 

noise i 

Enter Queen. 
How now, sweet queen'? 

Queen. One woe doth tread upon another's 

heel, [Laertes. 

So fast they follow: — Your sister's drown'd, 
Luer. Drown'dl O, where? [brook. 

Queen. Thei e is a willow throws ascannt the 
That shows his hoar leaves in the glassy stream ; 
Therewith fantastic garlands did she mike 
Of crow-flowers, nettles, daisies, and long 

pnrples^. 
That liberal ♦♦ shepherds give a grosser name, ' 



I But oar cold maids do dead men's fingers caA 
them : [weeds 

There on the pendent bonghs her coronet 
Clambering to hang, an envious sliver broke ; 
When down her weedy trophies, and herself. 
Fell in the weeping brook, tier clothes spread 

wide ; 
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up : 
Which time, she chanted snatches of old tunes; 
As one incapable tt of her own distress. 
Or like a creature native and indued 
Unto that element : but long it could not be. 
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink, 
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay 
To muddy death. 

Luer. Alas then, she is drown'd ? 

Queen» Drown'd. drown'd. 

Luer. Too much of water hast thou, poor 
Ophelia, 
And therefore I forbid my tears : Bat yet 
It is our trick ; nature her custom holds. 
Let shame say what it will : when these are 

g«.ne. 
The woman will be ootJI. — Adieu, my lord I 
I have a speech of fire, that fain would blaze. 
But that this folly drowns It. [t:iit. 

King. Let's follow, Gertrude: 

How ranch I had to do to calm his rage! 
Mow fear I, this will give it start ajjain ; 
Therefore, let's follow. {Kxeunt, 



ACT V. 



SCENE I —v4 Ckurch-yard, 
Enter Tuo Clowns, with Syarles, SfC, 

1 Clo. Is she to be buried in christian btt- 
nal, that v\ilfully seeks tier own salvation i 

2 ( io. I teil thee, she is ; therefore make 
her grave straight ^j : the crowner hath set on 
her, and finds it christian burial. 

1 Cln. How can that be, unless she drown- 
ed herself in her own defence? 

2 C'/u. v\ hy, 'ri>» found so. 

1 Cto. It m-jst be se ojjenriendo ; it cannot 
be else. For here lies the point : If I drown 
m>i^elf wiitiiJiily, it argues an act : and an act 
h ith three branches ; it is, to act, to do, and 
to pel form : Argal, she drowned herself wit- 
tingly. 

•2 (Ho. Nay, but hear yon, goodman deiver. 

1 Clo. Give me leave. Here lies* the water ; 
good : here stands tlie man ; good : If the 
man go to this water, and drown himself, it is, 
will he, nill he, he uoes : mark you that: but 
if the water cot^ie to him, and dn)wn him, he 
drowns not liJmself: Ar£;<il, he, Ih.Jt is not 
guilty of his own death, shortens not iiis o>wn 
life. 

2 Clo. Bnt istliis law? 

I Clu. Ay, marry is't; crowwer's-qucsl law. 



2 Clo. Will yon ha* the truth on't? If tbi» 
had not been a gentlewoman, she should have 
been buried out of christian buria.. 

1 Clo. Why, there thou s.ty'st : And the 
more pity ; that great folks shall have counte- 
nance in llvis wot Id to drown or hang them- 
selves, more than their even Ijlchriftian. Come, 
my spdde. There is no ancient gentlemen bui 
gardeners, ditchers, and grave-makers ; they 
hold up Adam's profession. 

2 Clo, Was he a gentleman ? 

1 Clo. He was the first that ever bore arms. 

2 Clo. Why, he had none. 

1 Clo. What, an a neatnen? How dost thou 
understand the scripture ? The scripture says> 
Adam digged; Could he dig without arms? 
1*11 put another qtiestiou to thee: if thou an- 
swerest me not to the purpose, confess thy- 
self— 

•2 Clo^ Go to. 

1 CSJ.U ^'hat is he, that builds stronger thar* 
cither the mason, the shipwright, or the car- 
punier? 

2 r'^/. The gallows-maker; for that frame 
outlives a thousand tenants. 

) Cto. I like thy wit svtll,in good faith; the 
tjallovvs dofS well: i ut bovv does it weli? it 
does well to those that tio ill : now thou dos-t 



• As tire-arms ^oineli > es burs' in provini; their !»t »'ng!li. •♦ Skill. I Pie.-ei.itd, 

\ cup for the purpose. if Tl.rujit. V (hrhts morio was. ** i.iceuuou6. 

it Iii*eAfcjbit. ;: Ttara ., iii .lu .^ ^ imiuidirAiely. li,i Fellow* 



Scent /.] 



HAMLET, PHlNCli: OF DENMARK. 



1021 



ill, to say, the gallows is built stronger than 
the church ; argal, the gallows may do well 
to thee. To't a^aiii : come. 

2 do. Who builds stronger than a mason, a 
shipwright, or a carpenter ? 

1 Clo. Ay, tell me that, and unyoke •, 

2 Clo, Mai ry, now I can tell. 

1 Clo. To't. 

2 Cto, M ss, I cannot tell. 

Enter Hamlet and Horatio, at a dis- 
tance. 
1 Clo. Cudgel thy brains no more about it ; 
for your dull ass will not mend his pace with 
beating; and when you are asked this question 
next, say, a grave-maker; the houses that he 
makes, lasts till doomsday. Go, get thee to 
Yaughan, and fetch me a stoup of liquor. 

[Exit 2 Clown, 
1 Clown digs, and sings. 
/n youth when I did love, nid lovef, 

Methought it was very stveet^ 
To contract, O, the time, for, ah, my behove 
O, tnethought, there was nothing meet. 
Ham. Has this fellow no feeling of his bu- 
siness 1 he sings at grave-making. 

Uor. Custom hath made it in hioi a pro- 
perty of easiness 

Ham. *Ti3 e'en so : the hand of little em- 
ployment hath the daintier sense. 
1 Clo. Uut age, with his stealing stepsj 
Hathclau*d me in his clutch, 
And hath shipped me into the land. 
As if I had never been such 

[Throws up a scull. 
Ham. That scull had a tongue in it, and 
could sing once: How the knave jowls it to 
the ground, as if it were Cain's jaw-bone, that 
did the first murder! This might be the pate 
of a politician, which this ass now o'er-reaches ; 
one that would circumvent God, might it 
not? 

Hor. It might, my lord. 
Ham. Or of a courtier; which would say, 
Good-morroiv, my sioeet lord! How do^t 
thou,ji,ood lord? This might be my lord such-a- 
one, that praised iiry lord snch-a-one's horse, 
when he meant to beg it; might it not? 
Hor* Ay, my lord. 

Ham. Why, e'el^ so: and now my lady 
Worm's ; ciiaple*s, and knocked about the 
mazzird with a sexton's spade: Here's tine 
revolution, an we had the trick to see't. Did 
these bones cot no moi e the breeding, but to 
play at ioggatsi with them? mine ache to 
think on't. 

1 Clown. 
A pickaxe, and a spade, a spade, [Sings. 

For — and a shrouding-sheet : 
O, a pit of clay for to he made 
Kir such a guest is meet. 

[Throws up a scull. 

Ham. There's another: VV^hy may net that 

be the scull of a lawyer? Where be his quid- 

• Give over. 
Vol 



lits § now, bis quillets H, his cases, his tenures, 
and bis tricks? why does he sntter this rud« 
knave now to knock him about the sconced 
with a dirty shovel, and will nottvU him ol 
his action of battel y? Humph! This fellow 
might be iu's time a great buyer of land, with 
his statutes, his recognizances, his tines, his 
double voucheis, his recoveries: Is this the 
fine of his fines, and the recovery of his reco- 
veries, to have his fine pate lull of tine dirt? 
will his vouchers vouch him no more ot his 
purchases, and double ones too, than the length 
and breadth of a pair of indentures? The 
very conveyances of his lands will haidly lie 
in this box? and must the inheritor himseif 
have no more ? ha? 

Hor. Not a jot, my lord. 

Ham. Is not parchment made of sheep- 
skins ? 

Hor. Ay, my lord, and of calves' skins too. 

Ham. They are sheep, and calves, which seek 
out assurance in that. I will speak to this fel- 
low : — Whose grave's this, sirrah ? 

1 Clo. Mine, sir. — 
O, a pit of clay for to be made [Sings, 

For such a auest is meet. 

Ham. I think it be thine, indeed ; for thoa 
liest in't. 

1 Clo. You lie out on't, sir, ard therefore it 
is not yoni^s : for my part, I do not lie in't, 
yet it is mine. 

Ham. Thou dost lie in't, to be in't, and say 
it is thine : 'tis for the dead, not for the quick ; 
therefore thou liest. 

1 Clo. 'lis a quick lie, sir; 'twill away 
again, from me to you. 

Hum. Whatman dost thou dig it for? 

1 Clo. For no man, sir. 

Ham. What woman, then? 

I Clo. Foi none neither. 

Ham, Who is to be buried in't? 

1 Clo. One, that was a woman, sir ; but, rest 
her soul, she's dead. 

Ham. How absolute the knave is ! we must 
speak by the card**, or equivocation will undo 
us. By the Lord, Horatio, these three years I 
have taken note of it ; the age is grovvn so 
picked +f, that the toe of the peasat.t omes so 
near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe. 
— How long hast thou been a f;rave-maUer? 

I Clo. Of all the days i'li.c; year, I came 
to't that day that our last king Hamlet over- 
came Fortiiibras. 

Ham. How loni4's that since? 

1 Clo. Cannot you tell that? every fool can 
tell that : It was that very day that young 
Hamlet was born: he that is mad, and sent 
into Kngland. 

Ham. Ay, marry, why was he sent inio 
England? 

1 Clo. Why, because he was mad : he shall 
recover his witR there ; or, if he do not, 'tis no 
great matter there. 



• Give over. t The song entire is printed in Perry's Reliques of Ancient English Voeiry, 
Vol. K ; it was written ! > Lord V'aux. I A/j dticiie.nt uame played as qnuits aie it > reserrt* 
^ Mibtieties. i! Frivolous (ii^iincnon*. II H^^U. •• By lire coivpas.*, or chart 

of direeljun. tf i)i»i uce aOecled. 4 S 



1022 



SHAKSPEABE. 



[Act V. 



Ham. Why'i 

1 Clo* 'Twill not be seen in him there: there 
the men are as mad as he. 

J£(im. How came he mad 1 

1 Clo. Very strangely, they say. 

Hum, How strangely? 

1 Clo. 'Faith, e'en with losing his wit*. " 

Ham, Upon what ground? 

1 Clo. \Vhy,here in Denmark; I have been 
sexton here, man and boy, thirty years. 

Ham. How long will a man lie i'the earth 
ere he rot? 

1 Clo. 'Faith, if he be not rotten before he 
die, (as we have many pocky corses now-a- 
days, that will scarce hold the laying in,) he 
will last you some eight year, or nine year : a 
tanner will last you nine year. 

Ham. Why he more than another? 

I Clo. Why, sir, his hide is so tanned with 
his trade, that he will keep out water a great 
while ; and your water is a sore decay er of 
your whoreson dead body. Here's a scull 
now haih lain you i'the earth three-and-twenty 
years. 

Ham. Whose was it ? 

1 CLo. A whoreson mad fellow's it was ; 
Whose do you think it was? 

Ham. Nay, I know not. 

1 Clo. A pestilence on him for a mad rogue ! 
he poured a flagon of Rhenish on my head 
once. This same scull, sir, was Yorick's scull, 
the king's jester. 

Ham. This? \Tukes t lie scull. 

1 Clo. E'en that. 

Ham. Alas ! poor Yorick ! — I knew him, 
Horatio ; a fellow of infinite jest, of most ex- 
cellent fancy : he hath borne me on his back 
a thousand times ; and now, how abhorred in 
my imagination it is! my gorge rises at it. 
Here hung those lips, that I have kissed I 
know not how oft. Where be your gibes 
now? your gambols? your songs? your 
flashes of merriment, that were wont to set the 
table on a roar? Not one, now, to mock 
your own grinning ? quite chap-fallen I Now 
get you to my lady's chamber, and tell her, let 
her paint an inch thick, to this favour * she 
must come : make her laugh at that. — Pr'y- 
thee, Horatio, tell me one thing. 

Jlor. What's that, my lord? 

Ha?n, Dost thou think, Alexander look'd 
o'tliis fashion i'the earth I 

Hor. E'en so. 

Ham. And smelt so ? pah ! 

[Throws down the scull. 

Hor. E'en so, my lord. 

Ham. To what base uses we may return, 
Hontio! Why may not imagination trace 
the uoble dust of Alexander, till he find it 
stopping a bung-hole? 

Hor. 'Twere to consider too curiously, to 
consider so ? 

Hum. No faith, not a jot; but to follow 
bim thiiher with modesty enough, and likeli- 



hood to lead it : As thus ; Alexander died^ 
Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth 
to dust ; the dust is earth ; of earth we make 
loam; And why of that loam, whereto he was 
converted, might they not stop a beer-barrell 
Imperious t Caesar, dead, and tnrn'd to clay. 
Might stop a hole to keep the wind away : 
O, that the earth, which kept the world in awe, 
Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw j I 
But soft I but soft! aside:— Here comes the 
king. 
Enter Priests, &c., in Procession ; the Corpse 

o/Opheli a, Laertes, and Mourners fol 

loiving; King, Queen, their Trains, S^c 
The Queen, the courtiers: Who is this they 
follow? [token, 

And with such maimed rites§! This doth be- 
The corse, they follow, did with desperate hand 
Fordo If its own life. 'Tw as of some estate H . 
Couch we a while, and mark. 

[R.etiri7ig with HoYihTio. 

Laer. What ceremony else? 

Ham, That is Laertes, 

A very noble youth : Mark. 

Laer. What ceremony else? [enlarged 

1 Priest. Her obsequies have been as far 
As we have warranty*. Her death was doubt- 
ful; [order. 
And, but that great command o'ersways the 
She should in ground unsanctified have lodged 
Till the last trumpet ; for charitable prayers. 
Shards**, flints, and pebbles, should be thrown 

on her. 
Yet here she is allow'd her virgin crantstf, 
Her maiden strewments, and the bringing home 
Of bell and burial. 

Ijaer. Must there no more be done? 

1 Priest, No more be done! 

We should profane the service of the dead. 
To sing a requiem^, and such rest to her 
As to peace-parted souls. 

Laer. Lay her i'the earth ; — 

And from her fair and unpolluted flesh, 
May violets spring ! — I tell thee,churlish priest, 
A rainist'ring angel shall my sister be, 
When thou liest howling. 

Ha?n. VV hat, the fair Ophelia ! 

Queen. Sweets to the sweet: Farewell! 

[iS'catterifig Flouers. 

I hoped, thou shonldst have been my Hamlet's 

wife ; [maid, 

I thought, thy bride-bed to have deck'd, sweet 

And not have strewed thy grave. 

Laer. ' O, treble woe 

Fall ten times treble on that cursed head, 
Whose wicked deed thy most ingenious sense 
Deprived thee of I— Hold off the earth a while, 
Till I have caught her once more in mine arms : 
[Leaps ijito the Grave. 
Now pile your dust n pon the quick §5 and dead ; 
Till of this flat a moimtain you have made 
To o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head 
Of blue Olympus. 

Ham. [Advancing.'] What is he, whose grief 



11 



• Countenance, complexion. t Imperial. % Blast. $ Imperfect obsiiquies 

Undo, destroy. ^ High rink. •* Broken pots or tiles. ft Garlands. 

XI A mass tor the dead. j^-^ Living. 



,nr. /.] 



IIA3ILET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 



1023 



Bears such an emphasis? whose phrase of sor- 
row [stand 
Conjures the wand*ring stars, and makes them 
Like wonder-wounde(J hearers? this is 1, 
Hamlet the Dane. [Leaps into the Grave* 

JLaer, The devil take thy soul ! 

[Gra'p'pl'mg with him. 

Ham. Thou pray'st not well. 
I pr*y thee take thy fingers from ray throat ; 
For, though I am not splenetive and rash. 
Yet have I in me something dangerous, 
Which let thy wisdom fear : Hold off thy hand. 

King. Pluck them asunder. 

Queen. Hamlet, Hamlet ! 

All. Gentlemen, 

Hor. Good my lord, be quiet. 

[The Attendants fart them and they 
come out of the Grave. 

Ham. Why, I will fight with him upon this 
Until my eyelids will no longer wag. [theme, 

Queen. O my son ! what theme? [thers 

Ham. I loved Ophelia; forty thousand bro- 
Could not, with all their quantity of love 
Make up my sum. — What wilt thou do for her? 

King. O, he is mad, Laertes. 

Queen. For love ©f God, forbear him. 

Ham. 'Zounds, show me what thou'lt do: 
Wou'lt weep? woui't fight? woul't fast? woui't 

tear thyself? 
Woui't drink up Esil*? eat a crocodile? 
I'll do*t. — Dost thou come here to whine? 
To outface me with leaping in her grave? 
Be buried quick with her, and so will I: 
And, ifthou prate ofmour tains, let them throw 
Millions of acres on us; i3 ' cur ground. 
Singeing his pate against the burning zone. 
Make Ossa like a wart 1 Nay, an thou'lt mouth, 
I'll rant as well as thou. 

Queen. This is mere madness : 

And thus a while the fit will work on him; 
Anon, as patient as the female dove, 
When that her golden couplets are disclosedt. 
His silence will sit drooping. 

Hum. Hear you, sir ; 

What is the reason that you use me thus? 
1 loved you ever: But it is no matter; 
Let Hercules himself do what he may, 
The cat will mew, and dog will have his day. 

[Exit. 

King. I pray thee, good Horatio, wait upon 
him. [t^xit Horatio. 

Strengthen your patience in our last night's 
speech; [7'o Laertes. 

We'll put the matter to the present push. — 
Good Gertrude, set some watch over your son. 
This grave shall have a living monument: 
An hour of quiet shortly shall we see ; 
Till then, in patience our proceeding be. 

[Exeunt. 
SCENK IL A Hall in the Castle. 
Enter Hamlet and Horatio. 

Ham. So much for this, sir; now shall you 
see the other ; — 



You do remember all the circumstance? 

Hor. Remember it, my lord! [fightin|f. 

Ham. Sir, in my heart there was a kind uf 
That would not let me sleep: methought, I lay 
Worse than the mulines+ in the bilboes j. 

Rashly, 
And praised be rashness for it,— Let us know. 
Our indiscretion sometimes serves us well. 
When our deep plots do pall |1 : and that should 

teach us. 
There's a divinity that shapes our ends. 
Rough-hew them how we will. 

Hor. That is most certain. 

Horn* Up from my cabin, 
My sea-gown scarf'd about me, in the dark 
Groped I to find out them : had mj desire ; 
Finger'd their packet ; and, in fine, withdrew 
To mine own room again : making so bold. 
My fears forgetting manners, to unseal 
Their grand contmission; where I found, Ho- 
A royal knavery ; an exact command,— [ratio. 
Larded IT with many several sorts of reasons, 
ImportingDenmark's healih,andEn2land's too. 
With, ho! such bugs** and goblins in my life. 
That, on the supervise tt, no leisure bated. 
No, not to stay the grinding of the axe. 
My head should be struck off. 

Hor. Is't possible? 

Ham. Here's the commission; read ii at 
more leisure. 
But wilt thou hear now how I did proceed? 

Hor. Ay, 'beseech you. [lanies, 

Ham. Being t^ius benetted round with vil- 
Or jj I could make a prologue to my brains, 
They had begun the play ; — I sat me down ; 
Devised a new commission ; wrote it fair : 
I onee did hold it, as our statists %% do, 
A baseness to write fair, and labour'd much 
How to forget that learning; but, sir, now 
It did me yeoman's service ; Wilt thou know 
The effect of what I wrote? 

Hor* Ay, good my lord. 

Ham,. An earnest conjuration from the kino. 
As England was his faithful tributary ; [rish ; 
As love between them like the palm might flou- 
As peace should still her wheaten garland wear. 
And stand a comma ||11 'tween rheir amities ; 
And many SHch-like as's of great charge, — 
That, on the view, and knowing of these con- 
tents. 
Without debatement further, more, or less. 
He should the bearers put to sudden death. 
Not shrivingf 5I-time allow'd. 

Hor. How was this seal'd? 

Ham. Why, even in that was heaven ordi- 
I had my father's si:rnet in my purse, [nam ; 
Which was the model *** of that Danish seal: 
Folded the writ up in form of the other; 
Subscribed it; gave't the impression; placed It 
safely, [day 

The changeling never known : Now, the ne\t 
Was our sea-fight; and what to this was bn- 
Thou know'st already. [quentt+f 



* Eisel is vinegar; but Mr. Steevens conjectures the word should be fVei^l, a river which 
falls into the Baltic ocean, f Hati hed. t Mutineers. ^ retters and h;indcfm8 brought from 
Bit boa, in S\rdin. !l Fail. II Garnished. ** Bugbears. +f Looking over. i; Before. 
^Statesmen. |||1 A note of connexion f 1! Coufesting. ♦♦•Copy. ftt Following 



1024 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act V 



Hor. So Gnildenstern and Rosencrantz go 
to*t, [cm ploy ment ; 

Ham. Why, man, they did make love to this 
They are not near my conscience ; their deieat 
Docs by their own insinuation grow: 
'Ti9 dangerous, when the baser nature comes 
Between the pass and fell incensed points 
Of mighty opposiles. 

Hor. VVhy, what a king is this! 

Ham. Does it not, think thee, stand me now 
upon? [mother; 

He that hath kill'd my king, and whored my 
PoppM in between the election and my hopes; 
Thrown out his angle for my proper life, 
And with such cozenage; is't not perfect con- 
science, [damn'd. 
To quit* him with this arm? and is't not to be 
To let this canker of our nature come 
In further evil? [England, 

Hor. It must be shortly known to him from 
What is the issue of the business there. 

Ham, It will be short : the interim is mine ; 
And a man's life no more than to say, one. 
But I am very sorry, good Horatio, 
That to Laertes I forgot myself; 
For by tlie image of my cause I see 
Tiie portraiture of his : I'll count t his favoars : 
But, sure, the bravery of his grief did put me 
Into a towering passion. 

Hor. Peace; who comes here? 

Enter Osric. 

Osr. Your lordship is right welcome back to 
Denmark. 

Ham I humbly thank you, sir. — Dost know 
this water-fly X'\ 

Hor. No, my good lord. 

Ham. Thy state is the more gracious; for 
'tis a vice to know him: He hath much land, 
and fertile : let a beast be lord of beasts, and his 
crib shall stand at the king's mess: 'Tis a 
chough §; but, as I say, spacious in the pos- 
session of dirt. 

Osr. Sweet lord, if your lordship were at 
leisure, I should impart a thing to you from 
his majesty. 

Ham. I will receive it, sir, with all diligence 
of spirit : Your bonnet to his right use ; 'tis for 
the head. 

Osr. I thank your lordship, 'tis very hot. 

H(-im. No, believe me, 'tis very cold ; the 
wind is northerly. 

Osr. It is indifferent cold, my lord, indeed. 

Ham. But yet, methinks it is very sultry 
and hot ; or my complexion • 

Osr. Exceedingly, my lord; it is very sul- 
try,— as 'twere, — I cannot tell how — My lord, 
bii» majesty bade me signify to you, that he has 
laid a great wager on yoar head; Sir, this is 
the matter, — 

Ham. I beseech you, remember 

[Hamlet moves him to put on his Hat. 



Osr. Nay, good my lord ; for my ease, in 
good faith |j. .^ir, here is newly eonie to court, 
Laertes: believe me, an absolute gentlt^man, 
full of most excellent ditterenct's"(f, of very jolt 
society, and great showing: Indeed, to speak 
feelingly of him, he if the card ** or calend>*r of 
gentry, for you shall find in him the continent tt 
of what part a gentleman would see. 

Ham. Sir, his definement suffers no perdi 
tioo in yon ; — though, I know, to divide him 
inventorily, would dizzy the arithmetic of me- 
mory ; and yet but raw neither, in respect ot 
his quick sail. But, in the verity of extolment, 
I take him to be a soul of great article ; and his 
infusion of such dearth and rareness, as, to 
make true diction of him, his semblable is his 
mirror; and, who else would trace him^ his 
umbrage, nothing more jj. 

Osr. Your lordship speaks most infallibly of 
him. 

Ham, The concernancy, sir? why do we 
wrap the gentleman in our more rawer breath? 

Osr. Sir? 

Hor, is't not possible to understand in an- 
other tongue? You will do't, sir, really. 

Ham. What imports the nomination^} of this 
gentleman? 

Osr. Of Laertes? 

Hor, His purse is empty already; all his 
golden words are spent. 

Ham. Of him, sir. 

Osr, I know, you are not ignorant 

Ham. I would, you did, sir; yet, in faith, if 
you did, it would not much approve |j| me; — 
Well, sir. 

Osr, Yon are not ignorant of what excel- 
lence Laertes is 

Ham. I dare not confess that, lest I should 
compare with him in excellence ; but, to knov/ , 
a man well, were to know himself. 4 I 

Osr. I mean, sir, for his weapon ; but in thel j 
imputation laid on him by them, in his meedHIT -' ' 
he's uttfellowed. 

Ham. What's his weapon? 

Osr. Rapier and dagger. 

Ham. Thai's two of his weapons : but, well. 

Osr. The king, sir, hath wagered with liiin 
six Barbary horses: against the which he liiis 
impawned'*** as i taUe it, six French rapieis 
and poniards, with their assigns, as giidle, 
hangers ttt, and so : Three of the carriages, in 
faith, are very dear to fancy, very responsive 
to the hilts, most delicate carriages, aiul of 
very liberal conceit. 

Ham. What call you the carriages ? 

Hor. I knew, you must be edified by the 
margent itJ, ere you had done. 

Osr, The carriages, sir, are the hangers. 

Ham, The phrase would be mort; german ^5> 
to the matter, if we could carry a cannon by 
our sides ; 1 would, it ndglit be hangers till then. 



* Requite. + For count some Editors read court. % Water^ies are gnats. 

$ A bird like a jackdaw. || The atl'ected phrase of the time. IT Distinguishing excellencies. 
•• Compass or chart, ft The country and pattern for imitation, j; This speech is a ridicule J J 
of the court jarg^ of that time. $9 Mentioning. (j!| Recommend. Uli Praise.# ■ 

••• Impomdy put down, stake<t. -in That part of the belt by which the sword was f-nspended. 
iZ Margin of a book which conlaius explanatory uotcs. §$j A-kin. 



Seme IL] 



HAMLET, PRINCE OF DEJViVlARK. 



1025 



Bat, on : Six Barbary horses against six French 
swords, their assigns, and three liberal coo- 
ceited carriages ; that'i the French bet against 
the Danish : Why is thii impawned, as you 
cailit? 

. U.st . The king, sir, hath laid, that in a dozen 
passes between yourselt and him, he kh ill not 
exceed you three hits; he hath laid, on twelve 
for nine ; and it would come lo immediale trial, 
M your luruship would vouchsafe the answer. 
Mum, How, if 1 answer, no .' 
V i>iii . I mean, my lord the opposition of your 
"iperpon in tiirtl. 
. Ham. Sir, I will walk here in the hall : If it 
please his majesty, it is the breathing time of 
day with nie ; let the foils be brought, the gen- 
tleman willing, and the kihg hold his pnrpose, 
1 will win for him, it I can ; if not, I will gain 
noihiMg but my shame, and the odd hits. 

Osr. Shall i deliver you so? 

Ham. To this effect, sir ; after what flourish 
your nature will. 

Osr* I commend my duty to your lordship. 

[Exit, 

Ham. Yours, yt)urs. — He does well to cora- 
.mend it himself ; there are no tongues else fur's 
^turn. 
^ Hor. This lapwing * runs away with th^ »hell 
(m his head. 

Ham. He did comply t with his dug, before 
he sucked it. Thus has he (and many more 
of the same breed, that, 1 know, the drossy + 
age dotes on), only got the tune of the time, 
and outward habit of encounter; a kind of 
yesty v> collection, which carries them through 
and through the most fond || and winnowed 
opinions; and do but blow them to their trial, 
the bubbles are out. 

Enter a Lord. 

Lord. My lord, his majesty commended 
him to you by young Osric, who brings back 
to him, that you attend bim in the hall : He 
sends to know, if your pleasure hold to play 
with Laertes, or that you will take longer 
time. 

Ham. I am constant to my purposes, they 
follow the king's pleasure : if his fitness speaks, 
mine is ready ; now, or whensoever, provided 
I be so able as now. 

Lord. The king, and queen, and all are 
coming down. 

Ham. In happy time. 

Lord. The queen desires you, to use seme 
gentle entertainment to Laertes, before you 
fall to play. 

Ham. She well instructs me. {Exit Lord. 

Hor. You will lose this washer, my lord. 

Ham. I do not think so ; since he went iuto 
France, I have been in continual practice; I 
shall win at the odds. But thou wouldst not 
think, how ill all's here about my heart : but it 
is no matter. 

Hor. Nay, good my lord, 

Ham. It is but foolery ; but it is such a kind 



of gain-giving H, as would, perhaps troubles 
w©mau. 

Hor. If your mind dislike any thing, obey 
it: I will forestal ** their repair Aiither, and 
say, you are not fit. 

Hum. ^ot a whit, we defy apgnry ; there is 
a jpecial providence in the fall ©f a sparrow. 
If it be now, 'tis not to come; if it be not to 
eome, W will be now ; if it be not now, jet it 
will conic : the readiness is all : Since no man, 
of anght he leaves, knows, what is't to leave 
betimes ? Let be. 

Enter )\mg, Queen, Laertes, Lords, OsBie, 
and Attendants, ivith Fotls, ^c. 
King. Come, Hamlet, come, and take this 
hand from me. 
{The King yuts the Hand of Laertes 
into that o/ Hamlet. 
Ham. Give me your pardon, sir : I have 
done you wrong ; 
But pardon it, as you are a gentleman. 
This presence tt knows, and you must need» 

have heard, 
How I am punish'd with a sore distraction. 
What I have done. 

That mightyour nature, honour, and exception. 
Roughly awake,! here proclaim was madness. 
Was't Hamlet wrong'd Laertes! TSever, Him- 
If Hamlet from himself be ta'en away, [let: 
And, when he's not himself, does wrong 

Laertes, 
Then Hamlet does it not, Hamlet denies it. 
Who does it then? His madness : If'i be so, 
Hamlet is of the faction that is wrong'd; 
His madness is poor Hamlet's enemy. 
Sir, in tlis audience, 
Let my disclaiming from a purposed evil 
Free me so far in your most generous thoughts. 
That I have shot my arrow o'er the house. 
And hurt my brother. 

Laer, I am satisfied in nature, 

Whose motive, in this case, should stir me 

most 
To my revenge : but in my terms of honour, 
I stand aloof; and will no reconcilement. 
Till by some elder masters, of known honour, 
I have a voice and precedent of peace, [time. 
To keep my name ungored J| : But till thai 
I do receive your otfer'd love like love. 
And will not wrong it. 

Ham. I embrace it freely ; 

And will this brother's wager frankly play.— 
Give us the feils ; eome on. 
Laer. Come, »»e for me. 

Ham. I'll be your f«il, Laertes ; in mine 
ignorance 
Your skill shall, like a star i'the darkest night. 
Stick fiery otf indeed. 
Laer. You mock me, sir. 

Hc-im. No, by this hand. 
King. Give them the foils, young Osrlc.— 
Cousin Hamlet, 
Yon know the wager? 

Hain. Very well, my lord ; 



• A bird which runs about immediately as it is hatched. t Compliment. 

J Worthless. ^ Frothy. || For/ow4/ read/<»-«'rf. ^Misgiving, 

•• iTevent. tf The king and queen's present e. tt luwoundtvl. 

4Sa 



1025 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act r. 



\ our grace hath laid the odds o'the weaker side. 
King, I do not fear it: 1 have seen you 
both ; — [odds. 

But since he's bettered, we have therefore 
Ijuer. Tliis is too heavy, let me see another. 
Ham. This likes me well: These foils have 
all a length ? {They prepare to play. 
Osr. Ay, my good lord. [table : — 

King. Set nie the stoups ♦ of wine upon that 
If Hamlet give the first or second hit. 
Or quit in answer of the third exchange, 
Let all the battlements theii ordnance fire ; 
The king shall drink to Hamlet's better 

breath ; 
And in the cnp an union t shall he throw, 
kicher than that which four successive kings 
In Denmark's erowu have worn; Give me 

the cups; 
And let the kettle to the trumpet speak. 
The trumpet to the cannoneer without. 
The cannons to the heavens, the heaven to 
earth, [begin ; — 

Now the king drinks to Hamlet. — Come, 
And you, the judges, bear a wary eye. 
Ham, Come on, sir. 

Jbaer, Come, my lord. {They play. 

Ham, One. 

*^aer. No. 

Ham. Judgment. 

Osr. A hit, a very palpable hit. 
I^aer. Well,— again. 

King, Stay, give me drink: Hamlet, this 
pearl is thine ; 
Here's to thy health.— Give him the cup, 

[Trumpets sound: and Cannon shot 
ofi tvithin. 
Ham. I'll play this bout first, set it by 
awhile. 
Come. — Another hit ; What say you ? 

[They play. 
L,aer, A touch, a touch, I do confess. 
King. Our son shall win. 
Queen. He's fat, and scant of breath. — 
Here, Hamlet, take my napkin J, rub thy 

brows : 
The qdieen carouses § to thy fortune, Hamlet. 

Horn. Good madam, 

King. Gertrude, do not drink. [me. 

Queen. 1 will, my lord ;— I pray you, pardon 
King. It is the poison'd cup ; it is too late. 

[Aside. 
Ham. I dare not drink yet, madam; by 

and by. 
Queen. Come, let me wipe thy face, 
Laer, My lord, I'll hit him i.ow. 
King, I do not think it. 

l^aer. And yet it is almost against my con- 
science. [Aside. 
Ham. Come, for the third, Laertes : You 
do but dally; 
1 pray you, pass with your best violence ; 
I am afeard, yon make a wanton || of me. 
Ltuer. Say you so? come on. [They play. 
Osr. Nothing neither way. 



• Large jugs. 
i Drinks good luck to yon. 
•• Mixed 



jLaer. Have at you now. 

[Laertes uounds Hamlet ; then, in 
scvjiingy they change B a piers, and 
Hamlet tvounds Laertes. 

King, Part them, they are incensed. 

Ham. Nay, come again, ^^l he Q\\eei\ fells, 

Osr. Look to the queen there, hoi 

Hor, They bleed on both sides : — How is 

Osr. How is't, Laertes ? [it, my lord ! 

L,aer. Why, as a woodcock to my own 
springe, Osric; 
I am justly kiil'd with mine own treachery. 

Ham, How does the queen 1 

Ki/tg, She swoons to see them bleed. 

Queen. No, no, the drink, the drink,— O 
my dear Hamlet ! 
The drink, the drink ; — I am poison'd. [Hies, 

Ham, O vilianyl— Ho! let the door be 
lock'd : 
Treachery ! seek it out. [Laertes/<'///j. 

L>aer. It is here, Hamlet: Hamlet, thou art 
slain ; 
No medicine in the world can do thee good. 
In thee there is not half an hour's life ; 
The treacherous instrument i* in thy hand, 
Unbated^I, and envenom'd : tie foul practice 
Hath turn'd itself on me ; lo, here I lie. 
Never to rise again: Thy mother's poison'd ; 
I can no more ; the king, the king's to blame. 

Ham. The point 
Envenom'd too I — Then, venom to thy work. 
[iStabs the King. 

Ors, 4 Lords. Treason ! treason ! 

Kin^'. O, yet defend me, friends, I am but 
hurt. [damned Dane. 

Ham, Here, thou incestuous, murd'roue 
Drink oflfthis potion :— Is the union here? 
Follow my mother. [King dies, 

Laer. He is justly served ; 

It is a poison temper'd** by himself. — 
Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet : 
Mine and my father's death come not upon 

thee ; 
Nor thine on me! [Dies, 

Ham, Heaven make thee free of it 1 I fol* 
low thee. 
I am dead, Horatio : — Wretched queen, adieu I 
You that look pale and tremble at this chance. 
That are but mutes or audience to this act, • 
Had I but time, (as this fell sergeant ff, death. 
Is strict in his arrest,) O, I could tell you, — 
But let it be :— Horatio, I am dead ; 
Thou livest ; report me and my cause aright 
To the unsatisfied. 

Hor. Never believe it; 

I am more an antique Roman than a Dane, 
Here's yet some liquor left. 

Ham, As thou'rt a man, — 

Give me the cup; let go; by heaven I'll have 
O God !— Horatio, what a wounded name, [it. 
Things standing thus unknown, shall live be- 
hind me! 
If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart. 
Absent thee from felicity awhile, 

+ A precious pearl. t Handkerchief. 

I Boy. IT The foil without a button, and poisoned .pin \ 

t* A Serjeant is a sheriff's ofticer. 



Sceyie II.] 



HAMLET, PRINCE OF DENMARK. 



1027 



And in this harsh world draw thy breath in 
To tell my story. — [pain, 

[March afar off, and Shot within. 
What warlike noise is this? 
Osr, Youns: Fortinbras, with conquest 
come from Politnd, 
To the ambassadors of England gives 
This warlike volley. 

Ham. O, I die, Horatio ; 

The potent poison quite o'er-crows *my spirit; 
I cannot live to hear the news from England : 
Bin 1 do prophesy the election lights 
On Fortinbras ; he has my dying voice ; 
So tell him, with the occurreutst, more or 

less. 
Which have solicited J. — The rest is silence. 

[Dies. 
Hot. Now cracks a noble heart; — Good 
night, sweet prince ; 
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest! 
Why does the drum come hither? 

\March fvUhin. 
Enter Fortinbras, the English Ambassa- 
dors, and Others. 
Fort. Where is this sight? 
Hor. Whut is it, you would see? 

Ifaught of wo, or wonder, cease your search. 
Fort. This quarry §cri€5 on havockjl! — O 
proud death ! 
What feast is toward in thine eternal cell. 
That thou so many princes, at a shot. 
So bloodily hast struck? 

1 A?7ib. The sight is dismal ; 

And our affairs from England come too late : 
The ears are senseless, that should give us 

hearing, 
To tell him, his commandment is fulfilled, 
That Rosencrantz and Gnildenstern are dead: 
Where should we have our thanks ? 

Hor, Not from his mouth IT, 



Had it the ability of life to thank you ; 
He never gave commandment for their death. 
But since, so jump** upon this bloody ques- 
tion, [England, 
You from the Polack tf wars, and you from 
Are here arrived; give order, that these bodies 
High on a stage be placed to the view ; 
And letmespeak,totheyetunknowing world. 
How thtse things come about : So shall you 
Of carnal, bloody, and unnatujal acts; [hear 
Of accidental judgments, casual slaughters: 
Of deaths put on by cunning, and forced 

cause ; 
And, in this upshot, purposes mistook 
Fall'n on the inventors' heads; all this can I 
Truly deliver. 

Fort. Let us haste to hear it. 

And call the noblest to the audience. 
For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune ; 
I have some rights of memory in this king- 
dom, [me. 

Which now to claim my vantage doth invite 

Hor. OfthatT shall have also cause to speak. 
And from his mouth, whose voice will dr^w 

on more : 
But let this same be presently performed. 
Even while men's minds are wild ; lest more 
On plots and errors, happen. [mischance. 

Fort. Let four captains 

Bear Hamlet, like a soldier, to the stage ; 
For he was likely, had he been put on, [sage. 
To have proved most royally : and, for his pas- 
The soldier's music, and the rights of war. 
Speak loudly for him. — 
Take up the bodies : — Such a sight as this 
Becomes thefield,buthereshowsmoch amis*. 
Go, bid the soldiers shoot. ^A dead March, 

[Exeunt, bearing off the dead Bodies ; after 
which, a Peat of Ordnance is shot off. 



» O'ercomes. + Incidents. t Incited. § Heap of dead game. Il A word 

of ceuiMire when more game was destroyed than was reasonable. IT i. e., The king's. 

** By chance. tf Polish. 



If the dramas of Shakspeare were to be characterized, each by the particular excellence 
which distinguishes it from the rest, we must allow to the tragedy of Hamlet the praise of va- 
riety. The incidents are so numerous, that the argument of the play would make a long tale. 
The scenes are interchangeably diversified with merriment and solemnity : with merriment 
that includes judicious and instructive observations; and solemnity not strained by poetical 
violence above the natural sentiments of man. New characters appear from lime to time in 
continual succession, exhibiting various forms of life and particular modes of conversation. The 
pretended madness of Hamlet causes much mirth, the mournful distraction of Ophelia fills the 
heart with tenderness, and every personage produces the effect intended, from the apparition 
that chills the blood with horror, to the fop, that exposes affectation to just contempt. 

The conduct is perhaps not wholly secure against objections. The action is indeed for the 
mo>t part in continual progression, but there are some scenes which neither forward nor re- 
tard it. Of the feigned madness of Hamlet there appears no adequate cause, for he does no- 
thing v'bich he might not have done with the reputation of sanity. He plays the madman 
most, when he treats Ophelia with so much rudeness, which seems to be wanton cruelty. 

Haml-et is, throu'^h the whole piece, rather an instrument than an agent. After he has, by 
the stratagem of the play, convicted the King, he makes no attempt to punish him; and his 
death is at last effected by an incident which Hamlet had no part in producing. 

The poet is accused of having shown little regard to poetical justice, and maybe charged 
"With equal neglect of poetical probability. The apparition left the regions of the dead to little 
purpose; the revenge which he demands is not obtained, but by the death of him that was 
ro(|uiredto take it ; and the oratirtcation, which would arise from the destruction of an usur* 
p»jr and a murderer, is abased by the untimely death of Ophelia, the young, the beautiful, ihf 
Wnji^is^ and the pious.— Johnson. 



OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 



^erison^ reprcgcnteti* 



Duke of Venice. 

Prabantio. a senator. 

Two other Senators. 

Gratiano, brother to Br ahantio. 

LuDovico, kinsman to Brabantio, 

Othello, the Moor. 

Cassio, his lieutenant, 

Iago, his ancient. 

Ro DERI CO, a Venetian gentleman. 

Mont A NO, Ot.hello^s predecessor in the go- 

vernment of Cyprus. 
Clown, servant to Othello, 



Desdemona, daughter to Brabantio, and\. 
wife to Othello. * 

Emilia, tvife to Iago, 
BiANCiA, a courtezan, mistress to Cassia, 

Oncers. Gentlemen, Mf'ssengen,Musicians j| 

Sailoi s , Attendants, ']! 

Scenet for the fir St Act, in Venice; during 
the rest of the play, at a sea-port in 
Cyprus, \ 



ACT I. 



SCENE I. Venice. A Street. 

Enter RoDERiGO and Iago. 
Rod. Tush, never tell me, I take it much un- 
kindly, 
That thou, Iago, — who hast had my purse. 
As if the strings were thine,— shouldst know 

of this. 
Jago. 'S blood, but you will not hear me : — 
If ever I did dream of such a matter, 
Abhor me. 

Rod. Thou told'st me, thou didst hold him 

in thy hate. [ones of the city, 

Iago, Despjse me, if I do not. Three great 

In pergonal suit to make me his lieutenant. 

Oft capp'd * to him ; — and, by the faith of man, 

I know my price, I am worth no worse a 

place : 
But he, as loving his own pride and purposes, 
Evades them, with a bombast circumstance t. 
Horribly stuff *d with epithets of war ; 
And, in conclusion, nonsuits 
My medintors ; for, certes J, says he, 
/ have already chose my officer. 
And what was he 'i 
Forsooth, a great arithmetician. 
One Michael Cassio, a Florentine, 
A fellow almost damn'd in a fair wife$ ; 
That never set a squadron in the field, 
Kor the division of a battle knows [rick ||, 
More than a spinster; unless the bookish tbeo- 
Wherein the toged consuls II can propose 
As masierly as he : mere prattle, without 

practice, [tion : 

Is all his soldiership. But he, sir, had the elec- 
Aud I, — of whom his eyes had seen the proof, 



At Rhodes, at Cyprus ; and on other groundi 
Christian and heaihen, — must be be-lec'd and 

calm'd 
By debitor and creditor, this counter caster**; 
He, in good time, must his lieutenant be, 
And I, (fiod bless the mark \) his Moorship'i 
ancient. [his hangm^i). 

Rod. By heaven, I rather would have been 

Iago. But there's no remedy, 'tis the curse 
of service ; 
Preferment goes by letter, and affection, 
Not by the old gradation, where each second 
Stoud heir to the first. Now, Sir, be judge 

yourself. 
Whether I in any just term am affin'd tt 
To love the Moor. 

Rod. I would not follow him then, 

Iago. O, sir, content you ; 
I follow him to serve my turn upon him : 
We cannot all be masters, nor all masters 
Cannot be truly follow'd. You shall mark 
Many a duteous and knee-crooking knave 
That, doting on his own obsequious bondage, 
Wears out his time, much like his master's ass, 
For nought but provender ; and, when he's old, 

ca8hier*d ; 
Whip me such honest knaves ; Others there are. 
Who, trimm'd in forms and visages of duty. 
Keep yel their hearts attending on themselves ; 
And, throwing but shows of service on their 
folds, [lined iheir coats, 

Do well thrive by them, and, when they have 
Do themselves homage : these fellows hare 

some soul ; 
And such a onje do I profess myself. 
For, eir. 



• Salnled. + Circumlocution. t Certainly, $ For vife some read life, supposing It 

to allude to the denunciation in the Gospel, Wo unto you when oil men shaft speak, well of 

you. U Theory. % Ruiers of the atiite. •♦ Jt was anciently ihe j ractice to reckon 

Mu sums with counters. ^-^ KeUtrd. 



^'cene //.] 



OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 



1029 



It is as sore as you are Rorieiigo, 

Were I the Moor, I woulo not be lago : 

In following him, 1 follow but ntyselr ; 

Heaven i« my judge, not I for love and doty, 

iSut seeming so, tor my peculiar end : 

For when ray outward action doth demonstrate 

The native act and figure of my heart 

In compliment extern *, 'tis not long after 

But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve 

For daws to peck at : I am not what I am. 

Rea, What a full fortune does the tbick-lips 
If he can carry't thus ! [owe t, 

lago. Call up her father. 

Rouse him : make after him, poison his de- 
light, [men. 
Proclaim him in the streets ; incense her kius- 
Aiid, though he in a fertile climate dwell, 
Plague him with flies : though that his joy be 

joy, 

Yet throw such changes of vexation on*t. 
As it may lose some colour. 

Mod. Here is her father's house; I'll call 
aloud. [dire yell, 

Jago. Do ; with like timorous accent, and 
As when, by night and negligence, the fire 
Is spied in populous cities. 

Hod. What ho! Brabantio! signior Bra- 
bantio, ho ! [thieves! thieves! thieves! 

logo. Awake ! what, ho ! Brabantio ! 
Look to your house, your daughter, and your 
Thieves ! thieves ! [bags 1 

Brabantio, above, at a Window. 

Bra. What is the reason of this terrible 
What is the matter there? [summons? 

Jiod^ Signior, is all your family within? 

logo. Are your doors lock'd"? 

Bra. Why 1 wherefore ask you this ? 

lago. 'Zounds, sir, you are robb'd ; for 
shame, put on your gown ; [soul ; 

Your heart is burst j, you have lost half your 
Even now, very now, an old black ram 
Is tupping your white ewe. Aiise, arise; 
Awake the snorting citizens with the bell. 
Or else the devil will make a grandsire of you : 
Arise, I say. 

lira. What, have you lost your wits? 

Mod. Most reverend signior, do you know 

Bra. Not I ; W hat are you? [my voice? 

Bod. My name is — Roderigo. 

Bra. The worse welcome : 

I have charged thee, not to haunt about my 

doors : 
In honest plainness thou hast heard me say. 
My daughter is not for thee ; and now, in 

madness. 
Being full of supper, and distempering § 

draughts. 
Upon malicious bravery, dost thou come 
To start my quiet. 

Rod. Sir, sir, sir, sir, 

Bra. But thou must needs be sure, 

My spirit, and my place, have in them power 
To ni;ike this bitter to thee. 

Bod. Patience, good sir. 



Bra. What tell'st thou me of robbing ? this 
is Venice ; 
My house is not a grange H 

Bod. Most grave Brabantio. 

In simple and pure soul I come to you. 

Ja^o. 'Zounds, sir, you are one of those, 
that will not serve (iod, if the devil bid you. 
Because we come to do you service, you think 
we are ruffians : You'll have your daughter 
covered with a Barbary horse; you'll have 
your nephews neigh to yon : you'll have 
coursers for cousins, and gennets for ger- 
manslF. 

Bra. What profane wretch art thon? 

lago. I am one, sir, that comes to tell yofl, 
your daughter and the JMoor are now making 
the beast with two backs. 

Bra. Thou art a villain. 

Jiigo. You are — a senator. 

Bra. This thou shalt answer: I know thee, 
Roderigo. [beseech you, 

BA)d. Sir, 1 will answer any thing. Hut I 
If't be your pleasure, and most wi.-e consent, 
(As partly, I find, it is,) that your fair daughter. 
At this odd even ** and dull watch o'the night. 
Transported — with no worse nor belter guard. 
But with a knave of commonhire, a gondoliertf 
To the gross clasps of a lascivious Moor, — 
If this be known to you, and your allowance lt» 
We then have done you bold and saucy 
wrongs; [me. 

But, if you know not this, my manners tell 
We have your wrong rebuke. Do not believe. 
That, from the sense of all civility [rence : 
I thus would play and tritle with your reve- 
Your daughter, — if you have not given her 

leave, — 
I say again, hath made a gross revolt ; 
Tying her duty, benuty, wit, and fortunes. 
In an extravagant 55 and whteling stranger. 
Of here and every where: Straight satisfy 

yourself : 
If she be in her chamber, or your house. 
Let loose on me the justice of the state 
For thus deluding you. 

Bra, Strike on the tinder, ho ! 

Give me a taper ;— call up all my people : — 
This accident is not unlike my dream. 
Belief of it oppresses me already : — 
Light, I say ! light! [Exit from above, 

lago. Farewell ; for I must leave you : 

It seems not meet, nor wholesome to iny place, 
To be produced (as, if I stay, I shall,) 
Against the Moor : For, I do know, the state, — 
However this may gall him with some check. 
Cannot with safety cast 1||| him ; for he's em- 

bark'd 
With such loud reason to the Cyprus' wars, 
(Which even now stand in act,) that, for their 
Another of his fathom they have not, [souis. 
To lead their business : in which regar<l. 
Though I do hate him as I do hell pains. 
Yet, for neci ssity of present life, 
I must show out a flag and sign of love. 



* Outward show of civility. + Own, possess. I i.e.. Is broken. 

^ Intoxicating. || A lotie farm house. ^ Relations. *• Midnight. 

W A waterman. +; Api»robation. §5 Wandering. |1|| Diapiiss. 



10^50 



SilAKSPEAHE. 



iAct L 



Which i» indued but sign. That yon shall surely 

finci hn»», 
Lead lo ihe Sdgittary the raised search : 
Ar<i there wiil i be with him. So, farewell. 

Enttr btloWf BRABANTio^arad SerMtniiwU/i 
Torches, 
tra. It is tt)0 true an evil : gone she u ; 
And wliai's lo rome of my despised time *, 
Is noiigla but iiterness. — Now, Roderigo, 
Where didst ihoii see her? -O, uiiliappy j;irn 
\V iih ilie Vioor, say'si thou? — Whowonhi be 
rt fathers [deceivest ine 

How didst thou know 'twas Ahe? O, thou 
Past ihoii-htl— -VV liat said she to you f — Get 

more tapers : 

Raise all my kindred. — Are they married think 

Hon, Tiuty, 1 think, tiiey are. [you ? 

Bra. l> heaven 1— How got she out. — O 

treason of the bluod ! — [minds 

Fathers, trom hence trust not your daugliters' 

By wlirtt you see them act. — Are theie not 

ch irm4. 
By whicii ilie property of youth and maid- 

hoiKl 
May be abused? Have yoa not read, Roderigo, 
Of home such thing i 
Bod, Yes, sir ; I have indeed. 

Bra, Call up my brother. — O, that you had 
bad her? — 
Some one way, some another. — Do yoo know 
Wliere we may apprehend her and the Moor? 
Bod. I think, 1 can discover him ; if you 
please 
To g t good guard, and go along with me. 
Bra, Pray you, lead on. At every house 
rilcall; 
1 may command at most ; — Get weapons, ho I 
And raise some special ofticeis of night. — 
On, good Roderigo ;— I'll deserve your pains. 

l^Exeunt, 

SCENE II. The same. Another Street. 

Enter Othbllo, Iago, and Attendants. 

Jugo, Though in the trade of war I have 
slain men. 
Yet do I hold it very stuff o'the conscience. 
To do no co.itrived munier ; 1 lack iniquity 
Sometimes, to do me service: Isine or ten 
limes [the ribs. 

1 had thought to have yerk'd him here under 

Oth. 'lis belter as it is. 

Iago. IJ ay, but he prated, 

And spoke sut h scurvy and provoking terms 
Ai^ainst your honour. 
That, with the little godliness I have, 
1 <lid ftdl hard forbear him. But, 1 pray, sir, 
Are >ou fast man led? for, be sure of this, — 
That ilie m.ignifico + is much beloved ; 
And haih, in his ettect, a voice potential 
As douide as the duke's; he will divorce you ; 
Or put npon you what restraint and grievance 
The law (with all his might, to enforce it on,) 
Will give him cable. 



Oth, Let him do his spile . 

My services, which I have done the si.niory, 
Snail oot-tongue hb complaints. 'Tis yet lo 
know, [nour, 

(Which, when I know that boasting i& an ho- 
I shall promulgate,) 1 fetch my life and being 
From men of royal siege;; and my demerits^ 
May speak, uubonneted ||, to as proud a for> 

tune 
As this that I have reached: For know, Iago, 
But that I love the gentle Desdemona. 
I w ouhl not my unhoused ^i free condition 
Put into circumscripiiion and con&ne 
For the sea's worth. But, lookl what lights 

come yonder? 
Enter Cassjo, at a distance, and certain 
Otticers tvith Torches. 

Iago. These ar^ the raised father, and his 
You were best go in. [friends : 

iJth, Not I: I n)nst be found; 

My parts, my title, and my perfect soui. 
Shall manitest me rightly, is it they? 

lego. By Janus, I think no. [lieutenant, 

Oth. The servants of the duke, and my 
The goodness of the night upon yon, friends I 
What is the news? 

Can, The duke does greet yon, general ; 
And he requires your haste-post-hasle appear- 
Even on the instant. [ance, 

Oih, W hat is the matter, think you ? 

Cas, Something from Cyprus, as I may di- 
vine; 
It is a business of some beat : the galleys 
Have sent a dozen sequent** messengers 
This very night at one another's heels ; 
And many of the consuls, raised, and met. 
Are at the duke's already: You have been 

hotly call'd for ; 
When, beiTig not at your lodging to be found. 
The senate hath sent about three several 
To search you out. [quests tt, 

Oth. 'lis well I am fimnd by you. 

I will but spend a word here in the house. 
And go with you. [Exit, 

Cas. Ancient, what makes he here? 

Iago. 'Faith, he tonight hath boarded a 
land carackit 
If it prove lawful prize, he's made for ever. 

Cas. I do not understand. 

Iago. He's married. 

Cas, To who 

Be enter Othello. 

Iago, Marry, to— Come, captain, will you g< t 

Oth, H' ve with you. 

Cas. Here comes another troop to seek for 
you. 
Enter Brabantio, Roderigo, «7irf Officers 

of mglit,with Torches a'nd Weuyons. 

Iago. It is Brabaniio :— general, be advised^ 
He comes to bad intent. 

Oth. Hola! stand there! 

Bod. Signior, it is the Moor. 

Bra, Down with him, thief* 

[They draw on both sides 



• Old age. t Brabantio, magnifico is his title as a senator. 

\ S«at or thrnne. $ Demerits has the same meaning in Shakspearc as merits. II Covered^ 

^ Uost'ttled. •• Following. t+ Searchers. U A rich vesee.. 



Scene II.] 



OTHELLO, TKE MOOH OF VEKICE. 



1031 



lugo. You, Rodeiigol come, sir, T am for 
you. [dew will rust tliem. — 

Oth, Keep up your bright swords, for the 
Good signior,you shall more command with 
Than with your weapons. [years, 

Bra. O thou foul thief, where hast thou 
stow'd my daughter? 
Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her ; 
For Pil refer me to all things of sense. 
If she in chains of magic were not bound. 
Whether a maid — so lender, fair, and happy; 
So opposite to marriage, that she shunn'd 
The wealthy curled darlings of our nation, 
^Vould ever have, to incur a general mock. 
Run from h»-r guardage to the sooty bosom 
Of such a thing as thou: to fear, not to de- 
light*. 
Indge me the world, if 'tis not gross in sense, 
That thou hast practised on her with foul 
charms; [nerals. 

Abused her delicate youth with drugs, or mi- 
Ihat waken motion : — I'll have it disputed on ; 
Tis probable, and palpable to thinking. 
1 therefore apprehend and do attach thee, 
For an abuser of the world, a practiser 
Of arts inhibited and out of warrant: — 
Lay hold upon him ; if he do resist. 
Subdue him at his peril. 

'Hh. Hold your hands, 

Both of you of my inclining:, and the rest : 
Were it my cue to tight, 1 should have known 

»l [go 

Without a prompter. — Where will you that 1 
To answer this your charge? 

Bra. To prison: till fit time 

Of law, and course of direct session. 
Call thee to answer. 

Oth. What if I do obey ? 

How may the duke be tiierewith satisfied? 
Whose messengers are here about my side, 
Upon some present business of the state, 
To bring me to him? 

Oj^. 'Tis true, most worthy signior, 

The duke's in council ; and your noble self, 
1 am sure, is sent for. 

Bra. Howl the duke in council! 

In this time of the night! — Bring him av\ay : 
Wine's not an idle cause: the duke himself. 
Or any of my brothers of the state. 
Cannot but feel this wrong, as 'twere their own : 
For if such actions niay have passage free, 
Bond slaves, and pagansf, shall our statesmen 
be. [Kitunt. 

SCENE III. T/ie same. A Council 

Chamber, 

The Duke, anff Senators, .sitthig at a Table; 

Officers attending. 

Duke. There is no composition! in these 

That gives them credit. [news, 

1 Sen. Indeed, they are disproportion'd; 
My letters say, a hundred and seven galleys. 

D-uke. And mine, a hundred and forty. 

2 Sen. And mine, two hundred : 
But though they jump not ou a just account. 



(As in these cases, where the aim ^ reports, 
*Ti8 oft with dirterence,) yet do they all con- 
firm 
A Turkish fleet, and bearing up to Cyprus. 

Duke. Nay, it is possible enough to judg- 

I do not so secure me in the error, [rnent; 

But the main article 1 do approve 

In fearful sense. [what ho! 

Sailor. \Withiri?^ What ho! what ho! 

Enter an Officer, ivith a Sailor. 
Off. A messenger from the galleys. 
Duke, ^ow? the business? 

Sailor. The Turkish preparation makes foi 
li bodes; 
So was 1 bid report here to the state. 
By siunior Angelo. 

Duke. How say you by this change ? 
I Sen. This cannot be 

By no assay of reason ; 'tis a pageant, 
1 o keep us in faUe gaze : W hen we consider 
The imporlancy of Cyprus to the luik ; 
And let ourselves again but understand. 
That, as it more concerns the Turk than 

Rhodes, 
So ma> he with more facile question Ij bear it. 
For that it stands not in such warlike brace If, 
But altoge her lacks the abilities 
That Rhodes is dress'd in : — if we make 

thought of this. 
We must not think, the Turk is so unskilful. 
To leave that latest which concerns lum tirsi ; 
Neglecting an attempt of ease, and gain, 
To wake, and wage**, a danger profitless. 
Duke. Nay, in all confidence, he's not for 
Off. Here is more news. [Rhodes. 

Enter a Messenger. 
Mess. The Otlomites, reverend and graci- 
ous, [Khodts, 
Steering with due course toward the isle of 
Have there injointed them with an after fleet. 
1 Stu. Ay, so 1 thought: — How man} as 
you guess ? [stem 
Mess. Of thirty sail : and now do they re- 
Their backward couise, bearing with frank 
appearance [lano. 
Their purposes toward Cyprns. — Signior Muo- 
Your trusty and most valiant servitor, 
\\ ith his free duty recommends you thus. 
And prays you to believe him. 

Duke. '1 is certain then (or Cyprus. — 
Marcus Lucchese, is he not in town I 
1 Sen. He's i ow in Florence. 
Duke. Write from us; wish him post-post- 
haste despatch. [liaut Moor, 
1 Sen. Here comes Bra', antio, and the va- 
Enter Brabantio, Oihlilo, Iago, Ro- 
DERiGo, and Officers. 
Duke. Valiant Othello, we must straight 
employ you 
Against the genera! enemy Ottoman. 
I did not see you ; welcome, gentle signior ; 

[To Bkabantio. 
We lack'd your counsel and your help to-night. 
Bra. Sb did I your's : Good your grace, 
pardon me ; . 



• To terrify not delight. 
% Conjecture. 



+ The pagans and bond-slaves of Africa. 
I Easy dispute. % Slate of defence. 



t Consistency. 
*♦ Combal. 



1032 



SIIAKSPEARE. 



[Act I 



Neither my place, nor aught 1 heard of busi- 
ness, 
Hath raised me from my bed ; nor doth the 

general care 
Take hold on me ; for my particular grief 
Is of so flood-gate and o'er bearing nature, 
That it engiuts and swallows other sorrows. 
And it is still itself. 

Duke. Why, what's the matter 1 

Bra. My daughter! O, my daughter I 

A'€w. Dead ? 

Bra, Ay, to me ; 

She is abused, stolen from me, and corrupted 
By spells and medicines bought of mounte- 
For nature so preposterously to err, [banks : 
Bein-i not deficient, blind, or lame of sense, 
Sans* witchcraft could not [ceeding, 

Duke, Whoe'er he be, that, in this foul pro- 
Hath thus beguiled your daughter of herself, 
And you of her, the bloody book of law 
Yon shall yourself read in the bitter letter, 
After your own sense ; yea, though our pro- 
Stood in your action t. [per son 

Bra* Humbly I thank your grace. 

Here is the man, this Moor ; whom now, it 

seems, 
Your special mandate, for the state affairs, 
Hath hither brought. 

Duke 4: Sen, We are very sorry for it. 

Duke, What, in your own part, can you 
say to this? \To Othello. 

Bra. Nothing but this is so. [uiors, 

Oth. Most potent, grave, and reverend sig- 
My very noble and approved good masters. 
That 1 have ta'en away this old man's daughter, 
It is most true ; true, I have married her ; 
The very head and front of my offending 
Hath this extent, no more. Rude am 1 in my 

speech. 
And little bUss'd yv\\.\\ the set phrase of peace ; 
For since these arms of mine haih seven years' 
pith, [used 

Till now some nine moons wasted, they have 
Their dearest action \ in ihe tented tield ; 
And little of this gre it world can I speak, 
More than pertains to feats of broil and battle ; 
And therefore little shall I grace my cause. 
In speaki'ig for myself: Vet, by your gracious 

patienre, 
i will a round unvarnish'd tale deliver 
Of my \t hole course of love ; what drugs, 

what charms. 
What conjuration, and what mighty magic, 
(For such proceeding I am charged withal,) 
1 won his daughter with. 

Bra. A maiden never bold ; 

Of spirit so still and qniet, that her motion 
Blusli'dat hers-elf ; And she, — in spiteof nature, 
Of years, of country, credit, every thing, — 
.i<» fall in love with what she fear'd to look on? 
It is a jnrigmenf maim'(l,and most imperfect, 
1 hat will cojifeis— perfection so could err 
Again>t all rules of nature ; and must be driven 
To lind out practices of cunning hell, i 



Why this should be. I therefore vouch again. 
That wiif) some mixtures powerful o'er the 

blood, 
Or with some dram conjured fo this effect. 
He wrought upon her. 

Duke. To vouch thts is no proof; 

Without more certain and^iore overt test ^, 
Than these thin habits, and poor likelihoods 
Of modern seeming Ij, do prefer against hira. 

1 Sen. But, Othello, speak ;— 
Did you by indirect and forced courses 
Subdue and poison this young maid's aftectionst 
Or came it by request, and such fair question 
As soul to soul aftordeth ? 

Oth. I do beseech yon. 

Send for the lady to the Sagittary IT, 
And let her speak of me before her father : 
If you do find me foul in her report. 
The trust, the office, I do hold of you, 
Not only take away, but let your sentence 
Even fall upon my life. 

Duke, Fetch Desdemona hither. 

Oth. Ancient, conduct thera ; you best know 
the place.— 

[Exeunt Iago and Attendant*. 
And, till she come, as truly as to heaven 
I do confess the vices of my blood, 
So justly to your grave ears I'll present 
How I did thrive in this fair lady's love. 
And sue in mine. 

Duke, Say it, Othello. 

Oth. Her father loved me ; oft invited me ; 
Still question'd me the story of my life, 
From year to year ; the battles, sieges, for- 
That I have pass'd. [tunes, 

I ran it through, even from my boyish days. 
To the very moment that he bade me tell it. 
Wherein I spoke of most disastrous chances. 
Of moving accidents, by flood, and field ; 
Of hair-breadth scapes i' the imminent deadly 
Of being taken by the insolent foe, '[breach ; 
And sold to slavery ;of my redemption thence. 
And portance ** in my travel's history : 
Wherein of antres tt vast, and deserts idle, 
Rough quarries, rocks, and hills whose heads 

touch heaven. 
It was my hint to speak, such was the process; 
And of the Cannibals that each other eat. 
The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads 
Do grow beneath their shoulders. These thingi 

to hear. 
Would Desftcmona seriously incline : [thence; 
But still the house affairs would draw her 
Which ever as she could with haste despatch, 
She'd come again, and with a greedy ear 
Devour up my discourse: Which I observing, 
Took once a pliant hour ; and found good mean* 
To draw from her a prayer of earnest heart. 
That I would all my pilgrimage dilate. 
Whereof by panels ji she had something 
But not intentively^^ : I d4d consent; [heard. 
And often did beguile her of her tears. 
When I did speak of some distressful stroke. 
That my youth sutfur'd. My story being done. 



* Without. t Accusation. | Best exertion. § Open proof. 

5 Wwtkshow. II The sign of the fictitious creature so called. ** My behaviour. 

^ Cdve» and dens. ;; Fart». jj Intention and attewtion were once synonyujou*. 



^cene ilL] 



OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 



1033 



She gave me for my pains a world of sighs : 
She swore, — In faith, 'twas strange, 'twas 

passing strange ; 
Twas pitiful, 'twas wondrous pitiful : 
She wish'd, she had not heard it; yet she 

wish'd 
That heaven had made her such a man : she 

thank'd me ; 
And bade me, if I had a friend that loved her, 
I should but teach h^m how to tell iny story. 
And that would woo her. Upon this hint, I 

spake : 
She loved me for the dangers I had passed ; 
And I loved her, that she did pily them. 
This only is the witchcraft I have used ; 
Here comes the lady, let her witness it. 
JSnter I>ESDEy\os\y Iago, tf>id Attendants. 
Duke. I think, this tale would win my 
Good Brabantio, [daughter too. — 

Take np this mangled matter at the best : 
Men do their broken weapons rather use. 
Than their bare hands. 

jBra. ^ray you, hear her speak ; 

If she confess, that^e was half the wooer. 
Destruction on my head, if my bad blame 
Light on the man ! — Come hither, gentle mis- 
tress ; 
Do you perceive in all this nobte company. 
Where most you owe obedience 1 

Des. My noble father, 

I do perceive here a divided duty : 
To you, I am bound for lite, and education ; 
My life, and education, both do learn me 
How to respect you ; you are the lord of duty, 
I am hitherto your daughter : But here's my 

husband ; 
And so much duty as my mother showed 
To you, preferring you before her father. 
So much I challenge that I may profess 
Due to the Moor, my lord. 

Bra. God be with you ! — I have done :— 
Please it your grace, on to the state affairs ; 
I had rather to adopt a child, than get it. — 
Come hither. Moor : 

I here do give thee that with all my heart, 
Which, but thou hast already, with all my 
heart [jewel, 

I would keep from thee. — For your sake, 
I am glad at soul 1 have no other child ; 
For thy escape would teach me tyranny. 
To hangdogs on them. — 1 have done, my lord. 
Duke. Let me speak like yourself; and lay 
a sentence, [lovers 

Which, as a grise*, or step, may help these 
Into your favour. 

"When remedies are past, the griefs are ended. 
By seeing the worst, which tete on hopes de- 
pended. 
To mourn a mischief that is past and gone. 
Is the next way to draw new mischief on. 
What c?4nnot be preserved when fortune takes. 
Patience her injury a mockery makes. 
Ihe robbM, that smiles, steals something from 

the thief; 
He robs himself, that spends a bootless grief. 



Bra. So let the Turk of Cyprus us beguile ; 
We losel t not, so long as we can smile. 
He bears the sentence well, that nothing bears 
But the free comfort which from thence he 

hears : 
But he bears both the sentence and the sorrow. 
That, to pay grief, must of poor patience bor- 
These sentences, to sugar, or to gall, [row 
Being strong ou both sides, are equivocal : 
But words are words ; I never yet did hear. 
That the bruised heart was pierced through the 
ear t. [of state. 

I humbly beseech you, proceed to the affairs 

Duke. The Turk with a most mighty pre- 
paration makes for Cyprus :— Othello, the for- 
titude of the place is best known to you : And 
though we have there a substitute of most 
allowed sufficiency, yet opinion, a sovereign 
mistress of effects, throws a more safer voice 
on you : you must therefore be content to 
slubber J the gloss of your new fortunes with 
this more stubborn and boisterous expedition. 

0th. The tyrant custom, most grave sena- 
tors. 
Hath made the flinty and steel couch of war 
My thrice-driven bed of down : I do agnize) 
A natural and prompt alacrity, 
I find in hardness; and do undertake 
These present wars against the Ottomites. 
Most humbly therefore bending to your state, 
I crave fit disposition for my wife ; 
Due reference of place, and exhibition jj. 
With such accommodation, and besort. 
As levels with her breeding. 

Duke. If you please, 

Be't at her father's. 

Bra. I'll not have it so. 

Oth, Nor I. 

Des. Nor I ; I would not there reside. 

To put my father in impatient thoughts, 
By being in his eye. Most gracious duke. 
To my unfolding lend a gracious ear; 
And let me find a charter m your voice. 
To assist my simpleness. 

Duke, What would you, Desdemona T 

Des, That I did love the Moor to live with 
him. 
My downright violence and storm of fortunes 
May trumpet to the world ; my heart's subdued 
Even to the very quality of my lord : 
I saw Othello's visage in his mind ; 
And to his honours, and his valiant parts. 
Did I my soul and fortunes consecrate. 
So that, dear lords, if I be left behind, 
A moth of peace, and he go to the war. 
The rites, for which I love him, are bereft me. 
And I a heavy interim shall support 
By his dear absence : Let me go with him. 

Oth. Your voices, lords : — 'beseech you, let 
Have a free way. [her will 

Vouch with me, heaven ; I therefore beg it not. 
To please the pal.ite of my appetite ; 
Nor to comply wiih heat, the vonng affects f. 
In my distinct and proper satisf letion ; 
But to be free and bounteous to her mind : 



• (hvsp from degrees. + i. e,. That the wounds of sorrow were ever cure«l l^y the 

words <t consoiaiiou. J Obscure. j AcKuowiedge. (j Allowance. % Attectioos- 

4 I 



1034. 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act I 



And heaven defend * your good souls, that you , drown myself for the love of a guint^a-hen, I 

think j would change my humanity with a baboon. 

I will your serious and great business scant, Hod. VV^hat should I do ? I confess, it i? my 

Fon she is with me: No, when light-wing'd shame to be so fond** ; but it is not in virtue 



toys 

Of tenthei'd Cupid see! t with wanton dulness 
My s(>ecuiative an<i active instruments. 
Tliat my disports corrupt and taint my bjisi- 

uess, 
Let housewives make a skillet i of my helm |, 
And ait indign and base adversities 
Make lieatl against my estimation! [mine, 

Duke. Be it as you shall piivately deter- 

Kither tor her stay, or going : the ati;iir cries 

—haste, [to-night. 

And speed must answer it ; you must hence 

De.v. To-night, my lord ? 

Duke. This night. 

Ot/i. With all my heart. 

Duke. At nine i*the morning here we'll 
meet again. 
Othello, leave some officer behind, 
And he shall our commission bring to you ; 
With such things else of quality and rtspect. 
As doth import you. 

Uth. Please your grace, my ancient ; 

A man he is of honesty and trust: 
To his conveyance I assign my wife, [think 
With wiiat else needful your good grace shall 
To be sent after me. 

Duke. Let it be so. — 

Good night to every one. — And, noble signior, 

[To BliABANTlO. 

If virtue no delighted beauty lack, 

Your son-in-law is far more fair than black. 

1 Sen, Adieu, brave Moor! use Desdemona 
well. [to see ; 

Bra. Look to her, Moor; have a quick eye 
She hits deceived htr farther, and may thee. 
[Exeunt Duke, Senators, Officers, 4>c. 

Oth, My lifeupon herfaith. — Ilonestlago, 
My Desdemona must I leave to ihee ; 
1 pr'yil.ee, let thy wife attend on her ; 
And bring them after in the best advantage. — 
Come, Desdemona; I have but an hour 
Of love, of worldly matters and direction. 
To spend vvith thee : we must obey the time. 
[Exeunt Othello and Desdemona. 

Rod. lago. 

Jfi^o. What say'st thou, noble heart? 

Bod. What will I do, thinkest thou? 

Jugo. Why. go to bed, and sleep. 

Bod. I will Lijcoutiuenily^ drown myself. 

/ago. Well, if thou dost, I shall never love 
thee after it. Why , thou silly gentleman ! 

Bod. It is silliness to live, when to live is a 
torment: and then have we a prescription to 
die, when denth is our physician. 

Ias,o, O villanous! 1 have looked upon the 
world for four times seven years I and since 
1 could distinguish between a benefit and an 
Injury, 1 never found a man that knew how 
to Jove himself. Ere 1 would say, I would 



to amend it. 

lago. Virtue? a fig! 'tis in ourselves, that 
we are thus, or thus. Our bodies are oiir 
gardens; to the which, our wills are garden- 
ers: so that if we will plant nettles, or sow 
lettuce; set hyssop, and weed up thyme; 
supply it with one gender of herbs, or distract 
it with many; either to have it sieril with 
idleness, or manured with industry; why, the 
power and conii^ible .uthority of this lies in 
our wills. If the balance of our lives had not 
one scale of reason to poise another oi sensu- 
ality, the blood and baseness of our natures 
would conduct us to most preposterous con- 
clusions : But we have reason to cool our 
raging motions, our carnal stings, our un- 
bitted t+ lusts; whereof I lake this, that you 
call — love, to be a sect XU or scion. 

Bod. It cannot be. 

lago. It is merely a 1^ of the blood, and a 
permission of the will.^6ome, be a man : 
Drown thyself? drown cats, and blind pup. 
pies. 1 have professed me thy friend, and I 
confess me knit to thy deserving with cables 
of perdurable toughness; 1 could never bet- 
ter stead thee than now. Put money in thy 
purse ; follow these wars ; deffeat thy favour 
with an usurped beard ;i§ ; Isay, put money in 
thy purse. It cannot be, that Desdemona 
should long continue her love to the Moor, — 
put money in ihy pnise ; — nor he his to her: 
it was a violent commencement, and thou 
shalt see an answerable sequestration; — put 
but money in thy purse. — These Moors are 
changeable in their wills ; — fill thy purse with 
money: the food that to him now is as lus- 
cious as locusts, shall be to him shortly as 
bitter as coloqnintida. She must change lor 
youth: when she is sated with his body, she 
will find t^ie error of her choice — She must 
have change, she must ; therefore put momry 
in thy purse. — U thou wilt needs damn thy- 
self, <lo it a nu>re delicate way than drowiv 
ing. Make all the money thou canst: If 
sanctimony and a frail vow, betwixt an err 
inglll barbarian and a supersublle Venetian 
be not too hard for my wits, and all the tribt 
of hell, thou shalt enjoy her; therefore mak* 
money. A pox of drowning thyself! it ii 
clean out of the way : seek thou rather to bo 
hanged in compassing thy joy, than to be 
drowned and go without her. 

Bod. Wilt thou be fast to my hopes, if I 
depend on the issue? 

I'igo. Thou art sure of me ; — Go, make 
money : — I have told thee often, and 1 re-teU 
thee ajiain and again, I hate the Moor : My 
cause is hearted : thine hath no less reason ; 
Let us be conjunctive in our revenge against 



• Forbid. 
H Helmet. 



t Because. 
IF Imme< I lately. 



X Blind. 

♦* Foolish. 



tt A sect is what the gardeners c.dl a cutting. 



$ A small kettle. 
■H Unbridled. 



II 
1 



^ Change your countenance witA a taise beard. 



IJU Wandering. 



i 



Scene 111.] 



OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 



1035 



liim: if thon canst cackold him, thou dost 
thyaelfa plt-asnie, and m€ a sport. There are 
many events in the womb of time, w: ich will 
be delivered. Traverse*; go; provide thy 
money. We will have more of this to-mor- 
row. Adieu. 

R(/d. Whereshill we meet i'the morning ? 

Jago. At my lodgins;. 

Jiod. I'll be with thee betimes. 

lano. Go to; farewell. Do you hear, Ko- 

Bi)d. What say yon? [derigo? 

Ifigo. No more of drowning, do yon he^r. 

jRofL I am changed. I'll seil all my land. 

lifgo. Go to ; farewell : put money enousih 
In your purse. Eiit RtiutRico. 

Thus do I ever make my fool my purse : 
For I mine own gain'd knowledge shouid pro- 
fane, 
If I would time expend with such a snipe. 
But for my sport and profit. I hate the Moor; 
And it is thought abroad, that Hwixt my sheets 



He has done my office : I know not irt be 

true ; 
But T, for mere suspicion in that kind. 
Will do, as if tor surety. He holds t me well§ 
The better shall my purpo>e work on him. 
Cassi<»'s a proper man : Let me eee now ; 
To get his place, and to phuud up my will ; 
A double knavery,— How ? how? — Let uie 

see: — 
After some time, to abuse Othello's ear. 
That he is to<» famili'ir wiih his wife : — 
He hath a person, and a smooth dispoi^e. 
To be inspected; framed to make \^omea 
The M(H>r is of a free and open nature, [tVilse, 
That thinks men hohest, ihat but seem to be 
And v\ill as tenderly be led by the nose, [so ; 
As asses are. 

1 hav't ;— it is en^ender'd : Hell and night 
Must brin'4 this monstrous birth to the world's 

light. [HixU, 



ACT II. 



SCENE I. A Sea-Port Town in Cyprus, 
A Platform. 
Enter MoKTAHO and Two Gentlemen. 
Mon. What from the cape can you discern 
at sea ? [flood ; 

1 Gent. Nothing at all : it is. a high-wrought 
I cannot, 'twixt the heaven and the main, 
Des' ry a sail. [at land : 

Afon. Meihinks, the wind hath spoke aloud 
A fuller blast ne'er shook our battlements : 
If it hath ruftian'd so upon the sea, 
What ribs oi oak, when mountains melt on 
them, [this? 

Can hold the mortise? what shall we hear of 

2 Gtnt. A segregationtof the Turkish fleet: 
Fordo but stand upon the foaming shore. 
The chiding billow seems to pelt the clouds; 
'J he wind-shaked surge, with high and mon 

strous main, 
Heems to cast waicr on the burning bear $, 
And quench the iiu-irds of the ever fixed pole : 
I never did like molestation view 
On th' enchafed flood. 

Mon. If that the Turkish fleet 

He not inshelter'd and embay'd, they are 
It is impossible they l)ear it out* [drown'd ; 
Enter a third Gentleman. 

3 Grnt. News, lonis ! our wars are done; 
The desperate tempest haih so bang'd the 

Inrks, [Venice 

That their desifijnment halts: A noble ship of 
Hath seen a grievous wreck and su Iterance 
On most part ot their fleet. 

Mon. How! is this true? 

3 Gent. The ship is here put in, 
A Veronese ; Michael Cassio, 
Lieutenant to the warlike Moor, Othello, 
In come on 8ht>re : the Moor himself 'h at sea, 

* An ancient military word of commatwi. 
9iM>i&Uon u^-ai lb;b polar star. jj Complete. 



And \% in full commission here for Cj- prus. 
Alon. I am glad on't ; 'tis a worthy governor, 
3 Gent. But this same Cassio, — though he 
speak of comfort. 
Touching the Turkish loss, — yet he looks 
sadiy, [parted 

And pra>s the Moor be safe; for they were 
Wiih foul and violent tempest. 

Mon. Mray heaven he be; 

For 1 have served him, and the mm commands 
Like a full | soldier. Let's to the sea-side, ho \ 
As well to seethe vessel that's come in, 
As throw out our eyes lor brave Othello ; 
Even ti-U we make the main, and the Mcriai 
An indistinct reg?Lrd. [blue, 

3 Gent. Come, let's do so ; 
For every minute is expectancy 

Of more arrivance. 

Enter Cassio. 

Cas. Thanks to the valiant of this warlike 
isle, 
That so approve the Moor ; O, let the heavens 
Give him defence against the elements, 
bor I have lost him on a dangerous sea 

Moti. Is he well shipp'd { 

Cas. His iiark is stoutly timber'd.and his pilot 
Of very expert and approverl allowanced ; 
I herefore my hopes, not surfeited to death. 
Stand in bold cuie. 

114'' it hill ■] A sail, a sail, a sail 

Enter ajiotlitr Gentleman. 

Cas. What noise? fo'the set 

4 Gent. The town is empty; on the brow 
Stand ranks of people, and thty cry — \ sail. 

Cas. My hopes do shape him for the govi-r 

nor. [courtesy : 

2 Gent. They do discharge their shot of 

[Guii^'ktard* 

Our friends, at least. 

t Esteems. J Separation. $ The coa* 

^ Allowed andapoioved expertnees. 



1036 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Aot U 



Cas» I pray you, sir, go forth, 

And give ns tTUtli who 'tis that is arrived. 
2 GeNt. I shall. [Kiit. 

Alon. But, good lieutenant, is your gtineral 
wived? [maid 

Cas, Most fortunately : he hath achieved a 
That paragons description, and wild fame ; 
One that excels the quirks of blazoning pens. 
And iu the essential vesture of creation, 
Does bear all excellency. — How nowf who 
has put in 1 

Re-enter second Gentleman. 
2 Gent. 'TisoneIago,ancienf to the general. 
Cas» He has had most favourable and happy 
speed : [winds, 

Tempests themselves, high seas, and howling 
The gutter'd rocks, and cougregated sands, 
Traitors ensieep'd to clog the guiltless keel. 
As having sense of beauty, do omit 
Their mortal * natures, letting go safely by 
The divine Desdemona, 

Mon, What is she ? 

Cas She that I spake of, our great captain's 
captain. 
Left in the conduct of the bold lago ? 
Whose footing here anticipates our thoughts, 
A se'nnight's speed. Great Jove, Othello 
guard, [breath ; 

And swell his sail with thine own powerful 
That he may bless this bay with his tall ship. 
Make love's quick pants in Desdemona'sarms, 
Give renew'd fire to our extincted spirits, 
And bring all Cyprus comfort !—0, behold. 
Enter Desdemona, Emilia, Iago, Rode- 

RiGO, and Attendants. 
The riches of the ship is come on shore ! 
Ye men of Cyprus, let her have your knees ; 
Hail to thee, lady! and the grace of heaven. 
Before, behind thee, and on every hand, 
Enwheel thee round f 

Des, I thank you, valiant Cassio. 

What tidings can you tell me of my lord ? 

Cas. He is not yet arrived; nor know I aught 
But that he's well, and will be shortly here. 
Des. O, but I fear ;— How lost you com- 
pany 1 [skies 
Cas. The great contention of ^the sea and 
Parted our fellowship : But, hark ! a sail. 
[Cry within ^ A sail, a sail! Then Guns heard, 
2 Gent. They give their greeting to the cita- 
This likewise is a friend. [del ; 
Cas. See for the news. 

[Exit Gentleman. 
Good ancient, you are welcome; — Welcome 
mistress;— [To Emilia. 

Let It not gall your patience, good Iago, 
That I extend my manners; *tis my breeding 
That gives me this bold show of courtesy. 

[Kissi7ig her. 
J" go. Sir, would she give you so much of 
her lips, 
As of her tongue she oft bestows on me. 
You'd have enough, 

/Jps. Alas, she has no speech. 

/ago. In faith, too much ; 
t fi id il still, when I have list t to sleep: 



Marry, before your ladyship, 1 ^ant, 
She .puts her tongue a little in her heart. 
And ciiides with thinking. 

EmiL You have little cause to say so. 

logo. Come on, come on ; you are pictures 
out of doors, [kitchens. 

Bells in your parlours, wild cats in your 
Saints in your injuries, devils being offended. 
Players in your housewifery, and housewives 
in your beds. 
Des. O, fie upon thee, slanderer! 
Iago. Nay, it is true, or else I am a Turk; 
You rise to play, and go to bed to work. 
Emil. Yon shall not write my praise. 
lag", No, let me not. 

Des. What wouldst thou write of me, if 

thou shouldst praise me? 
lago. O, gentle lady, do not put me to't ; 
For I am nothing, if not critical j. 

Des. Come on, assay . — There's one gone 
lago. Ay, madam. [to the harbour I 

Des. I am not merry ; but I do beguile 
The thing I am, by seeming otherwise. — 
Come, how wouldst thou praise me? 
Iago. I am about it ; but, indeed, my in- 
vention [frize. 
Comes from my pate, as birdlime does from 
It plucks out brains and all : But my muse 

labours. 
And thus she is deliver'd. 
If she be iair and wise, — fairness, and wit. 
The one's for use, the other useth it. 

Des. Well praised! How if she be black 

and witty? [wit, 

lago. If she be black, and thereto have a 

She'll find a white that shall her blackness fit. 

Des. Worse and worse. 

Ejnil. How, if fair and foolish ? [fair; 

lago. She never yet was foolish that was 

For even her folly help'd her to an heir. 

Des. These are old fond ^ paradoxes, to 
make fools Jaugh i'the alehouse. What miser- 
able praise hast thou for her that's foul and 
foolish? 
lago. There's none so foul, and foolish there- 
unto, [do. 
But does foul pranks which fair and M'ise ones 
Des. O heavy ignorance! — thou praisest the 
worst best. But what praise oouldst thou be- 
stow on a deserving woman indeed ! one, that, 
in the authority of her merit, did justly put on 
the vouch of very malice itself? [proud; 
lago. She that was ever fair, and never 
Had tojigue at will, and yet was never loud ; 
Never lack'd gold, and yet went never gay ; 
Fled from her wish, and yet said, — now I may; 
She that, being anger'd, her revenge being nigh, 
Bade her wrong stay, and her displeasure fly: 
She, that in wisdom never was so frail. 
To change the cod's head for the salmon's tail; 
She that could think, and ne'er disclose her 

mind, 
See suitors following, and not look behind; 
She was a wieht, — if ever such wight were, — 
Des. To do what? (beer 

Iago. To snckle foi>ls, and chroni(f »v»U 



ti 

li 

f 



• Deadly, destructive. 



t Desire, 



t Censoiioas. 



$ Foolihh 



Scene /.] 



OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF TENICE. 



1037 



|! Pes. O most lame and impotent cooclu* 

I sjon! — Do not learn of him, Emilia, thoiigls he 

I be thy husbai.d.— How say you, Cassio? is he 

j not a most profane and liberal* counsellor? 

' Ca.s. He speaks home, madam; you may 

relish him more in the soldier, than in the 

scholar. 

, logo. [Aside,^ He takes her by the palm : 

j Ay, well said, whisper: with as little a web 

' as this, will I insnare as great a fly as Cassio. 

^y, smile upon her, do; 1 will g>vet thee in 

thine own courtship. You say true; 'tis so, 

indeed: if such tricks as these strip you out 

of your iieutenaniry, it had been better you 

had not kissed your three fingers so oft, which 

now again you are most apt to play the sir in %. 

Very good; well kissed! an excellent cour- 

tesy §1 'tis so, indeed. Yet again your fingers 

to yonr lips? would they were clyster-pipes 

for your sake? {Trumpet.] The Moor, I 

know his trumpet. 
Cas. *Tis truly so. 

JDes, Let*s meet him, and receive him. 
Cas. Lo, where he comes ! 

Enter Othello, and Attendants. 
Oth. O my fair warrior! 
Bes. My dear Othello? 

Oth, It gives me wonder great as my con- 
tent, 
To see you here before me. O my soul's joy I 
If after every tempest come such calms, 
May the winds blow till they have waken'd 

death ! 
And let the labouring bark climb hills of seas, 
Olympus-high; and duck again as low 
As hell's from heaven ! If it were now to die, 
'Twere now to be most happy ; for I fear. 
My soul hath her content so absolute, 
Th;it not another comfort like to this 
Succeeds in unknown fate. 

Des. The heavens forbid, 

But that our loves and comforts should in- 
Even as our days do grow, fcrease, 
Ufh. Amen to that, sweet powers! — 
I cannot speak enough of this content. 
It stops me here ; it is too much of joy : 
And this, and this, the greatest discords be, 

{Kissing her. 
That e*er our hearts shall make! 

lago. O, yon are well tuned now! 

But I'll set down the pegs that make this music. 

As honest as I am. {^Aside. 

Oth. Come, let's to the castle. — 

News, friends ; our wars are done, the Turks 

are drown'd. 
How do our old acquaintance of this isle? — 
Honey, you shall be well desiredU in Cyprus, 
I have found great love amongst them. O my 
I prattle out of fashion IT, and I dote [sweet. 
In mine own comforts. — I pr'ythee, good lago. 
Go to the bay, and disembark my coffers: 
Bring thou the master to the citadel; 
He is a good one, and his worthiness 



Does challenge much respect. — Come, Desde- 
On»e more weil met at Cyprus. [mona, 

{Exeunt Otheli.o, Desdemona, 
and Attendants. 

lago. Do thou meet me presently at the 
harbo.*r. Come hither. If thou be'st valiant 
as (they say) base men, being in love, have 
then a nobility in their natures more than is 
native to them, — list me**. The lieutenant to- 
night watches on the court of guard :— First, 
1 must tell thee this — Desdemoua is directly 
in love with him. 

Rod. With h?m! why, 'tis not possible, 

lago. Lay thy jnger — thus, and let thy sool 
be instructed. Maik me with what violence 
she iirst loved the Moor, but for bragging, and 
telling her fantastical lies : And will she love 
him still for prating ? let not thy discreet heart 
think it. Her eye must be fed; and what de- 
light shall she have to look oft the devil? 
When the blood is made dull with the act of 
sport, there should be, — again to inflame it, 
and to give satiety a fresh appetite, — loveli- 
ness in favour; sympathy in years, manners, 
and beauties; all which the Moor is defective 
in: Now, for want of these required conve- 
niencies, her delicate tenderness will find itself 
abused, begin to heave the gorge, disrelish and 
abhor the Moor; very nature will instruct her 
in it, and compel her to some second choice. 
Now, sir, this granted, (as it is a most preg- 
nant and unforced position,) who stands so 
eminently in the degree of this fortune, a» 
Cassio does? a knave very voluble ; no further 
conscionable, than in putting on the mere 
form of civil and humane seeming, for the 
better compassing of his salt and most hidden 
loose affection ? why, none ; why, none : A 
slippery and subtle knave ; a finder out of oc- 
casions : that has an eye can stamp and coun- 
terfeit advantages, though true advantage never 
present itself : A devilish knave! besides, the 
knave is handsome, young ; and hath all those 
requisites in him, that folly and green minds tf 
look after: A pestilent complete knave; and 
the woman hath found him already. 

Rod. 1 cannot believe that in her ; she is 
full of most blessed condition jj. 

logo. Blessed fig's end ! the wine she drinks 
is made of grapes : if she had been blessed, she 
would never have loved the Moor : Blessed 
pudding ! Didst thou not see her paddle with 
the palm of his hand? didst not mark that? 

Rod. Yes, that I did ; but that was but 
courtesy. 

lago. Lechery, by this hand ; an index, and 
obscure prologue to the history of lust and foul 
thoughts. They met so near with their lips, 
that their breaths embraced together. Vil- 
lanous thoughts, Roderigo ! when these mu- 
tualities so marshal the way, hard at band 
comes the master and main exercise, the incor- 
porate conclusion: Pish! — But, sir, be you 



Licentious, free-spoken. t Shackle, fetter, % Your good breeding and gailantry, 

§ Courtesy, in the sense of obeisance, was applied to men as well as women. 

y Much solicited by invitation. ^ Out of method, without order. ** Listen to me* 

tt Minds unripe. Xt Qualities, disposition of mind. 

4T3 



1038 



SHAKSPEAaX. 



lAciJL 



ruled by me : I have brought you from Venice. 
Watch you to-night ; for the command, I'll 
lay't upon you: Cassio knows you not;— I'll 
Dot be fHf from you : Do you find some occa- 
iion to answer Cassio, either by speaking too 
loud, or taiiiiini^* his discipline; or from 
what other course you please, which the time 
ahall more favourably minister. 

Rod. Well. 

Jugo. Sir, he is rash, and very sudden in 
choier; and, haply -t, with his truncheon may 
strike at you : Provoke him, that he may : 
for, even out of that, will I cause these of Cy- 
prus to mutiny; whose qualification shall come 
inti> no true taste again, but by the displanting 
of Cassio. So shall yon have a shorter jour- 
ney to your desires, by the means 1 shall then 
have to prefer; them ; and the impediment 
most profitably removed, without the which 
there «ere no expectation of our prosperity. 

Rod, I wUl do this, if 1 can bring it to any 
opportunity. 

/ago. I warrant thee. Meet me by and by 
at the citadel : I must fetch his necessaries 
ashore. Farewell. 

R4)d. Adieu. [Exit. 

Jago. ihat Cassio loves her, I do well * e- 
iieve it ; [dit : 

That she loves him, 'tis apt, and of great cre- 
Tbe Moor — howbeil that 1 endure him not, — 
Is of a constant, loving, noble nature; 
And, 1 dare think, he'll prove to Desdemona 
A most dear husband. Now I do love her too ; 
Not out of absolute lust, (though, peradven- 
I stand accountant for as great a sin,) [ture. 
But partly led to diet my revenge. 
For that I rio suspect the lusty Moor 
Hath leap'd into my seat : the thought whereof 
Doth, l;ke a poisonous mineral, gnaw my in- 
wards ; 
And nothing can or shall content my soul. 
Till I am even with him, wife for wife ; 
Or failing so, yet that I put the Moor 
At least into a jealousy so strong fdo, — 

That judgment cannot cure. Which thing to 
If this poor trash) of Venice, whom I trash jj 
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on, 
I'll have our Michael Cassio on tlie hip ; 
Abuse him to the Moor in the rank garblT — 
For 1 fear Cassio with my night-cap too ; 
Make the Moor thank me, love me, and re- 
For making him egregiously an ass, [ward me. 
And practising upon his peace and quiet 
Even to madntss. 'lis here, but yet confused ; 
Knavery's plain face is never seen, till used. 

[JKxit. 

SCENE II. A Street, 

Enter a Herald, with a Proclamation; 

People following. 

Her. It is Othello's pleasure, our noble and 

valimt general, that upon certain tidings now 

lirived, importing the m.re** perdition of the 



Turkish fleet, every man put himself into 
triumph ; some to dance, some to make bon- 
fires, each man to what sport and revels his 
addiction leads him ; for, besides thest- bene- 
ficial news, it is the celebration of his nnpials: 
So much was his pleasure should be proclaim- 
ed. All officesft are open; and there is full 
liberty of feasting, from this present hour tf 
five, till the bell hath told eleven. Heaven 
bless the isle of Cyprus, and our noble general, 
Othello I [Eieunt. 

SCENK III. A Hall in the Castle, 

Enter Othjsllo, Desdemona, CAssio,an<^ 

Attendants. 

Oth, Good Michael look you to the guard 
to night : 
Let's teach ourselves that hooonrable stop, 
Not to out-sport discretion. 

Cas. [ago hath direction what to do ; 
But, notwithstanding, with my personal eye 
\ViM 1 look to't. 

Oth. lago is most honest. 

Michael, good night: To-morrow, with ont 
earliest, [dear Jove^ 

Let ine have speech with you. — Come, my 
The purchase made, the fruits are to ensue ; 

[To Desdkmona, 
That profit's yet to come'twixt me and you.— 
Good night. [Exeunt Oth. Des. and Attend. 
Enter I a go. 

Cas. Welcome, lago : We must to the watch. 

lago. Not this ht»ur, lieutenant ; 'tis not yet 
ten o'clock : Our general castj;}: us thus early, 
for the love of his Desd**rnona ; who :i let us 
not therefore blame ; he hath not yet made 
wanton the night with her: and she is sport 
for Jove. 

Cas. She'«» a most exquisite lady. 

lago. And, I'll warrant her full of game. 

Cas. Indeed, she is a luost fresh and deli 
cate creature. 

lago. What an eye she has I methinks it 
sounds a parley t»f provocation. 

Cas. An inviting eye; and yet methiokp 
right modest. 

lugo. And, when she speaks, is it not an 
alarm to love ? 

Cas. She is, indeed, perfection. 

lago. Well, happiness to th«ir sheets. Come, 
lieutenant, I have a stocp of wine ; and htre 
without ;.re a brace, of Cyprus gallants, that 
would fain have a measure to the health of the 
black Othello. 

Cas. Not to-niiiht, good lago; I have very 
poor and unhappy brains for drinking : Would 
well wish couitesy would invent some other 
custom of entertainment. 

lugo. O, they are our friends ; but one cup ; 
I'll drink for you. 

Cas. I have drunk bat one cup to-night, and 
that was craftily qualified j) too, and, behold, 
what innovation it makes here : 1 am unforiu* 



S) 



ji 



• Throwing a slur upon his discipline. f Perhaps. J To advance them. 

^ Worthies? hound. |j The term for a clog put on a honnd to hinder his ranniiig. 

Y Id Che grossest manner. *• bntirc tt Rooms, or places in the castle« 

XlDismisaed. $^ S lily mixe<l with water. 



Bcene IJL] 



OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 



1039 



n^te in the infirmity, and dare not task iny 
weakness with any more. 

Jago. What, man ! 'tis a night of revels ; the 
gallants fiesire it. 

C>is. Where are they ? 

lago. Here at the door ; I pray you, call 
tliem in 

Cas. I'll do't ; but it dislikes me. 

lExit Cassio. 

/ago. If I can fasten but one cup upon him, 
With that which he hath drunk tonight al- 
ready, 
He'll be as full of quarrel and offence 
As ray yonng mistress' dog. Now, my sick 

fool, Roderigo, 
Whom love has turn'd almost the wrong side 

outward, 
To Des iemona hath to-night caroused 
Potations pottle deep ; and he's to watch : 
Three lads of Cyprus, — noble swelling spirits, 
That hold their honours in a wary distance. 
The very elements of this warlike isle, — 
Have 1 to-night fiuster'd with flowing cups, 
Ai.d they watch too. Now, 'mongst this flock 

of drunkards, 
Am I to put our Cassio in some action 
That may oflfend the isle: — Buthere they come : 
If consequence do but approve my dream, 
My hoat sails freely bothwith wind and stream. 
Re-enter Cassio, with him Montano, and 
Gentlemen. 

Cas. 'Fore heaven, they have given me a 
rouse* already. 

Mon. Good faith, a little one ; not past a 
pint, as I'm a soldier. 

Jago, Some wine, ho I 

And let me the canakin clink, clink: [Sings. 
And let me the canakin clink ; 

A soldier's a man ; 

A li/''s but a span; 
Why then let a soldier drink. 

Some wine, boys ! [Wine brought in. 

Cas. 'Fore heaven, an excellent song. 

Jago. 1 learned it in England, where (in- 
deed) they are most potent in potting : your 
Dane, your German, and your swag-bellied 
Hollander, — Drink, ho ! — are nothing to ^ our 
English. 

C<is. Is your Englishman so expert in bis 
drinking "^ 

I'igo. Why, he drinks you, with facility, 
your Dane dead drunk ; he sweats not to over- 
throw your Almain ; he gives your Hollander 
a vomit, ere the next pottle can be filled. 

Cas. To the health of our general. 

Mon. I am for it, lieutenant ; and I'll do 
you justi"*^*. 

lago. O sweet England I 

King Stephen teas a worthy peer J 

His breaches cost him hut a cr/ivn ; 
He held them sixpence all too dear, 
■* With that he calVd the tailor lotvn§. 



He was a tvight of h'gh renown. 

And thou art but of low degree : 
*Tis pride that pulls the country doum, 
Thtn take thine auld cloak about thet. 
Some wine, hoi 

Cas. Why, this is a more exquisite song 
than the other. 

Jago. Will you hear it again ? 

Cas. No for 1 hold him to be unworthy of 
his place that does those things. — Well, — Hea- 
ven's above all ; and there be souls that must 
be saved, and there be sonls must not be saved. 

Jago. It's true, good lieutenant. 

Cas. For mine own part, — no offence to the 
general or any man of quality, — I hope to be 
saved. 

Jago. And so do I too, lieutenant. 

('as. Ay, but, by your leave, not before me; 
the lieutenant is to be saved before the ancient. 
Let's have no more of this ; let'sto otir affairs. — 
Forgive us our sins ! — Gentlemen, let's look to 
our business. Do not think, gentlemen, I am 
drunk : this is my ancient ; — this is my right 
hand, and this is my left hand : — I am not 
drunk now ; I can stand well enough, and 
speak well enough. 

All. Excellent well. 

Cas. Why, very well, then : you must not 
think then that I am drunk. [Exit, 

Mon. To the platform, masters; come,let*« 
set the watch. 

Jago. You see this fellow that is gone be- 
He is a ."Soldier, fit to st ind by Caesar [fore ;— 
And give direction ; and do but see his vice; 
'Tis to his virtue a just equinox. 
The one as long as the other : 'tis pity cf him. 
1 fear, the trust Othello puts him m, 
On some odd time of bis infirmity 
Will shake this island. 

Mon. But is he often thus ? 

Jffgo. *Tis evermore the prologue to his 
He'll watch the horologe a double set||, [sleep: 
If drink rock not his cradle. 

Mon. It were well. 

The general were put in mind of it. 
Perhaps, he sees it not; or his good nature 
Prizes the virtue that appears in Cassio, 
And looks not on his evils; Is not this true 
Enter Roderigo, 

Jago. How now, Roderigo? [Aside, 

I pray you, after the lieutenaat ; go. 

[Erit KoDERiGO. 

Mon. And 'tis great pity, that the noble 
Moor 
Should hazard such a place, as his own second 
With one of an ingraft IT infirmity: 
It were an honest action to »tay 
So to the Moor. 

Jago. Not I, for this fair island : 

1 do love Cassio well; and would do nmch 
To cure him of this evil. But hark! what 
noise? [Cry within. — Help I help I 

Re»entcr Cassio, driving in Roderigo. 

Cas. You rogue! you rascal I 



t Drink as much as you do. 
clock strikes twv> rt 
f Routed, settled. 



A little more than enough. 
^ Clown. H While the clock strikes twv) rounds, or four-and-twenty hoar<>. 



X A worthy fellow. 



1040 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act JI I 



Mon, What's the matter, lieutenant ? 

Cas, A knave!— teach me my duty! 
I'll beat the kuave into a twiggen* bottle. . 

Jlf\d, Beat me I 

Cas, Dost thou prate, rogue 1 

[Striking Roderigo. 

Mon, Nay, good lieutenant ; 

[Staying him. 
I pray you, sir, hold your hand. 

Cas. Let me go, sir. 

Or I'll knock you o'er the mazzard. 

Mon. Come, come, you're drunk. 

Cas. Drunk! [They fight. 

lago. Away, I say ! go out, and cry — a mu- 
tiny, [Aside to Rod., who goes out* 
Nay, good lieutenant, — alas, gentlemen, — 
Help, lio ! — Lieutenant,-— sir, — Montano, — sir ; 
Help, masters! — Here's a goodly watch, in- 
deed ! [Bell lings. 
Who's that that rings the bell ?— Diablo, ho ! 
The town will rise, God's will, lieutenant ! 
Yuu will be shamed for ever. [hold ; 
Enter OrnELLo and Attendants. 

Oth. What is the matter here 1 

Mon. I bleed still, I am hurt to the death ;— • 

Oth. Hold, for your lives. [be dies. 

Jago. Hold, hold, lieutenant, sir, Montano, 
gentlemen, — 
Have you forgot all sense of place and duty? 
Hold, hold! the general speaks to you; hold, 
for shame! [ariseth this? 

Ol-h. VV hy, how now, ho ! from whence 
Are we turn'd Turks ; and to ourselves do that 
Which heaven hath forbid the Ottc^ites? 
For christian shame, put by this barbarous 

brawl : 
He that stirs next to carve for his own rage 
Holds his soul light; he dies upon his motion. 
Silence that dreadful bell, it frighis the isle 
From her propriety. — What is the matter, 

masters ? 
Honest lago, that look'st dead with grieving, 
8 peak, who began this? on thy love 1 charge 
thee. [even now, 

luiio, I do not know ; — friends all but now. 
In quarter, and in terms like bride and groom 
Devesting them for bed : and then, but now, 
(As if some planet had unwitted men,) 
Swords out, and tilting one at other's breast. 
In opposition bloody. I cannot speak 
Any beginning to this peevish odds ; 
And 'would in action glorious I had lost 
These le^s, that brought me to a part of it! 

Oth. Ho^v comes it, Michael, you are thus 
forgott? 

Cas. 1 pray you, pardon me, I cannot speak. 

Oth. VVorthy Montano, you were wont be 
civil ; 
The gravity and stillness of your youth 
'J'he vvoi Id hath nottd, and your name is great 
In mi>nths of wisest censure ; What's the 

matter. 
That you unlace your reputation thus, 
And spend your rich opinion for the name 
Of a night brawler? give me answer to it. 



Mon. Worthy Othello, I am hurt to danger ; 
Your officer, lago, can inform you — 
While I spare speech, which something now 

offends me ; 
Of all that I do know: nor know 1 aught 
By me that's said or done amis?* this night; 
Unless self-charity J be sometime a vice ; 
And to defend ourselves it be a sin. 
When violence assails us. 

Oth. Now, by heaven. 

My blood begins my safer guides to lule ; 
And passion, having my best judgment col- 

lied§. 
Assays to lead the way : If I once stir. 
Or do but lift this arm, the best of you 
Shall sink in my rebuke. Give me to know 
How this foul rout began, who set it on ; 
And he that is approved jj in this oflfence. 
Though he had twinn'd with me, both at a 

birth. 
Shall lose me. — What ! in a town of war, 
Yet wild, the people's hearts brimful of fear. 
To manage private and domestic quarrel. 
In night, and on the court and guard of safety I 
Tis monstrous. — lago, who began it ? 

Man. If partially affined IT, or leagued in 

office, 
Thou dost deliver more or less than truth. 
Thou art no soldier. 

Jago. Touch me not so near : 

I had rather have this tongue cut from my 

mouth. 
Than it should do oflfence to Michael Cassio ; 
Yet, I persuade myself, to speak the truth 
Shall nothing wrong him. — Thus it is, general 
Montano and myself being in speech. 
There comes a fellow crying out for help; 
And Cassio following him with determined 

sword, 
To execute upon him : Sir, this gentleman 
Steps in to Cassio, and entreats his pause ; 
Myself the crying fellow did pursue, 
Lest, by his clamour, (as it so fell out,) 
The town might fall in fright: he, swift of 

foot, [ther 

Outran my purpose; and I return'd the ra- 
For that 1 heard the clink and fall of swords. 
And Cassio high in oath; which, till to-night, 
I ne'er might say before : when 1 caine back, 
(For this was brief,) I found them close to- 
gether. 
At blow and thrust ; even as again they were. 
When you yourself did part them. 
More of this matter can I not i eport : — 
But men are men ; the best sometimes forget : 
Though Cassio did some little wrong to him, — 
As men in rage strike those that wish them 

best,— 
Yet, surely, Cassio, I believe, received. 
From him that fled, some strange indignity. 
Which patience could not pass. 

Oth. I know, lago; 

Thy honesty and love doth mince this matter. 
Making it light to Cassio : — Cassio, 1 love thee, 
But never more be officer of mine. — 



A wicker'd bottle. 
^ Darkened. 



+ i. €., You have thus forgot yourself. t Care of one's self, 

il Convicted by proof. ^ Related by nearness of office. 



Scene HI,] 



OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 



Enter Desuemona, attetided. 
Look if my gentle love be not raised up ; 
V\i make thee an example. 

Dea. What's the matter, dear ? 

0th, All's well now, sweeting ; Come away 
Sir, for your hurts, [to bed. — 

Myself will be your surgeon : Lead him off. 

\To MoNTANo, who is led off. 
lago, look with care about the town ; 
And silence those whom this vile brawl dis- 
tracted. — 
Come, Desdemona ; 'tis the soldier's life, 
To have their balmy slumbers waked with 
strife. 

[Exeunt all hut Iago and Cassio. 

lago. What, are you hurt, lieutenant? 

Cas. Ay, past all surgery. 

Iago. Marry, heaven forbid ! 

Cas. Reputation, reputation, reputation ! O, 
I have lost my reputation! I have lost tlie im- 
mortal part, sir, of myself, and what remains is 
btistial. — My reputation, lago! my reputation ! 

Jago. As Lam an honest man, I thought 
you had received some bodily wound ; there 
is more oflfence in that than in reputation. 
Reputation is an idle and most false imposi- 
tion ; oft got without merit, and lost without 
deserving : You have lost no reputation at 
all, unless you repute yourself such a loser. 
"What, man! there are ways to recover the 
general again : You are but now cast in his 
mood *, a punishment more in policy than in 
malice ; even so as one would beat his of- 
fenceless dog, to affright an imperious lion : 
sue to him again, and he's yours. 

Cas. I will rather sue to be despised, than 
to deceive so good a commander with so slight, 
so drunken, and so indiscreet, an officer. 
Drnuk ! and speak parrott! and squabble, 
swagger, swear ! and discourse fustian with 
one's own shadow ! — O, thou invisible spirit 
of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by, 
let us call thee — devil! 

Jago. What was he that you followed with 
your sword? What had he done to you? 

Cas. I know not. 

Jffgo. Is it possible? 

Cas. I remember a mass of things, but no- 
thing distinctly ; a quarrel, but nothing where- 
fore.— O, that men should out an enemy in 
their mouths to steal away fneir brains 1 that 
we should, with joy, revel, pleasure, and ap- 
plause, transform ourselves into beasts ! 

Iago. Why, but you are now well enough : 
How came you thus re^rovered? 

Cas. It hath pleased the devil, drunkenness, 
to give place to the devil, wrath : one unper- 
fectness shows me another, to make me frankly 
despise myself. 

Idgo, Come, you are too severe a moraler : 
As the time, the place, and the confiition of 
this country stands, I could heartily wish this 
had not befallen ; but, since it is as it is, mend 
It for your own good. 

Cas. I will ask him for my place again ; he 



1041 



shall tell me I am a drunkard ! Had I as many 
mouths as Hydra, such an answer would stop 
them all. Jo be pow a sensible man, by and 
by a fool, and presently a beast ! O strange !— 
Every inordinate cup is unblessed, and the 
ingredient is a devil. 

Iago. Come, come, good wine is a good 
familiar creature, if it be well used ; exclaim 
no more against it. And, good lieutenant, I 
think you think I love you. 

Cas. I have well approved it, sir. — I drunk I 

Iago. You, or any man living, may be 
drunk at some time, man. I'll tell you what 
you shall do. Our general's wife is now the 
general ; — I may say so in this respect, for 
that he hath devoted and given up himself to 
the contemplation, mark, and denotement, of 
her parts and graces ; — confess yourself freely 
to her; importune her; she'll help to put 
you in your place again ; she is of so free, so 
kind, so apt, so blessed, a disposition, that she 
holds it a vice in her goodness not to do mere 
than she is requested : This broken joint, be- 
tween you and her husband, entreat her to 
splinter ; and, my fortunes against any lay J 
worth naming, this crack of your love shall 
grow stronger than it was before. 

Cas. You advise me well. 

Iago. I protest, in the sincerity of love, and 
honest kindness. 

Cas. I think it freely ; and, betimes in the 
morning, I will beseech the virtuous Desde- 
mona to undertake for me : I am desperate of 
my fortunes if they check me here. 

Iago. You are in the right. Good nighty 
lieutenant ; 1 must to the watch. 

Cas. Good night, honest Iago. 

[Exit Cassiot 

Iago. And what's he then, that says— I play 
the villain? 
When this advice is free, I give, and honest, 
Probal to thinking, and (indeed) the course 
To win the Moor again? For, 'tis most easy 
Jhe inclining Desdemona to subdue 
In any honest suit ; she's framed as fruitful § 
As the free elements. And then for her 
lo win the Moor, — were't to renounce his 

baptism. 
All seals and symbols of redeemed sin, — 
His soul is so enfetter'd to her love. 
That she may make, unmake, do what she list. 
Even as her appetite shall play the god 
With his weak function. How am I then a 

villain, 
To counsel Cassio to this parallel || course. 
Directly to his good i Divinity of hell! 
When devils will their blackest sin.s put on. 
They do suggestll at first with heavenly shows, 
As 1 do now : For while this honest foul 
Plies Desdemona to repair his fortunes. 
And she for him pleads strongly to the Moor, 
ril pour this pestilence into his ear, — 
That she repeals ** him for her body's lust , 
And, by how much she strives to do him good^ 
She shall undo her credit with the Moor. 



* Dismissed in his anger. t Talk idly. J Bet or wager. 

Liberal, bountiful . f) Even. % Tempt. ♦* Recalii. 



1042 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Art rir. 



So will I tarn her virtne into pitch ; 

Aiifi out of tier own goodness make the net. 

That sl»all enmesh them all.— How now, Bo- 

derigu? 

Enter Rod ER I GO. 
Rod. I do follow here in the chase, not like 
a hound that hunts, bat one that fills up the 
cry. My money is almost spent ; I have been 
to-ninht exceedingly well cadgelled ; and, I 
think, the issue will be — I shall have so much 
experience for my pains : and so, with no 
mon^y at all, and a little more wit, retain to 
Venice. 
Jugo. How poor are they, that have not 

patience ! — 
Whaf wound did ever heal, but by degrees? 
Thou know'ijt we work by wit, and not by 

witchcraft ; 
And wit depends on dilatory time. 



Does't not go well? Cassio hath beaten thte. 
And thou, by that small hurt, hast cashier'd 

Cassio: 
Though other things grow f lir against the sun, 
Yet fruits that blossom tirat,will first be ripe: 
Content thyself awhile. — By the mass, *tis 

morning ; [short. — 

Pleasure, and action, make the hours seem 
Retire thee; go where thou art billeted : 
Away, I say ; thou ihalt know more hereafter : 
^ay, get thee gone. [Exit Rod.] Two thing* 

are to be done,— 
My wife must move for Cassio to her mistress ; 
I*il set her on : 

Myself, the while, to draw the Moor apart. 
And bring him jump* when hemay Cassiofind 
Soliciting his wif« :— Ay, that*s the way; 
Dull not device by coldness and delay. lExit. 



ACT III. 



SCENE I. Before the Castle, 
Enter Cassio, and some Musicians. 

Cas. Masters, play here, I will content 
your pains, [row, general. [Music, 
Something that's brief; and bid— good-mor- 
Enter Clown. 

Clo. Why, masters, have your instruments 
been at Naples, thai they speak i'the nose 
ihus? 

1 Mus, How, sir, howl 

Clo. Are these I pray you, called wind in- 
struments? 

I Mus. Ay, marry, are they, sir. 

Clo. O, thereby hangs a tail. 

1 Mus. Whereby hangs a tale, sir? 

C/o. Marry, sir, by many a wind instru- 
ment that 1 know. But, masters, here's money 
for you: and the general so likes your music, 
that he desires you, of all loves, to make no 
more noise with it. 

1 Mu^. Well, sir, we will not. 

Clo. If you have any music that may not 
be heard, to't again : but, as they say, to hear 
music, the general does not greatly care. 

1 Mus. We have none such, sir, 

Clo. Then put up your pipes in your bag, 
for 1*11 away: Go; vanish into air; away. 
[Exeunt Musicians. 

Cas. Dost thou hear, my honest friend ? 

Clo, No, I hear not your honest friend; I 
hear you. 

Cas, Pr'ythee.keepup thy quilletst. There's 
a poor piece of gold for thee ; if the gentle- 
woman that attends the general's wile, be 
stirring, lell her, there's one Cassio entreats 
her a little favour of speech: Wilt thou do 
this? [hither, 

Clo. She is stirring, sir; if she will stir 
I shall seem to notify unto her. [Exit, 

Enter I ago. 

Cas. Do, good my friend.— In happy time, 
lago. 

Ju»t at the time, t Nice distinctions. J The displeasure you have incurred from Othello. 



Jago. Yon have not been a-bed then? 

Cas. Why, no; the day had broke 
Before we parted. I have made bold, Ia:;o, 
To send in to yoiir wife: My suit to her 
Is, that she will to virtuous Desdemona 
Procure me some access. 

Jago. I'll send her to you presently ; 

And I'll devise a mean to draw the Moor 
Out of the way, that your converse and busi- 
ness 
Maybe more free, [Exit. 

Cas. I humbly thank yon for*t. I never 
A Florentine more kind and honest, [knew 
Entfr Emilia. 

Emil. Good morrow, good lieutenant: I 
am sorry 
For your displeasure J; but all will soon be 

well. 
The general, and his wife, are talkiiig of it ; 
And she speaks for you stoutly : The Moor 

replies, 
That he you hurt is of great fame in Cyprus, 
And great affinity ; and that, in wholesome 
wisdom, [he loves you ; 

He might not but refuse you : but he protests 
And needs no other suitor, but his likings. 
To take the saPst occasion by the front. 
To bring you in again. 

Cas. Yet, I beseech you,— 

If you think fit, or that it may be done. 
Give me advantage of some brief discourse 
With Desdemona alone. 

Emil. Pray you, come in; 

I will bestow yon where you shall have time 
To speak your bosom freely. 

Cas, I am much boond to you. 

[Exeu7it, 

SCENE II. A Room in the Cast/ e. 
Enter OfHEf.LO, Iago, and Gentlemen. 
O/A. These letters give, Iago, to the pilot 
And, by him, do my duties to the state: 
That done, I will be walking on the works. 



r 



Scene II.] 



OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VEJVIOE. 



1043 



I Repair there to me. 

lano. Well, nljrgood iord, I'll do't. 

0th. This fortification, gentleman, — shall 

we see't? 
Gent. We'll wait upon your lordship. 

lExeunt, 

I SCENE IIL Before the Castle. 

J Enter Desdemona, Cassio, and Emilia. 
I Des. Be thou assured, good Cassio, I will do 
l| All itiy abilities in thy bt half. 
\ Emit. Good madam, do; I know it grieves 
As if the case were his. [my husband 

Des. O, that's an honest fellow. — Do not 
doubt, Cassio, 
But I will have my lord and yon again 
As friendly ais yuu were. 

Cas. Bounteous madam, 

Whatever shall berome of Michael Cassio, 
He's never any thing but your true servant. 
i Dt.s. O, sir, 1 thank you: You do love my 
lord : [assured. 

Ton have known him long; arid be you well 
He shall in strangeness stand no further off 
Than in a politic distance. 

J^"^' Ay, but, lady, 

TFat policy may either last so long, 
Or teed upon such nice and waterish diet. 
Or breed itself so out of circumstance, 
ihat, 1 being absent, arnl my place supplied, 
, My general will forget my love and service. 
Bef. Do not doubt that ; before Emilia here, 
1 give thee warrant of thy place : assure thee, 
If 1 do vow a friendship, I'll perform it 
To the last article: my lord shall never rest; 
I'll watch him tame*, and talk him out of pa- 
tience ; 
His bed shall seem a school, his board a shrift; 
I'll intermingle every thing he does [Cassio ; 
With Cassio's suit : Therefore be merry. 
For thy solicitor shall rather die. 
Than give thy cause away. 
Enter Othkllo, ajid Iago, at a distance. 
Emil. Madam, here comes 

My lord. 
Cas. Madam, I'll take my leave. 
Des. Why, stay, 

And hear me speak. [ease, 

Cas. Madam, not now; I am very ill at 
Unfit for min<' own purposes. 
Des. Well, well, 

00 your discretion. {Exit Cassio. 
lugo. Ha! I like not that. 
Oth. What dost thou say ? 

iago. Nothing, my lord : or if — I know not 
what. [wife ? 

• Oth. Was not that Cassio parted from my 
Iago. Cassio, my lord? No, sure, 1 cannot 
think it. 
That he would steal away so guilty -like. 
Seeing you coming. 
Oth. ~ I do believe 'twas he. 

Des. How now, my lord ? 

1 have been talking with a suitor here, 

A man that languishes in your displeasure. 



Oth. Who is't, you mean ? [ymy lord, 

Des. Why, your lieutenant Cassio. Good 
If I have any grace, or power to move you. 
His piesent reconciliation take \ 
For, if he be riot one that truly loves you. 
That errs in ignorance, an I not in cunning f, 
I have no judgment in an honost face: 
I pr'ythec, call him back. 

Oth. Went he hence now? 

Des. Ay, sooth; so humbled. 
That he hath left part of his grief with me; 
1 suffer with him. Good love, call him back. 

Oth. Not now, sweet Desdemona ; some 

Di's. But shall't be shortly ? [other time. 

Oth. The sooner, sweet, for you. 

Des. Shall't be to-night at supper? 

Oth. No, not to-night. 

Dts. To-morrow dinner, then ? 

Orh. I shall not dine at home ; 

I meet the captains at the citadel. 

Des. Why then, to-morrow night; or Tues- 
day morn ; [morn; 
Or Tuesday noon, or night ; or Wednesday 
I pray thee, name the time ; but let it not 
Exceed three d^iys : in faiih, he's penitent; 
And yet his trespass, in our common reason, 
(Save that, they say, the wars must make ex- 
amples 
Out of their best J,) is not almost a fault 
To incur a private check : When shall he 

come? 
Tell me, Othello. I wonder in my soul, 
What you could ask me, that 1 should deny. 
Or stand so mammeringj on. What! Mi- 
chael Cassio, [time. 
That came a wooing with you ; and many a 
When I have spoke of you dispraisingly. 
Hath ta'en your part ; to have so much to do 
To bring him in ! Trust me, 1 could do mucn. 

Oth. Pr'ythee, no more : let him come 
I will deny thee nothing. [when he \\\\\ ; 

Des. Why, this is not a boon ; 

'Tis as I should entreat you wear your gloves. 
Or feed on nourishing dishes, or keep you 
Or sue to you to do peculiar profit [warm ; 
To your own person : Nay, when 1 have a 

suit, 
Wherein I mean to touch yonr love indeed. 
It shall be full of poize || and difficulty. 
And fearful to be granted. 

Oth. I will deny thee nothing : 

Whereon, I do beseech thee, grant me this. 
To leave me but a little to myself. [lord. 

Des. Shall I deny you '{ no: Farewell, my 

Oth. Farewell, my Desdemona: I will 
come to thee straight. [teach you ; 

Des. Emilia, come :— Be it as your fancies 
Whate'er you be, I am obedient. 

[Exit, «'i</t Emilia. 

Oth. Excellent wretch I Perdition catch 
my soul. 
But I do love thee ! and when i love thee not. 
Chaos is come aj^nin. 

Iago. My noble lord. 

Oth. V/hat dost thou say, Iago T 



• Hawks arc tamed by keeping them from sleep. 
^ Hesitating. 



t Knowledge. 
B Weight. 



I Best men. 



1044 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act in 



logo. Did Michael Cassio, when yoa woo'd 
Know of vour fcove? [my lady, 

Oth, Hfe did, from first to last : Why dost 
thou ask 1 

lago. But for a satisfaction of my thought ; 
No further harm. 

Otk, Why of thy thought, lago ? 

lugo. I did not think, he had been ac- 
quainted with her. 

Otk. O, yes ; and went between us very oft. 

lago. Indeed ? [aught in that ? 

Oth. Indeed! ay, indeed: — Discern'st thou 
Is he not honest? 

Jago. Honest, my lord 1 

Oth. Ay, honest. 

logo. My lord, for aught I know. 

Oth. W hat dost thou think t 

lago. Think, my lord ? 

Oth. Think, my lord ! 

By heaven, he echoes me. 
As if there were some monster in his thought 
Too hideous to be shown. — ^Thou dost mean 
something : [that, 

I heard thee say but now, — Thou likMst not 
When Cassio left my wife ; What did'st not 

like ? 
And, when I told thee — he was of my counsel 
In my whole course of wooing, thou cry'dst, 
Indeed? [ther. 

And didst contract and purse thy brow toge- 
As if thou then had'st shut up in thy brain 
Some horrible conceit : If thou dost love me, 
Show me thy thought. 

Jago. My lord, you know I love yon. 

Oth. I think, thou dost : 

And — for I know thou art full of love and 

honesty, [them breath, — 

And weigh'st thy words before thou giv'st 

Therefore these stops of thine fright me the 

more : 
For such things, in a false disloyal knave. 
Are tricks of custom ; but, in a man that's just. 
They are close denotement*, working from the 
That passion cannot rule. [heart, 

lago. For Michael Cassio, — 

I dare be sworn, I think that he is honest. 

Oth. I think so too. 

lago. Men should be what they seem ; 

Or, those that be not, 'would they might seem 

none ! [seem. 

Oth. Certain, men should be what they 

lago. Why then, 

I think that Cassio is an honest man. 

Oth. Nay, yet there's more in this : 
I pray thee, speak to me as to thy thinkings. 
As thou dost ruminate; and give thy worst 
The worst of words. [of thoughts 

lago. Good my lord, pardon me: 

Though I am bound to every act of duty, 
I am not bound to that all slaves are free to. 
Utter my thoughts ? Why, say, they are vile 

and false, — 
As Where's that palace, whereinto foul things 
Sometimes intrude not? who has a breast so 
But some uncleanly apprehensions [pure. 



Keep leets*, and law-days, and in session sit 
With meditations lawful? [!'';,''> 

Oth. Thou dost conspire against thy f( itnd. 
If thou but think'st him wrong'd, and mak'st 
A stranger to thy thoughts. [his ear 

lago. I do beseech you,— 

Though I, perchance, am vicious in my guess. 
As, I confess, it is my nature's plague 
To spy in*« abuses; and, oft, my jealousy 
Shapes fadlts tbat are not, — i entreat you 

then. 
From one that so imperfectly conjects f, 
Tfou'd take no notice; nor build yourself x 

trouble 
Out of his scattering and unsure observance: 
It were not for your quiet, nor your good, 
Nor for my manhood, honesty, or wisdom. 
To let you know my thoughts. 

Oth, What dost thou mean ? 

lago. Good name, in man, and woman, 
dear my lord, 
Is the immediate jewel of their souls : 
Who steals my purse, steals trash ; 'tis some- 
thing, nothing ; [thousands ; 
'Twas mine, 'tis his, and has been slave to 
But he, that filches from me my good name, 
Robs me of that, which not enriches him. 
And makes me poor indeed. 

Oth. By heaven, I'll know thy thought. 

lago. You cannot, if my heart were in your 
hand ; 
Nor shall not, whilst 'tis in my custody. 

Oth. Hal 

lago. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy 
It is the green-eyed monster, which doth 
mock [bliss. 

The meat it feeds on: That cuckold lives in 
Who, certain of his fate, loves nothis wronger ; 
But, (), what damned minutes tells he o'er, - 
Who dotes, yet doubts; suspects, yet strongly 

Oth. O misery ! [loves I 

lago. Poor, and content, is rich, and rich 
enough ; 
But riches, finelessj, is as poor as wmter. 
To him that ever fears he shall be poor: — 
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend 
From jealousy! 

Oth. Why? why is this? 

Think'st thou, I'd make a life ot jealousy. 
To follow still the changes of the moon 
With fresh suspicions? No: to be once in 
doubt, [goat. 

Is —once to be resolved : Exchange me for a 
When I shall turn the business of my soui 
To such exsufflicate and blown surmises. 
Matching thy inference. 'Tis not to make m? 
jealous, [pa^y. 

To say— my wife is fair, feeds well, loves coin- 
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances 

well ; 
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous $ : 
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw 
'J lie smallest fear, or doubt of her revolt ; 
For she had eyes, and chose me : No, lago ; 
I'll see, before I doubt; when I doubt, prove 



I 



f QJirts jf Inquiry. t Conjectures. 

$ ** Which :nahe6j'air gifts fair e^ * 



t Endless, nnboanded* 



Scene 113.) 



OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 



1045 



And, on tkc Droof, there is no more but this, — 
Away at onc« with love, or jealousy. 

Jago, I am glad of this, for now I shall 
have reason 
To show the love and duty that I bear you 
With franker spit it : therefore, as I am bound, 
Receive it from me: — I speak not yet of 
proof. [Cassio ; 

Look to your wife; observe her well with 
Wear your eye — thus, not jealous, nor secure; 
I would ni^t have > our free au<l noble nature, 
Out of self-bounty, be abuse«l ; look to't : 
I know our country disposition Wt II ; 
In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks 
They dare not show their husbands; their best 

conscience 
Is — not to leave undone, bat keep unknown. 

Oi A. Dost thou say so? [you; 

Jago, She did deceive her father, marrjing 
And, when she seem'd to shake, and fear your 
She loved them most. [looks, 

Oth. And so she did. 

Ic/go. Why, go to, then ; 

She that, so young, could give oat such a 

seeming ♦. 
To seel t her father's eyes up, close as oak, — 
He thought, 'twas witchcraft: — But I am 

much to blame; 
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon. 
For too much loving >oa. 

Oth, I am bound to thee for ever. 

Jago. I see, this hath a little dash'd yoar 

Oth, Not a jot, not a jot. [spirits. 

Jago, Trust me, I fear it has. 

I hope, yon will consider, what is spoke 
Comes from my love ; — But, I do see you are 

moved: — 
I am to pray you, not to strain my speech 
To grosser issues t, nor to larger reach. 
Than to suspicion. 

Oth. I will not. 

Jago. Should you do so, my lord. 

My speech should fall in such vile success 
As my thoughts aim not at. Cassio'smy worthy 
My lord, I see you are moved. [friend : — 

Oth. No, not much moved : — 

I do not think but Desdemona's honest. 

Jago. Long live she so! and long live you 
to think so! [itself, — 

Oth. And yet, how nature erring from 

Jago. Ay, there's the point : — As,— to be 
bold with you, — 
Not to affect many proposed matches. 
Of her own clime, complexion, and degree; 
Wliereto, we see, in all things nature tends : 
Foh ! one may smell, in such, a will most rank, 
Foul disproportion, thoughts unnatural. — 
But pardon me; I do not, in position. 
Distinctly speak of her: though I may fear. 
Her will, recoiling to her better judgment. 
May fall to match you with her country forms. 
And (happily) repent. 



Oth. Farewell, farewell. 

If more thou dost perceive, let me know more ; 
Set on thy wife to observe : Leave me, lago. 

Jago. My lord, I take my leave. [Going. 

Oih. Why did I marry?— This honest crea. 

tiire, doubtless, [unfolds. 

Sees and knov\s more, much more, tlian h« 

Jago. My lord, 1 would 1 might entreat 
your honour 
To scan this thing no further ; leave it to time: 
And, though it he fitihat C.ssio have hu place, 
(For, sure, he tills it up with great ability,) 
Yet, if you please to hold him off a while, 
You shall by that perceive him and his means: 
Note if jour Iridy strain his enterlainnu'nt j 
With any strong; or vehement opportunity ; 
Much will lie seen in that. In ilie mean time. 
Lei me be thought too busy in n»y fears, 
(As worthy cause I have, to fear — I am.) <- 

And hold her free, I do beseech your honour. ^ 

Oth. Fear not my government. 

Jago. I once more take my leave. [Exit* 

Oth. This fellow's of exceeding honesty. 
And knows all qualities, with a learned spirit. 
Of human dealings : If 1 do prove her h;^- 
gard !|, [sttings. 

Though that her jesses IT were my dear heart- 
I'd whistle her off, and let her down the wind. 
To prey at fortune. Haply, for I am black ; 
And have not those soft parts of conversation 
That chamberers** have : — Or, for I am de- 
clined 
Into the vale of years ; — yet that's not much ;— 
She's gone ; I am abused ; and my relief 
Must be — to loath her. O curse of n.»arriage. 
That we can call these delicate creatures ours. 
And not their appetites ! I had rather be a toad. 
And live upon the vapour o^f a dungeon. 
Than keep a corner in the thing I love 
For others' uses, Yet, 'tis the plague of great 

ones ; 
Prerogatived are they less than the base; 
*Tis destiny unshunnable, like death ; 
Even then this forked plague is fated to us. 
When we do quicken tr. Desdemona comet : 

Enter Desdemona attd Emilia. 
If she be false, O then heaven mocks itself I— 
I'll not believe it. 

Des. How now, my dear Othello f 

Y'our dinner, and the generous islanders 
By you invited, do attend your presence. 

Oth. I am to blame. 

Z>es. Why is your speech so faint? are jan 
not well? 

Oth. I have a pain upon my forehead here, 

Xfes. Faith, that's with watching ; 'twill 
away again : 
Let me but bind it hard, within this hour 
It will be well. 

Oth. Your napkin Jt is too litHe ; 

[He puts the Ildnidkerchief jrom him, 
and it drops. 



♦ Appearance. t An expression from falconry : to seel a hawk is to sew up his eye-lidn, 

X Conclusions. § Press hard his re-admission to his pay and olhce. 

U A species of hawk, also a term of reproach applied to a wanton. 

•IT Straps of leather by which a hawk is held on the fift. •• Men of intrigne, 

tt When we bejrin to live. ;; In the north of England thi* tei m for a haudk«»rchief is jjiili ate4« 

4 U 



1046 



SHAKSPEABE. 



[Act HI 



Let it alone. Come, I'll go ia with you. 

Des, I am very aorry that you are not well 

[Exeunt Oth. and Des. 

Emil. I am glad I have found this napkin i 

This was her first remembrance from, the 

Moor : 
My wayward husband hath a hundred times 
Woo'd me to steal it : but she so loves the 

token, 
(For he conjured her, she would ever keep it,) 
That she reserves it evermore about her. 
To kiss and talk to. I'll have the work ta*en 
And give it lago : [out. 

What he'll do with it, heaven knows, not I; 
1 nothing but to please his fantasy. 
Enter I ago. 
/ago. How now I what do yon here alone? 
Emil. Do not you chide ; I have a thing 
for you. [thing. 

lago. A thing for me? — it is a common 
Etnil. Ha! 

lago. To have a foolish wife. 
Emil. O, is that all ? What will you give 
nie now 
For that same handkerchief I 
lago. What handkerchief ? 

Emil. What handkerchief I 
Why, that the Moor first gave to Desdemona ; 
That which so often you did bid me steal. 
lago. Hast stolen it from her ? 
Emil. No, faith : she let it drop by neg- 
ligence ; [up. 
And, to the advantage, I, being here, took't 
Look, here it is. 
lago, A good wench ; give it me 
EmiL What will you do with it, that you 
have been so earnest 
To have me filch it ? 

lago. Why, wha t* sthat to you ? 

[Snatching it. 
Emil. If it be not for some purpose of 
import, 
Give it me again : Poor lady I she'll run mad 
When she shall lack it. 
lago. Be not you known oft* ; I have use 
for it. 
Go, leave me. [E^it Emilia. 

I will in Casgio*8 lodging lose this napkin, 
And let him find it : Trifles, light as air. 
Are, to the jealous, confirmations strong 
As proofs of holy writ. This may do some- 
thing 
The Moor already changes with my poison: 
Dangerous conceits are, in their natures, poi> 
sons, [taste ; 

Which, at the first, are scarce found to dis- 
Bnt, with a little act upon the blood, 
Burn like the mines of sulphur. — I did say so ; 

Enter Othello. 
Look, where he comes! Not poppy, nor 

mandragora t. 
Nor all the drowsy syrups of the world. 
Shall ever medicine thee to that sweet sleep 
Which thou ow'dst J yesterday. 



Oth. Hal b4i! false to mef 

To me? 

lago. Why, how now, general ? no more 
of that. [on the rack : — 

Oth, Avaunt ! be gone I thou hast set me 
I swear, 'tis better to be much abused. 
Than but to know't a little. 
lago. How now, my lord I 

Oth. What sense had I of her stolen hours 
of lust ? 
1 saw it not, thought it not ; it harm'd not me : 
I slept the next night well, was free and merry ; 
I found not Cassio's kisses on her lips : 
He that is robb'd,not wanting what 48 stolen. 
Let him not know it, aud he's not robb'd at all, 
lago, I am sorry to hear this. 
Oih, I had been happy, if the general camp 
Pioneers § and all, had tasted her sweet body. 
So I had nothing known : O now, for ever. 
Farewell the tranquil mind ! farewell content) 
Farewell the plumed troop, and the big wars 
That make ambition virtue! O, farewell! 
Farewell the neighing steed, and the shriU 

trump. 
The spirit-stirring drum, the ear-piercing fife. 
The royal banner ; and all quality, [war! 

Pride, pomp, and circumstance of glorious 
And 0,you mortal engines, whose rude throats 
The immortal Jove's dread clamours coun- 

terfeit. 
Farewell I Othello's occupation's gone ! 

lago. Is it possible?— My lord, 

Oth, Villain, be sure thou prove my love a 
whore ; 
Be sure of it ; give me the ocular proof; 

[Taking him by the Throat* 
Or, by the worth of mine eternal soul. 
Thou hadst been better have been born a dog, 
Than answer my waked wrath. 
Jago, Is it come to this ? 

Oth, Make me see it ; or (at the least) so 
prove it. 
That the probation bear no hinge, nor loop. 
To hang a doubt on : or woe upon thy life ! 

lago. My noble lord, [me, 

Oth. If thou dost slander her, and torture 
Never pray more, abandon all remorse |j ; 
On horror's head horrors accumulate : 
Do deeds to make heaven weep, all earth 

amazed. 
For nothing canst thou to damnation add 
Greater than that. 

lago, O grace! O heaven defend me! 

Are you a man ? have you a soul or sense ? — 
God be wi' you ; take mine office. — O 

wretched fool. 
That livest to make thine honesty a vice !^ 

monstrous world ! Take note, take note, 

O world. 
To be direct and honest is not safe.— 

1 thank you for this profit ; and from hence 
I'll love no friend, since love breeds such 

oifence. 
Oth, Nay, stay :—Thou ihouldst be honest. 



• Seem as if you knew nothing of the matter. ♦ The mandrake has a soporific quality. 

X Possestedst. § The vilest of the camp. Pioneers were generally degraded soldier*. 

I All tenderness^ all pitjr* 



,1 



! Scene IIL] 



OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VEWICE. 



1047 



logo, I should be wke; for honesty's a 
And loses that it works tor. [fool, 

Oth, By the world, 

'Liink my wife be honest, and think she is 

not; [not; 

I think that tbon art just, and think thou art 

I'll have some proof: Her name, that was as 

fresh 
As Dtan's visage, is now begrim'd and black 
As mine own face. — If there be cords, or 

knives. 
Poison, or fire, or suffocating streams, 
I'll not endure 't. — Would 1 were satisfied ! 

lago. I see, sir, you are eaten up with pas- 
I do repent me that I put it to you. [siou : 
You would be satisfied. 

Ot?i. Would? nay, I will. 

lago. And may: but how? how satisfied, 
my lord ? 
Would you, the supervisor, grossly gape on? 
Behold her tupp'd ? 

Otk, Death and damnation I O I 

iago. It were a tedious diflficulty, I think. 
To bring them to that prospect: Damn them 
If ever mortal eyes do see them bolster, [then, 
More than their own ? What then ? how then ? 
What shall I say? Where's satisfaction? 
It is impossible you should see this, [keys, 
Were they as prime as goats, as hot as mon- 
As salt as wolves in pride, and fools as gross 
As ignorance made drunk. But yet, I say, 
"It imputation and strong circumstances, — 
Which lead directly to the door of truth, — 
Will give you satisfaction, yon may have it* 

OtJi, Give me a living* reason she's dis- 

Jago. I do not like the office : [loyal. 

3ut sitht I am entered in this cause so far, 
Prick'd to it by foolish honesty and love, 
I will go on, 1 lay with Cassio lately; 
And, being troubled with a raging tooth, 
I could not sleep. 

There are a kind of men so loose of soul. 
That in their sleeps will mutter their affairs ; 
One of this kind is Cassio : 
In sleep I heard him say, Stveet Desdemona, 
Jjct Its be wary, let us hide our loves t 
And then, sir, would he gripe, and wring my 
hand, [hard. 

Cry, O, sweet creature! and then kiss me 
As if he pluck'd up kisses by the roots. 
That grew upon m> lips : then laid hi@ leg 
Over my thigh, and sigh'd, and kiss'd ; and 
then [Moor! 

Cry'd, Cursed fate ! that gave thee to the 

Oth, O monstrous! monstrous I 

lago. Nay, this was but his dream. 

Oth. But this denoted a foregone conclu 

sion ; [dream. 

*Iis a shrewd doubt, though it be but a 

Jago. And this may help to thicken other 
That do demonstrate thinly. [proofs, 

Oth. I'll tear her all to pieces. 

lago. Nay, but be wise : yet we see nothing 
done : 



She may be honest yet. Tell me but this ; 
Have you not sometimes seen a handkerchief. 
Spotted with strawberries, in your wife's 
hand ? [first gift. 

Oth. I gave her such a one ; 'twas my 

lago. I know not that ; but such a hand- 
kerchief, 
(I am sure it was your wife's,) did I to-day 
See Cassio wipe his beard with. 

Oth. If it be that.— 

lago. If it be that, or any that was hers, 
It speaks against her with the other proofs. 

Oth. O, that the slave had forty thousan 
lives ; 
One is too poor, too weaV for my revenge I 
Now do I see 'tis true. Look here, lago ; 
All my fond love thus i do blow to heaven : 
'Tis gone. 

Arise, black vengeance, from thy hollow cell! 
Yield up, O love, thy crown, and hearted 

throne j. 
To tyrannous hate I swell, bosom, with thy 
For 'tis of aspicks' tongues ! [fraught % 

lago^ Pray, be content. 

Oth. Q, blood, lago, blood! 

lago. Patience, I say; your mind, perhaps, 
may change. 

Oth. Never, lago. like to the Pontic sea. 
Whose icy current and compulsive course 
Ne'er feels retiring ebb, but keeps due on 
To the Propontic, and the Hellespont ; 
Even so my bloody thoughts, with violent pace 
Shall ne'er look back, ne'er ebb to humble love 
Till that a capable || and wide revenge 
Swallow them np.— Now, by yond' marble 

heaven. 
In the due reverence of a sacred vow 

[Kneels* 
I here engage my words. 

lago. Do not rise yet. — [Kneels. 

Witness, you ever-burning lights above ! 
Yon elements that clip II us round about ! 
Witness, that here lago doth give up 
The execution of his wit, hands, heart, [man<f. 
To wrong'd Othello's service! let him com- 
And to obey shall be in me remorse**. 
What bloody work soever. 

Oth. I greet thy love, [bounteous. 

Not with vain thanks, but with acceptance 
And will upon the instant put thee to't : 
Within these three days let me hear thee say, 
That Cassio's not alive. 

lago. My friend is dead ; 'tis done, at your 
But let her live. [request : 

Oth. Damn her, lewd minx! O, damn her 1 
Come, go with me apart; I will withdraw, 
To furnish me with some swift means of death 
For the fairdevil. Now art thou my lieutenant. 

lago. I am your own for ever. [Exeunt* 

SCENE IV. I'he same. 
Enter Desdemona, Emilia, and Clown. 
Des. Do you know, sirrah, where lieut« 
nant Cassio lies? 



• Speaking, manifest. f Since. t The heart on which thou wast enthroned 

I Freight, load. | Capacious.- IT Embrace. *♦ Not of malice to others, but jr 

tenderness fui hira. 



1048 



8HAK8PEAKB 



[Art /// , 



J?es. I bave It noi aboat uit. 

Oth. Nott 

Des. No, indeed, my lord. 

Oth. 1 bat is a fault s 

That handkerchief 
Did »n Egyptian to my mother give ; 
She was a charmer t , and could almost read 
Ihc thoughts of people : she told her, wliile 
she kept it, [father 

'T would make her amiable, and subdue my 
Entirely to her li>ve : but if she lost it. 
Or njade a i>ift of it, my fiiht r's eye 
Should hold her loathly, and his spirits shoul<f 

bnnt 
After new fancies : She, dying, gave it me; 
And bid me, when my fate would have m© 

wive, 
To give it her. I did so : and take heed of*t. 
Make it a darling like your precious eye : 
To lose or giv't away, were such perdition. 
As nothing else could match. 

Des. Is it possible? [it: 

Oth. 'Tis true: there's maeic in the web of 
A sibyl, that had number'd in the world 
The sun to make two hundred compasses, 
In her prophetic ftiry sewM the work : [silk ; 
Tiie worms were hallow'd^ that did bieed the 
Ana it was dyM in mummy, which the skilful 
Conserved of maidens' hearts. 

JJes, Indeed! is't true? 

Oth.yiott veritable; therefore look to't well. 

Des. Then 'would to heaven, that I had ne- 

Oth. Kul wherefore? [ver seen it. 

Z)es. Why do you speak so startingly and 
rash § ? [Ihe way ? 

Oth. Is't lost? is't gone? speak, u it out of 

Des, Heaven bless us ! 

Oth. Say yon ? 

Des. It is not lost ; But what an if It were? 

Oth. Ha! 

Des. I say, it is not lost. 

Oth. Feich't, letme see it. 

Des. Why, 80 I can, sir, but I will not now; 
This is a trick, to put me from my suit ; 
I pray, let Cassio be received again. 

Oth» Fetch me that handkerchief: my mini 

Des. Come, come ; [misgives. 

You'll never meet a more sufficient man. 

Oth. The handkerchief, 

Des. I pray, talk me of Cassio. 

Oth. The handkerchief, 

Dei. A man that, all his time» 
Halh founded his good fortune on your love; 
Shared dangers with yon ; 

Oth. The handkerchief, 

Des. In sooth. 
You are to blame. 

Oth. Away! fEi'?7 Othki.lp. 

JEmil, Is not this man jealous? 

Des. I ne'er saw this beiore. 
Sure, there's some wonder in this handker- 
I am most unhappy in tlie loss of it. [chief: 

Emit. 'Tis not a year or two shows n? a, 

man : ^iood ; 

They are all but stomachs, and we ;" hut 

They eat us hungerly, and when they a tull, 



Clo. i dare not say, he lies any where. 

Des. Why, man ? 

C/o. He is a soldier ; and Cor me to say a 

•oldier lie^, is stabbing. 

Des. Goto; Where lodges he? 

Clo. To tell you where he lodges, is to tell 
you where I lie. 

Des. Can any thing be made of this ? 

Clo. I know not where he lodges; and for 
me to devise a lodging, and say — he lies here, 
or he lies there, were to lie in my own throat. 

Pes. Can you inquire him out, and be edi- 
fied I y rtport^ 

Clo. I will catechize the world for him ; 
that is, make questions, and by them answer. 

Des, Seek him, bid him come hither: tell 
him, I have moved my lord in his behalf, and 
hope, all will be well. 

(Uo. To do this, is within the compass of 
man's wit; and therefore I will attempt the 
doi.;g it. [Exit, 

Dps. Where should I lose that handker- 
chief, Emilia? 

Emil. I know not, madam. 

Des, Believe me, I had rather have lost my 
purse 
Full of ciuzadoes*. And, but my noble Moor 
IsMueof mind, and macieof nosuch baseness 
As Jealous cre.jtni es -re, it were enough 
To I'Ut him to ill-thinking. 

t'uil. Is he not jealous ? 

Des. Who, he? I think, the sun, where he 
was born, 
Drew all buch humours from him. 

Emil, Look where he comes. 

Des. I will not leave him now, till Cassio 

Be call'd to him. — How is't with you, ray lord. 

Enter Othello. 

Oth. Well, my good lady -.—{Aside,] O, 
hardness to dissemble!— 
How do you, Desdemona ? 

Des. Well, my good lord. 

Oth, Give me your hand : This hand is 
moist, my lady. [sorrow. 

Des. It yet has felt no age, nor known no 

Oth. This argues fruitfulness, and liberal 
heart ; — [quires 

Hot, hot, and moist : This hand of yours re« 
A sequester from liberty, fasting and prayer, 
Much castigationt, exercise devout ; 
For here's a young and sweating devil here. 
That commonly rebels. Tis a good hand, 
A frank one. 

D^s. You may, indeed, say so : 

For 'twas that hand that gave away my heart. 

Oth. A liberal hand : The hearts of old 
gave hands ; 
But our new heraldry is — hands, not hearts. 

£>pv. 1 cannot speak of this. Come now 

Oth. What promise, chuck ?'yonr promise. 

Des. 1 have sent to bid Cassio come speak 
with you. [me; 

Oth. 1 have a salt and sullen rheum offends 
Lend me thy handkerchief. 

Des, Here, my lord. 

Otk. That which I gave you. 

• A Ponoguwe coin. t Penance, discipline. i Enchantr«M. $ Vehement, >» m. 



/^.J 



OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 



1049 



l^ey belch us. Look yoal Cassio, and my 

husband. 
Enter Iago and Gassio. 
lago. There is no other way ; 'tis she ranst 

do't ; [her. 

And, Id, the happiness! go, and imp6rtune 

JJes. How now ? good Cassio? what's the 

news with you? [you? 

Cas. Madam, my former suit : I do beseech 
That, by your virtuous means, I may again 
Exist, and be a member of his love. 
Whom I, wiih ati the duty of my heart, 
Entirely honour : I would not be detay'd : 
If my offence be of such mortal kind. 
That neither service past, nor present sorrows. 
Nor purposed merit in futurity, 
Can ransome me into his love again, 
But to know so must be my benefit ; 
So shall I clothe me in a forced content, 
And shut myself up in some other course. 
To fortune's alms. 

Des.. Alas ! thrice-gentle Cassio, 

My advocation is not now in tune ; [him. 
My lord is not my lord ; nor should I know 
Were he in favour *, as in humour, altcr'd. 
So help me, every spirit sanctified. 
As I have spoken for you all my best ; 
And stood within the blank t of his displeasure 
For my free speech! You must a while be 

patient : 
What I can do, I will ; and more I will, 
Than for myself I dare : let that suflBce you. 
Jago. Is my lord angry 1 
Emil. He went hence but now. 

And, certainly, in strange unquietness. [non, 
logo. Can he be ansiry 1 1 have seen the can- 
When it hath blown his ranks into the air ; 
And, like the devil, from his very arm [gry ? 
Puflf'd his own brother ; — And can he be au- 
Something of moment, then : 1 will go meet 

him ; 
There's matter in't indeed, if he be angry. 
Des. I pr'ythee, do so. — Something, sure, 

of state, — {ExU IkGO. 

Either from Venice ; or some unhatch'd prac- 
tice t, 
Made demonstrable here in Cyprus to him, — 
Hath puddled his clear spirit: and, in such 

cases. 
Men's natures wrangle with inferior things. 
Though great ones are their object, 'lis even 
For let onr finsicr ache, and it indues [so ; 
Our other healthful members ev'n to that sense 
Of pain : Nay, we must think, men are not 
Nor of them look for such observances [gods ; 
As fit the bridalj. — Beshrew me much, Emilia, 
I was (i'.nhHnd?ome warrior as 1 am J 
Arraigning his unkindness wiih my soul : 
But now I find, f had siiborn'd the witness, 
And he's indicted falsely. 
EmiL Pray heaven, it be state matters, as 

yon think ; 



Des. Alas, the day 1 1 never gave him cause. 

Emil. But jealous souls will not be answered 

They are not ever jealous for the cause, [so ; 

But jealous for they are jealous : 'tis a monster. 

Begot upon itself, born on itself. 

Des. Heaven keep that monster from 

Othello's mind I 
Emil. Lady, amen. 

Des. I will go seek him. — Cassio walk here- 
about : 
If I do find him fit, I'll move your suit. 
And seek to eflfect it to my uttermost. 
Cas, I humbly thank your ladyship. 

{Exeunt Desdemona and Emilia 
Enter Bianca. 
Bian. Save you, friend Cassio! 
Cas. What make yon from hornet 

How is it with you, my most fair Bianca? 
I* faith, sweet love, I was coming to your house. 
Lian. And I was going to your lodging, 
Cassio. [nights? 

What! keep a week away? seven days ajid 
Eight score eight hours? and lovers' absent 

hours. 
More tedious than the dial eight score times? 

weary reckoning ! 

Cas. Pardon me, Bianca! 

1 have this while with leaden thoughts been 
But I shall in a more coutinuate time ||, [press'd; 
Strike oflF this score of absence. Sweet Bianca, 

[Giving her Desdemona's Handkercliiej. 
Take me this work out^. 

Bian. O, Cassio, whence came this ? 

This is some token from a newer friend. 
To the felt absence now I feel a cause : 
Is it come to this? Well, well. 

Cas. Woman, go to I 

Throw your vile guesses in the devil's teeth. 
From whence you have them. You are jealous 
now, [brance : 

That this is from some mistress, some remem- 
No, in good troth, Bianca. 

Bian. Why, whose is it i 

Cas. I know not, sweet: I found it in my 
chamber. 
I like the work well ; ere it be demanded, 
(As like enough, it will,) I'd have it copied 
Take it, and do't ; and leave me for this time. 

Bian. Leave you! wherefore? 

Cas. I do attend here on the general ; 
And think it no addition, nor my wish. 
To have him see me woman'd. 

Bian. Why, I pray you? 

Cas. Not that I love you not. 

Bian, But that you do not love me. 

I pray you, bring me on the way a little; 
And say, if I shall see you soon at night. 

Cas. 'Tis but a little way, that I can brinj 
For I attend here: but I'll see you soon, [yon, 

Bian. 'Tis very good ; I must be circum- 
stanced. [Exeunt, 



And no conception, nor no jealous toy. 
Concerning you. 

• In countenance. * Within the shot of his anger. t Treason. 5 The nuptial feaM. 

Time less interrupted. f The meaning is not pick out the work, but copy this work ia 

another handherchief. 

4 U 3 



1050 



SHAKSPEABE. 



[Act in 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. The same. 
Enter Othello and Iaoo* 

lago. Will you think lo t 

Oth, Think so, lago ? 

lago. What, 

To kiss in private? 

Oth. An unauthorized kiss. 

lago. Or to be naked with her friend abed. 
An hour, or more, not meaning any harm? 

Oth. Naked abed, lago, and not mean harm ? 
It is hypocrisy against the devil: 
They that mean virtuously, and yet do so. 
The devil their virtue tempts, and they tempt 
heaven. 

lago. So they do nothing, 'tis a venial slip : 
But if I give my wife a handkerchief, 

Oth. What then? 

lago. Why then 'tis hers, my lord ; and being 
She may, 1 think, bestow'ton any man. [hers, 

Oth. She is protectress of her honour too ; 
May she give that? [seen ; 

Jago. Her honour i» an essence that's not 
They have it very oft, that have it not : 
But, for the handkerchief, [forgot it : — 

Oth. By heaven, I would most gladly have 
Thou said'st, — O, it comes o'er my memory. 
As doth the raven o'er the infected house. 
Boding to all* — he had my handkerchief. 

Jago. Ay, what of that? 

Oth. That's not so good, now. 

lago. What, if I had said, 1 had seen him 
do you wrong? 
Or heard him say, — As knaves be such abroad. 
Who having, by their own importunate suit. 
Or voluntary dotage of some mistress. 
Convinced or supplied t them, cannot choose 

But they must blab 

Oth, Hath he said any thing? 

lago. He hath, my lord ; but be you well 
No more than he'll unswear. [assured 

Oth. What hath he said? 

Jago. 'Faith, that he did,— I know not what 

Oth. What? what? [he did. 

Jago. Lie 

Oth. With her? 

Jago, With her, on her ; what yon will. 

Oth. Lie with her! lie on her! — We say, lie 
on her, when they belie her : Lie with her ! 
that's fulsome. — Handkerchief, — confessions, 
— handkerchief. — To confess, and be hanged 
for his labour +. — First to be hanged, and then 
lo confess : — I tremble at it. Nature would not 
invest herself in such shadowing passion, with- 
out some instruction. It is not words, that 
shake me thus : — Pish ! — Noses, ears, and lips : 
— Is it possible? — Confess ! — Handkerchief ! — 
O devil ! — [Falls in a Trance. 

lago. Work on, [caught ; 

My medicine, work ! Thus credulous fools are 
And many worthy and chaste dames, even 
thus, I 



All guiltless meet reproach.— What, hp ! my 
lordl 

Enter Cassig. 
My lord, I say! Othello! — How now, Catsiot 

Cas. What is the matter? 

Jago. My lord is fallen into an epilepsy ; 
This is his second fit, he had one yesterday. 

Cas, Rub him about the temples. 

Jago. No, forbear: 

The lethargy must have his quiet course : 
If not, he foams at mouth ; and, by and by, 
Breaks out to savage madness. Look, he stirs : 
Do you withdraw yourself a little while. 
He will recover straight ; when he is gone, 
I would on great occasion speak with you. — 
{Exit CajsSio. 
How is it, general? have you not hurt your 

Oih, Dost thou mock me? [head? 

lago, I mock you ! no, by heaven : 

'Would, you would bear your fortunes like a 
man. 

Oth. A horned man's a monster, and a beast. 

Jago, There's many a beast, then, in a popu- 
And many a civil monster. [loui city, 

Oth. Did he confess it? 

Jago. Good sir, be a man; 

Think, every bearded fellow, that's but yoked 
May draw with you : there's millions now alive 
That nightly lie in those un proper $ beds. 
Which they dare swear peculiar ; your case is 

better. 
O, 'tis the spite of hell, the fiend's arch-mock, 
To lip a wanton in a secure couch. 
And to suppose her chaste! No, let me know; 
And, knowmg what I am, I know what she 

Oth, 0,thou art wise ; 'tis certain, [shall be. 

Jago, Stand you awhile apart; 

Confine yourself but in a patient listfi- 
Whilst you were here, ere while mad with your 
(A passion most unsuiting such a man,) [grief, 
Cassio came hither: I shifted him away. 
And laid good 'sense upon your ecstacy ; [me : 
Bade him anon return, and here speak witn 
The which he promised. Do but encavelT 
yourself, [scorns. 

And mark the fleers, the gibes, and notabit 
That dwell in every region of his face; 
For 1 will make him tell the tale anew, — 
Where, how, how oft, how long ago, and whao 
He hath, and is again to cope your wife ; 
I say, but mark his gesture. Marry, patience; 
Or I shall say, you are all in all in spleen. 
And nothing of a man. 

Oth. Dost thou hear, lago 

I will be found most cunning in my patience; 
But (dost thou hear?) most bloody. 

lago. That's not amiss; 

But yet keep time in all. Will yo« withdraw* 
[Othello withdraws. 
Now will I question Cassio of Bianca, 
A housewife, that, by selling her desires, 



• The raven was thought to be a constant attendant on a house infected with the plague. 
t Old spelling of suppled, i. e., softened. J A proverbial saying. $ Common. 

U Within the bounds of patience. IT Hide. 



Scene 7.] 



OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 



1051 



Boys herself bread and clothes : it is a creature. 
That dotes on Cassio,— as 'tis the strumpet's 

plague, 
To beguile many, and be beguiled by one; 
He, when he hears of her, cannot refrain 
From the excess of laughter: — Here he come?: 

Re-enter Cassio. 
Ashe shall smile, Othello shall go mad; 
And his unbookish* jealousy must construe 
Poor Cassio's smiles, gestures, and light be- 
haviour 
Quite in the wrong.— How do you now, lieu- 
ten ant '? 
- Cas. The worser, that you give me the ad- 
Whose want even kills me. [dition t, 

tngo. Ply Desdemona well, and you are 
sure oft. 
N«W, if this suit lay in Bianca's power, 

\Speaking lower. 
How quickly should yon speed % 

Ccts, Alas, poor caitiffi 

Oth. Look, how he laughs already ! {Aside, 
fi&go, I never knew a woman love man so. 

Cas^ Alas, poor rogue! I think i'faith sfie 
eves me. 

Oth. Now he denies it faintly, and laughs it 
out. [Aside, 

logo. Do you hear, €assio ? 

Oth, Now he importunes him 

To tell it o'er : Go to ; well said, well said. 

[Aside. 

fitgo. She gives it out, that you shall marry 
Be you intend itl [her : 

Cas. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Oth. Do you triumph, Roman t do you 
triumph? [Aside. 

Cas. 1 marry her! — what? a customer J! I 
pr'ythee, bear some charity to my wit ; do not 
think it so "unwholesome. Ha, ha, ha ! 

Oth. So, so, so, so : They laugh that win. 

[Aside. 

lagd. 'Faith, the cry goes, that you shall 
marry her. 

Cas. Pr'ythee, say true. 

Jago. I am a very villain else. 

Oth. Have you scored me? Well. [Aside. 

Cas. This is the monkey's own giving out : 
she is persuaded 1 will marry her, out of her 
own love and flattery, not out of my promise. 

Oth. lago beckons me ; now he begins the 
story. [Aside. 

Cas. She was here even now; she haunts 
me in every place. I was, the other day, talk- 
ing on the sea-bank with certain Venetians ; 
and thither comes this bauble ; by this hand, 
she falls thus about my neck ; 

Oth. Crying, O dear Cassio 1 as it were: his 
gesture imports it. [Aside. 

Cas. So hangs, and lolls, and weeps upon 
me ; so hales, and pulls me : ha, ha, ha ! — 

Oth. Now he tells, how she pluck'd him to 
my chamber : O, I see that nose of yours, but 
not that dog I shall throw it to. [Aside. 

Cas. Well, I must leave her company. 

Jago. Before me 1 look where she comes. 



Enter Bianca. 

Cas. *Tis such another fitchew §! marry, a 
perfumed one. — What do you mean by this 
haunting of me ? 

Bian. Let the devil and his dam haunt you ! 
What did you mean by that same handkerchief, 
you gave m^ even now 1 I was a fine fool to 
take it. I must take out the whole work 1 — A 
likely piece of work, that you should find it in 
your chamber, and not know who left it there ! 
This is some minx's token, and 1 must take out 
the work-? There, — give it your hobby-horse : 
wheresoever you had it, Pll take out no work 
on't. 

Cas. How now, my sweeH Bianca? how 
now ? how now ? 

Oth. By heaven, that shoold be my hand* 
kerchief! [Aside. 

Biaru An you'll come to supper to-night, 
you may : an you will not, come when you are 
next prepared for. [Exit* 

lago. After her, after her. 

Cas. 'Faith I must, she'll rail in the street else. 

lago. Will you sup there? 

Cas. 'Faith, I intend so. 

lago. Well, I may chance to see you; for I 
would very fain speak with you. 

Cas. Pr*ylhee, come ; Will you ? 

lago. Goto; say no more. [jG!r2^ Cassio, 

Oth. How shall I murder him, lago ? 

lago. Did you perceive how he laughed at 
his vice? 

Oth. O, lago! 

lago. And did you see the handkerchief? 

Oth. Was that mine ? 

lago. Yours, by this hand : and to see how 
he prizes the foolish woman, your wife ! 8h« 
gave it him, and he hath given it his whore. 

Oth. I would have him nine years a killing : 
— A fine woman! a fair woman! a sweet 
woman ! 

lago. Nay, you must forget that. 

Oth. Ay, let her rot, and perish, and be 
damned to-night ; for she shall not live : No, 
my heart is turned to stone ; I strike it, and it 
hurts my hand. O, the world hath not a sweeter 
creature : she might lie by an emperor's side, 
and command him tasks. 

lago. Nay, that's not your way. 

Oth. Hang her 1 I do but say what she is :— 
So delicate with her needle! — An admirable 
musician ! O, she will sing the savageness out 
of a bear !— Of so high and plenteous wit and 
invention! — 

lago. She's the worse for all this. 

Oth. O, a thousand, a thousand times : — And 
then, of so gentle a condition 1|1 

lago. Ay, too gentle. 

Oth. Nay, that's certain : But yet the pity 
of it, lago 1—0, lago, the pity of it, lago ! 

lago. If you are so fond over her iniquity, 
give her patent to offend ; for, if it touch not 
you, it comes near nobody. 

Oth. I will chop her into messes ;— Cuckold 
me I 



• Ignorant. 



t Title of lieutenant. X A common woman. 

t] Of so iweet a disposition. 



$ A pole-cat. 



10;32 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Act ir 



lago. O, 'tis foul in her. 

Oth. With mine officer I 

/ago. That's fouler. 

Oth. Get me some poiion, lago ; thii night : 
I'll not expostulate with her, iest her "body 
and be.tuty unprovide my miod again: Ibis 
night, lago. • 

Jago. Do it not with poison^ itrangle her in 
her bed, even the bed she hath contaminated. 

Oth. Good, good: the justice of it pleatei; 
very good. 

Jago. And, for Catsio, — let me be hii nnd«r- 
taker : You shall hear more by midnight. 

[A Trumpet tvithin. 

Oth. Excellent good. — What trumpet is that 
same : [Lodovico, 

lago. Something from Venice, lurc. *l'i« 

Come from the duke: and, see, your wife it 

with him. 

Enter Lodotico, Desdimona, and 

Attendants. 

Lod. 'Save you, wortliy general I 
Oth. With all mv heart, sir. 

Ltod. The doke and senators of V enice greet 
you. {Gives him a Packet. 

Oth. I kiss the instrument of.their pleasures. 
[Opens the Packet and reads. 

Des. And what's the news, good cousin Lo- 
dovico? 

Jago. I am very glad to see you, signior ; 
Welcome to Cyprus. [Cawio? 

LiOd. I thank you: How does lieutenant 

Jago. Lives, sir. [and my lord 

Des. Cousin, there's fallen between him 
An unkind b; ^\ but you shall make all 

Oth. Ar* yoa ■ iC of that! [well. 

Des. My lord ? 

Oth. This fail you not to do, as you 

unit — [Reads. 

JjOd. He did not call ; he's busy in the paper. 
Is there division 'twixt thy lord and Cassio? 

Des. A most unhappy one ; I would do much 
To atone* them, for the love I bear to Cassio. 

Oth. Fke and brimstone! 

Des. My lord ? 

Oth. Are ybo wise ? 

Des, What, is he angry ? 

Ltod. May be, the letter moved him : 

For, as I think, they do command him home, 
Deputing Cassio in his government. 

Des. By my troth, I am glad on't. 

Oth. Indeed. 

Des. My lordt 

Oth. I am glad to see you mad. 

Des. How, sweet Othello? 

Oth. Devil I [Striking her. 

Des. I have not deserved this. 

JjOd. My lord, this would not be believed In 
Venice, [much ; 

Though I should swear I saw it: 'Ti» very 
Make her amends, she weeps. 

Oth. O devil, devil f 

If tliat the earth conld teem with woman's 

tears, 
Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile: — 
Out of my sight I 



I 
1 



Des. 1 will not stay to ottend yoiu 

[Goi9ig^ 

Lod. Truly, an obedient lady : — 
I do beaeech your lord»hip, call her back. 

Oth. Mistress, 

Des. My lord? 

Oth. What would yon with her, ilrf I 

Lod. Who, I, my lord? [hrr turn J 

Oth. Ay ; you did wish, that I would mak» 
Sir, she can turn, and turn, and yet go on. 
And turn again ; and she can weep, sir, weep; 
And she's obedient, as you say, — obe<lient,-«- 
Very obedient ; — Proceed you in your tears.— 
Concerning this, sir, — O well-paiuted patsioni 
I am commanded home : — Get you away ; 
I'll send for you anon.— Sir, I obey the man* X I 
date, m 

And will return to Venice ; — Hence, araunti ^ ' 

[Exit Desdemona, 
Cassio shall have roy place. And, — sir, to- 
night, 
I do entreat that we may sup together. 
You are welcome, sir, to Cyprus. — Goats; and 
monkeys I [Exit. 

Lod. Is this the noble Moor whom our full 

senate [ture 

Call— all iu-all sufficient ?^Thi8 the noble na> 

Whom passion could not shake ? whose solid 

virtue 
The shot of accident, nor dart of chance, 
Conld neither graze, nor pierce ? 

Jago. He is much changed. 

Lod. Are his wits safe? is he not light of 
brain? [my censure. 

Jago. He if that he is ; I may not breathe 
What be might be,— if, what he might, he if 
I would to heaven, he were. [not, — 

Lod, What, strike bis wile I 

Jago. 'Paith, thai was not so Well: Yet 
'would I knew. 
That stroke would prove the worst. 

Lod. is it hii ate f 

Or did the letters work npon his blood. 
And new-create this fauU? 

Jago. Alas, alas I 

It is not honest in me, to speak [serve him ; 
What I have seen and known. You shall ob> 
And his own courses will denote him so, 
That I may save my speech ; Do but go after. 
And mark how he continues. 

LtOd. I am sorry that I am deceived in him. 
[Exeunt, 

SCENE XL A JUnm in the Castle, 
Enter Othello and Emilia. 
Oth. You have seen nothing fhen? 
Emil. Nor e 'er heard ; nor e\er did iiis< 
peet. [together. 

Oth. Yes, yon have seen Cassio and she 
Emit. But then I saw no harm : and then I 
heard [them. 

Each syllable, that breath made up between 
Oth. What, did they never whisper? 
Emit. Never, my lord, 

Oth. Nor send yon ont o'the way ? 
Etnil. Never. 



11 



• Rceoncile. 



Srene m OTHELLO, MOOR O ^^ VKNTCE. 



loris 



Oth. To fetch her fan, her gloves, her mask, 
Emil. Never, my lord. [nor nothing t 

Oth. That's strange. [honest, 

Emil. 1 durst, my lord, to wager she is 
Lay down my sonl at stake : if you think other. 
Remove your thought ; it doth abuse your 

bosom. 
If any wretch hath put this in your head 
Let heaven requite it with the serpent's curse ! 
1" or, if she be not honest, chaste, and true, 
1 here's no man happy ; the purest of their 

rfoul as slander. [wirea 

Oth, Bid her come hither : — go. — 

[Exit Emilia. 
^he says enough :— yet »he's a simple bawd, 
That cannot say as much. This is a subtle 
( whore, 

A closet lock -and-key of villanous tecrets : 
And yet, she'll kneel, and pray ; 1 have seen 
her do't. 
Re-enter Emilia, with Desdemona. 
^es. My lord, what is your will? 
Oth. Pray, chuck, come hither. 

Des. What is your pleasure t 
Oth. Let me see your eye» ; 

Look in my face. 

Des. What horrible fancy's this? 

Oth. Some of your function, mistress ; 

[To Emilia. 
Tjcave procreants alone, and shut the door ; 
Cough, or cry — hem, if any body come : 
Yx>ur mystery, your mystery; na^ despatch. 
[Exit Emilia. 
Des. Upon my knees, what doth your 
speech import? 
y understand a fury in your words, 
Lut not the words. 

Oth. Why, what art thou ? 
Des. Your wife, my lord ; your true 

And loyal wife. 

Oth. Come, swear it, damn thyself; 

Lest, being like one of heaven, the devils 

themselves [damn'd. 

Should fear to seize thee : therefore be double- 

18 wear — thou art honest. 

Des. Heaven doth truly know it. 

Oth. Heaven truly knows, that thou art 
false as hell. [am I false? 

Pes. To whom, my lord ? with whom ? How 
Oth. O Desdemona! — away! away! away! 
Des. Alas, the heavy day 1 — Why do yoa 
weep ? 
' m I the occasion of these tears, my lord T 
If, haply, you my father do suspect, 
An instrument of this your calling back. 
Lay not your blame on me ; if you have lost 
Why, I have lost him too. [hioa, 

Oth. Had it pleased heaven 

"^ •> try me with atfliction ; had he rain'd 
1 kinds of sores, and shames, on my bare 

head ; 
eep'd me in poverty to the very lips ; 
ven to captivity me and my utmost hopes ; 
-honid have found in some part of my soul 
\ drop of patience: but (alas!) lo make me 
K fixed 6gnre, for the time of scorn 



To point his slow unmoving finger at, — 
O ! C) ! 

Yet tould I bear that too ; well, very well : 
But there, where I have garner'd • up my 

heart ; 
Where either I must live, or bear no life ; 
The fountain from the which my current runs. 
Or else dries up ; to be discarded thence ! 
Or keep it as a cistern, for foul toads [chere ! 
To knot and gender in! — turn thy complexion 
Patience, thou young and rose-lipp'd cherubim; 
Ay, there, look grim a.n hell! 
Des. 1 hope, my noble lord esteems me 

honest. 
Oth. O, ay ; as summer flies are in the 
shambles. 
That quicken even with blowing. O thou weed. 
Who art so lovely fair, and sniell'st so sweet. 
That the sense aches at thee. — 'Would, thoa 
had'st ne'er been born I [led ? 

Des. Alas, what ignorant sin have 1 commit- 
Oth. Was this fair paper, this most goodly 
book. 
Made to write whore up©n ? What committed I 
Committed!— O thou public commoner! 
T should make very forges of my cheeks, 
That would to cinders burn up modesty, 
Did I but speak thy deeds. — What committed ! 
Heaven stops the nose at it, and the moon 

winks; 
The bawdy wind, that kisses all it meets. 
Is hush'd within the hollow mine of earth. 
And will not hear it : What committed ! — 
Impudent strumpet! 
Des. By heaven, you do me wrong. 

Oth. Are not you a strumpet? 
Des. No, as 1 am a christian : 

If to preserve this vessel for my lord. 
From any other foul unlawful touch. 
Be — not to be a strumpet, 1 am none. 
Oth. What, not a whore ? 
Des. '' '■^'No, as I shall be saved. 

Oth. Is it possBle ? ^ 
Des. O, heaven forgive us ! 
Oth. I cry you mercy, then ; 

I took yoH for that cunning whore of Venice, 
That married with Othello.— You, mistress. 

Re-enter Emilia. 
That have the office opposite to Saint Peter, 
And keep the gate of hell ; You ! you 1 ay, 
you! [your pains; 

We have done our course; there's money for 
I pray you, turn the key, and keep our coun- 
sel. [Exit. 
Emil. Alas, what does Ihis gentleman con- 
ceive ?— [lady I 
How do you, madam? how do you, my go<»d 
Des. 'Faith, half asleep. [my lord ; 
Emil. Good madam, what's the matter with 
Pes. With who ? 

Emil. Why, with my lord, madam- 

Des. Who is thy lord ? 
Emil. He (hat is yours, sweet lady, 

Des. I have none : Do not talk to me 
Emilia; 
I cannot weep ; nor answer I have non^i 



• Treaeured »r.. 



054 



SHAKSFEARE. 



[.4c/ IV 



But what should go by water. Pr*ythee, to- 
night [ber ;— 
Tiay on my bed my wedding sheets, — reraem- 
Au<i call thy husbamt hither. 
EitiiL Here is a change, indeed ! 

lExit. 
Des. Tis meet I should be used so, very 
meet. 
Hf»\v have I been behaved, that he might stick 
Vhe smallest opi ion on my great'st abuse? 
Re enter Plmilia, tvith, I ago. 
lago. What is your pleasure, madam? How 
is it with yoti ? [young babes, 

Des. I c^niiot tell. Those, that do teach 
Do it with ijentie means, and easy tasks : 
He might have chid me so; for, in good faith ^ 
k am a child to chiding;. 
J'liio. What's the matter, lady? 

Emit. Alas, lago, my lord hath so bewhored 
her, {her, 

Thrown such despite and heavy terms upon 
As ti ne hearts cannot bear. 
Des, Am I that name, lago? 
Ittgo What name, fair iady? 

Des. Such as, she says, my lord did say I 
was. [his drink, 

Emii. He call'd her, whore; a beggar, in 
Could not have laid such terms upon his cal- 
7/;gtf. Why did he so? [let*. 

Des. I do not know ; I am sure, I am none 
such. [day I 

Jfigo. Do not weep, do not weep ; Alas, the 
Em I. Has she forsook so many noble 
matches, 
^er father, and her country, and her friends, 
fo be call'd — whore? would it not make one 
De^i. It is my wretched fortune. [weep? 
J'igo. Beshrew him for it? 

flow comes this trick upon him? 

Des. Nay, heaven doth know. 

Em I. I will be hang'd, if some eternal vil- 
Some busy and insinuating rogue, [lain, 

5ome cogging cozening slave, to get some 
office, [else. 

Have not devised this slander ; PU be han»'d 
lago. Fie, there is no such man; it is im- 
possible, [him ! 
17<?v. If any such there be, heaven pardon 
Emil. A halter pardon him ! and hell gnaw 
his b«>nesl [her company? 
Why should he call her, whore? who keeps 
What place? what time? what form? what 
likelihood? [knave, 
The Moor's abused by some most villnnous 
Some ba«e notorious knave, some scurvy fel- 
low: — [unfold; 
O, heaven, that such companions f thou'dst 
And put in every honest hand a whip. 
To lash the rascal naked through the world. 
Even from the east to the west! 

Jiigo. Speak within door. 

Em'il. O, fie upon him I some such squire he 

was, 

That turn'd your wit the searoy side J without, 

And made you to suspect me with the Moor. 



lago. You are a fool ; go to. 

Des, O good lago. 

What ahall I do to win my lord again? 
Good friend, go to him; for, by this light of 

heaven, 
I know not how I lost him. Here I kneel : — 
if e'er my will did trefps*.*** 'gainst his love, 
Either in discourse of thought, or actual deed ; 
Or that mine eyes, mine ears, or any sense, 
t>eliii;hted them in any other form ; 
Or that I do not >et, and ever did. 
And ever will,^ — though he do shake me oft 
To beggarly divorcement, — love him dearly, 
Comfort forswear me! Unkindness may do 

much ; 
And his unkindness may defeat my lifCr 
But never taint my love, l.cannot say, whore; 
It does abhor me, now I speak the word ; 
To do the act that might the addition $ earn. 
Not the world's mass of vanity could make 
me. [hunriour; 

lago. I pray you be content ; 'tis but hi» 
The business of the state does him offence. 
And he does chide with you. 

Des, If 'twere no other,— 

lago. It is but so, I warrant you. 

{Trumpets, 
Hark, how these instruments summon to sup- 

[perl 
And the great messengers of Venice stay; 
Go in, and s^fe^ not ; all things shall be well. 
[Eteunt Desdemona and Emilia. 
Enter Roderigo. 
How now, Roderiyo? 

Rod, I do not find, that thou deal'st justly 
with me. 

Jago, What in the contrary ? 

Rod, Every day thou doff 'st || me with some 
device, lago; and r.ither (as it seems to me 
now,) keep'st from me all conveniency, than 
suppliest me with the least advantage of hope. 
I will, indeed, no longer endure it: Nor am I 
yet persuaded, to put up in peace what already 
I have foolishly suffered. 

Jago, "Will you hear me, Roderigo ? 

Rod, 'Faith, I have heard too much; for 
your words and performances, are ne kin to- 
gether. 

Irtgo. You charge me most unjustly. 

Rod. With nought but truth. I have wasted 
myself out of my means. The jewels you 
have had from me, to deliver to Desderaona, 
would half have corrupted a votarist: You 
have told me — she has received them, and 
returned me expectations and comforts of 
sudden respect and acquittance IT; but I find 
none. 

Jago. Well ; go to ; very well. 

Rod. Very well! go to! 1 cannot go to, 
man; nor 'tis not very well : By this hand, I 
say, it is very scurvy ; and begin to find my- 
self fobbed in it, 

Jago. Very well. 

Rod. I tell you, 'tis not very well. 1 will 
make myself known to Desdemona ; If »h« 



• Hii* drab. 



♦ Felkkwt. 
P«t'tt mo off. 



X Inside oat. 
^ Requital 



Scene II,] 



OTHELLO, MOOR OF VENICE. 



1055 



will retnrn me my jewels, 1 will give over 
jny suit, and repent my unlawful solicitation ; 
if not, assure yourself, I will seek satisfactioo 
of you. 

I(fgo. You have said now. 

Rod. Ay, and I have said nothing, but what 
I protest intendment of doing. 

lago. Why, now I see there's mettle in 
thee ; and even, frOiU this instant, do build on 
thee a better opinion than ever before. Give 
me thy hand, Roderigo : Thou hast taken 
against me a most just exception ; but, yet, 
I protest, I have dealt most directly in thy 
Htlair. 

Rod. It hath not appeared. 

lago. I grant, indeed, it hath not appeared ; 
ind your suspicion is not without wit and 
judgment. But, Roderigo^ if thou hast that 
within thee indeed, which I have greater 
reason to believe now than ever,— I mean, 
purpose, courage, and valour, — this night show 
it: if thou the next night following enjoyest 
not Desdemona, take me from this world 
with treachery, and devise engine* for my 
life. 

Rod, Well, what is it? is it within reason, 
and compass? 

lago. Sir, there is especial commission come 
from Venice, to depute Cassio in Othello's 
place. 

Rod. Is that true? why, then Othello and 
Desdemona return again to Venice. 

Jago. O, no; he goes into Mauritania, and 
takes away with him the fair Desdemona, un- 
less his abode be lingered here by some acci- 
dent ; wherein none can be so determinate, as 
the removing of Cassio. 

Rod. How do you mean — removing of him? 

Jogo. Why, by making him uncapabie of 
Olhello's place; knocking out his brains. 

Rod. And that you would have me do? 

Jago. Ay ; if you dare do yourself a profit, 
and a right. He sups to-night with a harlot, 
and thither will I go to him ; — he knows not 
yet of his honourable fortune : if you will 
watch his going thence, (which I will fashion 
to fall out between twelve and one,) you may 
take him at your pleasure; I will be near to 
second your attempt, and he shall fall between 
ns. Come, stand not amazed at it, but go 
along with me ; I will show you such a neces- 
sity in his death, that you shall think yourself 
hound to put it on him. It is now high sup- 
per-iime, and the night grows to waste : 
about it. 

Rod. I will hear further reason for this. 

Jago. And you shall be satisfied. [Exeunt, 

SCENE III. Another Room in the Castle, 

^nter Othello, Lodovico, Desdemona, 

Emilia, and Attendants. 

JjOd. I do beseech you, sir, trouble yourself 

no further. [walk. 

Oth. O, pardon me ; 'twill do me goo<l to 

L.od. Madam, good night; I humbly ihank 

your ladyship. 



!■ 



luirattdiately. 



Ves. Your honour is most welcome. 

Oth. Will you walk, sir ?— 

O,— Desdemona, 

Des. My lord? 

Oth. Get you to bed on the instant, I will 
be returned forthwith : dismiss your attendant 
tiiere; look, it be done. 

Des. I will, my lord. 

[Exeunt Othello, Lodovico, and 
Attendants. [than he did. 

Emit How goes it now? he looks gentler 

Ves, He says he will return incontinent* 
He hath commanded me to go to bed. 
And bade me to dismiss you. 

Emit. Dismiss me! 

Des. It was his bidding ; therefore, gp9 * 
Emilia, 
Give me my nightly wearing, and adieu : 
We must not now displease him. 

EmiL, I would, you had never seen him I 

Des, So would not 1 ; my love doth so a| 
prove him, [frowns, 

That even his stubbornness, his checks, and 
IVythee, unpin me, — have grace and favou/ 
in them. [on the beA- 

Emil. I have laid those sheets you bade me 

/?e*. All's one : — Good father! how foolish 
are our minds! 
If I do die before thee, pr'ythee, shroud me 
In one of those same sheets. 

EmiL Come, come, you talk* 

Des. My mother had a maid call'd — Bar- 
bara; [madt. 
She was in love ; and he she loved proved 
And did forsake her: she had a song of 
willow [tune. 
An old thing 'twas, but it express'd her for» 
And she died singing it : That song, to-night, 
Will not go from my mind ; I have much to 
But to go hang my head all at one &ide, [do. 
And sing it like poor Barbara. Pry'thee, 
[despatch. 

Emil, Shall I go fetch your night-gown ? 

Des. No, unpin me here.— 

This Lodovico is a proper man. 

Emil, A very handsome man. 

Des. An ! he speaks well. 

EmiL I know a lady in Venice, who would 
have walked barefoot to Palestine for a touch 
of his nether lip. 

Des. The poor sout> sat sighing by a sycot 
more tree, [Singings 

Sing all a green willow ; 
Her hand on her bosom, her head on het 
knee. 
Sing, uillotv, willotv, willow s 
The fresh streamy ran by heryand 7nurmur*d 
her moa7is ; 
Sing willow, SfC. 
Her salt tears jell from her, and softened 
Lay by these : [the stone* , 

Sing willow, willotv, w. How ; 
Pr'ytbee, hie thee ; he'll come anon. — 

Sing oil a green willow must ht 
my garland. 

t Wild, incoaaaut. 



1056 



SHAKSPEARK. 



[Act V 



II. 



Let noboUy blame hiniy his scorn I approve, — 
Nay, that's not next. — Harkl who is it that 
knocks? 
Emil. It is the wind. 

Des. I call* d my love, false love; but what 
said he then? 
Sing willow f Sffi, 
If I court mo * women, you'll couch with mo 

men. 
So, get thee gone ; good night. Mine eyes do 
l>oth that bode weeping? [itch ; 

JSmil. 'Tis neither here nor there. 

Des, I have heard it is said so, — O, these 

men, these men! — [lia, — 

Dost thou in conscience think, — tell me, Emi- 

That there be women do abuse their husbands 

In such gross kind 1 

Emil, There be some such, no question. 

Des. Wouldst thou do such a deed for all 

JSmil, Why, would not you? [the world? 

Des, No, by this heavenly light! 

Emil, Nor I neither by this heavenly light ; 
I might do't as well i' the dark. 

Des, Wouldst thou do such a deed for all 
the world? 

Emil. The world is a huge thing : 'Tis a 
great price 
For a small vice. 

Des. Good troth, I think thou wenldst not. 

Emil, By my troth, I think I should ; and 
undo't when I had done. Marry, I would 
not do such a thing for a joint-ring; nor for 
Hieasnres of lawn ; nor for gowns, petticoats, 
nor caps, nor any petty exhibition: but, for 
the whole world, — Why, who would not , 



make her husbantf d cuckold, to ntakfe him x 
monarch? I would venture purgatory tor'i. 

Des, Beshrew me, if 1 would do such ,. 
wrong for the whole world. 

Emil. Why, the wrong is but a wrong i'tht 
world; and, having the world for your la, 
bour, 'tis a wrong in your own world, and 
you might quickly make it right. [maji. 

Des, 1 do not think there is any such wo- 
Emil. Yes, a dozen ; and as many 
To the vantage, as would store the world they 

play'd for. 
But, I do think, it is their husbands' faults. 
If wives do fall : Say, that they slack theii- 

duties, 
And pour our treasures into foreign laps ; 
Or else break out in peevish jealousies. 
Throwing restraint upon us ; or, say they strike 
Or scant ouk former having + in despite ; [ns. 
Why, we have galls ; and, though we hav«? 

some grace, [know 

Yet we have some revenge. Let husbandc 
Their wives have sense J like them: they set 

and smell. 
And Lave their palates both for sweet and sour. 
As husbands have. What is it that they do. 
When they change us for others? Is it sport 
I think it is ; And doth affection breed it? 
I think it doth ; Is't frailty, that thus errs 1 
It is so too : And have not we affections ? 
Desires for sport? and frailty, as men have' 
Then, let them use ns well : else, let them know. 
The ills we do, their ills instruct us to. 

Des, Good night, good night : Heaven me 

such usage send. 
Not to pick bad from bad ; but, by bad, mend ; 

{Exeunt, 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. A Street, 

Enter Iago and Roderigo. 

lago. Here, stand behind this bulk; straight 
will he come : 
Wear thy good rapier bare §, and put it home ; 
Qnick, quick ; fear nothing ; Tli be at thy 

elbow: 
It makes us, or it mars us; think on that. 
And fix most firm thy resolution. 
Rod, Be near at hand ; I may miscarry in't. 
Iago. Here, at thy hand ; be bold, and take 
thy sword. [Retires to a little distance. 
Rod. 1 have no great devotion to the deed : 
And yet he has given me satisfying reasons : — 
Tis but a man gone : — forth, n&y sword ; he 
dies. [Goes to his stand, 

ago. I have rubb'd this young quat almost 
to the sense II, [Cassio, 

And he grows angry. Now, whether he kill 
Or Cassio him, or each do kill the other. 
Every way makes my cain : Live Roderigo, 
Ht' calls met© a restitution large 
Ot gold, and jewels, that I bobb'd^ from him. 



As gifts to Desdemona ; 

It must not be : if Cassio do remain, 

He hath a daily beauty in his life, 

That makes me ugly ; and, besides, the Moo 

May unfold me to him ; there stand linmnci 

peril : 
No, he must die : — But, so, I hear him corns ng 
Enter Cassio. 
Rod, I know his gait, 'tis he ;--Villain, thor 
diest. 
[Rushes from his post, and makes < 
pass at Cassio. 
CJas. That thrust had been mine enemy in 
deed. 
But that my coat is better than thou think'st ; 
I wUl make proof of thine. 

[Draws, and wounds Roderigo 
Rod, O, I am slain! 

[Iago rushes from his post, cuts ('assk- 
behind in the Leg, and exit, 
Cas. I am maim'd for ever:— Help, ho 
murder! murder! [Falls 

Enter Othello, at a distance, [word 
Oth, The voice of Cassio :— Iago keejis hi 



Mo for more. "^ Oar former allowance of expense. 

J Unsheathed. |i 1 o the quick. ^ Fished. 



t Sensation. 



i 



Scene If,] 



OTHELLO, MOOR OF \ EMCE. 



1057 



Hod. O 1 villain that I am! 

OtU, Hark ! 'tis even so. 

Cas. O, beJp! ho! light 1 a surgeon I 

Oth. *Tis he; — O brave lago, honest, and 

just, [wrong ! 

Tiiat hast such noble sense of thy friend's 

t'hou teachest me. — Minion, your dear lies 

dead. 
And your fate hies apace : — Strumpet, I come ; 
Forth • of my heart those charms, thine eyes 
are blotted; [be spotted. 

Tliy bed, lust-stain'd, shall with lust's blood 
[JEhit Othello. 
Enter Lodovico and Gratiano, at a dis- 
tance. 
Cas. What, ho! no watch? no passage!? 
murder ! murder ! [direful. 

Gra. 'Tis some mischance ; the very cry is 
Cas, O, help \ 
Lod. Hark ! ^ 

Bod. O wretched villain ! 

Lod. Two or three groans; —it is a heavy | 
night : 
These may be counterfeits ; let's thiuk't unsafe 
lo come into the cry, without more help. 
Rod. Nobody come? then I shall bleed to 
Enter I a go, with a Light. [death. 
Lod. Hark! 

Gra. Here's one comes in his shirt, with 
light and weapons, [cries on murder? 
lago. Who's there? whose noise is this, that 
Lod. We do not know. 
lago. Did you not hear a cry ? 

Cas. Here, here ; for heaven's sake, help me. 
lago. What's the matter? 

Gra. This is Othello's ancient, as I take it. 
Lod. The same, indeed ; a very valiant fel- 
low, [grievously ? 
lago. What are you here that cry so 
Cas. lago? O, I am spoil'd, undone by vil- 
Give me some help. [lainsi 
lago. O me, lieutenant ! what villains have 

done this? 
Cas. I think, that one of them is hereabout. 
And cannot make away. 

lago. O treacherous villains ! — [help. 

What are you there? come in, and give some 
[Tb Lodovico and Gratiano. 
Bod. O, help me here I 
Cas. That's one of them. 
lago. O murderous slave! O villain! 

{IaGO stabs RODERIGO. 

Bod. O damn'd lago I O inhuman dog! — 
()!0! O! 

lago. Kill men i' the dark! — Where be 

these bloody thieves % [der ! 

How silent is this town! — Ho! murder! mur- 

What may you be? are you of good, or evil ? 

Lod. As you shall prove ns, praise us- 

lago. Signior Lodovico ? 

Lod. He, sir. 

lago. I cry you mercy ; Here's Cassio hurt 
By villains. 

Gia, Cassio? 

In go. How is it, brother ? 

Cas. My leg is cut in tw«. 



lago. Marry, heaven forbid! — 

Light, gentlemen ; I'll bind it with my shirt. 
Enter Bianca. 
Bian. What is the matter, ho? who is't that 
lago. Who is't that cry 'd? [cry'd? 

Bian. O my dear Cassio ! my sweet Cassio ! 
O Cassio I Cassio! Cassio! 
lago. O notable strumpet ! — Cassio, may 
you suspect [you? 

Who they should be, that have thus mangled 
Cas. No. [been to seek you. 

Gra. I am sorry, to find you thus : I have 
lago. Lend me a garter : So. — O, for a chair. 
To bear him easily henc-e ! [Cassio ! 

Bian. Alas, he faints : — O Cassio ! Cassio I 
lago. Gentlemen all, I do suspect this trash 
To be a party in this injury. — 
Patience awhile, good Cassio. — Come, come ; 
Lend me a light. — Know we this face, or no? 
Alas! my friend, and my dear countryman, 
Roderigo ? no : — Yes, sure ; O heaven ! Rode- 
Gra, What, of Venice? [rigo- 

lago. Even he, sir; did yon know him ? 
Gra. Know him, ay. 

lago. Signior Gratiano? I cry you gentle 
pardon ; [ners 

These bloody accidents must excuse my man- 
That so neglected you. 

Gra. I am glad to see you. [chair! 

lago. How do you, Cassio? — O, a chair, a 
Gi-a. Roderigo! 

lago. He, he, 'tis he :~0, that's well said; 
the chair :— [A Chair brought in. 

Some good men bear him carefully from hence; 
I'll fetch the general's surgeon. — For you, mis- 
tress, [To BlANCA, 
Save you your labour. He fhat lies slain here, 
Cassio, [you? 
Was my dear friend : What malice was between 
Cas. None in the world ; nor do 1 know the 

man. 
lago.] 7b Bian.] What, look you p&le? — 
O, bear him out o'the air. — 

[Cassio and Rod. are borne off. 
Stay you, good gentlemen : — Look you pale, 

mistress ? 
Do you perceive the gastness of her eye? — 
Nay, if you stare, we shall hear more anon : 
Behold her well ; I pray you, look upon her; 
Do you sec, gentlemen? nay, guiltiness will 
Though tongues were out of use. [speak^ 

Enter Emilia. 
Emit. 'Las, what's the matter; what's the 
matter, husband? [dark, 

lago. Cassio hath here been set on m the 
By Roderigo, and fellows that are 'scap'd ; 
He's almcst slain, and Roderigo dead. 
Emil. Alas, good gentleman ! alas, good 
Cassio ! [thee, Emilia 

Jago. This is the fru>t of whoring.— Pr'y 
Go know of Cassio where he supp'd to-night : 
What, do you shake at that? 
Bian. He supp'd at my house ; but I there- 
fore shake not. [me 
lago. O, did he so? 1 charge yoa, go with 
Emil. Fie, fie upon thee, strumpet J 



• Out. 



t No passengers. 



t Thick, clondv. 
4X 



1058 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Aci r. 



Bian. I am no strumpet; bat of life as ho- \ When your eyes roll so : Why I should fear 



As you that thus abuse me. [nestj 

J^U, As n foh ! fie upon thee ! 

Jago, Kind gentlemen, let's go see poor 
Cassio dres»8*d; — 
Come, mistress, you must tell us another tale. 
Kmilia, run you to the citadel, 
And tell my lord and lady what has happ*d. 
Will you go on, I pray ?--This is the night, 

[Aside. 
That ei&er makes me, or fordoes ♦ me quite. 

[Ea:eunt, 

SCENE IT. A Bedchamber, Desdemona 

in bed asleep. A Light burning. 

Enter Othello. 

Oth. It is the cause, it is the cause, my soul. 

Let me not name it to you, you chaste stars I 

It is tlie cause — Yet I'll not shed her blood ; 

Nor scar that whiter skin of her*s than snow. 

And smooth as monumental alabaster. 

[Takes off his sword. 
Yet she must die, else she'll betray more men. 
I'ut out the light, and then put out the light f: 
If I quench thee, thou flaming minister, 
I can again thy former light restore. 
Should I repent me : — but once put out thine, 
Thou cuuning'st pattern of excelling nature, 
I know not where is that Promethean heat. 
That can thy light relume. When I have 

plnck'd thy rose, 
I cannot give it vital growth again. 
It needs must wither : — I'll smell it on the tree. 
[Kis.sijig her. 
O balmy breath, that dost almost persuade 
Justice to break her sword ! — One more, one 
more. — [thee, 

Be thus when thou art dead, and I will kikl 
And love thee after: — One more, and this the 

last : 
So sweet was ne'er so fatal. I must weep. 
But they are cruel tears : This sorrow's 

heavenly ; 
It strikes, where it doth love. — She wakes. — 
Ves. Who's there? Othello? 
Oth, Ay, Desdemona. 

Ves. Will you come to bed, my lord? 
Oth, Have you pray'd to night, Desdemona? 
Ves. Ay, my lord. 

Oth. If you bethink yourself of any crime, 
Unreconciled as yet to heaven and grace. 
Solicit for it straight. 

Ves, Alas, my lord, what may you mean 
by that ? [by : 

Oth. Well do it, and be brief ; I will walk 
I would not kill thy unprepared spirit ; 
Ko, — Heaven forfend f !— I would not kill thy 
Des. Talk you of killing? [soul. 

Oth. Ay, I do. 

Des. Then, heaven 

Have mercy on me I 

Oth. Am^n, with all my heart ! [me. 

Des. If you say so, I hope you will not kill 
Oth. Humph! [tntn, 

Ves. And yet I fear you : for you are fatal 



I know not, [fear. 

Since guiltiness I know not ; but yet, I feel, 1 

Oth. Think on thy sins. 

Ves. They are loves I bear to you. 

Oth. Ay, and for that thou diest. [loving. 

Des. That death's unnatural, that kills for 
Alas, why gnaw you so your nether lip? 
Some bloody passion shakes ^^our very frame: 
These are portents ; but yet, I hope, 1 hope. 
They do not point on me. 

Oth, Peace, and be still I 

Ves. I will so : What's the matter ? 

Oth, That handkerchief, which I so loved 
and gave thee. 
Thou gavest to Cassio. 

Ves, No, by my life and sou* ; 

Send for the man, and ask him. 

Oth. Sweet soul, take heed, 

Take heed of perjury; thou'rt on thy death 

Ves, Ay, but not yet to die. [bed. 

Oth. Yes, presently : 

Therefore confess thee freely of thy siu ; 
For to deny each article with oath, [tion, 

Cannot remove, nor choke, the strong concep* 
That I do groan withal. Thou art to die. 

Ves. Then, Lord have mercy on me ! 

Othm 1 say, Amen. 

Des. And have you mercy too I i never did 
Oflfend you in my life ; never loved Cassio, 
But with such general warranty of heaven 
As I might love : I never gave him token. 

Oth. By heaven, I saw my handkerchief in 
his hand. 

perjured woman ! thou dost stone my heart. 
And makest me call, what I intend to do, — 
A murder, which I thought a sacrifice § : 

1 saw the handkerchief. 

Ves. He found it then : 

I never gave it him : — Send for him hither. 
And let him coafess a truth. 

Of-h. He bath confessed. 

Ves. What, my lord ? 

Oth. That he hath— used thee. 

Des, How ? uniawfuUy t 

Oth, Ay. 

Des. He'll not say so. 

Oth. No, his month is stopp'd ; 

Hohest lago hath ta'en order for't ||. 

Ves. My fear interprets then, — What, is he 
dead ? [revenge 

Oth. Had all hia hairs been lives, my great 
Had stomach for them all. 

Ves. Alas 1 he is betray'd, and I undone. 

Oth, Out, strumpet I Weep'st thou for him 
to my face? 

Ves. O, banish me, my lord, but kill me not. 

Oth, Down, strumpet 1 [night. 

Ves. Kill me to-morrow, let me live to- 

Oth, Nay, if you strive, 

Ves, But half an honr. 

Oth, Being done 

There is no T>ans«. 

Ves. But while I say one prayer 

Oth, It is too late. [He smothers her 



• Undops. f ?.^., The light of life. 

\ A haciiLce atoning for iby crime. 



J Fo-M<l. 
H Has taken uies:urcs. 



\.\^ew IL\ 



OTHELLO, THE MOOR OF VENICE. 



1059 



Emit. [ffithi7i.] My lord, my lord I what | 
ho C my lord ! ray lord I 

0th. Wlut noise is thist— Not dead I not 
yet quite dead ? 
I, that am cruel, am yet merciful ; 
I would not have thee linger in thy pain.— 
So, »o ♦. [lord I 

Emil. [Hithin,] What ho I my lord, my 

0th, Who** there 1 

EmiL \ Within.'] O, good my lord, I would 
speak a word with you. 

Oth, Yes ;— 'tis Emilia :— by and by .—She's 
dead. 
Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death : 
The noise whs high. — Ha! no more moving? 
Still as the grave. Shall she come in? Were't 
good? [best? 

1 think, she stirs again : — No. — What's the 
If she come in, she'll sure speak to my wife : 
My wife ! my wife I what wife? — 1 have no 
O, insupportable ! O heavy hour I [wife ; 

Methinks it should be now a huge eclipse 
Of sun and moon ; and that the affrighted giobe 
Should yawn at alteration. 

Emil. [l^''ithin.'\ I do beseech you I may 
O, good my lord ! [speak with you, 

Oth. 1 had forgot thee : O, come in, Emilia : 

Soft,— by and by : Let me the curtains draw. 

Where art thou ? What's the matter with thee 

now 1 [Unlocks the door. 

Enter Ehilii. 

Emil. O, good my lord, yonder's foul mur- 

Oth, What? now? [derdone. 

Emil, But now, my lord 1 

Oth It is the very error of the moon ; 
She comes more near the earth than she was 
And makes rnen mad. [wont ; 

Emit. Cassio, my lord, has killed a young 
Call*d — Roderigo. [Venetian, 

Oth. Roderigo kill*d I 

And Cassio kill'd 7 

Emil. No, Cassio is not kiird. 

Oth, Not Cassio kill'd ? Then murder's out 
And sweet revenge grows harsh. [of tune, 

Des. O, falsely, falsely murder'd I 

Emil. Alas 1 what cry is that ? 

Oth, That! what? [voice:— 

Emil. Out, and alas! that was my lady's 
Help I help, hoi help !—0 lady, speak again! 
Sweet Desdemona ! O, sweet mistress, speak I 

Des, A guiltless death I die. 

Emil, O, who hath done 

This deed? 

Des. Nobody ; I myself ; farewell : 

Commend me to my kind lord ; O, farewell. 

Di^s, 

Oth. Why, how should she be murder'd ? 

Emil. Alas, who knows ? 

Oth» You heard her say herself, it was not I. 

Emil. She said so ; I must needs report the 
truth. 

Oth. She's like a liar, gone to burning hell ; 
•Twas I that kill'd her. 



Emil. O, the more angel stu. 

And you the blacker devil ! [whoic. 

Oth. She turn'd to folly, and sRe was a 

Emil. Thou dost belie her, and thou art a 

Oth. She was false as water. (devil. 

Emil, Thou art rush as fire, to say 

That she was false ; O, she was heavenly true ! 

Oth, Cassio did tup her ; ask thy husband 
.else. 
0, 1 were damned beneath all depth in hell. 
But that I did proceed upon just grounds 
To this extremity ; Thy husband knew it all. 

Emil, My husband ? 

Oth. Thy husband. 

Emil. That she was false to wedlock ? 

Oth, Ay, with Cassio. 

Nay, had she been true. 
If heaven would make me snch another world 
Of one entire and perfect chrysolite t, 
I'd not have sold her for it. 

Emil. My husband? 

Oth. Ay, 'twas he that told me first ; 

An honest man he is, and hates the slime 
That sticks on filthy deeds. 

Emil. My husband? 

Oth. What needs this iterance J, woman ? I 
say, thy husband. [with love ! — 

Emil. O m}«tress, villanyhath made mocks 
My husband say, that she was false ? 

Oth. He, woman. 

I say, thy husband : Dost understand the word ? 
My friend, thy husband, honest, honest lago. 

Emil. If he say so, may his pernicious soul 
Rot half a grain a day I he lies to the heart ; 
She was too fond of her most filthy bargain. 

Oth. Hal 

Emil. Do thy worst : 

This deed of thine is no more worthy heaven. 
Than thou wast worthy her. 

Oth. Peace, you were best. 

Emil, Thou hast not half the power to do 
me harm. 
As I have to be hurt $. O gull 1 O dolt! 
As ignorant as dirt! thou hast done a deed, 
I care not for thy sword ; Fll make thee known. 
Though I lost twenty lives: — Help I help, ho ! 
help ! [murder ! 

The Moor has kill'd my mistress ; Murder I 
Enter Montano, Gratiano, and Iago. 

Mon, What is the matter 1— How now, 
general? [done well, 

Emil. O, are you come, Iago? you have 
That men must lay their murders on your neck . 

Gra. What is the matter ? [man : 

Emil. Disprove this villain, if thou be'st a 

He says, thou told'st him that his wife was 

false : [villain ; 

I know, thou didst not, thoa'it not such a 

Speak, for my heart is full. [no more 

Iago. I told him what I thought ; and told 
Than what he found himself was apt and true, 

Emil. But did you ever tell him, she wag 

Jago. I did. [false! 

• It is supposed that some theatrical direction has been omitted, and that, when Othello 
says, '* So, so," he then stabs her. After the repetition of wounds, Desdemona might speak 
%gain with propriety, and yet very soon expire. 
t A precious stone. j Repetition. ) *' 3fore can I bear than you dare execute* 



1050 



SHAKSPEARE. 



[Arf V 



Enid. You told a lie ; an odious, damned 
Upon my soul, a lie ; a wicked lie : — [lie ; 
She false with Cassio ! — Did you say with 
Cassio ? [your tongue. 

lago. With Cassio, mistress ; Goto, charm 
Eniil. I will not charm my tongue; lam 
bound to speak ; 
My mistress here lies murder'd in her bed. 
All. O heavens forefend * ! 
Emil. And your reports have set the mur- 
der on. 
Oth. Nay, stare not, masters ; it is true, 
Gra. 'Tis a strange truth. [indeed. 

Mon. O monstrous act I 
Emil, Villany, villany, villany ! — 

Ithink upon't,— I think,— I smell't;— O vil- 
lany ! 
I thought so then ;— I'll kill myself for grief. 

villany, villany I [get you home. 
lago. What, are you mad? I charge you, 
Emil, Good gentlemen, let me have leave 

to speak ; 
Tis proper I obey him, but not now : — 
Perchance, lago, I will ne'er go home. 

Oth. O ! O ! O ! [Hangitig over his wife. 
Emil. Nay, lay thee down, and roar ; 

For thou hast killM the sweetest innocent. 
That e'er did lift up eye. 

Oth. O, she was foul I— 

[Rising. 

1 scarce did know you, uncle : There lies your 

niece, [stopp'd : 

Whose breath, indeed, these hands have newly 
I know, this act shows horrible and grim. 

Gra. Poor Desdemona ! I am glad thy 
father's dead ; 
Thy match was mortal to him, and pure grief 
Shore his old thread in twain : did he live now. 
This sight would make him do a desperate turn. 
Yea, curse his better angel from his side. 
And fall to reprobation. 

Oth. 'Tis pitiful : but yet lago knows, 
That she with Cassio hath the act of shame 
A thousand times committed;Cassio confess'd it: 
And she did grattfy his amorous works 
With that recognizance and pledge of love 
Which 1 first gave her ; I saw it in his hand ; 
It was a handkerchief, an antique token 
My father gave my mother. 

EmiL O heaven 1 O heavenly powers I 

Jago. Come, hold your peace. 

Emil. 'Twill out, 'twill out ;— I hold my 
peace, sir ? no : 
No, I will speak as liberal f as the air; 
I^t heaven, and men, and devils, let them all, 
All, all, cry shame against me, yet I'll speak. 

Jago. Be wise, and get you hom.e. 

EmiL 1 will not. 

[I AGO offers to stab his Wife, 

Gra, Rel 

Your sword upon a woman? 

Emil. O thou dull Mojorl that handker- 
chief thou spcak'st of, 
I found by fortune., and did give my husband ; 
Fur often, with a solemn earnestness. 



(More than, indeed, belong'd to such a trific,; 
He beg^'d of me to steal it. 

Jago. Villanous whore ! 

Emil. She give it Cassio I no, alas ; I found 

And I did give't my husband. [it, 

lago. Filth, thoB liest. 

Emil. By heaven, I do not; I do not, ttn-j 

tlemen : [fooF 

O murd'rous coxcomb I what should auch a' 

Do with so good a wife ? 

[Iago stabs Emilia, then runs out, 

Oth, Are there no stones in heaven 

But what serve for the thunder? — Precious 

villain ! [his wife. 

Gra, The woman falls; sure, he has kitl'a 

Emil, Ay, ay ; O, lay me by my mietress* 

Gra, He's gone, but his wife's kill'd. [side ! 

Mon. 'TIS a notorious villain. Take yon 

this weapon. 

Which I have here recover'd from the Moor ; 

Come, guard the door without ; let him not 

pass, [lain. 

But kill him rather ; I'll after that same vil- 

For 'tis a damned slave. 

[Exeunt Montano and Gratia no, 
Oth, I am not valiant neither,] 

But every puny whipster gets my sword: — 
But why should honour outlive honesty ? 
Let it go all. 

Emil. What did thy song bode, lady ? 

Hark, canst thou hear me? 1 will play the 
swan, [loiv. — 

And die in music ; Willow, willotv, wil- 

Moor, she was chaste; she loved thee, cruel 

Moor: 
So come my soul to bliss, as I speak true ; 
So speaking as I think, I die,— I die. [Dies, 
Oth. I have another weapon in this cham- 
ber, [perj; 

It is a sword of Spain, the ice-brook's teni- 
O, here it is : — Uncle, I must come forth. 
Gra, [Within.] If thou attempt it, it will 
cost thee dear; [fer. 

Thou hast no weapon, and perforce mutt sut- 
Gth. Look in upon me then, and speak with 
Or, naked as I am, I will assault thee. [me. 
Re-enter Gratiano. 
Gra, What is the matter? 
Oth. Behold! I have a weapon 

A better never did itself sustain 
Upon a soldier's thigh : I have seen the day. 
That, with this little arm, and thi» good sword, 
I have made my way through more impedi 
ments [boast ' 

Than twenty times your stop:— But, O vain 
Who can control his fate ? 'tis not so now.— 
Be not afraid, though you do see ine weapon '<l ; 
Here is my journey's end, here is my butt. 
And very seamark of my utmost sail. 
Do you go back dlsmay'd ? 'tis a lost fear ; 
Man but a rush against Othello's breast. 
And he retires; Where should Othello go?— 
Now, how dost thou look noyfi O ill-starr'd 
wench ! [con.pt j, 

Pale as thy smock ! when we shall meet at 



1 



i 



Forbid, 



Free. 



t Steel ip hardened by being put red-hot into vtry cold water 
j Account. 



{'cene II.] 



OTHELLO, THE MOOB OF VEr^ICE. 



1061 



, •Tiis look of thine will hurl my soul from 
heAven, [girl 1 

Aud fiends will snatch at it. Gold« cold, my 
I Even like thy chastity.— 
O cursed, cursed slave I — Whip me, ye devils. 
Prom the poisession of thi» heavenly sight! 
Blow me about in winds ! roast me in sulphur I 
Wash me in steep-down gulfs of liquid fire! — 
ODesdemona! Desdemonal deadi 
Dead T 01 01 O! 

j^w^er LoDovico, MoNTANO, Gassio, car- 
ried in a Chair, and Officers, with Iago, 

prisoner, 

Lod. Where is this rash and most unfor- 
tunate man ? [am. 

0th. That's he, that was Othello; here I 

Jjod, Where is that viper? bring the villain 
forth. [that's a fable : 

Oth. I look down towards his feet • ; — but 
If that thou be'st a devil, I cannot kill thee. 
[Othello wounds Iago. 

Lod. Wrench his s word from him. 

Iago. I bleed, sir; but not killed. 

Oth. I am not sorry neither ; Pd have thee 
For, in my sense, 'tis happiness to die. [live ; 

Lod. O thou Othello, that was once so good. 
Fait*- in the practiced of a cursed slave, 
.>i shall be said to thee 1 

Oth, Why, any thing : 

An honourable murderer, if you will ; 
For nought I did in hate, but all in honour. 

Lod, This wretch hath part confessed his 
viliany : 
Did you aud he consent in Cassio's death % 

Oth. Ay. 

Cas. Dear general, I never gave you cause. 

Oth. I do believe it, and I ask your pardon. 
Will you, I pray you, demand thatdeini-devil, 
Why he hath thusinsnared my soul and body ? 

Iago. Demand me uothing : What you 
know, you know : 
From this time forth I never will speak word. 

Lod, What? not to pray? 

Gra, Torments will ope yonr lips, 

Oth, Well, thou dost best. 

Lod, Sir, you shall understand what hath 
befall'n, [letter. 

Which, as I think, you know not : Here is a 
Found in the pocket of the slain Roderigo ; 
And here, another: the one of them imports 
The death of Cassio to be undertook 
By Roderigo. 

Oth. O villain! 

Cas, Most heathenish, and most gross I 

Lod. Now here's another discontented paper. 
Found in his pocket too ; and this, it seems, 
Roderigo meant to have sent this damned vil- 
Bat that, belike, Iago in the interim [lain ; 
Came in and satisfied him. 

Oth. O the pernicious caitiflF! — 

How came yon, Cassk>, by that handkerchief 
That was my wife's f 

Cas I found it in my chamber 



And he himself confess'd, but even now, 1 

That there he dropp'd it, for a special purpose, 
"Which wrought to his desire. 

Oth. O fool ! fool ! fool ! 

Cas. There is, besides, in Roderigo's letter. 
How he upbraids Iago, that he made him 
Brave me upon the watch ; whereon it came 
That I was cast: And even but now he spake. 
After long seeming dead, — Iago hurt him, 
Iago set him on. [with us ; 

Lod, You must forsake this room, and go 
Your power and your command is taken off. 
And Cassio rules in Cyprus. For this slave,— 
If there be any cunning cruelty, 
That can torment him much, and hold him long, 
It shall be his : You shall close prisoner rest, 
T'll that the nature of your fault be known 
To the Venetian state : — Come, bring hira 
away. [go. 

Oth. Soft you ; a word or two, before you 
I have done the state some service, and they 

know it; 
No more of that: — I pray you, in your letters. 
When you shall these unlucky deeds relate. 
Speak of me as I am; nothing extenuate. 
Nor set down aught in malice : then must yon 

speak 
Of one, that loved not wisely, but too well ; 
Of one, not easily jealous, but, being wrought, 
Perplex'd inthe extreme ; of one, whose hand. 
Like the base Judean, threw a pearl away. 
Richer than all his tribe; of one, whose sub 

dued eyes. 
Albeit unused to the melting mood. 
Drop tears as fast as the Arabian trees 
Their medicinal gum : Set you down this : 
And say, besides, — that in Aleppo once. 
Where a malignant and a tnrban'd Turk 
Beat a Venetian, and traduced the state 
I took by the throat the circumcised dog. 
And smote him— thus {Stabs himself, ' 

Lod. O bloody period ! 

Gra, All, that's spoke, is marr'd. 

Oth. Ikiss'd thee, ere I kill'd thee;— No 
way but this, ■ 

{Falling upon Desdemona. | 
Killing myself, to die upon a kiss. {Dies. 

Cas, This did I fear, but thought he had no 
For he was great of heart. [weapon ; 

Lod. O Spartan dog, 

More fell than anguish, hunger, or the sea; 
Look on the tragic loading of this bed ; 

{To Ia.go. 
This is thy work : the object poisons sight ;— 
Let it be hid. — Gratiano, keep the house. 
And seize upon the fortunes of the Moor, 
For they succeed to you. — To you, lord go- 
vernor 
Remains the censure t of this hellish villain ; 
The time, the place, the torture, — O enforce it! 
Myseif will straight abroad; and, to the state, 
This heavy act with heavy heart relate, 

[Exeunt. 



• To see if hli feet b« cioven. 



f By the stratsgem. 



t Judgment. 
4X3 



1062 SHAKSPKARE. 

The beaatiet of this play impress themselves so strongly apon the attention of the reader, 
that they can draw no aid from critical illustration. The fierv openness of Othello, magnaui- 
mous, artless, and crednlons, boundless in his confidence, ardent in his affection, inflexible in 
his resolution, and obdurate in his revenge ; the cool malignity of lago, silent in his resent* 
ment, subtle in his designs, and studious at once of bis ibterest and his vengeance; the soft 
•irnplicity of Desdemona, confident of merit, and conscious of innocence, her artless perse* 
verance in her suit, and her slowness to suspect that she can be suspected, arc such proofs of 
Shakspeare's skill in human nature, as, I suppose, it is vain to seek in any modern writer. 
The gradual progress which lago makes in the Moor's conviction, and the circumstances 
which he employs to inflame him, are so artfully natural, that, though it will perhaps nut be 
said of him as he says of himself, that he is a man not easily jealous, yet we cannot but pity 
him, when at last we find him perplexed in the extreme. 

There is always danger, lest wickedness, conjoined with abilities, should steal upon esteem, 
though it misses of approbation ; but the character of lago is so conducted, that he is from the 
first scene to the last hated and despised. 

Even the inferior characters of this play would be very conspicuous in any other ]piece, no 
only for their justness, but their strength. Gassio is brave, benevolent, and honest, ruined 
only by his want of stubbornness to resist an insidious invitation. Roderigo's suspicions 
credulity, and impatient submission to the cheats which he sees practised upon him, acd 
which by persuasion he suffers to be repeated, exhibit a strong picture of a weak mind be 
trayed by unlawful desires to a false friend ; and the virtue of Emilia is such as we oUea 
find, worn loosely, but not cast of, easy to commit small crimes, but quickened and alarmed 
at atrocious villanies. 

The scenes from the beginning to the end are busy, varied by happy interchanges, and 
regularly promoting the progression of the story ; and the narrative in the end, though it tells 
but what is known already, yet b necessary to produce the death of Othello. 

Had the scene opened in Cyprus, and the preceding incidents been occasionally relattd,"^ ***j 
had been little wanting to a orama of the most exact and fcrupoloua regolaritytf— JoHlfikUJi*'V 



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